Sam and Dean () Supernatural One Shots

The Mark of Cain

Fluff.

Sam was shoved to the floor, his brother looming over him as the blade in his hand glistened with blood.
Not his blood, of course, not yet.
Dean, no longer a demon, should have been able to snap out of it.
He was just so angry! It was Sam who tore him off Metatron, the one guy who could have told him what to do next.

It was Sam that grabbed him and threw him away before his blood lust was gone. The whole ordeal had started by simply throwing Sam away from him, trying to get to Metatron.

But Sam had come back and continued to resist him.
Dean didn't, couldn't hear over the beating of his heart. It sounded like he had a humming bird in there. It had proceeded to be a most vicious fight. Castiel got knocked out, hitting his head upon the metal table.

Metatron was fine, he was in the background laughing, egging on the confused and angry Dean.

Sam, lay beneath his big brother with a broken rib, a bruised eye, his forhead bleeding, blood pouring from his nose, and bloody spit dribbling from his lip.

Dean, not the Dean he was even ten minutes ago, stopped.
He looked Sam dead in the eye with a blank, murderous look.

Sam felt his tears well just a little as the angel blade found it's way just above to his heart.

Dean raised it and Sam screamed, catching his hands before they could bring it down.

"Not yet- not yet- Dean!"

But the look grew darker as he tried to push the blade to his brother's heart.

Sam looked at the angel knocked out and also bleeding, the weakening scribe.

He gave one last go at getting up.
Rolling to the side he made a magnificent move across the floor, attempting to reach a book.
A heavy one, the ridiculous report on transgender werewolves, maybe a sharp hit from a blunt object would wake him.

But the younger brother didn't make it before he was thrown and the blade was six inches from his skin.

Sam grabbed the blade and lightly rested its tip on his chest.

Dean, in his madness, was confused by the gentle touch.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay-" Sam panted and closed his eyes as the blade began to slowly press through his skin.

"Dean, Dean, you'll remember this when you wake... it's o-ah!"

The blade slowly drew blood.

A deep whine came from Sam involuntarily, as the knife dug into his skin further.

Panting, he felt the blade stop moving when it poked his ribs.

Hot fire spread through his chest.

"Dean, if you're gonna do it goddamit stop dragging it out!"
The low but white hot pain of bone digging through ribs would be over if the knife just killed him already.

Sam was suddenly in agonizing pain, more so that the fire  was already spreading when the knife twisted cruelly.

The scream that rang out through the bunker did little to help with much at all.

The knife twisted through his ribs and slowly pierced the side of his heart.

Gasping for air Sam grabbed his brother's hand. Reached for his face.

In a tight voice he wheezed out "Dea-..."

Simultaneously at the soft touch Dean reemerged from the Mark's domain.

The eldest did nothing. He froze.
"What...?"
Sam didn't hear it, but he saw the eyes soften as he wheezed for air, felt the blood around him spill and his eyelids fluttered.

There was a certain immediacy to his fade, no few minutes of talking.
Sam felt his heart stutter, and looked up to the shocked Dean as his lids fluttered closed.

He did not hear the rest of what Dean was about to say. He knew the gist of it, really.

But his older brother tore the blade out of his chest and grabbed his shoulder.

"Sam.  Sammy.  Sam?" The shaking did little to make anything better.

"SAM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING-!?"

Sam didn't open his eyes, even as Dean screamed. He smashed his hands on the floor, tore books from the shelves, and finally landed on Cas.

Cas was bleeding from the head a little.

Did I kill Castiel too?

But upon shaking him, silent tears running down his face, Castiel awoke.

"Uhghg- Dean?"

The angel had no time to process as Dean rushed into his arms and squeezed him as tight as possible.

"I'm sorry, I'm Sorry, I'm so sorry Castiel-"

Over the shoulder of the shorter man tucked into his arms, Castiel saw a still, bleeding Sam at their feet.

"Dean, what did you do?"

He let go, grabbing the shoulders of the blond and looking him deep in the eye.

But the tears told him everything.

"Oh, Dean..." he wrapped up the small human again, sighing and cradling Dean tighter as he started to cry for Sam.

When angels cry it doesn't rain. It pours down like no tomorrow.

But if you could call Castiel an angel anymore, it didn't when he wept with Dean.

Instead grace in small amounts leaked from his eyes in his tears.
One fell on Sam from around Dean's shoulder.
Then another.

With a blue glow the grace seeped into Sam, unnoticed by Dean and Cas.

Then a third tear.
Then a fourth.

The complexion of Sam's skin was getting better. The bloody hole in his chest seemed smaller.

The tiny feeling of someone dead in the room left Dean for a moment.

Tears ran from both of them freely until they heard someone new grunt.

Cas looked up, amazed as Sam sat up and looked at the blood on his hands- his own blood.

"Cas?"

Dean froze.

"What the hell? I was dead!"

Sam continued to look at his hands back and forth from front to back.
He touched his healed torso.

His eyes caught Dean's, who were wife with tears.

"Oh, Dean."
And then the older man flew into his brother's arms.

"Hey... what happened to Metatron?"

They looked over at Metatron's chair. He was still there. But this shocked look on his face rested there almost as if it was newly permanent.

"What?"

"He's alive... because you graced him with your tears... I haven't seen that work since the dark ages!"

"So you'll help us?"

Castiel smirked as he looked at Metatron.

The boys didn't understand that an angel crying someone alive was huge. A massive display of power, love, and did I mention power?

Castiel hadn't been aware of doing this, but he did it none the less.
And now he had a scare tactic against this prat.

Metatron wiggled nervously.

"Yes. I'll help you."

Everyone took a deep breath.
Except Sam. Dea. was squeezing the life out of him.

But for once it was the right way this time.