So yaāll can go blame @thequeervet for putting this idea in my head. Hereās a snippet from an upcoming AU Spn fic where every year there is a life or death competition for the right to serve your chosen patron god. Sabriel because I breathe Sam/Gabe. Destiel because come on. And angst-ridden because... well, have you met me?
@theriverscribe @scrollingkingfisher @nathyfaith
It was called The Cage - an arena where the chosen competitors were released and expected to fight. Expected to win or die. A battle to the death for the right to stand beside the god or goddess you have chosen to give your life to. And you were expected to have a chosen god or goddess.
Sam remembered the day heād needed to choose. Heād been sitting at his desk in school when the teacher handed out sheets of paper and they had been told to write down the name of their patron. He and Dean hadnāt talked about it much as kids. Dean wasnāt big into the gods or goddesses - hadnāt been since their mom had died. Sam was different, though. He had turned to faith, spent his whole life praying to gods and goddesses he had never seen, but to choose just one?
He had floundered, pencil poised over the piece of paper, nearly shaking with indecision until the teacher had called for them to pass their papers up. Heād scratched the first name he could think of across the page in hasty cursive, just barely managing to dot the i before the page had been pulled from beneath his pencil.
Heād barely been able to breathe the rest of the day.
Dean had laughed himself silly when Sam told him the god heād chosen, giggling like a schoolgirl for days afterward.
Sam took little joy in knowing that his older brother wasnāt giggling today.
Because the Patron Games had been called. They'd been named.
And the combatants had been chosen.
Sam looked down at the letter he held in his hand. He'd been hoping for an acceptance letter from a university. Not this.
To Samuel Winchester, Servant of Loki, you have been chosen for this years Patron Games.
Dean had left, stormed out of the house in a fury of slamming doors and curse words. That had been hours ago and Sam hadnāt moved from where he sat on the best, the edge of the letter clutched in sweaty fingers that wouldnāt stop shaking.
He just couldnāt stop shaking.
God of Fires. God of Lies. Silvertongue.
Sam knew the lore. After that day, the day heād been forced to choose, heād taken his time to really study Loki, to know the god whose name he had put himself to. But he had never expected it to go anywhere. Had never expected to be chosen. Heād been too old, he thought.
*Too old for the regular games,* he told himself, *but not for tricksters.*
They did something unusual for this game - spread the ballots out, picked those who were older than the set age. A taunting game. Such a trickster thing to do.
Samās fingers spasmed and he nearly dropped the paper, though it seemed stuck to his fingers. He couldnāt let go. Couldnāt get rid of it. Couldnāt escape.
The door opened and Sam lifted his head to see his brother enter. Dean was calmer, shutting the door quietly behind him, but his faceā¦ the fury that Sam knew covered terror was gone. In its place was something relaxed. Somethingā¦ peaceful.
Sam sat up straight, his spine cracking loudly, and stared at Dean.
Dean stared back. At ease.
āDean, what did you do?ā
His older brother shrugged, looking away. āWhat do you think I did? I pulled a Katniss.ā
Something cold settled in Samās stomach and he felt his breath catch.
The papers they filled out were kept in a secure place but Dean had always been good at breaking into secure places. Locks didnāt pose a problem for someone with his experience. He could get to the pages easily and Samā¦ Sam had written Loki down with the stub of a pencil that heād had shoved in one pocket. He remembered because heād struggled to hold the damn thing in his too-large fingers and had cut himself on the sharp, broken-off edge. Dean wouldnāt have been able to change the name of the god heād chosen. That would be too well-recorded. But he could easily erase part of the name scribbled at the top of the page. It wouldnāt be difficult, Sam knew, to erase Sam and replace it with
Dean met his eyes finally, and it was resignation that burned in that familiar gaze, like Dean had always known that this would happen and it was only a matter of when.
āYouāre my little brother, Sam. And Iām not going to let you go in there and fight for your life. Youāre gonna stay out here and stay safe.ā
Dean grinned at him. āIām gonna kick some ass.ā
