Blood will Flow

Three Not So Wise Monkeys

Kikazaru

He hadn’t listened.

Cain had warned him, the Blade came with a burden, but Dean had closed his ears because – he was doing what he had to do. There was no choice, was there? He was born to be - had been bred to be - a weapon. Daddy’s attack soldier, a blunt instrument. Why worry if that were to become literal?

What difference did it make?

Now he knew.

The Blade burned him from the inside out. It scoured away his conscience, his moral compass, his humanity.

But worse. It abraded his vast and shining love for Sam.

And it hurt.

Mizaru

Sam was fading. In the face of Dean’s erosion, Sam was an ineffectual shade, without substance or influence. He was a shadow, lost in the growing darkness that was Dean.

He groped for some of his old fire, but the embers were cold, extinguished by angel flames and deception. Where once he’d gripped so tight, now his fingers closed on nothing, and even that was slipping from his grasp.

The weight of his options bowed his shoulders. Castiel had no solutions to offer, caught up in yet another angel war.

All Sam could do was bear witness.

And it hurt.

Iwazaru

Cain embraced the silence left by the absence of the Mark. In his newfound peace, there was no need for words; the quiet was broken only by the sounds of his industrious bees, the apple blossom opening, the rustle of the breeze in the leaves of the mulberry by the back gate.

He sat with his back pressed against the rough bark logs of his cabin and closed his eyes, allowing the lazy sun to warm his skin. He breathed deep of lavender scented air.

Unburdened, he had looked on his creation and it was good.

Nothing hurt any more.


A/N
Kikazaru – hear no evil
Mizaru – see no evil
Iwazaru – speak no evil