ohsam | OhSam Triple Play 2016!

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OhSam Triple Play 2016!

It's November 2, an auspicious (if ominous) day for our darling Sam, so to herald his introduction to The Red Stuff, let's revisit an annual tradition. Welcome to the OhSam Triple Play 2016! This year, we're offering a focus on a reoccurring theme in Sam's life: blood.

"Blood" could be interpreted in many ways. Family don't end with blood. The demon blood addiction. Injury. Familial woes. Blood magicks. Simply the color red. If it can be related to blood, even vaguely? IT'S ON POINT.

BOOST THE SIGNAL

And here's how we play!

Step One (mandatory): Write a three-part prompt.
1.) Pick a setting
2.) Pick an additional character or characters (Sam is assumed, naturally.)
3.) Pick an H/C scenario, with Sam as the focus. Other characters can share the misery, but Sam should get the brunt of it. That's how we roll. :D

You can make as many prompts as your little heart desires, one set per comment, but it would probably work best if kept simple. For instance: 1.) West Virginia 2.) Dean 3.) knives, or 1.) Bobby's Panic Room 2.) Mary 3.) demon blood withdrawal.

Step Two (optional): Fill a prompt!
Participants can choose to make visual art: create a drawing, painting, photomanip, or video based around an offered prompt set. All three points must be addressed. The art can be doodled or extravagantly detailed, artist’s choice. And, of course, Sam should be the primary focus of the h/c. Please reply with your art under the prompt you choose, and either put the art beneath a cut or supply a link to it, with appropriate header and warnings! (See "Posting Guidelines" in the left sidebar.) As subject lines are no more, please begin your fills with the word FILLED and a TITLE in BOLD.

Step Three (optional): Fill a prompt!
Participants could also choose to write a ficlet, again with Sam as the primary victim of our dastardly h/c scenarios. (No minimum or maximum word count is required; just go where the muse takes you, as long or short as you'd like.) Again, please reply with your fic under the chosen prompt set, using the appropriate header and warnings. (See "Posting Guidelines" in the left sidebar.) As subject lines are no more, please begin your fills with the word FILLED and a TITLE in BOLD.

If more than one author or artist wants to work with the same prompt, have at it! The ideal goal is to make a Triple Play, where a prompt set gets both art and fic – the art potentially inspiring the fic or the fic inspiring the art. But no matter how it's sliced, we get lots of delicious Sammy h/c! Have all the fun … at Sam’s expense. ;)

The usual courtesies apply:
→ If you notice that your fic is not on the master list after a decent amount of time (say, three days), please poke us in a PM. We might have missed it.
→ Anon posting enabled.
→ NO SPOILERS FOR UNAIRED EPISODES.
→ Play nice - no flaming and no character bashing, period. Any comments that break this rule will be deleted without warning.
→ Feedback is catnip for writers. Leave some author-love!
→ No spam comments.
→ Contact one of the mods if you have a question.
→ Spread the Sam love - pimp this meme!

Masterlist

My love will laugh with me before the morning comes by

caranfindel
1. A deserted road
2. Jess
3. Bleeding out

Maybe Together We Can Get Somewhere by

center_galaxy
1. The Impala
2. Ghost!John
3. Car accident

Whauksis by

crowroad3
1. New England in the fall
2. Dean
3. The hunter hunted

Binding by

fairyniamh
1. In a mirror
2. Lucifer
3. Banishing sigils gone wrong

Appointment in the White City by

crowroad3
1. A fancier than Winchester motel room
2. Balthazar
3. Sam's covered with blood. He can't remember how it happened or whose it is

Follow You Down by

tuesdaytoo
1. A cave or mineshaft
2. Any character - except they're actually a hallucination
3. Sam's bleeding and he's got to get to the surface before he passes out. But someone's trying to prevent that.

And From The Bunker Shall Come The Anointed One by

wetsammy
1.Bunker
2.Dean
3.Curse/Curse box

Time to say goodbye by

amberdreams
1. A field of wildflowers
2. Dean
3. It's time to say goodbye

The Descent by

lennelle
1. The Cage.
2. Lucifer and Michael.
3. Withdrawal. (Exactly how much blood did Sam drink before saying yes and falling in??)

Mercy by

lennelle
1. A church
2. Godstiel
3. Purifying the boy with demon blood as a "mercy"

To-do List by

lennelle
1. Bobby's house
2. Bobby and/or Dean
3. Unclean

Next of Kin by

lennelle
1. mental hospital
2. jody
3. next of kin

Collateral Damage by

lennelle
1. Bobby's house
2. John
3. A hunt goes wrong and John only has himself to blame as he cleans Sam's blood off the kitchen table they used for emergency surgery.

In the Precious Blood of the Lamb by

laughablelament
1) A kind of Kansas purgatory
2) Dean
3) rib-cracking spiritual seizure

Fix You by

center_galaxy
1. the impala
2. wee!dean
3. skinned knees

An Ocean Away by

center_galaxy
1. A dock
2. Bobby
3. Missing something important

The Collector by

lennelle
1. Impala backseat
2. John
3. Coughing up blood

Falling Leaves by

center_galaxy
1. A field of wildflowers
2. Dean
3. It's time to say goodbye

The Tide Rolls In by

broken_cinders
1. A lighthouse
2. Dean
3. Permanent injury

Battlefield Dressing by

wetsammy
1. College dorm room
2. Brady
3. Blood spill

Home for Christmas by

broken_cinders
1. Sioux Falls
2. Bobby
3. Sexual assault

Pressure Bandage by

themegalosaurus
1. A lecture hall at Stanford
2. A professor/classmates
3. Passing out

Here I go, turn the page by

caranfindel
1. snowy woods
2. Kevin
3. Where did Sam get to? Better follow the footprints. The bare and bloody part is disturbing, though.

The Recorded History of Sam Winchester by

indiachick
1. a natural history museum
2. Castiel
3. Castiel can perceive the blood on this dinosaur tooth/chunk of meteorite/bit of fossilized wood, even though it's older than human life on earth. He can also tell whose it is. Sam's. How?

The Holy Man and The Creature by

lennelle
1. A secret meeting place.
2. Dean, Castiel, Bobby
3. The devil walks the earth. The abomination who freed him must be destroyed by the righteous.

Soulsearching by

holyhelly
1. Abandoned church
2. Castiel
3. Soulfisting

Until We Close Our Eyes For Good by

tuesdaytoo
1) Throughout the years (pre-series to now if you wish or whatever span of time you like)
2) Dean (as his main constant; add other characters as you see fit)
3) Depression

Unclean by

zara_zee
1. A mental hospital, post re-souling
2. Dean and Bobby
3. 'Self purification'

Once Upon a Time by

center_galaxy
1) abandoned ruins of castle/other such structure
2) dean
3) sam pricks his finger on a statue - blood loss is disproportionate to magnitude of cut (perhaps because of some sort of spell/curse)

Phosphorus by

crowroad3
1. Rooftops
2. Ghost
3. Sometimes Sam thinks there's stardust in his veins.

Protection by Ксения Огородникова
1. The bunker
2. Dean
3. After Sam finds out Lucifer is on the loose again, he finds every protection and purification sigil in the MoL library and starts carving them onto his body.

Soda-Can Walls And Gravel Roads by

wetsammy
1) Seedy trailer park
2) Dean
3) Insomnia

बिन्द by

crowroad3
1. Wrapped in blankets on a couch/bed
2. Dean and/or character of choice
3. Having demon blood in him makes Sam susceptible to a supernatural illness

Grief is a fungus of the heart by

holyhelly
1. A dock
2. Bobby
3. Missing something important

Asclepias curassavica by

crowroad3
1- The Bunker
2- Mary & Dean
3- Blood related illness

Spells for the Watchers by

indiachick
1) A narrow spit of land
2) Rowena
3) Blood spell

Ponderosa by

crowroad3
1) locked in a small room
2) John and Dean
3) the smell of something dead

Tree Falls by

crowroad3
1.) the woods
2.) Dean
3.) nonverbal

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

DO EEET! :D:D

Hmm . . .

1. Skeevy motel room
2. Kevin
3. demon blood addiction

1. Abandoned church
2. Castiel
3. Soulfisting

1. Hell
2. Crowley
3. Flashbacks

1. A dock
2. Bobby
3. Missing something important

FILLED: Appointment in the White City
Genre/pairing: gencest
Characters: Sam, Dean, Balthazar
Spoilers: post-6 x11
Warnings: resouling trauma, canon liberties
Notes: wrote this when 'flu' was part of the prompt ( :

The crime of self-defilement seems a long way off. That’s the problem.

*

I don’t remember, Sam mumbles. Dean could’ve sworn he was just alone, pulling himself up in more ways than one.

I don’t think—Dean says, and stops, flicks off the bedside lamp. Turns out having a soul implanted doesn’t make your T-cells soldier up, though you’d think they might.

Sam coughed all morning. Started to flush around noon.

Dean caught him by the shoulder and pulled him. From the case. From the car. Into bed.

*

Hotel’s better than Elysian, even. Glossy chocolates. More than a few floors. Good little bottles in the minibar, full first aid kit. Sweet sink. Glittery.

They’re wet and coughing. Sam shakes with chills.

The city’s outside, all shifters and towers and rain.

*

Boys, Balthazar says, perches on the end of the bed, you don’t know how to live.

Doncha think the drugs-and-sluts thing is a little played out, Dean says.

I’m reserving judgment, Balthazar says and curls, wingless, around sweet-skirted twins, one firehouse red, the other black-haired as Baby’s back.

Right, Dean says, this is a dream.

You know—

One of the girls puts out a hand, strokes it light down Dean's arm .

You know, Balthazar says, looks at sleeping-Sam arch and fond, you should have let me have him. Not every day an angel meets an empty vessel that walks and talks and does its own smiting.

The murderous thump of Dean’s pulse wakes him up.

*

Why’re my hands bloody, Sam mutters, Dean you have to tell me.

Dean would say they’re not, but.

The sheets have a major threadcount. Sam wants to sit up. His hair splashes out over the pillow.

I died, Dean wants to say, trying to get you back. Instead puts a hand on his brother’s forehead, goes for some of the iced juice, silver bucket.

Death ‘s on holiday.

So are they.

*

Sam’s temperature goes up, then down again. Outside, Chicago rain.

Edited 2016-11-03 04:10 (UTC)

there really are no words to describe how much I adore this (and totally accept as A Thing That Happens every time Sam gets gravely injured, which is roughly all of the time). thank you for sharing!

Um. Okay. I was guessing that Jess isn't really there and is just his imagination, but the ending was still heartbreaking. Oh, Sam. <3

1) Throughout the years (pre-series to now if you wish or whatever span of time you like)
2) Dean (as his main constant; add other characters as you see fit)
3) Depression

1) LARP Battlefield
2) Charlie and Dean
3) Sword wound (bonus points if the swords are poisoned!)

1) Panic Room
2) Lucifer and Dean
3) "It's in your blood, Sammy. Don't you get that?" Interpret as you will, though nothing too graphic please!

You've got a fast car, is it fast enough so we can fly away?

The first thing Sam is aware of when he comes to is that his chest is burning. He can barely draw in a breath and when he does, he wants to cough, as if his body is trying to reject the oxygen he so desperately needs. Adrenaline courses through his veins and the feeling of panic starts to well up, but he remembers his father's training and forces himself to count his breaths, to listen to the erratic rhythm of his heart beat. Panicking won't do him any good.

Turning his head causes him to groan, the muscles stinging from what must've been whiplash, but he forces himself to survey his surroundings.

"Shit."

He's in the Impala, or at least, what's left of what used to be the only home he's ever known. He can barely make out the familiar shape of the car and the fact that he's upside down means the car must've flipped at least once. He was resting against the windshield, which had cracked but miraculously hadn't shattered. It was a good thing too or Sam might've been flung out of the car. As it stood now though, he had to get out. Then, he could piece together what had occurred in the first place.

"C'mon." Blood dribbles down his lip, the metallic copper taste landing on his tongue and he spits it out, trying not to focus on the fact that he might be bleeding internally. His head pounds and he can't really focus too hard on one thought for too long. What had he been doing in the Impala in the first place? How had he crashed? Where was Dean?

Oh, God, Dean would kill him for this.

Well, if he survived, a sarcastic voice within him noted.

He tried to move, but a sharp pain in his chest caused him to stop. Broken ribs for sure. Maybe even a punctured lung. Sam wasn't going to get far with injuries like that. And with this road being in the middle of nowhere, he couldn't rely on medical assistance coming without him contacting them. He was on his own.

Just like Stanford.

What caused him to think of that? Stanford had been a whole other lifetime ago. A life that held the promise of normalcy, of a loving wife and kids, of a white picket fence and a home that he could welcome Dean and John into. Stanford hadn't just been for his sake--he'd gone to try and save his family. He knew the risky road that hunting led down. He hadn't wanted to lose his father or brother to a monster that went bump in the night.

Funny thing about that though, he lost them both anyways. John had died so many years ago and frankly, after Hell, Sam stopped counting how many times he and Dean had died and come back.

But now, trapped in the Impala, bleeding internally, his vision blurring before him, it occurs to Sam Winchester that this might just be it. This is how he meets his end--not on some hunt, but because of an accident. There's some sort of irony in that, he's sure, but he's too tired to figure it out. All he's knows is that he's going to die here.

"No, you're not."

Sam remembers that voice--the low timbre of it, the warmth hidden deep within the words. It's been years since he heard it, but he'd never forgotten it. The youngest Winchester forces his eyes open and gasps.

"Dad?"

John Winchester is there, in the crushed car, a tired smile tugging his lips upwards. He's in the same clothes he always wore. He's not injured or possessed--it's just his dad, just as he always remembered him. It's impossible, but there John is, like nothing has changed, like he never died in the first place.

"Dad--" Sam coughs, the force of it wracking his body, and more blood stains his lips.

"Hang on, Sammy." John's calloused hands rest on Sam's shoulders and he grits his teeth, "This might hurt."

And then he tugs.

The pain is blinding and blissfully, Sam blacks out for a few seconds and when he comes to, he's lying on the dirt road, his cellphone in his hand, a call to Dean having just been placed, according to the recent calls tab.

"Dad?"

John sits next to him, a hand resting on Sam's chest. His eyes are tired, but he hasn't aged a day since Sam last saw him and this has to be some sort of trick, a side effect of the blood loss, but if it is, Sam doesn't care. He's missed his dad and grieved for him every day. Time hasn't dulled his grief for the regrets have always been there. How, the last time Sam saw his father alive, they had argued. John had died thinking his youngest hating him. And Sam had always wanted to take those words back, to make peace with father--

"I know, Sam." John smiles, that smile he used to give him whenever Sam did something right in school or on a hunt, a proud grin, "Just close your eyes."

There are so many more words that Sam wants to say, but in that moment, with his father's hand on his chest, reassuring him that no, he's not alone, he's ever been alone, Sam lets his eyes fall shut.

I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone . . .

1. Florida
2. Dean
3. Sam using his powers equals a nosebleed

FILLED: Follow You Down
Rating: PG-13
Genre/pairing: gen
Characters: Sam, Dean
Spoilers: through S3
Warnings: brief suicidal ideation

“Sam.” The voice is gravelly and painfully familiar.

Sam’s head and flashlight whip around, shooting pain up his side. His heart’s pounding painfully loud. “Dean? You…”

He can’t quite voice the thought, mind trying to catch up to what Dean’s doing here, in a cave in the middle of Minnesota. He squints through the flashlight beam at his brother, who’s leaning up against the wall.

“What—How did you…?” Sam steps closer, then freezes, stuck in confusion. His thoughts are doing weird loops and he’s not sure if it’s cause of Dean’s miraculous appearance or the hole in his side.

“I crawled my way outta hell myself, just like Dad did.” The flashlight beam bobs up and down over Dean’s grin. “Where was the rescue, Sam? I got tired of waiting.” Dean sounds like he’s talking about being stood up on a date.

The air sticks in Sam’s throat. He’s been trying, he’s been with Ruby for the past three months, he just couldn’t—

Everything stutters to a stop then slips into place. “You’re not real,” Sam whispers.

There’s a pause, then, “Well, real me is having a funky time down under.” Everything's a joke to Dean.

Sam sags against the wall, hissing as pain flares up his side. The flashlight beam goes back to pointing at the floor as he stuffs it under his arm. Stupid. Of course it isn’t Dean.

“Y’alright, Sammy?” Dean pushes off the wall and steps a little closer, peering at the red patch across Sam’s shirt. Of course, the real Dean would’ve already noticed.

“It’s Sam,” he mutters, holding his side. His hands shake as he inspects his flannel shirt he cinched around his waist as a bandage. It’s already leaking red, but not much he can do about it until he gets out of here. He should probably be a little more concerned about the fact that he’s seeing his dead brother, but not much he can do about that either.

When he looks up, Dean’s still watching him. “Wrong place, wrong time,” Sam explains. “Just ganked a wendigo. Found the vic about the same time as the park ranger.” He waves an arm in the vague direction of the entrance as he wheezes in a breath. “He uh, got a shot in and now’s staked out near the entrance.” Sam doesn’t know why he’s explaining to someone that’s only in his head.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean grumbles. “We always get blamed for other people’s crap.”
Sam doesn’t answer. Seems like Dean’s blaming exactly the right person for him being in hell.

Dean starts pacing around, a little bow-legged, scoping out the area, peering down the three branches of the path. “So, what’s your plan?”

“Um.” Sam swallows against a dry throat. The room’s echoey enough he hears the sound off the walls. Sam’s plan probably should’ve been getting the jump on the park ranger and then heading back out the cave’s entrance. But Sam kinda needed to take care of the hole in his side. Now he needs to get out of here before he passes out. So now he just needs to… Needs to…

He needs Dean, Sam thinks tiredly. Which… if he’s stronger, he can save Dean. To get stronger, he’s gotta drink Ruby’s blood. To get Ruby’s blood, he’s gotta find Ruby. And to find Ruby, he’s gotta get out of here alive. Which means… he’s gotta not die of hypovolemic shock in the meantime. “Need some blood.” He finally mutters.

Dean gives him a hard look. “Got any fluids?” Dean mimes shaking a water bottle, shadows dancing across the wall behind him.

Sam shakes his head, squinting against the way everything blurs back and forth.

“How bout—“ Dean stops.

There’s the faint echo of footsteps and talking. Sam tries to concentrate but he can’t tell if the park ranger is talking to himself or has back up. He’s not sure if he could even take one guy on anyway.

“Crap.” Sam pushes himself off the wall, his side burning with pain so hot it feels like ice. He draws in a shaky breath, trying to get his thoughts together.

Heading back the way he came is definitely out. He swings the flashlight at each of the three branches of the path in front of him. The tunnels are equally dark and nondescript.

“Which way?” Dean asks.

Sam’s not even sure if one of these leads out. “Dunno,” he mutters. The chills are starting to creep up his whole body.

Dean starts down the tunnel branching to the left. Sam blinks a couple times at him before following in lurching steps. Good a way as any, he guesses.

He bores holes into Dean’s back while he walks, tracing the plaid collar peaking out over Dean’s jacket. He’d really like an extra jacket about now, he thinks. His teeth are clattering even as he grits them against the pain pulsing in his side.

The path dips suddenly and Sam stumbles. Sound turns to static as he fumbles for the side of the wall and everything goes a little gray.

“—am, Sam” Dean’s mouth is saying.

He manages not to drop the flashlight and he sees Dean’s eyebrows drawn in concern before he hears his words. “You okay?” Dean’s asking.

Sam squints his eyes shut. “Y-you’re not m’ brother,” he mumbles, sagging against the wall. He lets his head kneel against the rock and feels his breaths stutter in and out. He thinks about sliding down the wall. It wouldn’t be hard to curl up and let all his life slip out. It’s not like his blood’s been good for much. (It hasn’t been enough to save Dean.)

“C’mon, Sam.” Dean’s watching him.

Sam shifts, his hand slipping against his side. It’s slick with his blood mixed with Ruby’s. He needs to get back to her; needs to be stronger; needs to save Dean. He presses harder against his side, stars streaking across his vision. He’d follow Dean to hell. He can follow him out of a cave.

I'd love to see YOU write this one!

I was going to say exactly this :D

The thing no one knows, will ever know, is that the fall doesn't kill Sam.

And falling... it never seems to stop. Just black empty. A point of light above, slowly fading. He is being swallowed down Hell's gullet. Straight to the centre of the earth.

When Sam reaches the bottom, Lucifer catches him and lays him down gently on the cage floor. The bullets in Sam's chest from Bobby's gun don't bleed, the metal ridged between his ribs and make themselves at home. But he isn't dead. The devil is still in him.

The cage is locked. No way out. The angels are scared. They shriek, burned bright. Their voices and the sight of them crack Sam's eardrums, blind him.

When Lucifer tears himself from Sam's flesh, it is agony. It is ripping your own bones out of its meat. It is turning yourself inside out. And Sam sees the devil's true face. Pure light. Corrupted. It scorches his eyes from his sockets.

The cage is held at the centre of an eternity. There is nothing. Only the cage. Any screams is held within its confines. And, god, did Sam scream.

Sam can just about hear. Lucifer is shouting at him, spitting at him in Enochian.

I saved the world, Sam reminds himself. I will suffer if it means no one else has to.

He prepares for pain.

And receives nothing.

There's warmth and the bullets in his chest are gone, the wounds are healed.

Dirty, filthy, Lucifer spits. Poison twisting around inside of you. I will watch you purge it from your veins for the rest of my existence. You are nothing, Sam Winchester. You are nothing but mud-crawling vermin.

So begins his eternal life.

He's left alone in the beginning, mostly. He can sense Satan close by, can feel his grace brush his skin, can feel a thousand eyes trained on his back.

You'll sit there until he dies? that's Adam's voice. But not Adam's voice. And then what?

I make him pay, answers Lucifer.

Sam curls in on himself a little. The presence of the two creatures makes him feel like an ant under a lion's foot. He brings his hand up to his face. The skin around his eye sockets is scabbed and hard, his cheeks are bubbled and raw. He can't see anything.

It begins like it did last time, only worse. Sam had forgotten about the blood, he'd been a little distracted with his entry to an eternity in Hell. But he almost cries once the shakes start. But, of course, he has no tears to shed.

He's hungry, thirsty, tired. He needs to piss. He suspects the deepest pit of hell doesn't have a toilet. He throws up all over himself and Lucifer laughs. Micheal is quiet, uninterested.

The need creeps up on him, grabs him by his core and refuses to let go. He hates himself, but he begins to think only of the blood, thoughts of his brother or the world he left behind are put to the side. Sometimes, he catches himself, begins to whisper names to himself. Names of people he left behind, people who get to keep on living. Dean, Sarah Blake, Becky Rosen, Chuck...

It doesn't take long for him to run out of living people to remember. He begins list the people who didn't make it:

Mom (burned alive), Dad (dragged to Hell), Jess (burned alive), Bobby (neck snapped), Cas (split into a million pieces), Jo (Hellhound), Ellen (bomb), Ash (demons), Henrickson (skinned alive)...

The list goes on until Sam can see again.

His mother is there. She's sitting there in her nightgown. A woman in white. A bloody mess. She's beautiful.

You did amazing, baby, she says. You did it. I'm so proud of you.

Her smile is the only warm, safe thing for an eternity. A lighthouse on the shore. He reaches out for her, feels nothing. He feels his face, finds his eyes still missing. Then, she's gone.

They keep coming after that. Dean. Dad. Bobby. Cas. Jess. You were never my brother, Sam. I should have killed you when I had the chance, Sam. You disgust me, Sam. You are an abomination, Sam. You killed me, Sam.

He forgets where he is. Forgets it's not real. He's trapped in his head, trapped in this cage. He vomits and sweats and shakes. He blacks out and returns with aching joints and locked muscles and a chunk out of his tongue.

Through it all he hears Lucifer's laughter.

He's a mess. Lying in his own bodily fluids, sticky and frozen. He can smell himself, he can hear the rasping in his lungs. As agonising as it was in Bobby's panic room, it's so much worse now.

I think he's near the end of his rope, brother, says Michael.

I can hear his body giving out, Lucifer says, amused. His soul is clanging around in there, waiting for a reaper.

No one's coming, Michael says, hopeless. He's not talking about Sam.

I think it's happening, says the devil.

Sam can feel it. He felt it in Cold Oak. He felt it in that abandoned house in 1978. That slow crawl up his body, the slow switch-off from his toes to his head. His breaths are sickly and grating. His heart is stuttering against his rib cage, desperate for escape.

It's coming. It's here for him. Death.

The pain stops in his body. Sam is without the confines of himself. He drifts. He aims upwards. He meets the cage ceiling. He feels Lucifer curl around him. The sun blocking out a dying star. Sam flickers. He's pulled back down.

It begins again.

EEEEEEEE! I got a fill from Lennelle!! And it was awesome!

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. John 1:9

***

The righteous man and his unrighteous brother enter a church, step under Castiel's roof, with weapons in their hands. They bring intentions of bloodshed and sin to this holy place.

"Cas," Dean Winchester says, voice hard and unforgiving.

Castiel doesn't answer. To a human, he is called God. He will not answer to anything else.

"God?" Sam Winchester pipes up. There is hope there. Hope for Sam Winchester. The boy understands now... there is hope for him to be welcomed into the Lord's arms.

"Sam," Castiel greets. "You come to confess your sins?"

Sam pauses, blinks, entirely taken by surprised by God's word. It must be overwhelming to be spoken to directly by the Lord himself, Castiel understands. He holds out his hand.

"I forgive you your sins, Sam," he says. "You only must confess and deliver your faith unto me."

Sam glances at Dean, mouth half hanging open. Dean glares at Castiel, growls at the back of his throat.

"Stop it, Cas," he snaps. Cas looks at him and Dean shrinks a little under his gaze.

The Lord steps forward, arms open. "You have feasted on the blood of the damned, Sam Winchester," God speaks. "Do you ask my forgiveness for this unholy act?"

Sam gasps quietly. "Cas, please..."

"Speak my name," Castiel orders.

Sam drops his head, jaw rigid. "God," he amends. He looks up. "I confess to my sins, okay? I have committed an unholy act and I beg your forgiveness, Lord."

"Sam, shut up," Dean hisses. Sam ignores him, eyes on Castiel.

"I am impure and I ask your forgiveness," he grits out. "Are you happy now? Would you let us help you now, please?"

The Lord smiles, casts Sam Winchester in his heavenly light. Sam and Dean cover their eyes and look away, weapons falling to the church floor. The light fades and Castiel stands close to Sam, holds his arm tightly to keep him from flinching away.

"Cas, get off him!" Dean yells. Cas swipes Dean away and he crashes into the pews in a heap.

"What are you doing? Cas?" Sam whispers. "What're you - "

Castiel holds up his hand and Sam falls silent. "I will purify your unrighteousness," the Lord says. "I will make you clean. The Lord is forgiving."

"Cas, no - "

Sam Winchester is touched by God, and he bleeds.

Impure blood leaks from every pore, from his nose, his eyes, his mouth, his ears. Sam chokes, rigid where Castiel holds him still. He begins to scream.

Castiel cocks his head to the side and watches. Sam Winchester is losing his balance and God drops him to the floor, still watching, hand still on his chest.

Sam Winchester who prayed to him very recently, told him he still believes in Cas the angel, still thinks he belongs with them. Sam Winchester who defeated the devil. Sam Winchester who has the most unwavering faith Castiel has seen in a human being.

Cas lets go and steps back. Sam gasps for air. He's soaked in blood, but he isn't bleeding anymore. He glances up.

"God?" he asks hesitantly. He pauses, then says, "Cas?"

"I'm sorry, Sam," Cas says. He turns away and flies.

Bobby watches the boys from his desk. One eye on the book in front of him, the other on the kids curled up on his couch. Little Sammy has a thumb stuck in his mouth and it makes him look three years old rather than seven. His eyes are wide and bright in the television screen's glow, and he's latched onto his brother like a limpet.

"Maybe Sam should go to bed," Bobby suggests. Someone on the TV screams and Sam flinches, tucking his head under Dean's arm.

"Not fair, uncle Bobby!" Sam protests, voice muffled by Dean's shirt. "I'm not scared, I promise."

"Right," Bobby chortles. "You just stuck your face in Dean's armpit because the view was better?"

Dean laughs and pats the top of Sam's curly head. "Go to bed, squirt. I'll come up when the movie's over."

Sam pops his head out from his hiding place. "But you have to take me upstairs. The light's in the hallway and it'll be dark all the way up the stairs before I can turn it on."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "I thought your weren't scared."

Sam crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm not."

Another bloodcurdling shriek sounds from the television set and Sam is off the couch and hurtling behind the desk in a second. He grabs Bobby's sleeve.

"Will you tuck me in, uncle Bobby?" he whispers. He glances to check if Dean's listening, but his brother is too busy watching the movie. "And can you wait until I fall asleep?"

Bobby glances at the enormous pile of work he hasn't finished, then he looks at Sam Winchester's doe-eyes. There isn't really much choice. He takes Sam's small hand in his and leads him out of the room.

"I'm taking Sam to bed," he tells Dean. Dean nods, eyes still on the TV.

Sam clings the back of Bobby's shirt and sticks close to his heels all the way up the dark staircase. The kid lets out a breath when the upstairs hallway light is flicked on.

"Brush your teeth and get into your PJs," Bobby tells him, nudging the boy into the bathroom. "You got any story books?"

Sam shakes his head sadly. "Dad says there's not enough room in the car," he says. Bobby clenches his jaw and adds 'smack some sense into John Winchester' to his to-do list. He puts on a smile for Sam. "I'll tell you a story anyway, I've got a lot stored away in my noggin, you see."

Sam grins, flashing the gap where his front two teeth should be. He hurries off into the bathroom and Bobby waits in the spare room next to Sam's bed. There's a tiny, red plastic Power Ranger on the pillow that has the Mcdonald's logo printed onto its back. One of the arms is missing, it's suit is faded to pink in some areas. Bobby adds 'buy boys some toys for when they visit' to his to-do list.

Sam comes rushing back in the room, trying to escape the now-dark bathroom. He's in a race getting changed into his pyjamas: a t-shirt made for a grown adult with a diner logo on the front. He hops up into bed and Bobby tucks the covers around him.

"What kind of story do you want?" he asks.

Sam shrugs, fiddling with the Power Ranger's remaining arm. He glances up shyly. "Uncle Bobby, are you really smart?"

Bobby chuckles. "I think I've got some smarts, just enough to get the job done."

Sam looks down at his red Power Ranger. "Can I ask you a question?" he asks.

Bobby nods.

"In that movie, everyone was chasing the monster," Sam says. "They wanted to hurt it."

"Well, the monster did a lot of bad," Bobby explains. "It was chasing those people first, so the people were just defending themselves."

"But why did the monster do bad stuff?" Sam asks.

"That's what monsters do," Bobby says.

Sam frowns. "How did it become a monster? Was it always like that?"

"It's just a movie. It's not real, Sam," Bobby lies.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm bad," Sam admits. "Dean likes Batman and King Arthur and, and I like 'em, too. But I don't think I'd be allowed to go on a quest like them, not like Dean."

"Why's that?" Bobby asks, frowning.

"You have to be good and pure to go on a quest like that," Sam tells him. "That's what the stories say. I'm... "

"You're what, Sam?"

Sam shrugs. "Dirty."

Bobby just about stops breathing. In his head, he's cursing John Winchester. He curses the whole goddamned messed up world for putting thoughts like this in a seven-year-old boy's head.

"Listen here, Sam," Bobby says, leaning forward to try to get Sam to look at him. "You are good, you hear? You've never done a bad thing. You aren't bad. You aren't dirty. Where in the hell did you get that idea, anyway?"

Sam is avoiding looking at Bobby and he curls up under the blanket until only the top of his head is sticking out. "I don't know. I just know it."

He closes his eyes and Bobby suspects the conversation is over, for now. Honestly, Bobby never had to deal with children very often before he met John Winchester. He's out of his depth most of the time, never mind something like this. He strokes the top of Sam's head, brushes the fine, soft curls and he says good night.

He adds 'help Sam' to the top of his to-do list.

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Page 5 of 23

OhSam Triple Play 2016!

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FILLED: Appointment in the White City

RE: Filled-My love will laugh w/me before the morning comes

RE: Filled-My love will laugh w/me before the morning comes

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Filled: Maybe Together We Can Get Somewhere (1/2)

RE: Filled: Maybe Together We Can Get Somewhere (2/2)

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FILLED: Follow You Down (1/2)

RE: FILLED: Follow You Down (2/2)

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FILLED: The Descent 1/2

RE: FILLED: The Descent 2/2

Re: FILLED: The Descent 2/2

Filled: Mercy

Filled: To-do List 1/2

RE: Filled: To-do List 2/2