sketchydean

smalltrolven

The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time


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sketchydean
smalltrolven

Fic: Burn So Bright (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Chapter 3 of ?

Back to Chapter 2B

*****

"Life is a great sunrise. I do not see why death should not be an even greater one." ~ Vladimir Nabokov

After solving the hungry issue with some energy bars found in the bottom of Sam’s backpack and the last warm beers from the green cooler there was a discussion about food and drinks and how and why humans made them. Dean was surprised to find how hard it was to explain the basics to someone, Jack literally was born yesterday and knew nothing and somehow everything at the same time. A human baby learns a lot of this stuff gradually, but Jack was insatiable and rather demanding for all the details—now. It was kind of exhausting keeping up with him.

Dean took a break from the conversation and made a good roaring fire in the fireplace, it was colder inside than outside and they would need to try and get some sleep at some point, especially Sam who was drooping fast. He worried about his brother’s ability to keep pushing, he knew he wanted to monitor Jack and keep him calm. But he’d just watched his brother take one small bite of his energy bar and then pass on the uneaten portion to Jack who had quickly discovered the state of being ravenous after figuring out hungry. Sam wasn’t going to last much longer without food and or rest, preferably both. He wondered if Jack even needed sleep or not, they might have to take turns sleeping for a while until they figured it out. He laughed to himself as he once again wished Cas had left them a Guide to Raising Your Nephilim book or something.

Sam and Jack migrated to the living room when they heard Dean groan with relief at finding a comfortably worn couch to sit down on. Jack seemed entranced by the fire and chose an overstuffed chair closest to the fireplace. Sam was in the middle of talking to Jack about angel hierarchies, curled up against Dean who tried his best to follow the half-Enochian conversation when Sam abruptly went silent. His words trailed off into a mumble in the middle of a sentence. Dean could feel the weight of a now-sleeping Sam pushing him further into the depths of the old couch.

Jack’s eyes widened when he noticed Sam’s absence from the conversation and his concern became evident in the shaking of the walls.

“Is Sam dead?” Jack asked in a worried voice.

“No, hey calm down, Jack. He’s just sleeping. It’s a thing humans do when we’re tired, we close our eyes and go to sleep. I promise he’s not dead, just resting.” Dean stroked Sam’s hair to help keep him asleep through the conversation.

Jack’s tension seemed to calm as he listened to Dean’s explanation. Even with Sam’s sleepy warm form against him, he found he was still as wide-awake as Jack was. It occurred to him that he should get Jack out of the house to let Sam have some rest. He slowly maneuvered himself out from underneath the sleeping Sasquatch and arranged Sam on the couch in a comfortable position. He folded up his jacket and tucked it under Sam’s head, and ran his hand through Sam’s hair a few more times to resettle him. In sleep, his brother looked so young and untroubled, the weight of all he carried let go for a while, but he was still so damn beautiful.

He noticed that there was movement next to him, Jack was watching what he was doing very closely.

“What are you doing to him?” Jack asked in a loud voice. Sam’s brow tightened and he mumbled, turning over to bury his face in the couch cushion away from them.

Dean shushed Jack and herded them out the front door. “We need to be quiet so Sam can sleep, okay?” Dean asked on the porch as he closed the door as quietly as he could manage.

“Is that Castiel over there?” Jack asked, pointing at the body lying on the ground.

“Yeah, yeah it is. You want to help me with something, Jack?” Dean asked, getting an idea of how to fill some time while Sam slept. He remembered from his time raising Sam that keeping a young kid physically occupied usually worked. And maybe it would tire him out so he’d need some sleep.

He directed Jack in picking up branches, and together they made a pyre near the edge of the forest away from the house. He walked back to where Castiel’s body lay and scooped him up into his arms. He hadn’t had to carry the angel, and found him surprisingly light on the walk back to the pyre. He laid him on top of the wood and began to button up his overcoat.

“What happens now?” Jack asked, watching Dean arrange Castiel’s coat.

“We set the whole thing on fire,” Dean said.

“Fire, why?” Jack asked.

Dean blew out a breath of frustration, recalling Sam’s ‘why’ phase when he was three which had nearly made him lose his mind at the time. “Fire because the whole point is that we’re burning his body.”

“Why do you need to burn his body if he is dead? Are you going to eat him?”

“No, shit, no! We don’t eat other people. That is not a thing that we do,” Dean said looking at Jack’s surprise at his outburst. When he seemed to calm down Dean continued, “This kind of fire is a tradition that we hunters do when one of us dies. It does a couple things, it’s a way of honoring the memory of the person who died and to make sure they don’t come back as a ghost.”

“What is a ghost? Is that a bad thing to be?” Jack asked.

“Well, now that I think about it, Cas probably couldn’t do the whole ghost thing since he didn’t have a soul. But a ghost is when a human soul of someone who’s died sticks around instead of moving on to Heaven or Hell or wherever like they’re supposed to. They can go a little crazy and get violent, they usually end up hurting people who are still living without meaning to.”

“You have experienced this thing before,” Jack said, a light of comprehension dawning in his yellowish tinged eyes that glowed even more in the darkness on the forest’s edge.

Dean was struck with how much he looked like a wolf or that type of predator and tried to not think about it too much lest Jack pick up on it. Since Jack was a powerful mind reader, it was probably best not to bring subjects up in his own mind unless he wanted to explain them to the newbie.

Instead of saying or thinking anything more about predators and their eyes, Dean decided on how to answer the question. “Yes, our friend, Bobby, he died a few years ago. Sam and I made a pyre just like this one, but he stuck around as a ghost. It turned out he was tied to a drinking flask that he’d always used, just like this one,” Dean pulled his own flask out of his pocket and took a swig. “He chose to stay because he wanted to help us, and he did, but it almost went wrong. He came close to killing Sam.”

“Is Bobby still a ghost?” Jack asked.

“No, we—uh, melted down his flask and he left us for good,” Dean said, taking another long pull from his flask and pouring a bit on the pyre. He quickly tucked it back in his pocket before Jack asked him for some. Were nephilim even supposed to drink? Was Jack old enough?

“Bobby was like your father, but what was Cas to you?” Jack asked.

“That’s kinda complicated. But on the good days, which there were a lot of, he was an honorary brother, we fought side by side for a lot of years. Sam and I will miss him.”

“But not as a nor-quashi saisch as you and Sam,” Jack said.

“No, hell no,” Dean shook his head vigorously at the idea. “Definitely not even close to what me and Sam are.”

Jack didn’t say anything, just slowly examined Dean again, like he was trying to place all the words together into something that made sense to him. Family relationships were hard enough to figure out as a human, so Dean didn’t envy Jack the work he had ahead of him.

“Usually, this is where we say something about the person who died. So here goes, uh…Cas saved Sam and I so many times, I’ve forgotten how many, for which we will always always be grateful. He taught both of us a whole lot, and he sometimes hurt us too. We’ll both miss him no matter what we disagreed about, and we’re really glad we got to know him. He made one hell of a good sandwich,” Dean said, flicking his lighter and setting the flame to the kindling, the pyre’s flames slowly rose. His eyes were so focused on the growing fire that he didn’t notice the commotion next to him at first, then it was all he could see.

A new pyre assembled itself, logs and branches flying out of the forest through the air one by one, arranging themselves neatly and then Kelly’s body wrapped in the bed sheet blinking into view on top of it all. Kelly’s pyre had caught fire from Castiel’s before Dean had a chance to speak.

“My mother, Kelly loved me. I wish I had the chance to know her in this world. She told me she thought I would be the thing that saved this world from itself. I will honor her memory by trying to be that person.”

“Cas thought that too, it’s why he was sticking with your mom almost until the end.”

“You mean, when I killed her by being born?” Jack asked.

“You can’t think about it like that, Jack. Her being dead, it’s not your fault, it’s never the child’s fault when something like that happens. How could it be? It’s not like it was your choice to be born, right? And besides, there’s no one here to blame you for it but yourself, so my free advice is just don’t even start. Blaming yourself never gets you anywhere good, believe me.”

“I do believe you, Dean, thank you for saying that.”

They were silent then, standing together to watch the flames consume the bodies and then waiting for the embers to die down before pushing dirt over them to smother them safely.

“Do you need to sleep now, Dean?” Jack asked as they walked back towards the house.

Dean yawned widely at the reminder of how damn tired he was. “I do, yeah, it’s all finally catching up with me. How about you?”

“I don’t know, I guess I can try it. Will you show me how?” Jack asked as they stepped up onto the porch.

Dean suppressed a laugh and then decided it was probably worth a try. “Yeah, I’ll give you some pointers. Let’s go upstairs and see if there’s a bed you can use. Quiet now, in case Sam’s still sleeping.”

Jack nodded and followed Dean up the stairs, moving silently except for the squeaking of the old wood. Dean led him into the room Kelly had given birth in, because the nursery only had a crib. He was relieved to see the blood he’d expected wasn’t there, so he pulled the covers back.

“Take those shoes off, and the jacket too. Are you cold?” Dean asked.

“No, the temperature feels fine,” Jack said, tucking his shoes under the end of the bed.

“Well, to be comfortable, I’d say take the jeans off, and then jump in here under the blanket,” Dean said, holding the blanket open for Jack.

Jack slipped his jeans off and folded them up on top of his shoes and jacket. He jumped over the footboard of the bed in a high arc, almost hitting the ceiling. He landed hard on his back with an ‘oomf’ the impact sending a cloud of dust up from the bed.

“Jump in here was just an expression, but you’re all good now, at least it didn’t break the bed,” Dean said, pulling the blankets up over Jack.

“What do I do now?” Jack asked, his body rigid as if he was expecting a fight or attack.

“First of all relax your muscles, take some deep breaths, remember, you’re safe here, okay? Next, close your eyes and imagine things that make you feel calm, and after that, just let yourself let go of all of it. Hopefully you’ll be asleep and if not, just lie here for a while and rest.”

“I will try, thank you for teaching me, Dean,” Jack said, closing his eyes tightly. Dean felt a wash of relief to not be seeing those glowing yellow eyes for the first time in a while.

He tiptoed out of the room but stopped when he heard Jack murmur the phrases: ‘Aziazor saisch nor-quashi, aziazor exentaser,’ several times like a prayer or chant.

Dean repeated the words to himself as he went downstairs, hoping he could remember them to ask Sam what they meant when he woke up.

Sam was still breathing in his familiar deep-sleep rhythm, so he tried to make himself comfortable in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. He soon found it was hard to turn his brain all the way off. So much had happened, in such a short amount of time, it was hard to let it go, because he hadn’t worked through it all yet. The loss of Mom and Cas was tough, but he knew he would get that handled eventually. His technique of stuff down the sadness and try to carry on had worked up until now.

He looked across the room at his brother lit up by the dwindling fire, the light loving the planes of his face as usual. How Sam was dealing with knowing that Lucifer was still out there on top of everything else was astounding to him. Not surprising, because his brother was the strongest person he’d ever known, but he honestly didn’t know how Sam was still functioning as well as he was.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sam asked in a sleepy voice that made him smile internally, reminding him of the days when his little brother was actually little.

“Just making sure your face is in the right place,” Dean grumped even though he knew Sam would instantly figure out he was kidding.

“Where’s Jack?” Sam asked, knuckling at his eyes to wake up enough to talk.

“Upstairs, I gave him some sleeping lessons,” Dean said, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles, trying to find a comfortable position.

“I’m not even gonna ask. Hey, the couch is big enough if you want,” Sam said, moving himself around to show how much room was left.

Dean rolled his eyes just for show and stood up, he tossed the last two logs onto the fire, hoping they’d keep them warm for the rest of the night. He stared into the fire for a little too long, losing track of time as his mind kept racing with all the craziness of the day.

“Dean?” Sam asked, voice filled with worry and need.

Dean couldn’t help his automatic response of wanting to immediately fix whatever was worrying Sam. “Hold your horses, just making sure the fire caught,” Dean said, brushing his hands off against each other. He remembered the angel sword when his slightly burned palms began to sting again.

“You think Jack’s going to be okay on his own up there?” Sam asked, opening his arms up wide to show Dean there was enough room.

Dean folded himself down onto the couch, settling into his brother’s embrace so easily it felt like he’d never left his arms. Maybe that would be a good plan going forward. “I think he’ll be fine, and we’ll know by Jack-quake if he’s not,” Dean said, mumbling his words against the warm skin of Sam’s neck. “You know, he was terrified when you fell asleep, it was kind of cute. He thought you died, I had to explain it to him.”

Sam chuckled and squeezed Dean a little tighter. “Thanks for letting me sleep.”

“My turn now,” Dean murmured, beginning to fall off into the welcome darkness now that he felt safe wrapped up with Sam where he belonged. There was something he had to ask though, what was it? “Oh he said, ‘Aziazor saisch nor-quashi, aziazor exentaser’ a few times as he was falling asleep, I know saisch is brother, what’s the rest mean?”

“Your pronunciation needs work, but I think I got it. Aziazor means love, so he said he loves us, the saisch nor-quashi, brothers who are sons of pleasure. And then he said he loved his mother.”

“Sons of pleasure, huh? That’s us I guess, am I right or what,” Dean said, thrusting his hips into Sam’s as a joke at first but then in a more deliberate pattern, making contact that made Sam gasp.

Sam’s lips met his and he drank up the sounds of Sam’s pleasure, kissing him back deeply, trying to get across how damn grateful he was that they were still together, and in the right world. All thoughts from the events of the day disappeared into the sensations of Sam’s hands grasping at his ass, pulling them together more tightly.

The roughness of their jeans between them was almost painful, but he could feel enough of Sam’s intense and hard heat. Sam pressed rhythmically against him, so forcefully the old couch began to squeak.

“Sammy, need it,” Dean panted against Sam’s neck.

Sam’s hand dipped into the back of Dean’s jeans, one finger pressing against his opening, teasing gently. It was just enough to push Dean over the edge, he felt himself crash, letting go and shaking in his brother’s arms. He felt Sam shift against him, and heard him whining with need so he bit down hard on the tendon of his neck. Sam groaned as his hips stuttered and finally stopped against Dean’s. Dean loved that he could feel the matching throb even through their jeans as they both remained pressed together.

Sam took his mouth over again, lips moving against his with force and passion at first, and then with a whisper soft touch of words that meant everything in that moment. “We’re still here together, Dean, that’s all that matters to me.”

Dean let his brother’s words carry him off to sleep, the worry and sorrow of the day over with for now, the temporary peace dragging him under.

****


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