dealmaker - SN fic - PG
Jun. 29th, 2007 11:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tigriswolfTitle: dealmaker
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for everything aired
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 700
Point of view: third
When Sam Winchester is five, he dies. He just doesn’t know it. His heart stops and the light in his eyes fades; his skin grows cold and turns bluish, and his father makes a devil’s deal to get him back.
To save his baby boy, John Winchester sells the soul of his firstborn. He summons a Dealmaker and trades something that’s not his, and the board is set for plays years down the road.
-
When John Winchester dies, he leaves behind two sons who should have been dead long before.
Dean trades a soul that’s not his to bring Sammy back, though neither of them knows it. The Dealmaker he summoned doesn’t know it, either, so it gives him a year.
Sam searches the known world for a way out of his brother’s bargain, then the unknown world, too. There is nothing, though. Nothing.
-
Dean hears the hellhounds and leaves Sam behind, drives away into the night. Sam’ll be pissed as hell, but Dean wants him out of the line of fire. He doesn’t regret facing the Dealmaker alone, can’t. Sam’s safe, and that’s all that matters.
It takes the form of a beautiful woman with dark hair and green eyes, just like the two times before. She smiles at him and steps forward, holding out a hand, her hounds grunting around them.
Dean doesn’t hesitate. He grips her hand and she moves to him, pressing her host’s lips to his. “You’re mine, Dean Winchester,” she purrs into his mouth.
He doesn’t deny it; there is no point. He deepens the kiss, just wishing everything over before Sam finds where he is.
The Dealmaker pulls back with a snarl. Dean stares at her as the hounds growl. “You little bastard,” she hisses, raking his cheek with her host’s nails. “How’d you do it?”
“Do what?” he asks, ducking away and bringing a hand to his face.
“Break the deal?”
He’s dumbfounded, completely lost. He stares at her then looks around for the hounds, but they still can’t be seen. He hears them, growling and howling and snarling, and hellfire leaps into the demon’s blood-red eyes. “What?” he asks, hand dropping from his face, blood trailing along his jaw.
The demon cants her host’s head. “You don’t know,” she murmurs. “You came here in good faith.” She smiles and licks her lips. “I can still take you,” she says, stepping forward again. “We made a deal and my hounds are hungry.”
Another person steps out of the shadows. He’s tall, taller than Sam, and broader. His eyes are crimson and his lips curved in a smile.
“The boy is mine,” he rumbles, voice like light thunder. “His soul was given to me twenty years ago.”
The first Dealmaker hisses and spits out, “He and I have a deal. His soul for his brother’s life—I kept my end.”
The man laughs. “His soul was not his to trade, child. Has not been his since he was a boy.”
The woman grabs Dean’s neck. “I kill him,” she says, “and take his soul. You can’t do a thing.”
“Lolarith,” the second demon responds, “he is not yours to take. You should never have made a deal with him.”
She shoves Dean away and storms up to the man. “Then why did you let me, Father?”
He smiles. “You are young yet, impatient. This provided a lesson you needed.”
Lolarith’s host throws back her head and the demonsmoke rushes out. “Go home, daughter,” the man says. “I’ll be there in a bit.” The demonsmoke trails away into the sky and Dean watches it go in shock.
The man turns to face him. “You here for my soul?” Dean asks him, bracing himself.
“No.” Lolarith’s father shakes his head. “Go back to your brother, Dean Winchester. We’ll meet again.” He steps back into the shadows and is gone.
Dean stands there, alone beneath the cold moon, for the better part of an hour. He can’t wrap his mind around it—he is free.
A year of waiting to die—and he is free.
He moves to the car and climbs in, starts up his Impala and drives back to where he’d left Sam.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-30 10:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-30 02:41 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-30 02:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-30 10:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-30 02:45 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-30 01:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-30 02:46 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-30 04:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-30 04:14 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-30 09:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-01 12:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-30 11:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-01 12:47 am (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-01 12:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-01 03:06 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-02 08:22 pm (UTC)*glee*
Wouldn't it be a delight to see something like this at the end of the Third Season? ;)
A year of waiting to die—and he is free.
He moves to the car and climbs in, starts up his Impala and drives back to where he’d left Sam.
You do realize that that last sentence isn't really necessary, right? I mean, leaving it out, or simply saying that Dean gets behind the wheel but nothing more, would make the ending so very deliciously ambiguous?
Granted, Dean wouldn't do that to Sam, but... the thought of that year, not-saying-goodbye to everything, and *poof* This Is the First Day of the Rest of Your Life? It makes my little heart curl up with angsty glee.
*hugs all around*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-02 11:28 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-20 10:11 am (UTC)And WOW!!
*Sucks in a breath*
My dear, you are a master!
*hugs*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-20 12:53 pm (UTC)