pixel_0 | Crescendo of the Moon: (12/?)

Previous chapters can be found here.

Many thanks to

why_me_why_not for the amazingly fast beta on this chapter. After all, if it hadn't been for her, the "r" in "shirt" still would have been missing, and well, that certainly would have been a bit awkward for Dean to be wearing...

Twelve

“We need to talk.”

When Dean moved away from the door that he had shut behind him, his gaze never left Sam, and the gun Sam held never faltered. Dean never grew any closer to Sam; he moved to a different area of the room away from the entrance instead. Even though Dean had been away from what Sam would label as “modern society” for over a day, Dean’s eyes were bright and glittering, his skin smooth with the lack of stubble, and he showed no signs of obvious fatigue. On the other hand, Sam had large black circles smeared under drooping and bloodshot eyes, and if sleep happened to merely whisper coyly to him, he would instantly collapse. Yet, he held the gun tight in his fingers; a gun that had been used to kill creatures of the night was now being used against his own brother.

“What’s going on, Sammy?” Dean asked casually, opening his hands in a friendly gesture. “C’mon, I should’ve said something, I know, but it was late, I needed air, you were asleep….Went outside and there was this blonde—like I was tryin’ to tell you?”

“Dean, please.”

There was a glint of undistinguishable emotion across Dean’s face, but he made no direct reaction to Sam’s statement and continued nonchalantly, “And, so, yeah. Cut me some slack. I haven’t gotten laid in…” He waved his hand flippantly in the air. “A really long time. Probably wouldn’t hurt you to do the same, right? Right. But, let’s just say, me and her, yeah, we had a good time.” The smile stretching across his face seemed fragile in its forced bravado, and the slightest wind of truth would shatter him completely, baring his soul for all to see the blackness within.

When Sam’s only response was a breathy inhalation, Dean sighed roughly. “Put the damn gun down,” he snapped in a tone that Sam recognized as exasperation. It was the same tone Dean frequently used when things weren’t going exactly his way. “What the hell is wrong with you? Goddammit, Sam. Put the gun away already.” Just as Dean started to sit down in one of the chairs at the small table, Sam moved closer and aimed the firearm at Dean’s chest.

“Give me the truth.”

“Truth? About what?”

“Last night. The truth.”

“The blonde—she—I told you…What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Dean!” Sam’s voice was a whip snap in the pressing silence of the room, and Dean flinched and looked away from his brother’s deep, accusatory tone. “I know where you were last night. I saw you with them. Those things. Those lizards. I know, Dean.”

Suddenly, Dean’s body stiffened in the chair as if he had been prodded, and he looked up at Sam through fogged eyes. Before Dean could speak, Sam continued in his mad ramble, even though Dean’s face grew narrow and agitated.

“I saw what they do. They kill people, Dean. They’ve killed hundreds of children! I don’t know what deal you’ve made with them, but let me help you, please. Let me help you before it’s too late.”

“Stop it.”

“No, no, I won’t. I heard all their promises of immortality and that bunch of bullshit—”

“Sam, I’m warning you. Stop it.”

Undeterred, Sam took one of his hands off the gun to point his index finger at Dean angrily. “You have to kill to get whatever the hell they’ve promised you. Do you realize this? You don’t even know if they’re going to follow through. You can’t just—”

In a sudden flash, Dean leapt to his feet, bringing himself to a standing position against his younger brother. With the back of his hand, he hit Sam sharply across the cheek, causing Sam’s head to whip to the side. There was a lightning crack of skin striking skin, and in the rapid moment of pain and surprise, the gun tumbled to the carpet underneath one of the beds.

More emotionally than physically hurt, Sam paused for a fraction of a second, long enough to allow Dean the opportunity to roughly throw him against the wall, where he slid to a seated position with his back to the chipped plaster. With the wind knocked out of him, Sam wheezed in short, hitched gasps and clutched his abdomen weakly. Dean gave an indifferent glance down to his younger brother, and he readjusted the bunched leather around his shoulders as a boxer would shake himself off after a match against his opponent.

Then, he glared down at Sam, and Dean pointed his finger sharply in a threatening manner. “Stay the hell away from me,” he growled in his throat. When his eyes, obscured by the darkness that was slowly consuming him, met Sam’s, a single word passed between them on the air, and Sam felt a pit open in the depths of his stomach. He was looking at a man he no longer recognized.

Just as Dean began to walk away towards the door to make his escape, Sam lurched forward in a frantic attempt of sore muscles and tackled his older brother. Dean tumbled to the ground under the sudden attack. They fumbled in a heap of squirming, angry limbs and sputtered curses before Sam, using his extra height, managed to pin Dean to the ground.

“I can help you!” he yelled, grabbing the smooth leather jacket in his fists. He was breathing heavily, unable to catch his breath from the fear coursing through him. “Dammit, I’m your brother. We can beat this together.”

A storm cloud rolled over Dean’s face as he glared up at Sam from beneath dark lids. There was a muscle twitching in the side of his face, when he snarled, “We’re not together! What kind of dream world are you living in? This is my problem! You need to leave me alone!”

Dean pushed at Sam’s shoulders, trying to will him to rise, but the combination of Sam’s sheer physical size and overwhelmed adrenaline kept Dean pinned to the carpeting. “I don’t care what you want!” Sam shouted. “I’m not going to let you run off and do whatever the hell it is you have to do for them!”

Dean chuckled in the back of his throat, a low murmur of approaching thunder. “They understand me a hell of a lot better than you do. You don’t know how I’ve felt every damn day. You don’t know! You don’t know! You can’t feel it because you can’t remember it!” He grinned maliciously, a snarl of white teeth between red fleshly lips. “You think losing Jess was bad? She was just your girlfriend, Sammy. You had her for a bit when you ran out, and then she died. End of story. All right? You still had me and Dad—even if you were too damn good for us. But you had us.”

“You bastard,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth.

“When Mom died, I had nobody. Nobody! I lost Dad and Mom that day. Dad died when Mom did!” Dean lurched upward, bringing his face closer to Sam’s, until Sam could see the bloodshot capillaries curling in demonic tendrils near the golden flecks of the centers of Dean’s eyes. “You don’t remember Dad before Mom died, do you? Do you?”

“This isn’t you talking.”

“You know your little motel owner friend? Hmm?” Dean’s eyes flashed wickedly, crinkles forming around their edges as he grinned eccentrically. “They took in his daughter when she wanted an escape from her pain. They knew, just like they knew that I wanted an escape from my life and pain. She would be given immortality for a death to them.”

“Her mother,” Sam whispered hoarsely.

“Exactly. But the gunfire scared her away, and she ran out when the guy shot at her in her new form. And then, because she wasn’t strong enough to give them the blood, they took her own. They killed her all right, the old man was right about that, but she tried to kill first to save herself.”

“Why her mother?”

“Haven’t you figured it out, smart college boy Sammy? Haven’t you? Her mother caused her pain, and she wanted to take it away.”

“She was abused.”

“Oh yes,” Dean hissed, suddenly relaxing with the revelation of the truth dawning upon Sam.

“You weren’t abused, Dean. If that’s what you think, then you’re wrong. We weren’t abused. You even said it yourself: Dad did the best he could—”

“Did it matter?!” Dean yelled, snapping from his calm state and struggling to free himself yet again. “Mom was already gone! Do you know what she smelled like before she went to bed, and what kind of cookies she liked to bake? Do you know the sound of her laughing? Do you know what it was like to have her hold you at night when you woke up with a nightmare? Imagine having all that torn away from you, and your dad—the one person who you thought would never leave you—go away, too.” Dean leaned back against the carpet, resting the back of his head gently against the floor, and he whispered, “I lose everyone.”

“Lost,” Sam whispered. His heart was pounding wildly in his ears, and the fingers holding Dean to the ground suddenly felt disconnected from his own body.

“No, lose, Sammy, lose.”

“Fight them.”

“No, I’m tired of feeling this way. I want a new life.”

“I’m not going to let you do this.”

Dean laughed lowly again, a rasping stutter rolling from his lips. “I don’t think you really have much of a choice in the matter.” Having said that, he threw himself upward so powerfully that Sam tumbled off him to land in a disjointed pile on the ground. Dean scrambled quickly to his feet and dashed for the door. Just before he reached the exit, Sam managed to get close enough to snatch the collar of Dean’s jacket between his fingers.

There was a suspended moment when Dean twisted his body and slid out of the coat, leaving himself exposed. His arms were now completely covered in thick blue scales that ran up underneath his thin shirt and climbed down the back of his neck where the collar of the coat had rested. His mouth fell open in horror as the coat pulled away from him and shock smeared with anger flickered across his face.

Beneath Sam’s pained fingers, the leather was still warm, and one word echoed through Sam’s mind when he lifted his head to look upon his brother. He dropped the coat and bolted towards Dean, screaming senselessly with the knowledge that if Dean escaped, an innocent life would be taken or he would lose Dean forever.

However, Dean seemed to dissipate into the dark wind before Sam could even reach the opened door. Defeated, Sam sagged against the doorframe, with the one word rolling over him like a threat of fatal thunder in his mind. He brought his hands to his face and rubbed his callused fingers over his skin, fighting to control his ragged breathing. When he lifted his eyes to the thick sky, Sam realized he would have to risk his life to bring back the only brother he had.

And, when the night breeze whispered that one word, it stung the side of Sam’s face and slipped around his ears: Monster.

Chapter Thirteen

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

allstar12.livejournal.com

Whoa, that was intense. Even though he's a "monster", I feel for Dean. He seems so sad and broken. Can't wait for more, it's gonna get hairy!

p.s. You just had to have the one on top of the other image, didn't you =P

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Crescendo of the Moon: (12/?)

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