Two of my fave boyss
pictures2words fic: Tempering the Blades 4/5 - Me myself and I
It's all about me
liliaeth
liliaeth
pictures2words fic: Tempering the Blades 4/5
Fic Title:Tempering the blades
Fic Author:Liliaeth
Artist:mattheal
Fandom:Supernatural
Rating:PG13
Characters/Pairings:Dean, Sam, OFC, (also appearances by John, Zachariah, Alistair, Anna, Meg and Gabriel)
Summary:Heaven and hell had their own destinies planned, one problem with that, they didn't foresee CPS getting involved.
Warnings:mention of child abuse, both suspected and real



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From: Anael, First Seraphim of the 10th Garrison <lovesearth@celestialwavelengths.hn>
To: Michael, regent of heaven<thegoodson@celestialwavelengths.hn> , Raphael, master of the storms and guardian of the prophets <lighteningstrike@celestialwavelengths.hn>
Sent: fri, Apr 3, 1992
Subject: Recent developments



My lord Michael,

Forgive me my impudence,

But for the Lord’s sake, what does Zachariah think he is doing here? There’s a good reason our brother is not a field agent. His inexperience with humans and their lives could cost the bloodline dearly.

I spent a lot of time ensuring that the Winchester boys ended up in a safe and good home, with a caseworker who has their best interest in mind. Messing with that could turn them against heaven and considering the nature of Sam Winchester that may be a very bad idea.

I barely managed to keep Zachariah from screwing up the situation entirely. I understand that there are issues only the Clerks are aware of, but please sir, for the good of heaven and the Winchester children. Tell that angel to pull back, before John Winchester starts hunting angels as well as demons.

Anael,
First Seraphim of the 10th Garrison


PS: what is it with the recent development amongst certain ranks to start calling humans mudmonkeys. I understand that my Vessel is still of a young age, but the boy is not that young that the likes of our brother should insult his intelligence.



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Daisy threw down the phone. The clerk who’d alerted them about the Winchesters had disappeared into nowhere. He hadn’t told anyone he was leaving, hadn’t left a forwarding address. It wasn’t a full disaster, but the man’s testimony was what got them their court order to pull the children out of Winchester’s custody in the first place.

They still had enough evidence to prove Winchester’s lack of responsibility in caring for his children, but still…

She hoped the man had just left, but how could they be certain? Would Winchester really harm an innocent man for trying to protect his children from him? She couldn’t believe that. She didn’t want to think that anyone could harm an innocent man for that, and not just because it would make her partly responsible for whatever had happened to the poor man. Because she’d been the one to contact him and get him to testify.

She shivered and grabbed her bag. Darren was on the phone, talking about picking up a delivery later that day. He’d been acting strange for a few days now. She wondered if she should just contact his wife and ask Kelly if her husband had mentioned something to her. But she didn’t. It wasn’t her business, was it?




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From: Alistair <masterartist@aoh.ll>
To: Azazel, recipient of sin <stopsendingmegoats@aoh.ll>, Zachariah, second seraphim and first Clerk of the 10th Garrison <employeeoftheyear@celestialwavelengths.hn>
Sent: fri, Apr 3, 1991 8:25 am
Subject: re: Urgent developments in the Winchester observation


Which fool killed that clerk? I barely managed to get John Winchester chased out of the morgue, before I managed to replace the body. Winchester is starting to suspect our involvement.

Do we really want John Winchester to become aware of our true target?



Alistair




*****





“So you watch your dad’s back when he’s working?” Dean stared up at Brenda who was standing in the door. He was almost shocked she didn’t have hot chocolate with her for a change. “He must be pretty glad to have his boys helping him out like that.”

She was just trying to trick him, trying to fool him into talking, so they could lay the hammer on Dad.

“Sam said that your dad’s into pest control.”

“It was just a stupid pack of dogs.” Dean whispered. “We just didn’t expect there to be so many of them.”

“That’s still pretty brave.”

“I was stupid, I should have gotten Sam out of there sooner.” He put down the comic book he’d been hiding behind.

“I’m sure you did the best you could.” She sat down next to him on the bed, not touching him. Thank God for that, but just sitting there, making him feel uncomfortable, unable to keep reading. Not like he’d turned a page in the past ten minutes, but he could have, if he’d wanted to.

“Sam doesn’t think so.” Sam was a bitch. They did what they did and they shut up about it. That wasn’t so hard to remember, right?

“Well, Sam’s your little brother. He worries as much about you, as you do about him.”

Dean didn’t get that. Worrying was his job, not Sam’s. Sam’s job was to be quiet, stay out of trouble and let Dean take care of him, that’s it. And oh yes, to be a total pain in the ass, so Dean wouldn’t think things were going too easy on him.

“It must have made you angry, Sam telling you he didn’t want to go back?” He’d wanted to hit his brother over that. He’d wanted to yell at him and scream. So duh. “It’s annoying, isn’t it? When he’s upset with your dad.”

“Dad’s a hero. We help him and Sam’s a bitch.”

She chuckled at that. “I’m sure he is. I’m sure he cares for you, even when he’s angry.”
Dean was nodding. Dean hated it when Dad was angry, he hated it when his brother started nagging at his dad, or when Dad got drunk and Dean had to keep him calm.

“And Sam doesn’t get that. Makes you want to slap him silly, doesn’t it?”

“I’d never hit Sam!” He wouldn't. Sam was little, he just didn’t understand. He dropped the comic, staring at the walls, then back at her.

“I didn’t say you did, Dean.” She was still smiling. “But you want to, sometimes, don’t you?” Dean shivered, breathing heavy, she was trying to get him in a trap, but he didn’t, he didn’t hurt Sam, he never hurt Sam. Sam was his little brother, he was good, he wasn’t like Dean. He was so much better than that. “But sometimes you feel you need to, to protect him. Like your dad does for you?”

He came inches away from hitting her, before he realized what he almost did, stopped himself and started grabbing books off the shelf and throwing them to the floor.

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“My dad’s a hero! He protects me! He doesn’t hurt me, he doesn’t!”

She was sitting there, watching him. He was shaking, wishing there was something he could do to show her. “He’s a hero, he looks after us,” he finally whispered. Dad had hit him twice, just twice and he’d felt guilty each time, he had. And Dean had deserved it, each time. Dad wasn’t a bad guy, and they couldn’t make Dean say he was, no matter what. Dad was a hero! It wasn’t Dad’s fault that Dean was a screw-up.

Dean stared around himself, at the mess he made. He grabbed the first of the books, and Brenda knelt down to help him clean up. He wouldn’t say he was sorry, he wasn’t, he just couldn’t leave it like this.

“And you would never hurt Sam, would you?” He glared at her. “You’re a good kid, Dean. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He hated her when she left the room.





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From: Michael, regent of heaven<thegoodson@celestialwavelengths.hn>
To: Anael, First Seraphim of the 10th Garrison <lovesearth@celestialwavelengths.hn>
Zachariah, second seraphim and first Clerk of the 10th Garrison <employeeoftheyear@celestialwavelengths.hn>, Raphael, master of the storms and guardian of the prophets <lighteningstrike@celestialwavelengths.hn>
Sent: mon, Apr 6, 1992
Subject: re: Urgent developments in the Winchester observation



Dearest sister,
I understand that the situation is difficult, but please, do show some patience. Heaven’s will is at work and as long as we keep our faith, all will go according to plan.

Michael,
Regent of heaven, First Archangel of the ranks, commander of the Garrisons.

PS: Does anyone know why I keep getting these glitches, returning my messages unsent?





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At least the judge had shown enough common sense to continue their custody of the Winchester children. It helped the state’s cause that their story had just changed from ‘fall of a bike’, to ‘attacked by feral dogs’. She’d almost think the second was the worst excuse in the history of ever. But then again, the story was so implausible that she was inclined to think it might actually be true. She’d arranged a meeting with John Winchester, asking him for an explanation.

The man had mostly been annoyed by the question. He was hiding something, she just wished she knew what it was.

He’d been dressed in a suit when he arrived, It was the same suit he’d worn in court. He stood up, refusing a chair and eying her as if she was something to be scraped out from underneath his boot. He seemed a bit dizzy and when he moved she could see scrapes poking out from underneath his shirt. He didn’t smell of booze, he just moved with measured strides as if his every movement hurt.

“Mister Winchester, we both have the same goal, to help the children’s well being.”

He glared at that.

“As the children’s case worker, I believe it would be in Dean and Sam’s best interest that they are reunited with you.” He seemed almost surprised at that. “Dean obviously looks up to you, and thinks the world of you.“

Winchester didn’t answer.

“I don’t doubt that you love your children, but the way they live, the way you’re raising them, has already and will continue to endanger them. Unless you’re willing to make a change, to make an effort for your children’s sake.”

Daisy knew he didn’t get her, he didn’t have to. Sure she could go on the attack, make threats, but one look at John Winchester told her that that would be the exact wrong approach. If he thought she was the enemy, he’d just fight her on anything she tried to achieve; And that wouldn’t help anybody. Best to make him realize the truth, that the only thing keeping him from his children was himself and his own issues.

“Just what do you even expect me to do?”

“As I understand it, at the moment you’re going from job to job, taking care of pest extermination jobs on the side?” She was pretty sure she heard a ‘that’s one way to put it’ mumbled in response.

“We would like to see you at least trying to get a job, improved accommodations.” She raised her hand before he could interrupt. “The place the children were living at before is considered an unsafe residence. I understand that money is tight and I’m not expecting some big mansion in the best parts of town. But at the very least, the children should be able to live in a location that isn’t covered in filth, where the walls aren’t filled with asbestos and where they don’t run into hookers whenever they head out the door. I’m sure your social worker can help you find an apartment that is both affordable and acceptable for children to live in.”

She knew there were some official rules about each child having a bedroom and appropriate bathrooms and so on, but she wasn’t expecting miracles. As long as they had a bed to sleep on, food to eat in a kitchen that wasn’t infested with rats and other vermin, she’d be more than willing to accept it.

“I don’t have any credit.” He let out.

She wasn’t sure what to answer to that. “I’m sure the landlords that … “ she checked his file, “that Carrie can send you to, will be understanding of that, as long as you make sure to make your rent.”

She grabbed a flyer or two. “There’s also a requirement of parenting classes. “

“Christo.” He muttered.

“Bless you.” She answered before continuing. “I can see about getting them rescheduled if they end up interfering with your job, but they’re essential. You will be expected to take them three days a week and they are the primary requirement that needs to be fulfilled for the children to return to your custody.”

“Why the fuck should I be jumping through your hoops.” Winchester demanded.

“You love your children, don’t you, Mister Winchester.” She looked him in the eyes. “Those classes aren’t for our benefit, they’re for theirs, for Sam and Dean.” She didn’t touch him, but she wished she could sooth him in some way. “What happened to your wife was horrible, for you and for the boys. It wrecked your family’s foundation and I’m sure it’s made it hard to settle in anywhere.” And in fact, she should be telling him to get therapy to get over it, but dropping that on him now, might be too much. “But what you are doing now, the life you force your children into. It isn’t doing any good for anyone, least of all the boys.”

“I’m just protecting them.” John whispered. “Keeping them safe.”

She wished she could answer something about his strange notion of safe, but decided against it. “Then let us help you.”

He looked away, at least he hadn’t rolled his eyes or yelled at her, yet. She wondered how long it would take him to start yelling again.

It took about twenty minutes.





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Flag this message
From: Add more dimensions to your intent<< Lokasenna@vagabonds.earth>>
To: Michael, regent of heaven<thegoodson@celestialwavelengths.hn>, Zachariah, second seraphim and first Clerk of the 10th Garrison <employeeoftheyear@celestialwavelengths.hn>, Raphael, master of the storms and guardian of the prophets <lighteningstrike@celestialwavelengths.hn> , Alistair <masterartist@aoh.ll>, Azazel, recipient of sin <stopsendingmegoats@aoh.ll>, … (show others)
Sent: wed, Apr 8, 1992



Subject: Add more Dimensions to your intent

Don’t you feel that your Grace pales in comparison to others, aren’t you worried that the size of your true form is miniscule when looking up to the great. Now you too can add dimensions to your interdimensional wavelength and become the angel you were always meant to be.

Contact << Lokasenna@vagabonds.earth>> for more information, or check out Intent

</small>

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School had been bad. The looks on his teachers’ faces when they saw him return with his arm in a sling, the way the other kids treated him as even more of a freak than before. Even the fact that he didn’t have to take part in gym, god those stupid shorts, did not make up for any of it. Well aside from the part where some of the hot girls in class were offering to carry his books for him, or write up his notes, that part was pretty cool.

But even that was marred by the way they seemed to feel sorry for him. The principal had promised that no one had told his class about their situation, so naturally, the entire school knew about ‘those poor abused and abandoned Winchesters’. It made him want to slam his face into his desk.
So far they’d managed to have two more visits with dad, their caseworker standing at guard as if they needed protection from Dad. Dad had told them to be good and follow orders, which was the only reason that Dean was actually going to class anymore.

Sam on the other hand had slipped into their 'normal' life with an ease that scared the hell out of Dean. Sam had signed up for the school’s soccer team, had joined the debate club and was currently spending time schmoozing with other geeks over at the mathletes club. And the worst part was that he’d been badgering Dean so much about trying to fit in, that Dean had actually given in and offered to help out the drama clubs. He might have only one workable arm at the moment, but he could still take care of the sound.

He’d never admit that he actually liked it. He was good at it and it meant he got to take the amps apart and play with the sound, without anyone nagging at him over the noise, cause hey, he was ‘helping out’. If it weren’t for his damn shoulder, he’d probably help with building the décor as well. As it was he’d already given a few hints on how to design a ‘fort’ for the play. Their current idea had sucked, Dad would have made him take it apart and start over, if he’d ever come up with something that ready to fall over.

After school was done, either Brenda or Joe would be there waiting to pick Sam and him up from their after school activities. They had this annoying habit of asking them how their day had been. Dean and Mike would sit in the back of the car while Sam kept babbling on about whatever club had a meeting that day. But even that would only hold off the questions for just so long.

Sam seemed to notice Dean’s reluctance and tended to start babbling on and on about his friends and teachers to keep their attention on him so that Dean could get out of it without a scrape, or more than a few grunts said in response.

Sometimes though, it worried Dean, the way Sam kept going on, the way he talked about signing up for stuff that was months away. As if they’d actually still be here by then.

Dean knew that Sam was just adapting, as he always did, but it hurt, seeing that hopeful look on Sam’s face. They weren’t safe here. Safety in normal was an illusion.

So why was he actually looking forward to the school play, maybe even hoping that Dad would come and watch, even if they didn’t get to talk to him, but he could be there, right?




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From: Alistair <masterartist@aoh.ll>
To: Azazel, recipient of sin <stopsendingmegoats@aoh.ll>,
Sent: fri, Apr 10, 1992
Subject: re: Urgent developments in the Winchester observation


Azazel,

Keep your daughter out of my business, or I will have no choice but to return her to the beginning of her apprenticeship.

Alistair




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That… man, how dare he. How could he do this to his children, knowing how much this mattered to them, knowing just how important seeing their father was to them, Dean especially.

So far, everything seemed to have gone at least somewhat alright. John Winchester had at least made an effort to take the classes he’d been ordered to take. He’d finally managed to find an apartment that, though it would need some work, could at least be seen as somewhat more inhabitable than his usual residences. He’d even taken a job with a local mechanic.

Everything, including his visits with the children had been going so well, that Daisy knew she should have realized that things would get screwed up sooner rather than later. It had been a month now, since they took the children in custody, one month of weekly meetings with Winchester, check ups with his boss and landlord and making sure that the change in him was real.

Well, up to the point that she had the time to actually do so. It was hard sometimes, to focus enough time on each individual case. She couldn’t start to say how many of her clients got angry when she couldn’t just see them when they felt like coming, or that she couldn’t change her schedule to theirs. But she had dozens of cases that she needed to work on, and much as she held all of them dear to her heart, she couldn’t just focus on one case.

But seeing as how everything had been going fine so far, she’d figured that just once, she could let Brenda supervise John’s latest visit. The appointment was set at the foster home, giving him a chance to see the children in their new environment and to allow the children to show him their bedroom, while feeling at home, instead of the cold observation room at the court building.
He hadn’t bothered to show up. At all. Not even hours late, with some lame excuse explaining why he was late. She’d known previous fathers who’d show up drunk, with a hundred excuses for why they hadn’t been there for their kids. Winchester though, he just plain out disappeared.

She called his job, his employer told her she hadn’t seen him in two days and if she saw him, to tell him he was fired. His landlord said she hadn’t seen him either.

Finally, she took her car and drove over to the large apartment complex that John Winchester had been living in. She passed a Pepsi delivery guy who was restocking a vending machine, on Winchester’s floor while munching on a twinkie that stuck halfway out of his mouth.

Daisy was about to knock on the door when she realized the door was standing open. She knocked, waiting for an answer. Nothing came, she thought she heard something, but she wasn’t sure what it was.

“I don’t know miss.” A voice suddenly said behind her. She turned around to the Pepsi guy. “I think I heard someone moaning earlier. If I didn’t have enough trouble with the cops as it was, I’d consider calling 911.” It made her breath freeze. “But then I really don’t want to be caught in someone else’s apartment uninvited, if you know what I mean.”

Daisy quickly opened the door. “Mister Winchester. John?”

A body had fallen in the middle of the room, blood spreading out underneath him. She wasn’t entirely sure, but looking at the clothes and the back of his head, she thought it had to be John Winchester. She quickly grabbed the phone standing on a table in the corner of the room, and dialed the emergency services before turning back and looking outside. The delivery guy was gone, probably not too eager to wait for the cops to arrive.

She didn’t care, all that mattered right now was the victim and keeping him alive. She wasn’t even sure what to do, her first aid skills were pretty basic. She could bandage a small injury, give CPR, and that was about it. She wasn’t even sure if she should try and move the man, or that doing so would make things worse. God, where were those paramedics.

“Mary.” She heard him mutter, it was the first clear sign that he was still alive. “I’m so sorry, Mary. I tried, I tried so hard.” The words came out almost impossibly to hear, she had to concentrate to make them out.

When the paramedics finally arrived, Daisy quickly got out of the way while they took care of the wounded man, She stared as they took care of his immediate bleeding and put him up in a stretcher. When the ambulance was about to leave, she asked if she could ride along. The paramedic made space and let her in.

She wasn’t even sure why she bothered, she could just as easily stay here and tell the cops what she’d seen, which wasn’t much. But somehow, she heard that pain, that loss in John Winchester’s voice and she knew she couldn’t look those children in the eye ever again, if she allowed their father to die alone, with no one even there to care whether he lived or died.



*****


From: Jahi <loyaltoourlord@aoh.ll>
To: Azazel, recipient of sin <stopsendingmegoats@aoh.ll>,
Sent: sat, Apr 11, 1992
Subject: re: Urgent developments in the Winchester observation


Father,

What was I supposed to do, Winchester was this close to getting the kids back.
I figured if I could mess around a bit, get him under suspicion, the boy would be easy pickings. But the bastard found me before I could put the cops on his trail. It wasn’t my fault.

Jahi


PS: Could you please tell my brother to give me back my hellhounds, he stole them and won’t give them back to me. You know they don’t like him.



Part 5
Masterpost

Hug a Spike