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The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time

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Fic: Burn So Bright (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Chapter 2A of ?

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If the radiance of a thousand suns

Were to burst at once into the sky

That would be like the splendour of the Mighty One...

I am become Death,

The shatterer of worlds.

[Quoted from the Bhagavad Gita after the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.]”

― J. Robert Oppenheimer

That final vision of the orange rip sealing itself over their mother and Lucifer replayed over and over in Sam’s mind. He couldn’t see anything else, couldn’t think about what came next. She was gone, and Lucifer had survived. She was gone again, vanished into that horrifying other world, and Cas was dead on the ground. Before he could think clearly, he ran away from the scene, some instinctual need to get away from the thing that cut so deeply.

Sam couldn’t stay, couldn’t mourn with Dean because he had this feeling he had to do something, anything but give into the overwhelming feelings of loss that threatened his grip on reality. He couldn’t let himself go there again, it would be so easy to let himself lose touch with the real, and leave Dean alone to deal with this shitshow. He couldn’t do that to Dean again, not now.

His mind raced almost as fast as his feet, trying to come up with something to do. As Sam ran, his attention was caught by the flashing of lights upstairs inside the house, and he felt a surprisingly strong pull to be back inside there—right now. He had this urgent need to see what had happened to Kelly and her child. That would be something he could do, a physical action to keep him tethered to this reality.

“I’m going inside to check on Kelly and the kid!” he yelled back to Dean, hoping his brother would hear him. As he charged up the stairs he rationalized that Dean probably needed a moment alone with Castiel’s body anyway. Even though Dean had been on the outs with him lately, Cas was still his brother’s closest friend and this loss was going to hit him hard. But there would we time to get him through it, after Dean had some space to grieve.

He dashed down the hall, pausing at the first room he came to, Kelly was laid out on the bed, unmoving, as dead as he’d expected her to be. She looked peaceful which seemed improbable, but Cas had insisted up to the end that she’d wanted this child. They’d both been so crazy about it, describing incredible visions of a better world the nephilim child would somehow bring about. The child who was nowhere to be found near her body. Underneath Kelly’s peaceful expression and still form, the bed was soaked in blood, the edges of her white nightgown were soaked in it, but there was no trace of a child anywhere. Sam wrinkled his nose at the intense coppery wet smell of that much blood and tried not to think about what had happened to her.

He heard a noise from further down the hall, so he walked forward slowly, drawing his gun. He noticed a trail of bloody human footprints on the floorboards and followed them. The noise came again from the room at the opposite end of the hall, this one had to be the nursery. He could see the ABC’s painted on the wall because they glowed with an eerie white shine. The child’s name shining through the darkness clearly: J-A-C-K. Each letter carefully spelled out in its own apple. There was movement in the shadowy corner next to the new crib, Sam’s eyes strained to see, someone was crouched there.

This had to be Jack he was looking at, right? But how could he possibly be this size already? He was just born, less than an hour ago, unless the time in the alternate universe was different from how it went here.

The terrifying yellow glow of the eyes of the figure crouched in the dark corner held Sam still in the nursery doorway. Sam couldn’t move until he heard Jack mumbling something in Enochian. The word piripsol, stood out from the others all the way across the room. It meant brightness—burn so bright. But was Jack saying it about himself, or Sam?

Sam tucked his gun away as he listened more closely until he could translate the whole phrase. Jack was saying, “I saw you even before I came, you burn so bright.”

Those words seemed somewhat welcoming, or at least not overtly threatening which spurred to Sam to switch over into helping mode. “Jack, hey Jack, I’m Sam. I’m here to help you, okay?” He approached slowly, speaking in what he hoped would be a calming voice. He knelt down next to Jack on the floor and reached out to touch Jack’s shoulder.

Jack just stared back at him, mumbling Enochian too quickly for Sam to catch most of it. His eyes never blinked, never wavered from Sam’s face, their eerie yellow glow so like Azazel’s it made Sam’s skin crawl. Eventually he managed to get Jack a little bit out of the corner he was crouched in, and gave him his jacket to cover his nakedness.

Sam folded his legs up, situating himself against the wall next to Jack and tried his best to talk to him. He quickly figured out Jack only seemed to know Enochian, so they started chatting slowly using that. Unfortunately that was a language Sam knew much too well because of his many years talking to Lucifer and Michael in the Cage. He usually tried his best to forget that he knew Enochian at all; tried to forget the whole thing had happened which was impossible of course. This being’s father had been a very effective teacher of all sorts of things. But knowing Enochian sure was coming in handy now.

Jack seemed to want to learn to converse in English, he kept saying, ‘Camilax, il camilax’ and pointing at Sam. It translated to ‘Speak, you speak,’ so that’s what Sam started doing, repeating Jack’s Enochian questions in English and then his own answers in English and then Enochian.

After a few halting tries at speaking English himself, Jack was able to switch over from Enochian which surprised Sam at first and then made him worry even more about what this being would be capable of doing to their world.

“I was aware of you before I was born of course. Sam, you burned brightly even through the barrier of my mother’s womb,” Jack said, looking pleased with himself for his first long English sentence.

Sam didn’t respond, wasn’t sure what it meant that the nephilim knew who he was even before he was born. Speaking about his mother brought a change to the man’s face (Sam just couldn’t bring himself to think of Jack as an ‘it’) that concerned Sam. Everything in the room seemed to begin vibrating at a much higher frequency.

“Mother?” Jack asked, his face tight with fear.

Sam decided he’d be honest, hopefully that would be the best course of action to gain Jack’s trust. “I’m so sorry, Jack, but she’s dead,” Sam said, nodding towards the hall where he could see the bed where the wrecked and bloody body of Kelly Kline lay.

Jack followed Sam’s gaze and he stood up with a sudden and surprising grace. He walked the short distance down the hall to the room where she lay. He examined the mess that had only recently been his mother and gently closed her open eyes, stroking her hair a few times with a softness that pleased Sam to see. There was a gentleness to Jack that made him think he couldn’t possibly be one-hundred percent evil.

“She loved me?” Jack asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes, Kelly told me that she loved you more than anything. She said she was willing to die so that you could be born. She said she knew you would be worth her sacrifice.” Sam had no idea if Jack really knew what love or death or sacrifice meant but if this kid was going to be a good guy in this world, he needed to start learning those things right now.

“I will love her too, always” Jack said, closing his eyes and bowing his head. “She was kind and soft, not like father.”

Kelly Kline’s body slowly re-made itself, the bones reforming, the muscles knitting themselves together, the flesh and skin rolling back up until she was whole again. Jack pulled the sheet over her and the blood disappeared, the whiteness of the sheet blazing bright in the room, slowly fading like a dimmer switch being turned down.

Sam didn’t say anything for a long moment, wondering if he was about to witness a resurrection. He held his breath waiting to see what Jack would do next.

Jack scanned the room and quickly returned to the nursery, Sam caught up with him after pausing to marvel at the wholeness of Kelly’s body. Jack was standing under the ABC’s, one hand tracing the painted letters of his name on the nursery wall.

“Your mother painted that herself, she wanted to make the room nice for you,” Sam said.

Jack shook himself all over like he’d just remembered something, his alert eyes blazing a hot yellow on Sam’s face. “Father?” Jack asked among a quick barrage of Enochian that Sam couldn’t decipher. Jack retreated to the corner he’d first been in, like he was trying to disappear into the shadows. He pulled Sam’s coat more tightly around himself and hid his face from view.

“Yeah, I…uh, I knew your father,” Sam said, not wanting to say Lucifer’s name out loud or describe how and why he knew Jack’s father. He crouched down in front of Jack as he had before, hoping he could get through to him the truth about his father without setting him off.

“Knew? Is he dead too?” Jack asked, a panicky look in his eyes, the power coming off of him dialed up a few notches as his anxiety increased. The edges of everything in Sam’s vision began to vibrate and the red-orange of the rip in the world began to bleed into everything, just around the edges so far, threatening, barely being held back. Jack was not quite in control of his power yet.

“To be honest, Jack, I’m not really sure,” Sam said in as calm a voice as he could manage, wondering how he’d get out of this. Was it possible to explain to someone that their father was pure evil without setting them off to maybe end up destroying the world?

“Sam, where is my father?” Jack asked, jumping up to pace the room on unsteady legs as the power seemed to increase yet another notch.

“That’s very hard to explain,” Sam said, thinking of how to handle this, and where the hell was Dean anyway?

Jack stopped pacing and turned to face Sam. “Try,” he said in a voice that rang with command.

Sam took a deep breath to stall for time to consider what the hell he should say, Jack’s power was a physical thing now, red-orange bled over into everything, not just the edges. Everything in the room seemed to be vibrating with an energy barely contained.

“First, can you please turn your power down a little, Jack? Just so I can think of how to explain where your father is?” Sam asked, hoping Jack would know what he meant, or that he could even do it. “Maybe take a deep breath like this,” Sam said, demonstrating an over-exaggerated deep breathing exercise he’d learned in yoga class back in college.

Jack nodded and copied Sam’s breathing technique, his eyes still flared yellow never leaving Sam’s face.

Sam was relieved to feel the power withdraw as Jack’s face and body relaxed. They sat back down together, Jack’s back against the corner where he apparently felt safest, Sam crouched in front of him.

“Good, Jack, that’s good, thanks, so…uh, okay, when you were born, the energy or power or whatever ripped a hole between this world where we are now and an…another one. That world was in another time and place, another reality maybe? I don’t know really, but I do know, your father’s there, and so is my mother.”

“Do you want them to come back here, Sam?” Jack asked.

Sam’s heart leapt at the possibility, their mother back, safe and sound, but no, not with Lucifer too. Not after what they’d done to keep him away from their world. “My mother, yes, I want her back more than anything. But not your father, no. It’s hard to just say this to someone, but your father is bent on destroying this world, all of humanity. He’s been plotting and planning it for his entire life to get back at his own father.”

“So, I shouldn’t help my father carry out his plans?” Jack asked tilting his head to the side like an unexpectedly adorable retriever.

“The thing is, fathers aren’t always right,” Dean said, standing just outside the doorway, angel blade in one hand, looking like he was about to throw it across the room at Jack.