Supernatural fanfic: Give Me Back The Berlin Wall

[kat_lair]

Title: Give Me Back The Berlin Wall
Author: Mistress Kat / kat_lair
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~ 1400
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing.
Warnings/enticements: Incest, dubious con, dark/adult themes

Summary: Love is not insanity. It is survival.

Author notes: Although this story was written for the Soul Overturned evil!Sam Fic/Vid/Art Challenge, it really is more about Dean than about Sam, evil or otherwise. The song that inspired the fic is The Future by Leonard Cohen, and the story title and the italicised verses at the beginning of each section are all direct quotations from the lyrics. Many thanks to my marvellous beta-reader virtualinsomnia who valiantly suffers through all the angst I throw at her, and without whom this story would be painful to read for all the wrong reasons.

Now also in Russian: Read the Russian translation by eva_lain  here or here.

 

Give Me Back The Berlin Wall

 

 ***

 give me back my broken night
my mirrored room, my secret life

 

One-hundred-and-two, one-hundred-and-three, one-hundred-and– Dean watches himself in the wall-length mirror, touching elbows to knees over and over again, fingers laced behind his head.

After the crunches he does push-ups and uses the weights brought up from the hotel gym, counting the repetitions meticulously. There’s no real need to keep fit anymore, but it’s important that he does. Just in case.

He’s sweaty and tired, muscles happy with the exercise and remembered victories. In the shower Dean presses himself hard against the white tiles, all the soft vulnerable parts – face, palms, cock, the pale pink flesh of his upper thighs – crushed between the wall and his body, hurting but safe. He washes quickly and doesn’t linger on the bruises on his hips and around his arms like he once would have.

There’s a pile of clean clothes waiting on the bed and nothing but empty space in the wardrobe. The hangers weren’t replaced after Dean broke them apart and made a weapon out of the metal bits.

Morning chores done, he stands by the window for a long time before looking away.

Outside the world is burning.

Dean picks up the phone, dials room service and orders breakfast

 

***

you don't know me from the wind
you never will, you never did

Dad’s journal ran out of pages years ago; the last entry is dated November 2009, in Des Moines. Dean smiles a little every time he reads it, because he knows what’s written on the pages is not all that happened, and while Dad was a stickler for detail, Dean very much doubts he’d want to know everything that took place during that particular hunt. Or after.

So Dean didn’t record the way his concentration slipped, because Sam’s shoulder lost contact with his for a split second. He didn’t write about the constant flicker of the naked light bulb in the bedroom, how Sam’s eyes were dark and desperate, and the first aid kit exploded open without anyone touching it. There’s not one line about the blood, running hot and thick down his neck, or the salty pure taste of it on Sam’s tongue. No word of cheap motel sheets, skin sliding against skin, and brief salvation found in sin.

These are the details Dean kept to himself. He takes them out when he’s alone, like a hidden treasure, and marvels at the colours, runs his mind over the smooth contours of the memory.

 

***

 you'll see a woman
hanging upside down
her features covered by her fallen gown

 

Mom talks to him sometimes. She sits on the closed toilet lid while Dean is having a bath and sings, or watches him pace the room with sad eyes. I remember when you were a little boy, she says. I love you, Dean. Don’t you want to come home?

Dean never answers. He’s not crazy. 

 

Jess showed up once too, silhouetted in the doorway like the world’s sexiest hallucination, honey-blond hair falling in silky strands around her face. She was gorgeous, and Dean could really understand what Sam saw in her.

He almost touched her himself, kneeling on the floor, arms outstretched. His fingers brushed the hem of her white dress, a smell like sunshine filling the air, and Dean wanted it, ached for it, but she was there to take him away, and he wouldn’t go. 

Won’t go. Not without Sam.

 

***

your servant here, he has been told
to say it clear, to say it cold
it's over, it ain't going
any further

 

Every evening they come to see him. 

“Hello Dean,” notSam says. “I brought dinner. You should eat more.”

“Hello Sammy,” Dean says, and looks through the expensive shirt, through flesh and bone, so that Sam knows Dean’s talking to him and not anyone else. “Best not waste such a delicious meal then. Have to keep my strength up, don’t I?”

They sit down at the table.

“I could use you out there, Dean,” notSam tells him. “We’re brothers; half of everything is yours. All you need to do is take it.”

“This is actually pretty good. Guess they kept the gourmet chefs around, huh?” The steak is so tender even a plastic knife cuts through it like butter.

There’s a crash as the water pitcher hits the wall. “I’m offering you the world on a fucking plate, you stupid sonofabitch! The world!” Dean’s hand is suddenly pinned to the table, held immobile with enough force to make his bones grind.

NotSam hasn’t moved an inch.

“Remember Bobby’s cooking? You’d never think it to look at him, but that man sure knew his way around the kitchen.” Dean slowly reaches over with his left hand, extricates the fork from the numb fingers of his right and resumes eating.

“That one time we came back from a hunt – the male covenant in Jackson, you remember Sammy? – and every fucking joint in the country was closed because it was Christmas Day, and you said…” Dean grins as wide as he can, anything, everything, for his little brother. “… you said ‘Let’s go see if Bobby has a turkey big enough for us’ and so we went. I’ve never eaten that much in my life.”

NotSam is looking at his clenched fists and clearly not listening. It doesn’t matter though; Dean knows that Sam is.
 

 

***

give me absolute control
over every living soul
and lie beside me, baby
that's an order

 

Strong hands are pushing his head down, the white cotton cold like snow, his mouth split open across the bed. It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay. You’re not hurting me. The words soak into the pillow, muffled truths given freely.

He refuses the food on occasion for fear of poison, refuses to listen to the lies, refuses to give up, but he never refuses this.

There’s the blunt pressure of teeth at the back of his neck, and Dean arches into it, shuddering. The desperate, needy noises that escape unbidden are not all his, though the blood usually is. Pleasure like thorns tears through all the open places of him, and he is drifting away, inside out and weightless.

Sometimes Dean lets himself think about that first time in Des Moines, sometimes the rest stop just outside of Albany; the feel of hot leather sticking to his knees and the dashboard digging into his back, and Sam, slick and gasping under him as Dean grinds down again and again and—

Sometimes Dean lets himself come, the memories spilling from his mouth like holy water, so Sam knows what it is that’s brought him off.

 

***

I've seen the nations rise and fall
I've heard their stories, heard them all
but love's the only engine of survival

 

NotSam doesn’t always stay the night, but Dean likes it when he does. He can talk to Sam then, without anyone else listening. Shh, shh. It’s going to be fine, I swear. Can touch him, palm skimming the lazy curve of a shoulder blade. Just hang in there, bro. Kiss the rise of bone, the long sweep of spine disappearing under the covers. For me, Sam. Please. Carefully, so as not to wake the other one, just a brush of lips against sleepy soft skin that smells so much like Sam that Dean is afraid he’ll forget the difference one day. I won’t ever. Not ever.

The mornings are always red and black, like volcanoes. A firestorm rides the world now; its epicentre, its living heart, beating right here in this room on the seventeenth floor of the last building standing.

“It’s me, Dean. It’s me!” The walls are shaking, and the air reeks of ozone. “You have to see it! You must know!”

But the years have melted Dean into hard glass, transparent and unbreakable, and the only thing he knows, the only thing he loves, is his brother, and whoever this is, it’s not him.

“See you tonight, Sammy,” Dean says, feet touching the base of the mirror. In the reflection a pair of hazel eyes catch his; one man, two men, three. Dean holds the gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The door slam vibrates through the floor and into the bones of his back. Dean curls up smoothly, his body falling into the rhythm like a lover, like a promise. One, he counts.

Two.

Three.

Fin.

 

Comments

[entangled-now.livejournal.com]

Oh I love this! This is creepy and beautiful, the way the world is falling apart. The way Dean is falling apart too, in between all the efficiency and pragmatism, in his most disturbing acceptance. The way you're not entirely sure if he's gone completely crazy or not, and how there's no real clues as to what exactly Sam is or isn't.

and this... A firestorm rides the world now... I love this line so very much.

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

I sort of broke myself a little bit with this fic. Thank you for such wonderfully detailed feedback. I'm really glad it felt genuinely creepy, and I think how there's no real clues as to what exactly Sam is or isn't is the reason it does, because the things that aren't said are often worse than the things that are.

And you picked a favourite line! *squirms with unabashed pleasure* You know how I feel about that...

[phoenix-bellamy.livejournal.com]

Good angst indeed!
EvilSam's fic usually break me, but this gave me a little glimp of hope that every once in a while Dean gets to see his Sam...Which maybe is even worse, because he knows that he would have to deal with 'NotSam' but anyway...I loved this all ;)

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm glad you liked. I'm glad you managed to find some hope in the fic too - I certainly didn't! It's interesting how different people read different things into the same text...

[claudia-writes.livejournal.com]

Okay, the thing is I don't generally like song-fic written like this, because the lyrics never seem to match up to anything, but God, did this just prove me wrong. It's more of a poetic symbiosis than any kind of a song fic, and I have to admire (very jealously!) how you made each line work within that kind of structure.

I like the one-day-is-every-day structure of this, because it makes that kind of apocalypse have a more deeper meaning than just that of the world burning. Like nothing is left, not even time. So, the worst groundhog day ever.

You said in the beginning it's about Dean, and I don't know how this could work if it wasn't about him. Evil is just evil, it doesn't hold any meaning inside of it, besides the obvious. The love is survival ethos works just so because it is about Dean and his desire to keep the Sam alive who was his.

Okay, good fic. but that's an understantment again. and I've rambled on enough.

[tigriswolf]

... wow. I love this. It's so quiet and hurty, with no true hope at all...

[rei-c.livejournal.com]

I really enjoyed this. The imagery you used had such a deft touch, especially combined with the rhythm of your words.

[nerthus.livejournal.com]

Gorgeous, simply gorgeous. Your writing created such clear imagery in my mind, and this one is going to stay with me for awhile.

[jelloh0530.livejournal.com]

well. you made me fucking BAWL MY HEART OUT.

are you happy? you know you are.

EVIL. you're just all sorts of evil. *cries and sniffles and walks away*

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

Um, okay. Wow. I'm seriously flattered here. *blushes*

I have to give kudos to the song, which fits with the concept of evil!Sam, apocalypse, Sam/Dean etc. so very well. There is a line there, which I didn't use here, but which sold the song for me when I was doing the original fanmix. It goes "I've seen the future, brother. It is murder." and it was like a slap in the face, because I can sort of hear Sam saying that to Dean, and Dean just not caring, because... Well, because. Nothing matters in comparison to his love for Sam.

Like nothing is left, not even time. I really love the way you've put that, because yes exactly so. There is nothing left for Dean, not even Sam, not really. What survives is Dean's love for Sam, and maybe it's enough to keep them both alive, maybe not, but for Dean it's always been the only option available.

In conclusion: Thank You so much for such amazing and insightful feedback!

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

Thank you for a lovely comment. I was aiming for the sort of quiet hopelessness, unvoiced but there, so I'm glad it came through...

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you so much! I'm really pleased about what you said about the rhythm of the words, because after all this was inspired by a song...

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm so, so pleased you liked the fic even though I'm sure this isn't the happiest things to be carrying around in your head...

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

Um, sorry? Hey, come back! I have tissues! And cookies! And, uh, *tries to think* Damn. I can't even offer any happy!fic to compensate because all my posted SPN fic is fairly angsty and the schmoopy J2 porn is still at beta...

But you're right: I am a bit happy that my fic made you sad. 'cos that was sort of the point.

Thank you for the comment, it means a lot that you took the time to leave feedback.

[nerthus.livejournal.com]

Oh, you should see some of the other junk I've got floating around in my cranium; scarily enough this fic fits right in there, ha...Seriously, call me a weirdo but sometimes I really like having a darker, really angsty fic to ruminate over and sort of indulge the darker side of my fandom nature. After all, ultimately I always invent a happier closure in my head for the boys at the end of it all cause I'm a strange mix of being a hopeful pessimist, if that makes any sense, ha! I want my boys to be together and safe and at peace with themselves and the universe at the end, but yeah, there's that strangely seductive and sadistic route of suffering on the way to getting there. Maybe I should go on medication, ha...

[amory-vain.livejournal.com]

Oh, dear. This was wonderful. Dean broke my heart, there.

Section 5 hurt in all the best places.

[mre-quecky.livejournal.com]

clockwork...

well written, I loved it.

[mmapmaker.livejournal.com]

this is fabulous!

[jelloh0530.livejournal.com]

*pauses due to smell of delicious cookies*

ok... fine.

*snatches cookies and runs, hollering over shoulder*

I'LL BE BAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

and also -

YOU'RE WELCOOOOOOOOOME!

[sickly-sweet.livejournal.com]

I'm fairly new to the fandom, but this? Best fic I've read so far, no question about it. I'm a sucker for dark themes and you've done this so well...I'm in love with your writing style, your imagery, lines like these: Pleasure like thorns tears through all the open places of him and But the years have melted Dean into hard glass. Amazing. Your details are so vivid and I really can see this fic.

And thematically...wow. I love Dean in this, how messed up he is but still retaining all the things that make him Dean. I love how you don't quite know what has happened and what Dean thinks is going on but you don't need to because this fic is perfect just the way that it is. The lyrics you've used are so good as well, I might have to check out the song.

Just...wow. I'm putting this in my memories right now.

[rejeneration.livejournal.com]

Ow. Ohhh, ow. I think you jabbed me in my spleen. Maybe not, but it was something vital. :/

Ohhhhh. I know not to do these things to myself. Not to read the Sammy's-gone-evil-apocofic, but... sometimes they're just done so well. And the writing's just so damn good and it's like the best dessert - sure to give you a tummy ache, but it's sooooooooo good. Too good to put down. Too good to step away from.

Which... this is. Beautiful, harsh, brutal. Dean's so fragile and barely hanging on, tempted by ghosts, broken by his brother, still _so_ in love. Sam, if he even exists anymore, can't be there for him. Won't be. Struggles maybe at night, just like Dean. Ugh. Too... heartbreaking, because I can see Dean never surrendering. Not for anything. Waiting until he can take Sam home. Wherever that is.

So, even though I'm sure to bleed to death, rest assured... it was worth it.

[dodificus.livejournal.com]

I love the uncertainty throughout all this, we're not quite sure if we can trust Dean's view of events...if maybe what he believes about Sam is just what he *needs* to believe. I don't think Dean's on the edge, I think he stepped over a ways back. This was really good:)

[zombean.livejournal.com]

Oh jeez. That was so beautifully written *siiiigh*
I'm loving the ambiguity of it too, that depending on how you interpret the fic, either there really is a demon(?) in control of Sam, or Sam turned evil and Dean just won't see it.
Just beautiful :)

[moth2fic.livejournal.com]

I read it - and it was very beautiful - and I didn't understand.
*moth wonders why her f'list flutter off to mysterious fandoms leaving her in the dark*
Still - congratulations! If I didn't understand and I thought it was good it must be GOOD.

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

sometimes I really like having a darker, really angsty fic to ruminate over and sort of indulge the darker side of my fandom nature - no this is totally understandable. Because sometimes it's exactly the darker things that make you think more than the happy fluffy fics...

I want my boys to be together and safe and at peace with themselves and the universe at the end, but yeah, there's that strangely seductive and sadistic route of suffering on the way to getting there. - And I totally agree with this! I too like stories with a happy ending but a lot of obstacles and angst in the middle...