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caranfindel: (Default)
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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caranfindel: (Default)
Because [livejournal.com profile] borgmama1of5 begged for it, and because I didn't mean to leave the ending ambiguous, That gives us hope when the whole day’s done gets a quick little epilogue (you should read that before you read this). And by "quick" I mean "dashed out during my lunch hour," which is probably obvious. No medical research was done, so please be kind and suspend disbelief. Thanks.

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caranfindel: (Default)
Somehow I managed not to post this on my LJ when I wrote it, so here it is, almost a year later.

That gives us hope when the whole day’s done
Genre:
Gen, hurt!Sam, hurt!Dean
Length: About 600 words
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Synopsis: Written for the November 2017 Oh Sam Comment Meme for the following two prompts:

1. Dean finds and follows a blood trail left in the snow/sand/forest, and finds a pale and bleeding-out Sam at the end of it.
2. Sam + a car crash = freaking out Dean!


. . .

The first thing Dean thinks when he wakes up is fuck, it's cold. The second thing is everything hurts. And then it hits him, the memory of the truck slamming into this piece of shit car he stole, the stomach-churning feeling of spinning helpless and uncontrolled over the icy road and tipping over into the ditch, and then (and he'll never forgive himself for taking so long to get to that point) he thinks Sam.

"Sam?" His voice is small, and weak, and that's probably why Sam isn't answering. He probably can't hear him. Maybe he's not even in the car - maybe he got himself out and walked back up to the road for help. Maybe he's on the phone right now. That would be the best case scenario, right? And maybe, just this once, Dean's gonna get the best case scenario.

All he has to do is turn his head. It's slow, cause it fucking hurts, but finally he does it and oh, God, he's not getting the best case scenario.

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caranfindel: (Default)
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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caranfindel: (Default)
Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother
Genre: Gen, h/c, angst
Length: About 1600 words
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Spoilers: None
Synopsis: A kind of remix of With Gravy, a season 2 fic by the amazing [livejournal.com profile] kalliel, which you need to read first. Basically, I read her story and knew I had to hear Sam's side. (It's not as good as Dean's side, because seriously, she's amazing.)

Now with wonderful art by [livejournal.com profile] amberdreams!


~~~



Sam switches off with Mariana. Estimates she can go five minutes, tops, before slowing down to the point of ineffectiveness, to the point where he takes over again.

It's just numbers; 100 to 120 beats per minute. "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees sets the perfect rhythm. It's all right, it's okay; I'll live to see another day.

She stops to give rescue breaths, and Sam wants to tell her not to, that it will tire her out faster, that it's actually more effective to do hands-only CPR. But he's not going to tell her how to keep her husband alive. He gets up to tap her shoulder, to take over, to get back into his rhythm. Life going nowhere, somebody help me, somebody help me yeah.
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caranfindel: (Default)
Written for the Celebrating Sam event on [livejournal.com profile] 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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