Log in

No account? Create an account


The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time

Previous Entry Share Next Entry
31 flavors of sam

fic: My Time Coming, Any Day (Kevin BigBang, Sam/Dean implied) Part 2 of 2

Back to Part 1


The nap must have helped, because when he woke up in the late afternoon the weight was still there in his gut, but his heart wasn’t as raw and broken. By the time it was evening, he was so excited that he almost couldn’t eat his dinner, a can of vegetarian chili heated up on the small camp stove, but he forced himself, because he knew the brothers would want to take off with him right away. He knew, because he’d written it. It was bizarre, now living the story he’d just penned in the journal this morning. He couldn’t imagine becoming used to the sensation, but then he’d gotten used to worrying about Leviathans and demons. To kill time, he practiced his cello scales, drumming his fingers in position along one of the tops of the pews. It was comforting hearing the music in his memory, feeling the rhythm that he’d been so proficient at, he missed the joy of playing his cello and this was as close as he could get. He’d lost so much, pretty much everything, but he still had this.

The Winchesters’ entrance into his church (he called it ‘The Church of the Prophet’ just to be ironic) was much noisier than he’d expected it would be. It was like they were announcing themselves, and just because he could, he emptied the entire Super Soaker of holy water and borax into their faces. Their shocked expressions made him laugh out loud for the first time in months. He was surprised to hear how cracked he sounded, it had been a long time since he’d had any real human interaction, demons and salesclerks didn’t count.

Kevin suffered through Sam’s halting apologies and Dean’s whoops of excitement about the Gates of Hell thing. He’d written it down, but when it happened, when Dean grabbed him up in a big enthusiastic full-body hug his own body just melted into Dean’s. Feeling contact with another person, even if it was someone like Dean, meant everything, it made him feel real again, part of the world, maybe even useful.  When Dean finally released him, he felt Dean give him a little push towards Sam, and then he was suddenly getting a Sam Winchester hug, an even more full-body experience than Dean’s version.

The guy was big, bigger than life, and Sam was Kevin’s real-life hero now that he knew his whole story. From what he knew was about to happen tonight, Sam was going to argue in favor of leaving Kevin out of the attempt to close the Gates of Hell. Something about that touched him very deeply, that this giant of a man who was engulfing him, apologizing with his entire being for leaving Kevin alone for a year, when he had nothing to apologize for. Dean and Kevin should be fucking grateful that he was still here to deal out his hugs that were definitely worth dying for. Kevin really wished he could just say that, straight out for both of them to hear, but based on what he’d just written down about the brothers’ reunion and trip to find him, they still hadn’t gotten to where that would be acceptable or even tolerated.

Kevin realized suddenly, seeing for himself the disgusted expression on Dean’s face when he explained the brothers’ long absence from Kevin’s life, that it was going to be up to him to push them towards reconciling over the year they spent apart. The sooner the better for them, and probably the world. Just call me Kevin Tran, Prophet of the Lord, Relationship Counselor to Super Heroes ,he joked to himself. If his mom could only see him now, what a crazy career he’d fallen into.

When the brothers stepped outside to have a discussion about involving him in the new goal of shutting the Gates, he moved to the door to listen in, wanting to confirm for himself that the conversation he’d written matched what was actually said.  He was pleased to see that the dialogue was a near perfect match. So he was an accurate prophet. Good to know. Once he’d checked that out, he prepared for the coming demon attack. He probably should have mentioned it to Sam and Dean so they could be prepared, but he knew it would turn out okay.

It hurt worse than anything seeing Channing again, especially that brief moment when it was her again, even knowing it was going to happen still didn’t prepare him for how much he had left inside to still be broken to smithereens. But then it was really her neck snapping, and he was really watching Crowley’s satisfied smirk as he was driven away by two of the scariest and most amazing people he’d ever known.

“How in the world did you have that rigged up, Kev? That was pretty kick-ass,” Dean crowed from the front seat, pounding a fist into the steering wheel for emphasis.

Kevin shrugged in the darkness of the backseat, silent because he didn’t know where to start.

“Was it a prophecy or something, Kevin?” Sam asked, turning around to face him.

“Hold on, hold on!” Dean yelled. “If you’re getting prophecies now all of a sudden, you’ve got to share them with us. Like, ahead of time, you know? I mean, it would have been nice to know Crowley was gonna show up!”

“Okay, fine. I will, I swear,” Kevin said, trying not to sulk because he was getting scolded.

“Thanks, Kevin, that’ll be great. As you can tell, we can use all the help we can get,” Sam said with a smile that was lit by the headlights of the car following them.

Kevin smiled back at him and laid down, hoping to sleep, but of course the awful vision of Channing’s head flopping unnaturally and Crowley’s snapping fingers kept replaying on a constant loop.  He flopped back and forth, trying to get comfortable, the whole time wondering about how Sam and Dean ever managed to sleep back here. He sat up straight with a pained groan when that reminded him of all the things he’d left out of their story; it was hard not to imagine it, when you were sitting right where it had happened. He sent a curse out to God or whoever it was in charge of the Download for burdening him with the ultimate TMI.

They drove for a few hours and then Sam was able to persuade Dean to pull into a motel.  Dean dropped them off and immediately set out to go find them something to eat.  Kevin was grateful to be out of the car, even though he’d been half lying down, legs stretched out on the backseat. All he could think was that it would be nice to not be moving. He wasn’t used to being in a car after a year of moving around via short bus trips. He shouldered the heavy backpack that contained the now eight volumes of the New Winchester Gospels and trudged towards the door. At the last moment he tripped on the parking bumper and fell forward, Sam caught him just in time before he face planted.  Sam helped him to his feet and held his backpack by a couple of fingers as if it weighed nothing.

“What’s so heavy in here? I thought you hid the tablet; you’re not just carrying it around, right?” Sam asked, bouncing the backpack several times as if he was weighing it.

“No! I’m not stupid, of course not.  It’s…uh…what I’ve been working on, after I was done translating the tablet.”

“Is this more prophecies then?” Sam asked, tilting his head a little; showing that he was genuinely curious.

“No. It’s not, well, uh, kinda, I guess,” Kevin answered, fingers itching to grab the backpack and run.

Sam had the door open and locked behind them before Kevin noticed. “What aren’t you telling me, Kevin?” Sam asked, finally handing over the backpack and sitting down on the bed closest to the door.

Kevin paced a few times and then set the backpack down on what he assumed would be his bed for the night.  He unzipped it and took out the stack of journals, setting them down in a pile one by one . Keeping his hand on the top of the books, he finally met Sam’s eyes.  “If I’ve got to be the prophet, then I might as well be the best at it that I can be. And that means writing down your story whether you guys like it or not. It’s not my choice, believe me, it hurts more than your worst migraine, and I’d rather not know every little thing about you guys. But I do, whether I like it or not.  So, that’s what the books are, they’re the rest of your story from where Chuck’s books left off, up until now.”

“The Winchester Gospels ride again, huh?” Sam said with a little laugh that sounded kind of resigned and sad.

“Yeah, pretty much. Sorry. Like I said, I wish I didn’t have to, but it hurts even worse if I don’t write everything down, like my brain can’t hold it all in.”

“That’s kind of how my visions were. If I didn’t do something about them right away, it kept hurting more and more.  I get it, Kevin, about you having to write our story. I don’t like it, of course…but it’s a God thing, not exactly like you can say no.  Dean and I were vessels, like it or not, and you’re a prophet. Destiny’s bitches, all three of us.”

“Not you guys. You kicked Destiny in the ass!” Kevin exclaimed, embarrassed to be openly displaying his hero worship.

“Ah, I see you’ve caught up on the story then,” Sam laughed.

“Yeah. There wasn’t much to do at Crowley’s and he had the whole set of the Edlund books. Once I’d read them, something made me start writing and I pretty much haven’t stopped since.”

“Crowley had the books, huh? Not surprising, I guess,” Sam said, flopping back on the bed and stretching his long legs out so that his enormous boots hung off the edge.

“Know your enemy, he told me. Said it was for research purposes,” Kevin added, although it was probably stating the obvious.

“I can’t wait to kill that bastard,” Sam said to the ceiling in a flat voice.

“You will, I know you will, Sam,” Kevin said, hoping that his words came true.

“That an official prophecy straight from the prophet’s mouth?” Sam asked, sounding more than a little excited at the idea of killing Crowley.

“No, unfortunately, but it’s my professional opinion, so close enough, right?”

There was a loud thump at the door, it sounded like someone kicking it in a specific rhythm, instead of a random knock.  Sam groaned and heaved himself up off the bed, opening the door to let Dean in with his trays of food and a crinkling plastic bag that undoubtedly held alcohol of some kind.

“Burgers all around, come and get it,” Dean said, spreading all the food out for everyone to grab. He seated himself at the table and began inhaling his hamburger, barely chewing it.

“Uh, I’m a vegetarian,” Kevin said, looking at the table of food a little forlornly, feeling a little hurt that Dean had forgotten. Sure, he’d been in Purgatory, but still.

“Duh, I know, dude, just a figure of speech. I got you one of those veggie burger things, and there’s two salads here, one for each of you freaking leaf-eaters.”

Kevin was unexpectedly moved that Dean really had remembered. Of course he had, that was what Dean did. He took care of people, as well as he could, and if that meant buying them salads and veggie burgers he didn’t see the point in eating himself, then he damn well would.  It felt good to be taken care of like this, he could see why Sam put up with it.

“Thanks, Dean. I should have known you’d remember,” Kevin said, joining Dean at the table and savoring the first bite of his hot sandwich. He hadn’t eaten anything this good in a long time so he couldn’t suppress his happy eating noises.  Sam and Dean glanced at each other and grinned, so he shot them each a thankful grin and dug into his salad.

“So, this wasn’t written down already, huh?” Sam asked, spreading the salad dressing over his salad and spearing a few leaves.

“No, the Download stopped at the part where we drove away from the church,” Kevin answered, shooting Dean a worried glance.

“You’re writing down your prophecies?” Dean asked through the last mouthful of his burger.

Kevin had forgotten what it was like to eat with Dean and his awful table manners, so it took him a moment to answer.  “Yeah. And…uh…I’m writing your story too.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and darkened with anger.  Sam set one hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Dean, it’s not his fault. It’s a God thing. He has to, it’s part of being the prophet.”

“Still don’t like it. That shit’s invasive as hell,” Dean said.

“I know, believe me, I know.  And like I told Sam, I wouldn’t do it if I could help it. But you guys, you’ve been told this before, but your story…well…it’s important to the world. I can’t really explain that part yet, but all I know is that it’s true.”

“Do you think that’s why we’ve personally met the last two prophets ourselves? I mean, what are the chances that we would, right?” Sam asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the areas that were obviously going to remain sore spots for both of the brothers.

Kevin answered without having to think about it too much. “Yeah, it’s got to be part of the whole prophet thing to somehow know your subjects, especially if your story is as important as the Download insists it is.”

“What’s this Download you keep talking about?” Dean asked, clutching his beer bottle with a white knuckled grip, obviously still struggling with not exploding over the invasiveness of his life’s story being important to the world somehow.

“It’s just how I describe it to myself, what it feels like, when your story and the prophecies come through me. It’s like I’m downloading information from somewhere,” Kevin said, hoping his explanation made sense.

“If it helps, I’m sorry that you have to download all our crap and then write it down too. ’s hard enough livin’ it,” Dean said, reaching for another beer out of the bag.

“Yeah, that goes for me too, Kevin. It sucks you have to see all of our crap and that it hurts you too,” Sam said, compassionate concern focused on Kevin completely.

Kevin looked back and forth between the brothers a few times, and realized that they were being sincere. But they had no idea, they really didn’t, and he needed to somehow get them to understand.  “Thanks for your concern, really, I mean it. But I’m sorry that you guys have to actually live through all of it. If you ask me, the world owes you big time for all that you’ve done. So many times, when most people would have given up, not even tried to keep fighting, to keep loving and being human. I mean, I’ve seen it, you’ve thrown yourselves out there over and over again, for strangers, for each other, even for your enemies. I know you’ll probably not accept this, and it’s not worth much, but I mean it as sincerely as I can, I thank you on behalf of the world.”

Sam’s eyes began to water and Kevin’s heart sank. He’d made Sam sad, shit, shit shit. But then he looked at Dean, and it wasn’t tears, it was a fond smile on his face because he was looking at his brother’s reaction.  Dean reached over and squeezed one of Sam’s knees, and cleared his throat as obnoxiously as possible. “We accept your thanks,” he finally said with a classic Dean Winchester shit-eating grin.

Now it was Sam’s turn to be transfixed, watching his brother open and bloom, like he hadn’t seen him smile like that in a very long time. Finally he smiled, big and open at Dean, turning back towards Kevin, he said in a firm voice, “And we thank you for being the prophet.”

“Okay, so if this girl-fest is over now, can we find something good to watch and finish the beer or what?” Dean said, standing up and crunching up all the wrappers into one of the bags.  He tied the top tightly and threw the bag into the trash can, swiped the remote off the top of the t.v. where it was velcro-ed and flopped down onto the bed that Sam was sitting on.  It jostled Sam too much and he spilled some of his salad.

“Damn it, Dean! I wasn’t done with that,” Sam complained, dabbing at the hideous flowery comforter with one of the paper napkins.

“Sorry, Princess. You gotta eat faster around here,” Dean smirked and turned his attention to the t.v. which blared to life with an announcement for a preview for shark week.

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes so that both Dean and Kevin could see.  “Kevin, I sure hope you like sharks.”

“Of course, who doesn’t? Is it shark week already?” Kevin asked, absurdly excited to see a working t.v. because it had been so long.

“See, Sammy, I’m not the weird one on this, sharks are prophet-approved,” Dean crowed, clapping his hand on his thigh a few times and snorting laughter.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it then. I’m going out for a walk,” Sam said, finishing his beer and dropping the bottle in the trash can.  He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, waving one of the room keys so Dean could see it.

“What was that all about?” Kevin asked, still sitting at the table by the window, and frankly still quite stunned to see the Winchesters-in-the-motel routine played out live instead of on Download-replay.  It was even more adorable in person, and he’d never tell anyone he thought this about them, but it was freaking adorable, these two enormous, scary men still acting like they’re teenagers.

“Oh, it’s a long-running thing with us, Sam doesn’t get the beauty of Shark Week. A whole week about sharks, c’mon!”

“It’s really just a thing to tease each other about, isn’t it?” Kevin guessed.

“Yeah, it’s one of our things. You must know ‘em all by now. God, we must bore you to tears, dude,” Dean said, fiddling with the paper label on his beer bottle.

“No…uh…not boring, not the word I’d use to describe you guys. But, um, since Sam’s gone, there’s something I want to tell you. I think you should tell Sam how you got out of Purgatory, sooner rather than later,” Kevin said, studying Dean’s face to see if he understood what he meant.

“You saw all that, huh?” Dean asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  “I’m not sure I can. Pretty sure Sam wouldn’t understand. Especially since he gave up on hunting while I was gone anyway. He didn’t even look for me.”

The sadness in Dean’s voice broke Kevin’s heart to hear. He couldn’t just blurt out Sam’s story, that wouldn’t be right, but maybe…“Dean, he truly thought you were dead,” Kevin offered, hoping it would be enough to help Dean get over this huge upset.

“Can you tell me any more about the woman and the dog?” Dean asked in a voice that made him sound like he was about ten years old.

“No, it’s Sam’s story to tell. I’ve probably said too much already. I’m sorry, I was just trying to help. You guys seemed a little stuck,” Kevin said, mostly regretting having said anything in the first place.

“No, no apologies, I get it. You’re right. Far as he knew, I was dead, and he tried to make a life without me. Meanwhile I was fighting tooth and nail every damn day just to get back to him. It’s a little unbalanced, you know? I’ll get over it or I’ll stow it.”

“That’s how you guys are though, you go back and forth, taking turns on over-doing the saving each other thing. And neither of you are very good at living lives with other people.  I haven’t had…uh…any real relationships or anything, but it seems like you ought to be glad each other are still alive and that you’re back together. Same plane of existence and everything. I mean…it’s a win/win right?”

Dean looked up at the corner of the ceiling intensely for a moment and then cracked a half-smile. “Yeah, I guess I’ll get there eventually. But I can’t help feeling like I screwed everything up for him again, just by coming back.”

Kevin realized that this was probably where the relationship counseling really came in, having seen this issue come up over and over again in their story. “Dean, I think you couldn’t be more wrong on that, and that’s all I can say. Just please, try and talk to him about it, okay?”

“This have to do with a prophecy?” Dean asked, searching Kevin’s face with a direct scrutiny that was uncomfortable.

Kevin shrugged, trying to maintain his composure. “No, just a gut feeling based on reading all the books and writing all the new ones. You and Sam are soul mates and that doesn’t ever change. No matter what, you need each other. Things get messed up the most when you guys hide big stuff because you think the other one can’t handle it. So tell him about the Purgatory thing, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, you talked me into it.  Now let’s watch some sharks, okay? You need another one?” Dean asked, gesturing towards the bag with the beer bottles.

“No, just one was good enough for me. This about great whites, or something else?” Kevin asked, settling down on his bed on the propped up pillows, he dropped his shoes off onto the carpet with a thud.  How strange it was to be with other people, talking, listening, interacting, all that good stuff. He’d missed it. It wasn’t really the same, reliving the brother’s lives and writing it down. Part of this prophet thing had to be having some of the experiences with the subjects. And hopefully, he’d helped them somehow tonight by risking being pushy with Dean like he just had.


Eventually Sam returned to their room and found Dean snoring on his back, Kevin curled up under the covers with one of the journals under one hand, and a pen in the cup of his other hand.  Sam closed the door as quietly as he could, slid the pen and journal out of Kevin’s grasp, and pulled the last beer bottle out from between Dean’s legs.  Dean still had all his clothes on, except his jacket, even his boots, and he was laying there rigid as if he was ready to take flight if he heard anything unusual.  Sam padded quietly to the bathroom and got himself ready for bed.  He checked the salt lines, turned out all the lights as well as the tv, and slid under the covers next to Dean.

Dean of course woke up and grabbed for the awful blade he’d been using lately, the one from Purgatory. He had it coming towards Sam’s throat before Sam even noticed he’d moved.

“Dean, it’s me. Sorry I woke you up,” Sam said through the pressure of Dean’s hand constricting around his windpipe.

Dean relaxed instantly and put the blade back under his pillow, then flopped down on it and turned towards Sam.  “Sorry, Sammy; got used to having to do that.”

“In Purgatory, you mean?” Sam whispered, not wanting to wake Kevin up.

“Yeah, pretty much every time I laid down to sleep, I got woken up by something trying to kill me.  Hard to get out of the kill-or-be-killed mode, ya know?” Dean whispered back.

“I do. I get it. Hey, uh, Dean, would you let me know if I can help you with that somehow?”

“I’m getting better. Don’t worry ‘bout me, Sammy,” Dean trailed off.

“I can’t help it, I do worry about you. Bobby used to give me shit about it,” Sam chuckled softly to himself at the memory.

“Yeah, me too; it was another excuse to call me an idjit, worrying about you too much. He always said that you were a big boy and you could take care of yourself,” Dean chuckled a little too, smiling across the space between them.

“You think Kevin’s okay?” Sam asked.

“No, of course not. He got kidnapped by Crowley, he’s been on the run for a year,  and just saw his girlfriend killed, but he’s tougher than he looks. He was giving me advice earlier,” Dean said.

“Prophet advice or Kevin advice?” Sam asked.

“Both, kinda. He said I needed to talk to you about Purgatory more, so that you get where I’m coming from, especially how I got out,” Dean admitted.

“Okay, I’m ready to listen whenever you want to tell me,” Sam said patiently.

Dean took a few moments to compose himself and explained the whole process of surviving and escaping Purgatory.  Sam listened and then thanked him for coming clean about it. They fell asleep wrapped up in each other, like they should have been from the first night that Dean was back.


While the Winchesters reconciled a few feet away from him, Kevin finally had a conversation with what had to be the source of the Download as he slept. The only thing he could remember clearly when he woke up was a man’s voice telling him, “I see you’ve been following my divine imperative finally. Well done getting the boys back together, that’s changed everything now, for the better, because you’re not going to die too soon. Stick with them, they’ll keep you safer than any archangel could have. Remember, you’re my Prophet, not just a translator. That means you affect the world, you don’t just write it down.”

Kevin sat up abruptly, reaching for his journal to write it all down. He hadn’t received any other information from his dream conversation with the Download. Kevin was left with this sense of peace about the future, that something bad had been averted just because of what he’d said to the brothers. He wasn’t going to die too soon; what did that even mean?

He turned to see if they were awake yet and was surprised to see that they were both dead asleep. Dean was still fully dressed and on top of the bedspread with his boots on.  He was lying on his side, facing Kevin, completely wrapped up in Sam’s arms, though. Kevin smiled to himself, guessing that something in what he’d said to Dean last night really had worked. It was good to see them both so relaxed and at peace. They both deserved it and he was glad to have possibly helped them in some small way.  And maybe if he let them read his journals at some point, that would help too; there was a whole lot in there that would probably surprise the Winchesters more than finding out that he was ‘that kind of a Prophet’ after all.