Fic title: Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?

Author name: vampireifurita

Artist name: mulanreflection

Genre: Gen, Wincest

Pairing: Dean/Sam, some background Castiel/Sam, Castiel/Crowley

Rating: R

Word count: 26,732

Warnings: horror, disturbing imagery, violence

Summary: After Sam sacrificed himself to save the world; Dean had gone to Lisa just as he’d been asked. Things had been just fine until he started hearing music that no one else could hear and things just go downhill from there. With no one to turn to, bear witness to man lost at sea, in the throes of grief and unexplainable music that haunts him much like the memories of his brother.


He wasn’t positive, but it seemed like this was a dream. He was driving down an endless road, his baby purring beneath him and Sam at his side. There was a smile on his face, Metallica on the stereo and the open road ahead of him. He turned to look at Sam and found his brother gazing out the window at the passing scenery. Their eyes caught in his reflection and Sam smiled at him.

“Perfect day for driving, eh Sammy?” he asked as he turned his eyes back to the road.

“Sure is Dean,” Sam replied. “The only thing that would make it better would be if you would turn down the damn music.”

“Aww… are poor Samantha’s tender ears hurting? He teased. Something flickered in the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look at Sam he merely saw his brother scowling.

“Jerk,” Sam told him. He grinned.

“Bitch,” he replied instantly. Together the brother’s shared a grin before Dean focused his eyes back on the road.

Something was bothering him though. Something just wasn’t right. There was something upsetting his calm, something unsettling in this moment. It wasn’t the car, it wasn’t the endless tarmac stretching out before him, and it certainly wasn’t Sam unsettling him so. So what was wrong?

Heat assaulted his right side, building hotter and hotter. His eyebrows knitted together, he hadn’t turned up the heat in the Impala and even if he had there was no way that it would just blow on one side of the car. Something was flickering in the corner of his eye, catching his attention, but when he turned to investigate what it was, only the sight of Sam greeted him.

“So where’re we headed Sammy?” he asked, instantly forgetting the weird sensation that had just occurred. “Got something interesting planned for our next hunt?” He was trying to get his brother to talk to him, it seemed like forever ago that he had had a conversation with him, instead of mere hours.

“We’re not going anywhere Dean,” was Sam’s reply. Eyes wide he turned to face his brother. Sam grinned at him, smile splitting his face. “We don’t have a job right now. You just couldn’t bear to stay in that last town any longer. We had been there for two extra days and you were starting to lose it, so we left.”

“Oh, right, of course,” he breathed, letting out the air he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“God, your mind isn’t here. What are you thinking about that has you so distracted? You thinking about that hot waitress from breakfast?” Sam asked. He frowned. Something was off, not only was that question suspicious, but there was something off in Sam’s demeanor. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Sam: the sight caused him to swerve in the road and swear.

Sam was literally on fire. Flames were licking at his skin, blackening it and peeling it away. Blood red muscle shined in the flickering flames, exposed in places where the flames had eaten away the skin. Sam’s face was peeling away.

His head snapped fully to the side as he frantically pulled over to the side of the road. Sam sat there, the same as he always was. Skin intact, body free of flames. He reached out, straining to make sure this was real and not some illusion.

“Stop,” Sam commanded him. His hand froze inches from Sam’s face. “You really don’t want to do that. Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone Dean?”

“Sammy…” he breathed out, bringing his hand to rest on Sam’s cheek. It wasn’t skin that his hand connected with though; it was sinewy muscle, blood and bone. Recoiling at the feeling of his brother’s torn face, Dean blinked away the illusion of normalcy.

Chains attached to hooks, buried in the tender skin of Sam’s flesh pulled at his arms. Flames licked at his brother’s torso and his face started to melt away, Hazel eyes were boiling in their sockets.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed and scrambled away from the gruesome sight, bringing up his arm to cover his eyes.

“Dean,” Sam’s wrecked voice called to him. “Open your eyes Dean.” He shook his head, refusing to answer. “You need to see Dean, you need to see what is happening to me, what you’re letting happen to me.”

Letting out a soft, desperate cry he tried in vain to cover his ears. Eyes slammed shut, hands over his ears, he did not anticipate the burning wet caress of familiar fingers on his cheek. Of their own accord his eyes snapped open.

“Dean, how could you let this happen to me?” Sam asked as flames devoured him and chains pulled him apart. His mouth went dry. “Why do you get everything? All I wanted was normal. I didn’t want to be part of this life. I didn’t want to be an abomination. What did I do to deserve this?”

Dean choked on a sob and lowered his eyes, unable to meet his brothers pleading, boiling gaze. His eyes fell to the bucket seat, where Sam’s legs should have been. A whimper passed through his lips as he took in the mangled stubs that once were Sam’s lanky legs.

“Why?” Sam asked, hands stretching out towards him. “Why Dean?”

“Jesus fuck!” Dean exclaimed, trying to avoid the hands reaching from him. A strong arm wrapped around his throat from the backseat, the smell of rotting flesh invading his senses.

“Aren’t I taking such good care of your brother?” purred that infuriatingly calm voice that occasionally haunted his dreams.

“Go to hell,” he retorted.

“But I’m already there, along with both of you brothers, or had you forgotten?”

“Fuck! Fuck Sammy, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry Sammy…”

“Dean,” Sam strained to reach him once more but before he could reach him, the arm that had been cutting off his air reached out and snapped Sam’s wrist.

“Sorry boys, but there will be no tear filled reunion. Sam and I have a date with Michael and Adam in the pit,” Lucifer purred, releasing Dean.

“Sam!” Dean called as he leaped forward to grasp onto his brother. Lucifer only laughed.

“Do you really think he wants to save you Sam?” he purred in Sam’s ear. “He has everything you ever wanted now: the girl, the kid, the house… normality. Why would he want to give all that up for you? You, who have destroyed so much of his life. You, whose love poisoned him, prevented him from loving anyone else. Ignore him Sam, he’s just like all the others, he doesn’t care about you, he’s only trying to fool you. These chains? This fire burning away at your soul? He put them there, not me.”

“Sammy no, I wouldn’t…” but his pleas fell on nothing but open air, confessing his feelings to the ceiling of an empty motel room on some no-name stretch of highway.

The radio clicked on.

~I can’t remember everything, can’t tell if this is true or dream

Deep down inside I can feel the scream

This terrible silence stops me.

Now that the war is through with me

I’m waking up I cannot see

That there is not much left of me

Nothing is real but pain now

Hold my breath as I wish for death

Oh please, God, wake me.  ~


Chapter 17

Life Is A Lemon And I Want My Money Back

Fic title: Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?

Author name: vampireifurita

Artist name: mulanreflection

Genre: Gen, Wincest

Pairing: Dean/Sam, some background Castiel/Sam, Castiel/Crowley

Rating: R

Word count: 26,732

Warnings: horror, disturbing imagery, violence

Summary: After Sam sacrificed himself to save the world; Dean had gone to Lisa just as he’d been asked. Things had been just fine until he started hearing music that no one else could hear and things just go downhill from there. With no one to turn to, bear witness to man lost at sea, in the throes of grief and unexplainable music that haunts him much like the memories of his brother.


He barely remembered them coming home, had forgotten that they were even there when the music filtered into his head. It made him drink faster, try to block out the song with alcohol. Surely if he was drunk enough he would be able to ignore the sound flooding his mind.

A few minutes later found him standing on the couch, singing out the lyrics. It was a theme, a theme against the establishment, a call to arms. This song was speaking to him, and not breaking his mind. To him, in that moment, that was all that mattered. Whatever the hell was playing with his mind was giving him a break, giving a moment to vent his frustrations.

~There’s always something, something going wrong

That’s the only guarantee,

That’s what this is all about

It’s a never ending attack

Everything’s a lie and that’s a fact

Life is a lemon and I want my money back! ~

He jumped from chair to chair; singing to his heart’s content, completely oblivious to his surroundings. He never noticed her coming down the stairs, never knew that she stood there watching him. He just continued to sing to the music blaring in his head, venting his frustrations to the world.

His feet carried him out of the living room, and down the hall. Out the door he went, singing to the world at large. The music swelled up in him. His eyes fluttered shut and when he opened them again he could swear there was a chorus of singers around him. He looked over all of them, cautiously approaching each in turn, while never stopping his ceaseless singing.

What about love?” he sang.

It’s defective!” the chorus replied.

It’s always breaking in half!” he sang.

What about sex?” asked one of the male chorus members.

It’s defective!” the chorus replied.

It’s never built to really last,” he sang.

Each member in turn asked a question, and every answer was “It’s defective!” His lines were ever changing, and by the time he had reached the climax of the song, he was starting to get out of breath. This song was starting to suck the life out of him. The emotions the music was pulling from him were exhausting. He felt his enthusiasm waver. The chorus started to close in on him, forcing him to take some steps back. Their faces were no longer human, contorted as they were into masks of monsters. Grotesquely exaggerated features stood out on their faces, fangs protruded from between lips. Eyes bulged in their sockets as ears elongated into a parody of an elfin point. Claws extended from fingernails, and hair started to fall out.

He backed up until his back his the side of the house, horror coursing through his veins, lyrics pouring out of his mouth and the ever approaching chorus gaining ground. He fumbled behind himself until he found the sliding door, pulling it open and slamming it behind himself.

Back, back, BACK!” he practically screamed. He rushed into the kitchen and was startled to find her there, staring open mouthed at him. He ran over to the cabinet next to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of liquor and stumbled into the garage.


Chapter 18


Fic title: Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?

Author name: vampireifurita

Artist name: mulanreflection

Genre: Gen, Wincest

Pairing: Dean/Sam, some background Castiel/Sam, Castiel/Crowley

Rating: R

Word count: 26,732

Warnings: horror, disturbing imagery, violence

Summary: After Sam sacrificed himself to save the world; Dean had gone to Lisa just as he’d been asked. Things had been just fine until he started hearing music that no one else could hear and things just go downhill from there. With no one to turn to, bear witness to man lost at sea, in the throes of grief and unexplainable music that haunts him much like the memories of his brother.


He was speeding down the interstate, weaving between cars on this road trip to hell. Mindless to the blaring horns, heedless of any cops, he was driving as far away as possible. He had left her days ago, and yet he was still adrift in this world that hurt too much to bear. She had been his anchor to the world, and even when he thought that he was starting to lose his mind she had kept him grounded. Sure, he had crossed a line, and he knew how horrible it had been, but without her and the kid he was adrift in a sea of pain.

A bottle sloshed in his hand. Whiskey was his drug of choice at this time.  It was sloshing over the rim, and for once he couldn’t bring himself to care that it was making his baby’s seats all sticky. He took a long drag, narrowly avoiding a Prius in the right hand lane, the smoky flavor coating his mouth. His thoughts were swirling around his head, his vision swimming and the music blaring so loud he was surprised no one else could hear it.

It would figure that the music would fit the mood. Not that he had expected it not to. After all, that was the reason he had been kicked out, right? The damn music had driven him crazy. So of course it fit his mood perfectly, there was no reason for it not to. Music was freaking haunting him. Was it haunting him? Had he gotten cursed? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He was on this road trip down the Highway to Hell, a one way trip with no chance for reprieve. He didn’t want a reprieve, most likely didn’t deserve one.

Wasted! Losing control!” he shouted out the window as he took an exit off the highway. He sped through a stop sign and off down the country road. Fields whizzed by, small farmhouses lit with warm lights, the occasional car, none of it really registering in his mind. Out of the corner of his eye he could almost see someone in the passenger side seat.

Wasted! I’m going insane!” he yelled with a smile. He brought the bottle back to his lips and took a deep drag, car swerving into the other lane. He tugged on the steering wheel, and ended up over-correcting. The wheels kicked up dirt from the side of the road as he slid off the road. He pressed down on the breaks and eased her to a stop, stroking the dash after putting her in park.

“Sorry baby,” he told her, his head thumping against the steering wheel. Really, no matter how much pain he was in, it was no excuse to abuse his baby. “I’m not myself lately. You would think I would treat you better, wouldn’t you? I bet Sammy took good care of you when I wasn’t around, didn’t you Sammy?”

He turned to look at his constant companion but the passenger side was empty. He panicked; sure he had seen his brother sitting there moments ago, his silent shadow occupying his normal seat. His hands reached out, running over liquor stained leather, to press against the cool passenger seat. No one had been sitting there; it had all been in his mind. His jaw tightened.

“Fuck!” he yelled, straightening and throwing open the driver’s side door, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. The metal walls of his baby were compressing in on him, the metal suffocating him with pressure. He scrambled out of the car and away from the empty place inside his home. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck!”

~Wasted! I wish I was dead. ~

The bottle of whiskey tumbled from his hand, as he skittered down the embankment. His stomach roiled and he barely had time to catch his breath before its contents were expelled from his body.


Chapter 19

Paint it Black

Fic title: Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?

Author name: vampireifurita

Artist name: mulanreflection

Genre: Gen, Wincest

Pairing: Dean/Sam, some background Castiel/Sam, Castiel/Crowley

Rating: R

Word count: 26,732

Warnings: horror, disturbing imagery, violence

Summary: After Sam sacrificed himself to save the world; Dean had gone to Lisa just as he’d been asked. Things had been just fine until he started hearing music that no one else could hear and things just go downhill from there. With no one to turn to, bear witness to man lost at sea, in the throes of grief and unexplainable music that haunts him much like the memories of his brother.


“Dean,” the angel had said. He had turned to look at him but he had kept the sight of his brother, his Sammy, in the corner of his eye. The angel surely noticed what he was doing, but didn’t say anything.

“What do you want Cas?” he asked a little testily. None of their visits has gone well, and to say that he was frustrated and at the end of his rope was an understatement. The angel frowned at him and sat in the seat opposite him, dispersing the Sam who had been sitting there. A scowl marred his face and he nearly growled at the clueless chump.

“I am concerned about your mental state, you are acting erratic and violent,” was the reply he got. Rolling his eyes he merely snorted in reply. “Dean, I know that you have been seeing Sam.”

That stopped him cold in his tracks. His whole body seized up, and his eyes narrowed at his companion. “You never answered my question the last time we met Cas.”

“You are changing the subject.”

“Of course I’m changing the subject you butt monkey. I’m not talking about this.”

“Dean, how are we supposed to help you if you don’t tell us what is going on?” the angel asked. His frown deepened, clearly the angel didn’t know of his slip up.

“We?” he questioned. The angel paled.

“I…” he started to explain.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses Cas, who the hell is we?” he demanded. Cas flinched away from him, recoiling from the acid in his voice.

“I have entered an agreement with another supernatural being,” the angel hedged. Narrowing his eyes further, he continued to stare, forcing the angel to confess his sins. “… Crowley. I am Crowley’s partner.”

“Crowley?!” he shouted, uncaring of the attention it drew from the other patrons at the diner. “The fucking King of the Crossroads Crowley?!”

“Yes,” Cas affirmed. He sneered at the so called angel.

“I can’t believe you made a deal with that rat bastard!” he seethed. Cas frowned at the insult.

“I made an agreement with him for Bobby’s soul, and so that this world could return to what it was before. You have no idea what is going on in heaven or in hell,” Cas accused him.

“Why the fuck would I care about that shit?” he retorted, ignoring the first part of Cas’ confession.

“Dean, I know that you are hurting right now, and I know that your defense is to lash out at anyone who confronts you, but please listen to me,” the angel pleaded, suddenly looking as young as a man fresh out of high school. He was taken aback by the sight. “I’m afraid that you are starting to lose touch with reality. Whenever I look in to check on you, you’re talking to someone who is not there. Every room you have stayed in has had two beds. Your eyes are constantly searching, or rolling into the back of your head. We were friends once, I would help you through this if you would let me.”

Anger built towards the well meaning angel. He wasn’t insane, he wasn’t losing touch with reality, and he certainly wasn’t looking for something that wasn’t there.

“Fuck you Cas,” was what he said. “I don’t want your damned sympathy. I’ve been doing just fine on my own.”

The angel looked terribly sad. He got up, dropping money on the table and started to walk away. A hand reached out and latched onto his arm.

“I loved Sam too Dean, he wouldn’t want you to suffer this way, he told you that,” the angel said softly. He was floored for a moment.

“Loved Sam? You? How… I don’t understand. What do you mean you loved Sam?” he asked, turning bewildered eyes to the seated angel. Castiel furrowed his brow and seemed to contemplate his words carefully.

“In my own way I have always been in love with your brother. He was never what I was told he was, and his faith in my father, you and I never faded, not even when we all had forsaken him,” the angel said, his eyes glued to the table. His heart broke a little for him then, this angel with the weight of many worlds on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry Cas, I know I’m losing it, and I know you’re only trying to help, but I just can’t do what he asked of me, I can’t just forget everything that I was, everything that I am,” he said. The angel looked at him sadly, piteously.

“I am merely trying to help Dean; we have an offer we would like you to think about.”

The anger resurged in Dean. “You mean a deal with that fucking demon?! Fuck you Cas! I don’t want the help of a demon, I’d think you would understand that, but apparently you’re bending over backwards for him!”

Cas flushed before his face went even more stony than anything Dean had ever seen from him before. “I do not appreciate the tone you’re taking with me Dean. I am more powerful than you can even imagine, and I think you might do well to remember what I am.”

“Clearly your some angel pawn in Crowley’s fucking scheme! I don’t know what the fuck he promised you, but it wasn’t worth it. You sold your soul to a demon Cas,” Dean hissed. He could feel the weight of all the eyes in the diner on them.

“I am not the one who did that Dean.” Dean flinched at the barb. “I know that Crowley is using me, and I am using him in return. Do not think me a fool.”

“You are one if you’re working with him. You know what? Fuck you Cas. I don’t care why you’re doing it, and I don’t give a crap about your pity. I’m doing just fine without you.” Were his final words to the angel who had pulled him out of hell and followed him through the apocalypse.

As he stormed outside of the diner, leaving Castiel behind, he was joined by his phantom brother.

“That wasn’t the nicest thing you’ve ever done,” he pointed out. Sighing he ignored the comment and continued walking to the car. “Don’t want to talk to me? Fine, then perhaps you would prefer the company of the music that tortures you so.”

Head snapping up, his brother was long gone. Through the window of the diner he could see Castiel. The angel was sitting under a florescent light, and it gave him an almost ethereal glow. As he watched, and as the music started to drum in his head, the suave demon dressed all in black sat beside the angel of the lord. Cas was sitting a little slouched, and as he watched Crowley gestured to the waitress for a drink and slid his arm around Cas’ shoulders. The angel was in league with a demon and he just didn’t care anymore.

~I see a red door and I want to paint it black

No colors anymore, I want them to turn black. ~

“You’re freaking ruining the Rolling Stones,” he complained to the open air before slipping into the Impala. He peeled out of the parking lot and off down the road, the colors of the day fading into the black of night. “Freaking poignant.”

People lined the side of the highway, familiar faces that he had never quite forgotten over the years. People who he hadn’t been able to save, people whose lives he had ended by not being quick enough, not being smart enough, not acting soon enough. At the edge of the road, before he was to enter the interstate all he saw were his family’s faces. His father, lost all those years ago to spare his own life, his mother who had burned for his brother, and Sam who was being torn to shreds so that the world could live.

“Let it burn,” he muttered, no longer swayed by the fates of billions. “We should have let it burn.”

Cars filled with happy people singing jovially to the radio, children playing in the back seats of cars, teenagers making out with the top down as they sped to the next party flew by him. He quickly turned off the interstate but didn’t realize his mistake until it was too late.

The busy metropolitan area screamed of busy, contented people. Mothers and their children walked hand in hand down the sidewalks, young couples had their hands in each other’s pockets, and an old couple was huddled together on a bench, waiting for a bus to pick them up.

~I look inside myself and see my heart is black. ~

He suddenly hated these people. He hated that everyone in the world was happy but him, he hated that the one person who had deserved this happiness the most was suffering for all of eternity, while the god he had unerringly believed in did nothing to save him. It didn’t matter anymore, none of this mattered anymore. Nothing mattered. Let it all burn, let it be painted black.

Chapter 21

If It Makes You Happy

Fic title: Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?

Author name: vampireifurita

Artist name: mulanreflection

Genre: Gen, Wincest

Pairing: Dean/Sam, some background Castiel/Sam, Castiel/Crowley

Rating: R

Word count: 26,732

Warnings: horror, disturbing imagery, violence

Summary: After Sam sacrificed himself to save the world; Dean had gone to Lisa just as he’d been asked. Things had been just fine until he started hearing music that no one else could hear and things just go downhill from there. With no one to turn to, bear witness to man lost at sea, in the throes of grief and unexplainable music that haunts him much like the memories of his brother.


A kiss woke him. Soft lips pressed against his own and he reveled in the simplicity of it. Opening his eyes as those lips pulled away, he smiled at her perfect face. She was everything he’d dreamed a woman could be, and nothing he’d ever planned for. He smiled at her and pulled her into him. She giggled as he pressed feather like kisses to her neck.

Coming down the stairs nearly forty five minutes later, he found Ben sitting at the table, pouring over a comic book.

“Mornin’ kiddo,” he said, ruffling the kid’s hair and moving to the fridge.

“’M not a kid,” he muttered, smoothing out his hair. Smiling to himself, he opened the refrigerator doors and started to pull out eggs, and milk.

“French toast sound good kid?” he asked as he pulled the bread out of the cupboard. Ben merely grunted in answer, too caught up in his comic to care.

Lisa came into the kitchen as he started to put the first slice on the griddle. She kissed the top of Ben’s head and came to stand next to him, ~I belong a long way from here~ wrapping her arms around his waist. He turned his head and gave her a kiss on the lips; Ben groaned and moved to sit in a chair facing away from them. He smiled, as did she, and then she moved away to get them all glasses and plates.

They sat together at the table in companionable silence, each of them eating there French toast. He had coated his in syrup, just like how he and Sammy had eaten it when they were young. Lisa had put blueberries on hers, and Ben was dunking his in a pile of powdered sugar. Lisa sipped at her orange juice, as did Ben and he drank his coffee, black.

He stood at the door and waved to them as they left, Lisa going to drop Ben off at school and then head into work herself. He smiled to himself and wondered when the world had gotten so good. He shut the door behind himself as he walked back into the house, making his way back to the kitchen to start cleaning up. Dishes were washed, countertops wiped down, and leftovers stored. Humming to himself, he made his way into the garage.

Flicking the switch to open the door, he navigated himself down the stairs, ~we were searching, through thrift store jungle~) through labeled boxes of memories (photo albums labeled Sammy, School trophies, miscellaneous school papers, and things from college), and around the covered boat of a car that had been sitting there ~found Geronimo’s rifle, Marilyn’s shampoo, and Benny Goodman’s corset and pen~ untouched since he had moved in. He grabbed his gardening supplies and placed them in his wheel barrel and headed out into the bright sunny summer day.

Sam greeted him on the driveway, smile on his face.

Together the brother’s Winchester made their way to the backyard. Same carried a shovel and Dean had a moment of déjà vu before coming to his senses. Shaking his head and laughing as Sam said something to him, they came upon his pride and joy: his garden. He waved at a spot on the left and indicated that Sam should start digging. The shovel tore through fertile earth, and black soil piled into the empty wheel barrel.

“You know something Sammy?” he asked, pushing his shovel into the ground to help his brother out. Sam merely hummed at him. “I never really believed that this would be something awesome.”

The soil was starting to get harder to dig out now; more clay was mixed into the brown dirt.

“I mean, you always talked about it sure, but I always thought you were off your rocker, because really, who would want a life outside of hunting?” he asked, laughter in his voice. It was starting to become hard to pierce his shovel into the earth. “I always thought you were off your rocker, totally batshit crazy.”

Sam didn’t reply to him, merely kept digging.

Once the hole was deep enough, they both climbed out, struggling to lift themselves out of the crater they’d created.

He stared down into the hole his brother had helped him out of, staring down at the man who was still down there. He crouched down and held out his hand to him, but Sam merely shook his head. He frowned and shook his hand, getting agitated with his brother. The sky darkened, a cloud passing in front of the sun.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Sammy? I’m trying to help you out. I’m pretty sure Lisa will be pissed if it seems like I tried to bury you in the backyard.”

Sam only stared at him for a moment. “I don’t know why I’m here.” ~Well ok, I made this up~

“Because an idiot and won’t let me help you out of that hole.”

Sam frowned. “No, I don’t know why I’m here with you.”

That stopped him cold. He didn’t know what to say to that.

“I don’t belong here Dean. I told you to live this life, and that I wouldn’t be here to share it with you. Why am I here?”

“Because I don’t know how to do this without you. This is your wish Sam, not mine.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“I can’t be like this Sam.”

“This is what I want for you; I want you to have this. This would make me happy.”

“Would it? It sure doesn’t look like that from here.”

“It would.”

He stared at his brother, realizing he would have to bury him in order to move on.

“Ok Sammy, if that’s what you want.” ~I promised you I’d never give up~

He sat at the table when it was done ~if it makes you happy it can’t be that bad~, staring at his dirt encrusted hands.

When Lisa and Ben came home, it was to a piping hot dinner, and meticulously set table. He smiled at them as they stared in awe and he glanced at the specter hovering in the door. Instead of a smile on his face, he merely looked sad ~if it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad?~, almost angry. Frowning he gestured for his new family to sit down. They smiled and laughed and discussed their days and he smiled at them in return.

They spent the evening watching TV after Ben finished his homework. They enjoyed their comedies and dramas. He hated procedural dramas, but Lisa loved them, so he suffered through one for her sake. Ben spent most of the crime drama asking questions about dead bodies. Lisa gave him a long suffering look, but Dean indulged him until he noticed that every descriptive word he uttered changed the appearance of the specter hovering just in his eye line.

After the kid went to bed, he and Lisa stayed up for a little while longer, enjoying each other’s company and talking about the events of her day. As they climbed the stairs together, her hand in his back pocket, he paid no attention to anyone other than her.

In the morning he woke up before Lisa and leaned over to wake her in a similar fashion as she had woken him the day before. When she climbed out of bed a few moments later, he watched her go, a small smile playing on his lips.

He stumbled down the steps into the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on. He grabbed a bowl and poured himself a bowl of cereal. When he opened the fridge to get the milk ~so why the hell is everything so wrong? ~ He spotted the French toast from yesterday. He pulled it out, popped it in the microwave and had in on the table all prepared for Ben as he came into the kitchen half asleep.

They ate together and then Lisa and Ben left. He wandered out the back door and stared at the mound of freshly dug soil mocking him in the middle of his garden. He turned his back on the yard and reentered the house. He made his way to the cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of jack. The cabinets started to swing open and shut, glasses fell to the floor and cutlery was thrown across the room.

“What the hell?!” he exclaimed and scrambled out of the kitchen. The television clicked on as he stumbled into the living room, the channels flicking and the stereo blared out some 90s pop. He opened his mouth to yell at Sam to just fucking stop it already! But that wasn’t what came out of his mouth.

If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad. If it makes you happy, why the hell are you so sad?

Bolting upright in his overly large single queen sized bed, his head throbbing in pain, he narrowed his eyes at the radio on his bedside table. That damned song playing at full blast. He reached out to slap it off, but it kept playing. Growing agitated, he pulled the chord out of the wall, but that didn’t stop the radio from playing.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled. He changed his clothes as the volume increased and stuffed his things into his duffel before making a break for the door.


Chapter 22

All of Me

Fic title: Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?

Author name: vampireifurita 

Artist name: mulanreflection 

Genre: Gen, Wincest

Pairing: Dean/Sam, some background Castiel/Sam, Castiel/Crowley 

Rating: R

Word count: 26,732

Warnings: horror, disturbing imagery, violence

Summary: After Sam sacrificed himself to save the world; Dean had gone to Lisa just as he’d been asked. Things had been just fine until he started hearing music that no one else could hear and things just go downhill from there. With no one to turn to, bear witness to man lost at sea, in the throes of grief and unexplainable music that haunts him much like the memories of his brother.  



He wasn’t that hard to find, and part of him wasn’t that surprised. This doctor of questionable intent had done several years in a psychiatric hospital way back in the late 50s. Sure the old codger was well into his seventies now, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still practice his craft. Dean was sure that the old man had been servicing clients well for many years since his “retirement.” He was strangely at peace, the music looping through his head oddly soothing, regardless of what he was about to do. He had been singing under his breath all day.

All of me, why not take all of me? Can’t you see I’m no good without you?” he sang as he approached the sketchy looking building in the slum of some southern city. He would never be the same when he got out of here, and he had taken care of all his pressing business before setting up his appointment.

Three days ago he had visited a lawyer. He made sure that the Impala would end up legally in Lisa’s hands. He had called a trucking service after securing all the paperwork and arranged for the car to be picked up while he was in his appointment.

Take my arms, I’ll never use them. Take my lips, I wanna lose them,” he sang. The note in his pocket was pressing down on his heart, a painful reminder that he would be hurting someone that cared about him with this procedure. The door opened and he smiled at the suspicious looking woman standing in the doorway. “Your goodbyes, left me with eyes that cry, how can I get along without you?

Rolling her eyes, she opened the door wide for him. “You took the part that once was my heart, why not take all of me?” he sang as she led him up the stairs to the operating room. The doctor greeted him at the door.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person Mr. Winchester,” the old man told him, shaking his hand.

“The pleasure is all mine doc,” he replied, smile on his face starting to hurt. His brother hovered uncertainly next to him, eyes filling with tears.

“This is certainly the first time I’ve met a patient that was actually happy about getting the procedure,” the doctor told him. “Do come in, I’m sure we have a few things to discuss before we get started.”

“Just a few things doc,” he told the old man, stepping past him into the operating room. The place was absolutely filthy, and the tools would hardly be sterile, but none of that really mattered. Sam followed behind him, hovering mere inches away, clearly wishing he could reach out and touch him, wishing he could change his mind.

“Let’s get the formalities out of the way then,” the doctor said as he pulled up a chair. “I understand that you would like for someone to pick you up after the procedure.”

“Yeah, my friend Castiel,” he told the doctor. He pulled out his cell phone and handed it over. “I’ve deleted every contact except for him. There’s also a note in my pocket here for him.” He pulled the folded note out of his pocket and handed it to the doctor as well. “Please make sure he reads that before you tell him what we’ve done, and especially before you let him take me anywhere.”

“Of course, I will make sure to do that, Pricilla, did you get all that written down?” he asked as he turned towards his nurse. She nodded and showed him her notes. The doctor nodded that everything was in order.

“Before we get started, do you have any questions for me?” the doctor asked, getting up and guiding him to the operating table.

“This will get rid of both the hallucinations and the voices, right?” he asked as he laid back on the table, allowing the doctor and his nurse to start strapping him down.

“Most definitely. Frontal lobotomies are notorious for ceasing these types of brain functions. I do hope I remembered to tell you that this will be irreversible, and that you will end up in a very vegetable like state,” the doctor assured him.

“Yeah, you said that when I called you about this whole procedure,” he replied. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Well, I’ve certainly never heard that before,” Pricilla muttered.

“Well, trust me honey, if you saw or heard half the things I have in the past few months, you’d be just as eager to get yourself lobotomized,” he replied cheekily, feeling more like himself than he had since… well, since dad had died.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said, strapping down his arm.

He looked over to Sam, who wasn’t really Sam, Sam was down in the cage and that was exactly why he was doing this. A lobotomy would destroy his mind, would make him forget all that he had lost, would keep him from suffering for all of eternity meant for two that was only occupied by one. He smiled at the crying figment of his imagination, almost sad for the poor thing, this would be the last time he would see him and remember who he was and what he meant to him.

“Hey doc, do you mind if I sing while you’re putting me under?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the shivering, crying mess that was his brother.

“Go for it son, it will probably be the last time you’ll do it.”

~All of me, why not take all of me?

Can’t you see I’m no good without you?

Take my arms, I’ll never use them.

Take my lips, I wanna lose them.

Your goodbyes left me with eyes that cry

How can I go on without you?

You took the part that once was my hear

Why not take all of me? ~

Master Post


Wow. I haven't done such crunching since college... I just finished my BigBang after a frantic 48 hours. That's right, I started and completed it in two days, with two hours to spare, and a lot of stalling. I'm actually really proud of what I have written. I'm super excited to take a break, step away from it for a while and then come back to it and tweak it. Sure its not the longest thing ever, but its all mine. So awesome to have completed. If the mods ok it, that would be even better. :)  Wow. This is totally awesome.


Yeah, I'm totally not focusing right now, so I figured I'd at least continue writing. :/

So here's the big news: I had two interviews. Woo. I had one last week on Thurs, and one on Wednesday this week. Both for k-12 music jobs. Both in super small towns in middle Illinois. So I wasn't really sure how that first one went, right? It was after all, my first interview ever. They were very professional, and I was all frazzled. Yeah, it probably didn't go that well. But I did get to hang with my cousin, which was awesome. She's great, and super understanding of all my crazy. So yeah. Interview. Then I got to visit my friend who's moving to Florida (luck girl!). It was nice to see her one last time before he big move. :)

This last interview went much better. I think it was partially the people. They were very pleasant and didn't seem to mind my general crazy. I thought it went well. I mean, I did the best I could really, so who knows? I'm sure I had my cons and my pros. Though I would like to say that it took like, three hours. Which is obscenely long. Granted, it was like two interviews at once (since I talked to both the elementary and high school principals). Did I mention super small school? Both schools are in one building. Tiny. But cute. They're supposed to have a really good music program, so I'm not holding my breath that I'll get the job.

The next big thing: BIGBANG '11. Yeah. I've had this idea in my head for about a year now (ever since season 5 ended). I have not written anything. I need 20,000 words by tomorrow at midnight. Yeah. So I started today. Which is ok by me, because I generally work well under pressure, but this is kind of insane. INSANE. .... right. Current status: 5000/20,000 words. Plot progress: not even at the meat of the story yet. Le Sigh. Odds of me finishing? 50/50? Who knows.

The only other thing I've got to say is that I'm taking the Gin to the vet... again. My little problem bunny. The poor thing has this giant sore or something right behind her ear. Its really ugly. I'm hoping its not something bad.... but I'm not freaking out too much, after all, the last time I brought her in b/c she had these bald spots turned out to be nothing, so here's to hoping this is just more of the same. Poor baby. :(
oh noes!

The things you learn

Today I was reminded of a few things. One: that at times I really love teaching. Two: some times I really hate teaching. Three: life is just freaking weird sometimes.

I've got a job subbing in the same class all week. Third graders. Known as "the class from hell." This class is so... awesome... that every sub before me has put in a specific request to never be put in that classroom again. They're... challenging. They talk and they talk and they talk and nothing stops them. They don't really behave for anyone but their regular teacher.

So here I am yesterday, my first day in the class and what happens? They were almost perfect. They stopped talking. They did their work. Even the specials didn't have a problem with them. They were awesome (and very much not in a bad way). It was nice. Really nice.

And then I came back today. .............. Yeah. Complete opposite. Talk talk talk talktalktalktalktalktalk............ OMG. Seriously. Then there was the delinquent. Who was gloriously absent Monday, was back today. And boy did he fight me every step of the way. Not doing his work, talking, noises, moving around, blatant disregard for authority, and just mean at times. And its like the rest of the class went insane. I don't even know. I'm still twitching.

Yeah. So teaching can be immensely rewarding and I love it to death a lot of the time, but then there are days like today where I end up wanting to just stop and not do this anymore. I really love teaching, and I know that everyday is different and every class is different and that its not all roses and sunshine, but really? Really? I almost think that I'm going to end up one of those teachers that burns out after a year or two. And I really don't want that, because I honestly love this, but I can't deal with days like today if they're going to be every day.

And so here I am, having a truly frustrating day, and I look at my phone on my way to my abreviated lunch (I sat with some of the kids while they had lunch because they wanted me to) and I look at my phone, and I've missed a call. Guess what? One of those millions of freaking applications I've been sending out got a hit! I now have my first interview!! For a k-12 job. Its rather exciting, and kind of ironic considering how much I was freaking disliking teaching not five minutes prior. Woo?  Life is just funny I guess. And that's a horrible cliche, but rather true.

Writer's Block: The start of something wonderful

What is your favorite opening line of a book, and why?

"It was a pleasure to burn.
It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed."

Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury

How can you not love a book that starts like that? Its one of my favorites, and this line speaks to my pyromaniac side. Its definitely a classic that is still relevant today, and more people should read this book.