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SPN: The Body and the Blood
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comment_fic. The prompt was, "Dean as God's vessel."
The Body and the Blood
Supernatural. Sam. PG. 240ish words.
Like the prompt says.
God speaks to him in Dean's voice, and Sam just cannot deal.
"Where were you?" Sam demands, and then he can't stop talking, he's too fucking tired to stop talking, he doesn't fucking care. God owes him an explanation, for everything, and when Castiel lays a hand on Sam's shoulder, he shakes it off. God looks at Cas, and raises Dean's hand -- the universal sign for "it's cool, I got this". The fucker.
"My son--" says God, and Sam spits out, "Don't call me that."
I used to need you, Sam is saying. I think I used to love you. I used to need you more, and where did you go? Why did you go and why did you come back? Why did you let me stop needing you?
"You say you loved me," Sam says, "but you let me go," and he cannot look away from Dean's eyes. Between the flecks of hazel in the familiar green, there is something bright and unending; something strangely intimate, which knows Sam inside out.
"You let yourself go," God says, "and I love you still."
"So, what, you expect me to have faith in you now?" Sam snaps. "You think you deserve it? You're the one who made me this way!"
A furrowed brow and a softened voice: "I only wanted the best for you."
"Yeah right, Dean," Sam says, and God doesn't bother to correct him.
comment_fic. The prompt was, "Dean as God's vessel."The Body and the Blood
Supernatural. Sam. PG. 240ish words.
Like the prompt says.
God speaks to him in Dean's voice, and Sam just cannot deal.
"Where were you?" Sam demands, and then he can't stop talking, he's too fucking tired to stop talking, he doesn't fucking care. God owes him an explanation, for everything, and when Castiel lays a hand on Sam's shoulder, he shakes it off. God looks at Cas, and raises Dean's hand -- the universal sign for "it's cool, I got this". The fucker.
"My son--" says God, and Sam spits out, "Don't call me that."
I used to need you, Sam is saying. I think I used to love you. I used to need you more, and where did you go? Why did you go and why did you come back? Why did you let me stop needing you?
"You say you loved me," Sam says, "but you let me go," and he cannot look away from Dean's eyes. Between the flecks of hazel in the familiar green, there is something bright and unending; something strangely intimate, which knows Sam inside out.
"You let yourself go," God says, "and I love you still."
"So, what, you expect me to have faith in you now?" Sam snaps. "You think you deserve it? You're the one who made me this way!"
A furrowed brow and a softened voice: "I only wanted the best for you."
"Yeah right, Dean," Sam says, and God doesn't bother to correct him.