caranfindel | Entries tagged with fic: hell trauma

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When the New York Times said "God is dead and the war's begun" (a coda for 14.20, "Moriah")

Genre: Gen, angst, hurt!Sam
Length: ~10K
Rating: R for language and a bit of violence (and let's face it, lots of blasphemy)
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Gabriel, Chuck Shurley
Spoilers: Through 14.20
Synopsis: Follows immediately after "It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah." Sam shot God. God is pissed. And He's going to do something about it. (The title is from "Levon" by Elton John. Yes, I should have chosen another title from "Hallelujah." I didn't. Oh well.)

Thursday

It's Thursday morning, two days after the showdown in the cemetery, and it's still dark. Or maybe it's not really two days later. Or even morning. Dean's watch is still stopped, but the clock in his bedroom says it's 8:35 a.m on a Thursday. But do days and mornings even exist when the sun won't rise? Jack is dead and burned. Cas is gone, fucked off to Heaven to rearrange deck chairs on the Titanic, and ignoring or not hearing their prayers. And it's still dark. Phones don't work and there's no TV or internet or radio and the sun still doesn't rise.

They've definitely screwed the pooch this time.

At least the bunker, bless her mysterious little heart, still has utilities from wherever she gets them from. Dean takes long hot showers, cooks food they'll both only pick at, cleans his guns, and regularly confirms that his phone still says No Service. And watches Sam. For his part, Sam reads, plows through the card catalog like he expects to find a book titled So You Tried to Kill God and Now He's Pissed, checks his laptop as obsessively as Dean checks his phone, and sometimes he does what he's doing now — just sits at the library table with his head in his hands, ignoring the book in front of him, doing nothing.

Well. Mourning probably counts as something.

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These are the days of miracle and wonder (this is the long distance call)

Continued from part 1

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Title: These are the days of miracle and wonder (this is the long distance call)
Genre: Gen, hell trauma
Length: ~10K
Rating: PG-13 for language, show-level gore
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, other canon characters
Spoilers: Through the end of s13
Synopsis: Sam Winchester's life has been touched by many things - love, loss, fear, hope, pain, and always, in the background, witchcraft. Written for the 2018

spn_summergen challenge for the amazing

quickreaver and originally posted here.

Author's note: Just like last year, I was both thrilled and horrified when I saw who my prompts came from, because I love and adore Quickreaver and didn't know if I could come up with anything worthy. I'm afraid that I kind of gave her the opposite of what she asked for, but this is where the muse sent me.

Why is this the extended cut? Because it has an added scene. I couldn't get this bit to work until after I'd already submitted my fic, and I decided to add it after the fact. If you've already read the fic and don't want to read the whole thing again, it's the new chapter VIII.

Thanks so much to my lovely betas,

gatorgurl94 and

amberdreams on LJ and noxbait on Tumblr. The title is from "Boy in the Bubble" by Paul Simon.

~~~

I. Sandusky, Ohio. Sam Winchester is five years old.

Sam talks to things that other people don't talk to. He thanks the grass for being cool and soft under his feet. He tells the birds their songs are pretty. He doesn't use his voice; he talks to them in his head. And sometimes they answer.

(Not with words. That would be silly. Birds don't know words. Grass doesn't know words. But they answer, all the same.)

It never occurs to him that other people don't do the same thing until the day Dean kills a spider in the bathtub. "Why didn't you just ask him to leave?" he asks.

Dean laughs like it's a joke, and it makes Sam feel inexplicably hot and angry inside. "It's not funny," Sam says. "You didn't have to kill him. You could have just told him to get out of our bathtub."

Dean rolls his eyes dramatically. "People can't talk to insects, Spider-Man."

"Not the way you talk to people, but you can tell them things. You know." Surely Dean knows. Dean knows everything. It's just one of those things everyone can do and you don't talk need to talk about, like the way you can un-focus your eyes, or feel if it's going to rain. Isn't it?

But Dean takes a long time to answer, and Sam gets an uncomfortable feeling deep in his belly. "No, Sam," he finally says. "You can't tell them things. They're spiders. People can't talk to spiders. Not normal people." Something about Dean's expression - a little angry, a little worried, a little frightened - makes Sam think people aren't supposed to talk to spiders. "I mean, you don't think you're really talking to them, right?"

"No, I know," he says quickly. "I was just joking." He doesn't bring it up again. He feels like he did something bad, something wrong, and he doesn't want Dean to look angry-worried-frightened at him again.

~~~
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No new episode to talk about, so here's a little ficlet instead...

Of flesh and blood I'm made
Genre: Gen, hurt!Sam, angst, hell trauma
Length: About 600 words
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Synopsis: Dean's body was rebuilt when he was raised from Hell, but Sam's wasn't. What if, once he got his soul and his memory back, his body couldn't forget what had happened in Hell? How high would his pain threshold be?

~~~

"I'm just going to tuck this warmed blanket around you," she says. (Ashley, her name is Ashley; the whiteboard on the wall across from him says Baptist Medical Center Emergency Department and Your nurse is Ashley and Today is Wednesday the 22nd and other things they think he wants to know.)

(You are topside. That's what Sam wants to know.)

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Title: Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
Genre: Gen, angst
Length: About 3100 words
Rating: Light R or hard PG
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Spoilers: Mentions events that happened at the end of S12
Warnings: Language and a little bit of violent imagery
Author's Notes: My first attempt at Summergen! When I saw that my recipient was

crowroad3, I was both overjoyed (because I'm such a huge fan) and horrified (because what could I write that would be worthy?) Thank you, my friend, for the fabulous prompts, and for being such an inspiration in general. Thanks also to the

spn_summergen mods for running this challenge, which I know takes much time and dedication and blood and sweat and tears, and to every other participant, for providing so much awesome gen fic and art that I still haven't quite worked my way completely through, and thanks also to my darling speedy beta,

manzanita_crow.
Synopsis: Something bad happens when you break a blood oath with a reaper. Sam and Dean have to fix it.

~~~

They leave the Impala at the Timber Lake Trailhead. Dean slams the trunk closed, shoulders his pack, and raises his eyebrows at Sam, as if to ask you sure about this? Sam shrugs. He's as sure as he'll ever be. It's not like there's anyone they can ask. Not like he has one of the most powerful witches in existence on speed dial any more. Not like there's any real way of knowing if this is going to work, if the weeks of sweat and blood prepping for this are actually going to pay off.

He unfolds the map and lays it across the trunk. "If we head straight east, we'll pick up Route 34 at Farview Curve, and we'll miss all this." Sam runs a finger along the switchback twists and hairpin turns of a section of Route 34. "Or we can go northeast, between these two creeks. It will take a little longer, since we'll have to backtrack some once we get to the road, but we won't have to cross a creek without a bridge."

Dean squints up at the cold morning sky, down at the frozen ground. Scuffs at the hard crust of snow with his boot. "Creek's probably frozen, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Okay. East it is." Sam folds the map and keeps his face neutral. Doesn't want to reveal how relieved he is that Dean actually... spoke. Contributed. Acted like he gives a shit, about this job or literally anything else. He threads his arms through the straps of his own pack, checks his compass, and starts down the slope away from the trailhead.

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And now, let me put in a plug for the story that was written for my own prompt. After S10 ended with Dean killing Death, I got a plot bunny where Dean actually killed Sam, and Death put him away in the promised mysterious safe place, and then stuff happened. But I didn't know what to do with it, so I put it away and eventually submitted it as a Summergen prompt.

tifaching ran with it and took it to some unexpected places and I don't want to give away any details, because I want you to experience the lovely way it unfolds. But I do want you to read it, because it's awesome! Please check out Message in a Bottle and show some love!

Written for the Celebrating Sam event on

ohsam. The prompt was "field surgery." This was supposed to be from Sam’s POV, but Dean kept taking over (as he so often does when I try to write Sam), so you get both sides.

Pairings: None (gen)
Warnings: Language, whumpage
Also available on AO3

~~~~~~~~~

Side A

Like many of the stupid things Sam does, it happens too quickly for Dean to stop it. Once minute he's on his ass in the damp slippery grass, fallen like a goddamn amateur, watching the spinthaak advance and hoping he can get off a shot before it rips his head off. The next minute Sam's charging between him and the spinthaak, close enough (too close too close too goddamn close) to shoot it right between the eyes. Dean sees its tail twitch forward before it goes down and he rolls out of the way, because he knows what's at the end of a spinthaak's tail. He hopes to god that Sam got out of the way in time. But a strangled cry of pain puts his heart in his throat.

Sam's on his knees, pawing at his chest, and in a second Dean's in front of him. He tries to pull his brother's trembling hands away to check for blood, because a spinthaak has pretty big fucking claws, too. "Sam. Sam! Did it get you?"

"I'm okay. Kill it." Sam bats his hands away and waves toward the spinthaak's corpse. He clutches his chest again and sinks to the ground with a groan.

"It's dead," Dean says. "You got it. You got too close, you moron! Where did it get you? Did it sting you?"

Of course it did, of course it did, because nothing but a spinthaak's sting would put him in this much pain. Sam's curled up on the ground, writhing, whimpering, and Dean doesn't want to think about what it takes to make his brother fucking whimper.

(But he already knows. He's had John Winchester's voice murmuring in the back of his head all morning. Spinthaak venom. Just a tiny bit in each quill, but it's one of the most painful things a human being can ever experience. Knew a fella got stung in the finger, said he'd have shot his own arm off if his friend hadn't been there to stop him. But the pain isn't what takes you out. The venom is a paralytic. The quill burrows its way to your core if you can't yank it out fast enough, gets to your heart or your diaphragm and boom, you're gone. No antivenin, no CPR. Your only hope is to get that quill out before it's out of reach. And you'll be in too much pain to get it out yourself. That's why you never hunt a spinthaak alone.)

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caranfindel

September 2021

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Page Summary

Fic: When the New York Times said "God is dead and the war's begun" (a coda for 14.20, "Moriah")
Fic: These are the days of miracle and wonder (this is the long distance call) - 2/2
Fic: These are the days of miracle and wonder (this is the long distance call) - extended cut (1/2)
Fic: Swim out past the breakers, watch the world die (13.22 coda)
Ficlet: Of flesh and blood I'm made
Summergen fic: Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
Fic: I focus on the pain (the only thing that's real)

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Style Credit

Style: Ivory Alcea for Mobility by branchandroot
Resources: Mitsuba Aoi

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