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itsnotsammy · 8 years ago

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{ Burial at Sea }

He couldn't understand how things had happened so fast.

It almost felt like a bad, really bad dream. But it was real, and it was painful, and there was no way Sam could change things - no matter how much he wanted to. Dean was gone for good.

He just didn't expect to stumble on a door that led right into a city - in the bottom of the ocean. Because Men of Letters obviously didn't know how to catalog their dangerous shit properly.

Words: 4,249

Chapters: 2/?

Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural; Bioshock

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence; Rape/Non-Con

Categories: M/M

Characters: Dean Winchester; Sam Winchester; Castiel; Mary Winchester; Atlas (BioShock); Big Daddy (BioShock); Little Sister; Andrew Ryan; Brigid Tenenbaum; Frank Fontaine; Jack (BioShock)

Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Crossover; Rapture (Bioshock); Season 12 AU; Time Travel; Pre-Season/Series 12; Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con; Minor Character Death; Implied/Referenced Torture; Pre 1958 New Year's Eve Riot; Splicers - Freeform; Plasmids; Explicit Language; Alternative Universe; Wincest; Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Tagging: @stanfordwincest

read it on Ao3: { chapter 1 } | { chapter 2 } read it on Tumblr: { chapter 1 }

He was stupid. He shouldn't have drunk so much at the Bunker that night and he knew it. He was a Winchester, for crying out loud. His luck was almost non existent and it was obvious something would happen (and it'd always be happening sooner than later, because Lady Fate was a downright bitch who hated him more than anyone else). The Bunker was filled with every kind of magic (or cursed) item known to man and why, why did he even decide about dealing with some supernatural shit when he couldn't barely walk without stumbling into a wall or coffee table on his way? There was no good answer and Sam was too tired to think about something that could be used as a good excuse. It had been a stupid decision, that's all. He could regret it as much as he liked, it wouldn't change the fact he was still trapped in some underwater city settled in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

In 1958. He was just few minutes away from 1959, if he cared to think about some unimportant details.

He had been stuck in that place for almost a month already and he had found nothing useful but some weird people whose size of ego would match Lucifer's in a fair fight. At least the Devil would know how to get out of that crab trap. Someone who had spent an eternity trapped in Hell could easily destroy a city that was only two steps away from chaos and mayhem. It'd be child's play, honestly... Sam scoffed. The fallen archangel would most likely drown the Wincester along with Rapture instead of helping him. As if one could expect anything else. Why would Sam expect something else from Lucifer after everything they've been through? And well, it wasn't like the Devil was still alive and walking on Earth again. Amara had been... destructive.

For more than one family, his mind decided to remind him. A soft sigh escaped his lips at the bitter memory of Dean's death.

He could think about it later, much later. Now, a Little Sister crossed his way all of sudden and he backed away into the shadows under giant plumb, pretending not to see or feel the huge, moving diving suit following her. The thing just passed by and didn't even glance at his spot, and Sam let out a breath he didn't notice he had been holding until now. As much as he hated those creatures. he still didn't have a death wish - not now when he had decided to find a way to crawl out of that god forsaken hole. Yet it didn't mean he'd ever get used to such a sight. A little girl being guarded by some kind of monster. No matter how times he'd seen them, it always made his hunter instincts go crazy - but he had no weapons and no idea how to kill those things. People have said the girls were past salvation now, too filled with plasmids to go back at being human. They were as monstrous and twisted as the Big Daddies protecting them.

It just made him feel worse for doing nothing to save them. It made him wonder what else was hidden under the whole 'utopia' façade, what else was rotting and dying away under Andrew Ryan's empty promises of a marvelous life.

He sighed.

Rapture had been an interesting place at first. The whole idea of a perfect utopia, a free market society that ruled itself had been appealing. It seemed to work. But there was something completely different happening behind the curtains. The lower leves of the city held an entire different society, as deformed and ugly as the Little Sister he had just met. Fontaine's scheme ran smoothly, freely down there. Parasites smuggling plasmids all around Rapture right under Ryan's nose and even if everyone claimed Fontaine dead and all his comrades gone for good, Atlas was still out there doing whatever he wanted. It was only a matter of time until he escaped the 'prison' and boy, was Sam doing his best not to interfere and get himself killed because of his stupid bravery. Sometimes it was too hard to remember he was in the past, in a time he wasn't even born - but he wanted to help, even if he knew it'd be completely useless.

What's done is done, a little voice that didn't belong to him whispered in his mind. What's done will be done.

Another sigh. It was official. He did hate time traveling more than anything else.

Somewhere up the halls, a clock struck midnight. January 01, 1959.

The first explosion seemed to shake the entire Rapture. The second one sent him flying down the stairs, and then everything went dark.

There were a few things Dean Winchester didn't expect from his last encounter with Amara, the fucking Darkness herself, in flesh and bone.

For starters, he had walked out of that 'friendly meeting' alive and in one piece. That was way more than he had planned. Hell, he was ready to die for the world (again always the martyr always dying for someone else) and he ended up with a prize for best family counselor of the year and-

And his mother. Alive, healthy, breathing. As beautiful as he remembered.

It had been a great couple of days, to be honest. He fussed over her as much as he could during their trip back to the Bunker, clinging and touching and just needing to be sure she was real she was there. She wasn't going anywhere soon. They'd be a family again (they were already a family but this was different Mom is here), even if John wasn't there anymore. They got Mom, and it was okay. Sammy would be so happy. He'd probably be a lot more clingy than Dean himself, and it was okay because for fuck's sake, only Chuck and Amara knew how much they needed some peace of mind, some good rest from the supernatural and all the evil in that damned world. The kid had been through so much already. They both had. Armaggedon, Lucifer, Amara, demons, angels... they just needed time to heal and recharge. Was it too much to ask?

Apparently it was, because when they finally got in the Bunker, when they finally stepped into his-- their home, it was strangely empty and quiet. Dean's warning bells rang loudly, all at once. Sam should be there. He had been gone for two days, at most- and maybe he should've called to let Sammy know he was alive and going home, but the older brother had been too excited over the wonderful news to remember such an important detail. His baby brother would forgive him for it, that was for sure. As soon as he found Sam, of course.

"Sammy?"

No answer. A chill ran down his spine, something that had nothing to do with the cold.

Something just felt... wrong, out of place.

"Lucy, I'm home!"

"Maybe he went out to... eat something?" Mary said softly, almost like she was choosing her words carefully. "He'll be back soon."

She was still shaken, scared. He could understand it. It couldn't be easy to come back from the dead 33 years later, couldn't be easy to see that her little boy had turned into a grown up man, but in that very moment he couldn't bring himself to care too much. Sam wasn't there. That was important. The Bunker had been their home for years now, they had nowhere else to go so where was his brother? Maybe Mom was right and Sammy had just gone to the nearest restaurant to grab those salad things he loved so much, yet there was this feeling that Dean couldn't just shake off. The kitchen was at full stock, they had plenty of food in there. Maybe Sam just needed some fresh air after everything...

Yet something was wrong, he knew it. And he also knew he could trust his instincts. It took him no more than ten minutes to find out he was right.

Sam should be in the Bunker. His cellphone had been left on the Map Room. There was an opened bottle of scotch on the kitchen, half consumed- and by the mess Sammy had done all over the place, there was no way he wouldn't have finished that one too. He'd have finished the entire stock, actually. That was what Dean would've done if he were on Sammy's shoes. Even so, the rooms were empty, the Impala was parked on the same spot as before and everything seemed to be in its place- everything but his baby brother. Because it was obvious they couldn't get a few days of some peace of mind, because it seemed they hadn't done enough already, hadn't sacrificed enough.

Fuck this.

He didn't listen to Castiel's excuses as he called the angel, he didn't want to know what Cass had been doing, what was more important than look out for Sam. He didn't care. He tried not to, at least.

All he needed in that moment was to find his brother. He could deal with everything else later, much later.

"He asked me to be alone, Dean."

"I don't care if he asked you to kill the Queen of England. You should be here!" Dean took a moment to gather his thoughts- and get his anger under control. He should focus on the problem, should treat it as any normal hunt (because fuck, Sam seemed to attract problems everywhere he went) and deal with it as easily as any other job. It didn't mean Cass wouldn't escape him this time. "You promised me, Cass." And the hunter was well aware of the pure feeling of betrayal lacing his voice, and he did notice the moment the angel flinched as if he had been hit. "I trusted you, and now he's gone."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry won't bring him back."

"You said Sam didn't leave the Bunker, right?" And there was no way Dean would admit he almost jumped at Mary's voice. She was still there, trying to help, looking strangely calm for such a situation they all found themselves in. God, he loved that woman. A soft smile curled on his lips and he nodded, not sure of her trail of thought. "So it means he's still here somewhere. Isn't there some... magic items all around the place or something?"

"Sam knows-"

"I'm sure he does." Well she knew how to shut him up in a second, but despite her voice being stern, her features were gentle and understanding. "But by all the bottles I've seen in the kitchen..."

"Mary's right." Castiel just replied what Dean was thinking in that right moment. Creepy angel... "Sam was too drunk to know or care about what to touch or not. I think I can track down the last magical item triggered. It's a start."

The hunter just nodded once more, trying not to think about whatever Sam had done. He just hoped his baby brother was fine and breathing.

"So, what are you waiting for? Just do it."

It wasn't fair to have Mom back only to lose Sam. He couldn't do it. Oh the irony. He had just asked Sammy to accept he'd be gone for good this time. Maybe that was his punishment.

"We'll find him, Dean." Mom said.

And God, Dean wished he could believe her.

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