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SPN-fanfic: Consequences 1/4

Okay flist, you can run but you can`t hide. Well, technically you could but I hope you won`t. *g* Anyway this is part 1 of my mini-epic SPN fanfic.
For all WIP-weary, it`s mostly finished and in various stages of beta/post-ready. Chapter 2 should be up later today.

Title: Consequences - Part I: Decisions
Author: Astri
Disclaimer: Sadly the Supernatural universe and boys don`t belong to me. If they did, nobody would ever see them again. Ever.
Ratings/Warning/Pairing: Gen, no pairing, PG 13
Spoiler: slight allusions up to the Season 2 Finale
Total word count: 17.122
Summary: After a hunt gone wrong Sam is faced with a difficult decision which leaves Dean a changed man. How will the brothers cope with it? And will their enemies use the opportunity to strike?

AN: This is a future fic. The chapter is kinda Sam-heavy and the angst followed him. :) Though both Dean and the snark will make an appearance as the story goes on.

Much thanks to legoline for general support and ass-kicking ;) and mucho gracias to andromakhe001 for awesome beta-duties.

Concrit welcome. I mean that. :)



Consequences I: Decisions


"Sam, get the hell down."

Why does he even bother ? Sam thought surly, because even whilst shouting the warning Dean was hurling himself between the werewolf and his little brother.

Sam winced when the two crashed together in mid-air, then screamed outright as Dean was thrown like a rag doll, connecting with the old decayed farmhouse with a sickening thud before landing on the ground.

The huge, black animal now turned his attention back on Sam but Dean had bought him enough time to get his hands on the shotgun. As the thing bearing down on him, Sam fired. Silver bullet right through the heart. It fell dead immediately.

For a moment Sam reveled in his victory, adrenaline still rushing through his veins. He did feel the exhilaration of the hunt, just not like... Dean.

Sam`s eyes searched the grass and landed on Dean`s unmoving form, lying a few feet away. He scrambled to his brother`s side, eyes frantically surveying the damage. Dean`s arm stood at an odd angle, obviously broken and Sam hissed at the sight of the bone poking through in one spot.

He quickly checked for a pulse and to his relief found a weak yet steady beat. With slight exasperation he shook his head: "Damnit, you idiot. It really did a number on you, didn`t it."

Sam put a hand under Dean`s head to lift him up but stopped short, frowning. When he pulled it back his hand came away wet. Blood, he instantly realized. Dean must have hit his head pretty bad being thrown into the house.

Again he lifted his brother to get a better look at the wound, the full moon providing sufficient lighting. A moment later Sam wished it hadn`t. A nail was embedded in the wound, driven right through the skull by the impact of Dean`s fall. For a second Sam went into total panic mode. His brother had a freaking nail in his freaking head. And didn`t people die from that?

"Oh god, oh god... ," he kept murmuring it to himself like a mantra. Hastily pulling out his cell-phone, he dialed.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" a female voice greeted him, sounding far too calm to Sam`s ears.

"My brother, he... he had an accident. He... he fell and... and his arm, I think it`s broken... "
Wow, good one Sammy, a little voice inside his head spoke up, you might wanna mention the nail shoved into his brain sometime too.

The voice of the operator remained impassive: "Calm down, Sir. Is he conscious?"

"No, he is... there is... ," he knew he was babbling but couldn`t help it, "... he fell and he hit his head and... and there is a nail... inside the wound... "

A small pause on the other end of the line. "There is a nail driven into his head?"

"Yes." Sam nearly sobbed at hearing her say it.

"Is he breathing?"

The question was like icy water on Sam`s overwrought nerves and he had to stop himself from screaming out his answer. "Yes, yes, he is. He is still alive. Please, you have to help him,"

"Try and stay calm. Can you tell me where you are?"

"The... the old Westwood estate, 1540 Southwood Drive."

"Okay Sir, the ambulance is on the way. Keep the patient warm and don`t try to remove the object from the wound."

For some reason this struck Sam as hilariously funny. No Ma`am, I won`t pull the nail out of a bloody wound on my brother`s head. Thanks for the advice.

He disconnected the call and shrugged off his jacket, arranging it over Dean. Then he lay down beside his brother in the soft grass, awkwardly putting an arm over Dean`s chest, trying to hang on. Trying to make Dean hang on.

Long excruciating minutes passed until the ambulance arrived and the EMTs quickly loaded Dean inside. Sam rode with him, looking on as the men worked on his brother.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Dean was immediately wheeled away to surgery. Sam, being only required to sign a quick form of consent, was then left to himself with more paperwork to fill out.

The hours ticked by and part of him thought he should be more aware of that. Pacing the hall, checking his watch periodically. Wouldn`t that be the normal thing to do? Yet he could only sit there numb, disconnected. Feeling like he was floating.

When a doctor in surgical scrubs stepped through the swinging doors and approached Sam, it might have been mere moments that had passed.

"Mr. Marquette?"

Sam nodded. Trickery and fake IDs were a requirement of their life. Even now, he thought bitterly.

"I`m Doctor Carlson. I performed the surgery on your brother."

"My brother, how is he?"

"We were able to remove the object from his skull and managed to stabilize him."

"So he is going to be okay?" Sam felt a sudden surge of giddiness. Of course he would be okay. It was DEAN.

The other man cleared his throat uncomfortably: "You have to understand, your brother suffered from massive hemorrhaging. We managed to stop the bleeding for now but he slipped into a coma."

"A coma," Sam echoed numbly, wasn`t Dean`s first. Not by a long shot. Occupational hazard.
"But... he is gonna wake up again?"

"I`m very sorry to say that but the chances of your brother ever regaining consciousness are slim to none. And even if he did... ," the doctor trailed off.

"Then what?" Sam asked in a hard voice.

"The nail pierced his brain. We managed to withdraw it without damaging too many neurological pathways hopefully but if your brother ever wakes up, he probably won`t be ... the same," the man offered tentatively.

"You mean he would be... damaged. Mentally... damaged," it came out like a whisper, like a terrible secret that musn`t be spoken aloud.

"Yes. I`m very sorry."

Sam nodded. He`d had this conversation before, with different doctors, in different hospitals.

"We can try and keep him comfortable."
"The injuries he suffered, we`ve never seen anything like it. We can`t repair the damage."


The only words that pierced through his foggy mind were the unspoken ones: "We`re gonna let him die."

God, Sam was so sick and tired of people dying on him. Not even six months ago he had buried Sarah. They hadn`t exactly worked out, not as Sam had hoped. But that hadn`t made it any easier to bear.

And it didn`t silence the burning question, was the mysterious hit-and-run that had cost her life more otherworldly than it had seemed? Had she, too, just been one more person falling prey to the Curse of Knowing Sam, loving him.

And now it seemed to be Dean`s turn. No, it couldn`t be. How many times had Dean been on death`s door and how many times had he been pulled back. The grim reaper had come for his brother - literally. And yet, he was still standing. Dean was invincible, he was Sam`s rock. He was the only one who would never leave Sam. He had promised, Sam thought angrily.

Sam just needed to find a solution, a way to help his brother. Dean would be fine. He would be smiling at Sam again and making wise-cracks and annoying his little brother to no end. Just like all the other times.

Yes, Sam thought. For Dean there was a way. For Dean there had always been ways, such that other people didn`t know about.

And the tiny voice in Sam`s head asking if maybe this time the price would be too high was ignored.

He looked up, determined. "Can I see him?"

* * *



Endless days of research followed, interrupted only by brief periods of sleep and daily visits to the hospital. He had made a couple of calls that had been met with sympathetic yet ultimately resigned responses.

After fruitlessly searching through innovative medical procedures, your garden variety of healing spells and volumes of ancient texts, Sam had grown desperate. Striking a deal would have been the easiest way - and a time-honored family tradition at that - but good luck finding a demon willing to trade with the Winchester brothers after the stunts they had pulled in the past.

Sam had even contemplated the binding of a reaper. The very thought had been horrifying. Could he do it? Exchange a life for a life, condemn someone else to death so his brother could life? He hadn`t known whether to be relieved or anguished on finding out that the Reaper wasn`t an infinite possibility thing. And Dean had apparently used up all his Reaper-miles.

Of course that had meant looking in even deeper, darker directions. And he had found something. Ironically it wasn`t unlike the reaper deal. And as all things that offered a thing of great value it required something equally valuable in return. A choice. Yet at the same time no choice at all.

He choked back a hysterical sob. Choice was the one thing Sam had always wanted. Control over his own life, to be his own person. Was that so bad? So much to ask for when so many people were given it freely? People who didn`t even acknowledge this great gift.
But the choice had always been taken from him. At first when he was a mere six months old and a thousand times since then.

Five years had passed since his dreams had burned up on a ceiling while he was condemned to watch helplessly. Maybe that had been the worst pain of all. The shattered illusion that there had been control in the first place.

He had tried to get back some of it. Oh god, how he had tried. Staying in contact with his College friends who long since had moved on to have careers and families of their own. Their initial sympathy for him in the aftermath of Jess`death having transformed into frustration, then anger and pity.

Madison, Ava, both sweet and gentle. Both he had failed.

His father, at peace now, hopefully but forever unable to see his youngest son the way Sam wanted him too. To form the kind of bond Sam had always craved.

Then there was Sarah, her loss still fresh and burning painfully. She had brought love back into Sam`s life after a time of darkness. Joy. Laughter. Hope. And sometimes he had hated her for that. It was so much easier to feel nothing. So much easier to forget what it could be like. Now she, too, was gone. And she had taken laughter and hope with her.

Which left Dean. And soon Dean would be gone too. Should Sam just lie down and accept this? Didn`t life owe him after all this time?

Sometimes Sam had thought about ending it himself, like Max had. But he couldn`t. His life had come at a high price once and even though he`d never agree with that, he could sympathize - and honor it.

And usually when it was worst Dean did something incredibly annoying, incredibly lovable in his own unique Dean way. Like always using up the hot water and the last towel. Pouting like a little boy when Sam managed to snag the shower first, leaving Sam to cackle in delight.

Relentlessly playing his stupid cassettes that by all means should have been declared legally dead ten years ago, just to give Sam something to bitch about. Tucking Sam in when Dean thought him fast asleep. Not admitting to it under torture of little-brother tickling.
Actually going to dreaded salad bars because he knew Sam was a little health food freak .

Dean and normalcy. Dean and sanity. Those words had become intertwined for Sam now. So the questions became, was Sam ready to let go of his sanity too?

No !, he didn`t know if he`d screamed it aloud as his fist hit the wall. But when he observed the bloody knuckles, the decision was made. If life wouldn`t pay its debts willingly, this time Sam was prepared to take it by force.

* * *




Twelve days after a simple werewolf hunt had gone horrible wrong, Sam Winchester walked into the small shabby antique store in New Orleans for the second time.

The owner, Delacroix, a men with cold eyes and bad teeth smiled at him. But there was no warmth in that smile, only a sick glee. He had expected Sam to be back.

"Mr. Winchester, what a delight to see you again."

Sam had figured that in these circles there was no need for false pretenses so he had given his real name. "Cut the pleasantries. I`m here for business."

"So, you`re sure then?"

"I am."

"There will be a price to pay."

"I know." Sam regarded Delacroix coldly.

The smaller man practically rubbed his hand together in anticipation. "This thing...it has special requirements, you know."

"A sacrifice." Sam spoke calmly.

The weaselly shop owner seemed disappointed for a second that Sam wasn`t so easily rattled.
Then the evil glimmer returned to his eyes. "A human sacrifice," he intoned.

Sam nodded. Then his eyes hardened. "You said it... wouldn`t be... we wouldn`t... know," he finished.

"Of course, of course. Some poor soul will go gently into the night. And you`ll never have to know. Nice and clean."

Sam scoffed: "Nothing clean about dark magic."

"Old age, accidents, murder, so many people die everyday. Old and young. Innocent or not. What difference does one more make in the grand scheme of things?"

Sam didn`t answer and the man continued: "It`s perfect, no need to decide who lives and who dies, no need to judge, to choose. And you never need to know who was chosen... Unless you look of course."

Sam clenched his jaw. Oh he knew, Delacroix obviously wished he would look, would drive himself crazy with the guilt of having condemned another person to death, never even knowing who it was. A mother? A child? A murderer?

He had thought about it at great length when he had researched the spell. Yes, he would be responsible for a death but without actually being the one to point the finger. Did that make it better or worse? So far he hadn`t found an answer.

Yet he remained impassive. "I didn`t come here to chat."

"Then we shouldn`t waste anymore time. We should do it tonight."

"Fine." Sam exclaimed. He turned on his heel and left the shop. He would go back to the hospital to check on his brother and if everything went according to the plan, by this time tomorrow Dean would be back safe and sound.

* * *




Sam crumbled the little slip of paper in his hand. It held the address of the apartment he was currently standing in front of, hand poised to knock on the door. His last chance to bow out of this. Go back to the hospital and wait for his brother to die.

When he had visited earlier, Doctor Carlson had approached him. Dean`s condition was deteriorating and even though the doctor`s demeanor had been gentle, he had pretty much flat out asked Sam`s permission to pull the plug on the machines that currently kept Dean alive.

Sam had barely restrained himself from attacking the man. He had mumbled some excuse, claiming to need more time to think things over.

Well, time was up. He knocked on the door to find the perpetually grinning Delacroix on the other side, beckoning him in.

Sam stepped into the cramped living room, looking around. The scene could have been right out of a low-budget horror movie. Black candles were lit everywhere. African-looking masks decorated the walls. Painted black, of course. Numerous jars lined the shelves.

Actually Sam had no wish for a closer examination of their content, thank you very much. An honest to god cauldron stood in the center of the room. And if Sam had half-feared he had lost his mind before, that didn`t exactly serve as a reassurance.

Then, of course, there was her. Calleigh Moraux. Rather mundane looking for a witch or whatever she liked to call herself, Sam mused. Average height and figure, dressed in plain clothes. Dark brown hair. The most striking thing about her were a pair of stormy-grey eyes that were studying him now. Knowingly.

He gave a little shrug. It wasn`t her fault that he had expected someone a little more... flamboyant. Yet Delacroix had assured him she was the best for the job at hand. Pricey too.
Of course the shorter man had graciously offered to cover the bill for Sam, in exchange for some precarious piece of information from the journal of one John Winchester. Sam had been slightly astonished to find that his father had managed to find something that a man like Delacroix with all his dabbling in the dark arts didn`t know. But then again, his father had been nothing if not dedicated to the cause. And he had always had a knack for figuring out patterns other wouldn`t even begin to see. It was a skill Dean had inherited from him.

The woman approached him, extending her hand: "Do you have it?"

She certainly didn`t waste any time which, given the situation at hand, Sam actually appreciated.

"Yes." He pulled the amulet out of his jacket and handed it to her. It was Dean`s protective charm, one he never took off. Not even in the shower. A fact Sam had teased him about but still never gotten the full story behind it. If there even was one. Dean had acquired it when Sam had been away at Stanford and by an unspoken rule the brothers didn`t talk very much about these four years spent apart.

Calleigh seemed to study the amulet intently, frowning slightly. Sam had the feeling she wanted to tell him something but then Delacroix sidled up to them.
"Everything alright? Excellent. I just need a minute with Calleigh here before we begin."

Sam was suspicious: "Why?"

Delacroix waved his hand dismissively. "Just a few minor details about payment."

Sam`s eyes trailed between the other two, unsure, but he conceded and wandered over to the shelves, giving them some privacy.

Once he was gone, the witch looked at the shorter man in anger: "The one to whom this belongs, his life has been saved by otherworldly means before. I can feel it."

"So?", Delacroix shrugged.

"You know that this is dangerous. These things have rules. Cheating death more than once... ," she shook her head, "... there might be consequences."

"Pfft, a slim possibility... maybe."

She looked over at Sam. "He should know."

"It won`t change his mind anyway. Kid`s desperate. So why give him more to worry about. Most certainly needlessly, I might say."

The woman`s eyes narrowed: "You are only worried about getting paid."

His features hardened: "You should be too. Because if I won`t get paid, neither will you. And since I was of the impression you needed it... ," he trailed off, the threat clear.

"I`ll do it. But I don`t have to like it."

Delacroix smiled thinly: "Suit yourself. Personally, I find a conscience just needlessly complicates things."

They both went over to Sam to get started.

* * *




The ritual was almost disappointing in its simplicity. A few drops of his blood, mixed with a couple of other ingredients, mostly herbs and such, being thrown into the cauldron. Calleigh calmly speaking a number of incantations about them and it was done.

Sam wondered how much of it had been nothing more than smokescreen, to impress some of their more gullible clients. He would have told them not to bother but then, it made no difference either way.

Only once had Sam felt a genuine presence. The candles had begun to flicker and a chill seemed to have come over the room. Calleigh had faltered for a beat in the midst of her incantations and even Delacroix had looked around nervously. However the witch had quickly recovered and finished the spell.

"Is it... over?", he asked her.

"Yes, he should be awoken by now."

"And he`ll be... ?"

"He will be fine. Perfect."

"So everything went according to plan? Because there was a moment there when I thought..."

"Everything went fine," she cut him off sharply.

Delacroix tried to smile reassuringly but the effect was destroyed when he held out his hand greedily: "So I`d say it is your turn now."

Sam was about to hand over the information, scribbled on another piece of paper which was tucked safely inside the waistband of his jeans.

But then he hesitated. "Wait."

He pulled out his cell-phone and dialed the hospital. After a few quick words, he was being redirected to the trauma ward that currently held his brother. A nurse answered brightly.

"Yes, this is Sam Wi...Marquette," he caught himself, "I`m calling about my brother, Dean. Has there been any change in his condition?"

The nurse hesitated: "I`m not authorized to discuss a patient`s condition on the phone. If you came here in person..."

Sam clenched his jaw: "Listen..."

But just then he heard some commotion in the background: "...room 347...awake...don`t understand...coma...miracle..." Room 347, that was Dean`s room. And in his gut, Sam could feel it now. I had worked.

Thank god for noisy hospital personnel, he thought and hung up, feeling lightheaded. Dean was awake, healed. And all would be right in the world. Or at least as much as it could be.

He carelessly threw the paper to Delacroix and practically flew from the apartment, never realizing how two pairs of eyes followed him. One full of pity and one of glee.

"I knew it." an angry female voice said.

"I suggest we both be gone for a couple of weeks."

* * *




Sam still felt like he was flying all the way to Dean`s hospital room. He stopped at the open door, breathless. His heart felt like it would burst when his eyes fell on his brother, sitting up in bed and obviously bitching out the doctors and nurses surrounding his bed.

Sam wondered if him doing a little victory dance now would seem terribly insane. Instead he settled for calling out to his brother: "Dean."

All eyes landed on him. Including a pair of bright hazel ones. "Who are you?"

For a moment there the words made no sense to Sam. Silly Dean, he was Sam. His little geek brother.

He stepped closer to the bed, wearing an indulgent smile at his brother`s antics: "Dean.."

But the older man only looked around, confused: "Who is this? Where am I? What`s going on here?"

The doctor tried to calm him down: "Mr. Marquette..."

"Who the hell is Mr. Marquette. What..."

Sam couldn`t bear it any longer. Dean was taking this too far, that wasn`t funny. He inched even closer to his brother when Dean suddenly began to clutch his head, hissing in pain.

Frowning Sam reached out a hand to touch Dean`s shoulder. But it only got worse. Dean started shaking. He was pressing his fingers so hard to the side of his head, Sam was afraid he`d drive them right through his skull. And wouldn`t that be ironic.

He called out for the other man again but Dean was beyond hearing him now. He had curled into a fetal position, sobbing in obvious agony.

The room broke out into a hectic buzz and Sam was hastily ushered out while the medical personnel started working on his brother, speaking rapidly. From the hallway he watched them through the still open door of the room. Luckily it seemed as if the episode was already passing and Dean`s conditions was stabilizing.

A nurse injected something in the IV. attached to Dean`s arm. And Carlson came out of the room, taking Sam`s arm: "Mr. Marquette, I really need to talk to you for a moment."

"What? No, my brother... I..."

"Right now he is sleeping. I had something administered to help him relax. You can come back and visit him later."

Reluctantly Sam followed the man to his office.

* * *




An hour later he was back in front of Dean`s room, feeling none the wiser. The doctor had told him about Dean`s apparent miracle cure. Seemingly out of nothing the patient had woken up and first tests revealed no damage to the brain whatsoever. In fact the head wound Dean had suffered was nearly healed.

Carlson had no explanation for this and Sam didn`t feel much inclined to offer one.

A disturbing side-effect however had soon manifested itself. Dean seemed to suffer from amnesia. He had no recollection of who he was and what had happened to him. For this Sam didn`t have an explanation either. His research of the healing spell had turned up nothing of the sort.

Carlson had mentioned possible psychological reasons for this. Apparently it wasn`t all that uncommon in cases like Dean`s, however much the circumstances of his miracle cure seemed to be. He had assured Sam that most patients recovered their memory in due time.

Sam was still stuck on the most part of the sentence. He sighed, stepping into Dean`s room once more.

The older Winchester was fast asleep, looking peaceful. But the closer Sam got to his bed, the more agitated his brother became. He clenched his hand in his sleep, breathy whimpers coming from his mouth.

Instinctively Sam moved forward to comfort him. Yet Dean reacted even more violently than before. His head started thrashing from side to side and the beeping sound of the little monitor Dean was still hooked to got steadily louder, culminating in a staccato burst.

Sam felt so terribly helpless and confused at this. It wasn`t the first time the brothers visited each other in a hospital, yet usually the presence of the other served as a calming influence when one of them was in a state of unconsciousness.

He grabbed his brother`s shoulders, leaning in closely and murmuring calming nonsense in his ear. The reaction was almost instantaneous. Dean`s eyes snapped open and for a second he looked at Sam with wild eyes.
Then he nearly arched off the bed, dislodging Sam`s grip in the process and started convulsing.

Sam screamed for help, relentlessly pressing the call button. A nurse appeared almost immediately. He wildly pointed to Dean: "He just... I... he needs help..."

Dean was still caught in the throes of violent seizures and if anything they got worse as Sam watched, horrified. His brother seemed to have trouble breathing as he was clawing at the air and his throat respectively, gasping. Foam started to appear at the corners of his mouth. And a thin line of blood trickled from his nose.

He was too far gone to hear the terrified screams of his little brother who was being wrestled away from his bedside at the moment. To see the room exploding into a frenzy as more nurses and doctor`s appeared.

And for the second time that day Sam was ushered out into the hallway. This time with considerably more force than before. And with the door closed behind him. Effectively shutting him out.

Through the little glass window in the door however Sam could see Dean`s vitals returning to normal already, just like they had before right after Sam had left the room.
What the hell was going on here?


TBC

***

Part 2

Comments

( 20 have dazzled me — Dazzle me )
legoline
Sep. 15th, 2006 01:39 pm (UTC)
Hehe so glad to see you posting it! *bows* At your service - will comment on chapter three later ok? Past days it was just too hot for me :-(
astri13
Sep. 15th, 2006 07:28 pm (UTC)
Yup, I finally dived in. :) And you deserve a lot of credit because without you gently reminding me to keep writing, this thing would probably still be in Chapter 1. :)
legoline
Sep. 15th, 2006 08:06 pm (UTC)
Aaaaw, thank you. It was all my pleasure, believe me :-)
muffaletta
Sep. 15th, 2006 02:07 pm (UTC)
Really cool premise- Sam "saving" Dean but with such horrible consequences. You've got me hooked! Can't wait to see where you take this.....
astri13
Sep. 15th, 2006 07:23 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much. I tried to put a slightly different twist on the deal with the devil storyline. And see how Sam might erode after five more years in the lifestyle.
missyjack
Sep. 15th, 2006 02:38 pm (UTC)
Don't mind me, I'll just be sitting here next to your computer waiting for the next chapter!

Creepy and hurty and I am so hooked!
astri13
Sep. 15th, 2006 07:25 pm (UTC)
*blushes* Thanks, I`m glad that I succeded on the creepy storyline. Wasn`t sure how that would come off.

Next chapter should be up soon.
dawnie1970
Sep. 15th, 2006 07:15 pm (UTC)
Eep! *bites nails and waits for more*
astri13
Sep. 15th, 2006 07:25 pm (UTC)
I know I`m evil. But I promise to post the next one soon. :)
apieceofcake
Sep. 15th, 2006 07:42 pm (UTC)
Yikes! Poor Sam can't go near Dean..

Looking forward to the next part :-)
astri13
Sep. 16th, 2006 10:54 am (UTC)
I thought it would be a nice twist, he saves Dean to keep him with him and Dean is saved but he can`t be with Sam, neither emotinally nor physically.

Thanks for reading and commenting. Next chapter is served. :)
(Deleted comment)
astri13
Sep. 16th, 2006 10:56 am (UTC)
Thank you so much. I loved the episode Faith and I wasn`t certain Sam wouldn`t have done it all over again with some forehand knowledge. As would Dean have.
cuppa_char
Sep. 19th, 2006 03:50 pm (UTC)
You said it was a bit on the Sam heavy side, but you did what all great Hurt!Deaners's do... whupped him up good!

*ack" a nail through the head *shudders*

Great writing!
astri13
Sep. 19th, 2006 04:00 pm (UTC)
I admit I`m a shameless Dean-whumper. Don`t know what it is about the boy that makes everbody always wants to abuse him. *whistles innocently* Though I think either brother-whumping automatically spells massive angst for the other. And Protective!Sam is one of my biggest kinks. ;)

Thanks very much for commenting. Always makes my day when somebody liked the story.



cuppa_char
Sep. 19th, 2006 04:05 pm (UTC)
I do love Protective!Sam... it's great to see him go all fierce and protective.

astri13
Sep. 19th, 2006 04:10 pm (UTC)
Me too. That moment in Faith when Sam found Dean`s picture at the altar and looked at SueAnn with such rage. It was like: "That`s IT, bitch. Nobody touches my brother."

And even though his protectiveness got played more in the latter half of the Season you can overlook it on the account of Dean going all: "Don`t choke my Sammy, bitch." Which I love too. I`m all for role-reversals, they make me happy.
a_phoenixdragon
Sep. 22nd, 2006 07:44 pm (UTC)
Ohhh!! OH!!! Ohhhhhhhhh...

Beautiful!! More!! More!!

*Adores you*

*Sniffles*

*Sends hugs*
astri13
Sep. 22nd, 2006 08:00 pm (UTC)
Wow, thank you muchly. So glad you liked it. *blushes*

Btw, Part 2 and Part 3 are up too.
a_phoenixdragon
Sep. 22nd, 2006 08:30 pm (UTC)
*Squeals incoherently*

*Almost faints from sheer heart-pounding joy....*

*Hugs*

*Runs to the goodies!!*
( 20 have dazzled me — Dazzle me )