Summary: Sam Wesson has been wrongfully accused of murdering his college roommate. Convicted and sentenced to life without parole, he is on his way to prison when the transport van crashes, presenting him with a chance to escape. Desperate for freedom, he goes on the run. He vows that he will do whatever he has to do to stay out of prison. US Marshal Dean Winchester is on his trail. His job is simple: capture Sam and bring him back to prison. At least it started out as simple. But two unexpected things happen: he becomes attracted to the fugitive and he begins to suspect that Sam is innocent. In a clash between desire and duty, which side will win?
Summary:You’re always waiting. Waiting on something or someone else to decide how you’re going to feel, what you’re going to do. Fuck, you’re so sick of waiting.
Rating:15+
Pairing:Dean x Reader // Dean x Jo
Tags:Cheating, affair, major angst, age gap, mentions of smut, heartbreak, break up
A/Ns:I’ve once again written a fic based on the song Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift because it’s a stunning song and it gives me endless inspiration for angsty fics! Hope you enjoy the heartache!
This fic was posted 4 weeks ago on my website and Patreon - link in my bio to find out more!
“What the actual fuck am I doing?” You slam on the brakes of your car, stopping still in the middle of the country back road, your headlights pooling in front of you, illuminating the empty path ahead and trees surrounding you. You’d not been expecting to come to this realisation right here and now, almost at your destination. “What the actual fuck am I doing?!” You repeat out loud to yourself, looking around your car.
It’s almost two A.M. You’d previously been wrapped up in bed, a hot water bottle strapped to your stomach as you willed your period to arrive so you could get it over with. But just like everything else in your life it has been keeping you waiting. You’re always waiting. Waiting on something or someone else to decide how you’re going to feel, what you’re going to do. Fuck, you’re so sick of waiting.And your period hadn’t been the only thing you’d been waiting on. You’re ashamed to admit it, but it’s true. You’d laid there, constantly lifting your phone off of the nightstand, tilting the bright screen towards you to check you’d not missed the sound of a notification.
Warnings: Other than the obvious, Dubcon for John unaware it’s Dean.
Sunmary: During a hunt in Memphis back in 2002, Dean dips out on John to scratch an itch. When John shows up at the same bar with the same itch, Dean’s all too happy to keep this scathing little secret to himself.
Summary: During their semester abroad in Costa Rica, Sam and Dean finally give Jess what she’s been begging for, in exchange for consenting to something they want.
Summary: Dean’s upset when a Cupid marks him with an arrow but not his soulmate, or so he thinks. As he struggles to come to terms, he calls her everything other than her actual name, though maybe that’s just a part of getting struck by true love.
Warnings: language, name calling, kissing, implied smut (established friends with benefits relationship), fluff
A/N: Something silly just for fun. Enjoy… and Happy Valentine’s Day Written for @howbadcanitbebingo.
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“Stupid, Cupid.” Said Dean, walking into the motel room, stripping off his soaked jacket and throwing it onto the chair.
“What are you muttering over there, sourpuss?” You asked, pulling off your wet clothes since you guys had gotten caught in the rain chasing down the monster of the week.
Which turned out not to be the cupid you ran into, who of course Dean just had to go and make friends with. He wasn’t a fan and he made sure to tell you that every two minutes on the ride to the motel.
There wasn’t much privacy in the room to begin with and since the two of you had a sort of friends with benefits thing going on for a while now, you didn’t care to cover up. You’d certainly seen it all and so had Dean.
“Nothing, sweetheart.” He brushed you off, muttering under his breath, “…dumb, giant baby.”
With Valentine’s day fast approaching, Sam took some time off to go who knows where, doing who knows what with Eileen. Leaving you to deal with one very grumpy Dean. He’d been in a mood since the start of the case and there’d been nothing you could do to snap him out of it. And you tried everything, until you’d finally had enough of his attitude.
“That’s it! What is wrong with you, De?” You snapped, tossing your wet shirt at him, leaving you in your bra and jeans. It hit him in the face with a satisfying slap sound and you giggled at the face he made.
“I’m not even talking to you, nosy parker.” He stated, his eyes lingering a little too long on your chest to just be friends and he muttered again, “…frigging, wingless diaper muncher.”
“You’re obviously not talking to anyone else, old man.” You bickered, putting your hands on your hips and staring at him.
“Don’t start with me, sunshine- And you’re not a hell of a lot younger than me so I’d watch it, dollface.” He said, pulling off his wet shirts and tossing them in the pile on the ground with yours.
It was your turn to cast him a lingering glance. He was the perfect combination of soft and muscular and you bit your lip trying to trap a sigh. Your cheeks heating up too quickly, but he didn’t notice, too busy trying to hide his own growing feelings for you.
“I know but you get so angry when I call you a geezer. It’s adorable.” You smirked, you didn’t know why but you always loved teasing him when he was already annoyed.
“And you think that’s funny, little girl?” He asked with a raise of his eyebrows.
“Uh-huh, plus I think you’re kinda cute when you’re all flustered, tough guy.” You chuckled.
“I’m not the one who’s redder than a tomato right now, jiggles.” He pointed out, finally noticing the hue in your cheeks.
“Whatever, nipple sucker.”
“Hey. You like it when I do that, pumpkin.” He said matter-of-factly, his tongue peeking between his lips as he grinned at you and tilted his head.
“That was one time-”
“And every other time after that-”
“Shut up or it’s never happening again, dork.” You threatened, feeling even hotter than before.
“I can hold out a lot longer than you can, sweetness.” He bet, sliding his jeans down his thick thighs, leaving him in just his fitted red boxers. The ones with the little black hearts that you’d gotten him. He watched you squirm and bite the inside of your cheek as you filled with need. “Tough noogies, kitten.”
“Tease.” You called him.
“Brat.”
“Jerk.”
“Ass-butt.”
“Watch it, Dean, your Cas is showing… Hoser.” You muttered.
“Excuse me, peanut, what did you just call me?”
“…Honey.”
“That’s not what you said, darling.” He shook his head.
“How would you know, weirdo? You’ve been ignoring me all night; muttering insults every time you think I’m not listening, dick.” You cursed, finally calling him out on it.
“Not everything’s about you, cupcake.” He shook his head.
“Sure it’s not, babe.” You rolled your eyes, if it hadn’t been something you’d done, it had to be about you. Otherwise, you would’ve gotten it out of him by now, you always did. Sam called it your superpower. “You know I’ll get it out of you sooner or later, buddy, and I’d rather not do this all night. I’ve got other plans in store for you, big guy.”
“If you must know, princess, that damn cupid jabbed me with an arrow before he disappeared. So I’m not really in the mood for your teasing. Alright, buttercup?” Dean explained dryly.
“Alright… Why aren’t you with your soulmate then, Casanova?” You continued to tease ever so slightly.
“The butthead didn’t mark her. Said something about karma- I don’t know, he was still pissed that I punched in the face, the cry-baby.” Dean rolled his eyes, he never liked cupids, especially when they greeted him with a hug in their birthday suit no less.
“Oh… Are you sure about that, handsome? I mean, how do you even know who she is?” You asked, chewing on the edge of your thumbnail.
“Trust me, beautiful, I know. I felt it before he even touched me, it’s just more… intense now.” He said, his emerald eyes searching yours for something.
“So what are you gonna do about it, Romeo?” You egged him on, knowing exactly how he was feeling.
“Not much I can do, sugarplum.” Dean breathed with sad eyes, avoiding your gaze.
“You sure about that, stud muffin?” You asked, scrunching up your forehead.
“Yeah…” He sighed.
“Yeah?” You questioned, squinting up at him and grinning like an idiot.
“Uh- what are you getting at, chipmunk?” He replied, mirroring your grin after a moment.
“He marked me too, squirrel.” You admitted, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth and letting it go slowly.
“When?!”
“While you were renting the room, dumby. Cupids don’t mess around with true love, love-bug.” You said, noticing a look of relief in his bright eyes, like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. “So, good-looking, you like me, eh?” You asked, wetting your lips in antici… -pation.
“Cuddle bug, you have no idea.” He breathed, closing the distance between you far too slowly for your liking.
“Why don’t you show me, squishy.” You pulled him down by the back of his neck and into a needy kiss.
His lips slipping between yours as he struggled to keep up, still shocked that you were actually meant for him this whole time. He loved the idea of that, belonging to each other after craving all of you for so long. You were written in the stars together.
“Pretty girl, wait.” He panted, breaking the kiss but staying close enough to feel your moist breath on his skin. He was having second thoughts already ‘cuz let’s face it, it’s Dean; he never thinks he’s good enough even when he most definitely is. “Maybe we should call Cas, maybe he can reverse this.”
“Is that even what you want, doofus?” You pleaded, just wanting to keep on kissing him.
“No, Y/N/N. Of course I want you, angel.” But he had to ask one last time. “You sure you want me for keeps, baby girl?”
“Shut up and kiss me, tiger.” You moaned, pulling him down to meet your lips again, letting out a small squeak when he nibbled on your bottom lip and unhooked your bra.
Summary:A case at a strip club, a striptease, and a little fun Pairing:Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester x Reader A/N:This was written for @deanwanddamons Rock SPN Flash Fan Fic Challenge 3. I got the song “I Was Made For Loving You” by Kiss. This was by far the hardest thing I had to do, to write without any description, and I just might rewrite this to include a more detailed story AND the smut. Word Count: 495 (HA! I did it! UNDER 500!)
Y/N put on a final coat of red lipstick and adjusted her corset one final time. She smirked at her reflection as she checked out her own ass in the mirror. She might not be the skinniest or fittest girl around, but damn, if she didn’t feel hot in her stripper get up. She stepped away and headed toward the stage.
Glancing through the curtain, she noticed Dean sitting at a table near the stage with Sam next to him, facing the back . When she told the boys about a case in a strip club, Dean agreed before she could finish telling him about it. They agreed to meet her at the club in Fairfax and arrived much quicker than she anticipated.
“You sure you’re good to go on, Y/N?” Kathy asked. The old woman looked at the stage in concern. “Lost four girls to the monster creeping about, each just after dancing center stage,” Y/N smirked as she turned away from the curtains.
“My backup is waiting in the audience, Kathy. Neither of them are expecting me to take the stage which should make this a hell of a lot of fun,” Y/N said, hearing her music start. Kathy shook her head.
“You shouldn’t be using yourself as bait,” she retorted. With a fluff of her hair and a wink, Y/N threw open the curtains.
“No better way to make them want to keep their eyes on me.”
—————-
“You see Y/N anywhere yet?” Dean asked Sam, glancing around the stage curiously. He threw a flirty smile to the scantily clad waitress setting down his whiskey. Sam shook his head.
“No, not yet. She said she’d be here and we’d not be able to miss her,” he said.
“Alright, go over it again.”
“Four girls have gone missing after dancing center stage. Some kind of creature steals them away…” the beginning notes of Kiss’ I Was Made For Loving You interrupt Sam’s review and they turn to the stage as the lights dim. Their eyes widen as they see Y/N burst through the curtain, stalking down the stage with a purpose.
“Holy shit…” Sam mutters.
Y/N’s fingers drag up her sides sensuously, tracing over her curves before moving up to her neck and up into her hair, gathering it up to the top of her head. She flipped it around as she got to the pole in the center of the stage, wrapping her hand and one leg around it, swinging herself around sexily. She then dropped to her knees in front of the boys, legs open wide, lip between her teeth.
“Fuck me…” Dean said with a sigh.
Dean’s mouth was dropped open as he watched Y/N rip open the corset and reveal the strappy bra underneath, drop to her hands and knees, and crawl over to the brothers.
“Monster is over there, boys. Take care of him and I’ll give you a more x-rated private show,” she said with a wink.
Title – The Men Who Hunted Her Pairings – DeanxY/N, Sam and Y/N friendship Word Count – 5,453 Warnings – Violence, non-con, cursing, being drugged SPNMixedBingo Square filled – Kidnapping
“Who’s calling you at this hour?” Sam questioned, looking up from his laptop. Dean picked up his phone and looked at the caller ID. He saw the name across the screen and rolled his eyes.
“Fucking Y/N,” he growled savagely. Sam instantly frowned.
When Dean and Y/N got together, Sam was nervous. It was like watching fire and gasoline join and when it was good, they were quite the pair to watch. They were an unbeatable force on the hunt or in the bar, and the unbridled passion they had for each other was unlike anything he’d ever seen.
But when they fought, it was just as bad. The hoarse shouting, the uncontrollable fury, sometimes even the thrown punches. There were things said that was downright unforgivable to many but for them, it was just who they were. They were as furious as they were passionate.
The last fight between Dean and Y/N was a vicious one. The screaming went on for hours. It got to the point where they didn’t even know what they were fighting about anymore. Sam didn’t know what they were fighting about anymore. And when Dean bluntly told her to get out, she left without saying a word. That was weeks ago. Sam and Y/N kept in touch behind Dean’s back, but Dean was miserable. He knew Dean regretted throwing Y/N out of the bunker, but his stubborn pride was in the way of asking her to come back.
The radio silence between Dean and Y/N had been hard on Sam, but at least Y/N was still speaking to him. Or was until four days ago. That’s when she went off the radar. If she was calling now and calling Dean, something was wrong. Before he could say so, Dean already had the phone to his ear.
“The fuck do you want?” he growled fiercely into the phone.
“Don’t hang up!” Y/N’s whispered voice begged as soon as he picked up the call. “Please, please, pleasedon’t hang up!”
“Y/N?” Dean asked, evident anger vanishing instantly. Her hushed begging suddenly confused him.
“Please,” she sobbed uncontrollably. “I know you’re mad at me, but please don’t hang up. Please. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know who else to call. Please don’t hang up. Please.”
“Hey, hey, hey, calm down. Talk to me. What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Dean asked worriedly. Sam stood up and walked closer to his brother so he could hear the call. Something was most certainly wrong. “Baby, slow down, I can’t understand you.”
“… grabbed me from behind, I didn’t even see them…supposed to be hunting a ghoul…hit me in the head, knocked me unconscious,” Y/N got out between strangled sobs. Dean stood up and promptly went for his keys; Sam followed closely behind, grabbing his laptop along the way.
“Who has you? Who are they?” he demanded impatiently.
“I don’t know… I don’t… They keep drugging me…” Y/N said, trailing off.
“Baby, I need you to take a deep breath for me,” Dean said desperately. Y/N nodded despite Dean not being able to see her.
“I’m so tired,” she whispered fearfully, wearily leaning her head into the heel of her palm.
“Y/N, listen to me. Where are you?” Dean asked forcefully.
“I don’t know! I don’t know where I am!” she sobbed. “They had me in the trunk when they brought me here! I… I was able to… to fight… to hide… I knocked one of them out… I grabbed his cell phone, and I’m hiding, but they are looking for me… They…”
Y/N’s anxious voice was cut off when a loud banging was heard along with two or three male voices shouting furiously. Y/N covered her mouth to muffle the harsh sound of her breathing, making herself as small and as quiet as she could. She hugged the cell phone to her chest to hide the light as well. After a few minutes, the sound went away, and she pulled the phone back to her ear only to hear Dean shouting for her.
“De….” Y/N whispered. The profound relief Sam saw in Dean’s face when he heard Y/N’s whisper would be something he’d remember forever.
“How many are there?” Sam asked eagerly when Dean couldn’t speak.
“Five…. No, si…six. six of them,” Y/N whispered. Sam cursed under his breath.
“Well, that’s how they got her. No way she can take on six guys by herself. Y/N… Are you on a cell phone?” Sam asked while Dean gathered his raw emotions together.
“Ye… yeah. I stole it from one of them… I had to get to you… I had to get help…” Y/N said quietly. Sam nodded.
“Do you remember how to turn on the GPS?” Sam asked, flipping his laptop open.
“Ye…yeah,” she answered. Within minutes, Sam saw the blip show up on the screen.
“Perfect. We have it. Keep the phone with you, okay? We’re coming.”
“There you are!” an agitated voice bellowed behind her as she slipped out of the cracked window. Wide eyes looked back, and she dropped just as a gun went off above her head. Without wasting any time, Y/N took off running through the long grass and into the trees that surrounded what she now saw was a cabin inside the woods.
“Did you get her, Jackie?” a rough male voice frantically asked. A third male cursed as he saw her running in between trees.
“Bitch is in the woods. We got to stop her before someone finds her and she starts talking,” a younger male voice said. A sinister laugh echoed in the opening.
“Butch! Mikey! Marlo! Gear up! Looks like we’re going hunting…”
“Keep going straight, then at the third left, take it,” Sam said. His eyes kept bouncing between the map in his hands and the blip on the screen in front of him. They had been driving for roughly 45 minutes, and they were already out of Kansas and into Oklahoma. Dean was going 20 over the speed limit just to get to her as fast as possible.
“I never should have thrown her out,” he muttered fiercely under his breath, gently shaking his head. Sam dared an apprehensive glance up at his older brother, taking in the clenched jaw and the raw emotion he normally saw hidden from his eyes.
“You didn’t know this was going to happen, Dean,” Sam commented quietly. Dean’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“If anything happens to her, I will never forgive myself,” Dean growled furiously.
“We’re gonna find her, and we’re gonna destroy the assholes who took her,” Sam said, his voice so dangerous Dean had to glance at him.
“Damn straight.”
Y/N ran as fast as her bare feet would let her go on the floor of the woods. She ignored the torn skin and puncture wounds she was getting from the sticks and stones stepped on along the way. She used her arms to help launch herself over a dead tree that had fallen and continued running. Having not eaten in over a week, she had no idea where the energy was coming from, but she knew she couldn’t stop.
If she stopped, she’d inevitably die.
She heard an apparent gunshot in the distance and paused her running to look around at her surroundings. Nothing looked familiar; it was all trees and underbrush. Y/N nervously looked at the phone and was relieved to see it still had service. She couldn’t be that far from modern civilization if the mobile phone had service.
The faint sounds of someone shouting met her ears. She darted a look behind her in fear then started looking for something she could use as a weapon. Spotting a length of wood, she followed it with her eyes to see it was embedded into the carcass of a dead animal. Moving carefully, she slid over to it and pulled the old arrow out of the decaying corpse. Thankfully, the flinty tip was still sharp. Breaking the used arrow in half, she tossed the worthless half aside.
Then she climbed up the closest tree and hid.
“Splitting up was a bad idea, Jackie,” the rough voice of Marlo grunted out. He held the double-barrel loosely in his hands and frowned as he walked by the trampled ferns, kicking at them as he went.
“Oh, shut up, Marlo. If you can’t take down one bitch, then there’s something wrong with you,” Jack said, using his pistol as an extension of his arm to lift up some low-hanging branches out of his way. Jack bristled at the direct insult.
“It ain’t that and you know it! This ain’t just some bitch!” Marlo growled. “This a hunter! An’ she ain’t all drugged up like you been keepin’ her!”
“Whatever, man, she’s just like the rest of them. Just a toy we can dispose of when we’re done with her,” Jack said gleefully, looking back at Marlo with a lewd grin. When Jack turned back around to face front, Y/N dropped down on his plump shoulders and brutally stabbed the arrow into his throat.
Marlo shouted frantically in surprise as he watched blood spurt from the ragged wound in Jack’s throat, the two tumbling to the ground. Y/N snatched up Jack’s pistol and raised it, but Marlo was faster, shooting off a round from his shotgun.
Buckshot scattered and Y/N cried out as some of it embedded itself into her battered body. As Marlo racked another shot ready, Y/N fired off two shots of her own. The hoarse cries from the burly man in front of her echoed off the trees. Somehow, he was still standing. Shoving Jack’s now dead body away from her, she got herself in a better position and with wide eyes on the wounded man, she fired again. She hit her mark as Marlo’s body dropped hard onto the wooded ground.
Panting hard, Y/N remained frozen, listening anxiously for any sounds of the other men who were after her. Hearing nothing, she slowly stood up, a sore arm covering her chest. Little red spots started to show up across her dirty white shirt from the buckshot that caught her. She hissed as she moved, looking down at herself to see at least six spots where there was now embedded metal in her skin.
“Dammit,” she muttered savagely.
Moving gingerly over to where Marlo lay, she pulled the shotgun toward her and patted down his shallow pockets for more ammo. She was able to find six more shells. With shaking hands, she slid them into the pocket of her now torn and stained jeans before turning away. Making her way back to where Jack lay, she dug around in his pockets next. Nothing.
Y/N took a moment to swallow back the abject despair threatening to overwhelm her. She was aching all over, desperately tired, hungry, so very thirsty, and four of her captors were still in the woods looking for her. She pulled the phone out of her back pocket. Still had four bars of service, still transmitting the information. Shoving it back into her pocket, she stood uneasily from her crouched position and heaved a sigh.
“Where are you, Dean?”
“We’re close. Turn into this park,” Sam said, pointing to a side road on the left. Dean took the turn at speed, leaving tread marks on the road behind them. The brothers looked around carefully at the drive, noting the hunting lodge motif that seemed to engulf the area.
“They took her to a hunting ground, where no one would be bothered by the sounds of gunfire,” Dean growled impatiently. Sam opened the glove box and started digging through their fake IDs until he found their Ranger ones as Dean proceeded up to the security stop. Handing Dean his, Sam took control of the worsening situation to cover for Dean’s uncontrolled rage.
“Evening, boys. Can I help you?” the security officer politely asked. Sam lifted his ID, nudging Dean to do the same.
“Yes, Sir, we’re looking for a group of men who may be staying on your property who may be hunting outside the limits set for the active season. Tell me, have you seen any groups of say five or six men come in and rent out a private cabin?” Sam asked. The officer frowned slightly, turning to pull a clipboard off the side of the wall of his hut.
“Well, Ranger, now that you mention it… We did have a group of six guys coming up here in the middle of the night about four or five days ago. Thought it was odd they came in so late. A couple of them were acting kind of nervous, constantly looking over their shoulder and whatnot,” the officer said. Sam nodded and glanced stealthily at Dean, undoubtedly noticing his eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, those might be our guys. What cabin are they in? We’re going to pay them a surprise visit,” he asked. The officer flipped up the papers and read the paperwork in hand.
“Looks like they are staying at the Ravenwood Cabin. It’s the one that’s farthest back in the woods. Just follow the yellow trail all the way to the back, and then the black diamonds to get to the drive,” he said, promptly handing the boys a map. Sam took it and nodded.
“Thanks, Officer…” he started.
“Thoroughbred. Good luck in there, and be safe,” he said, punching a button to lift the gate. Dean forced himself to drive slowly through the gate but once he was out of sight of the security office, he picked up speed.
“Of course, they would pick the cabin farthest out,” Dean ground out through gritted teeth. Sam glanced at his laptop and saw the red dot had stopped moving. He compared it to where they were, then looked up and pointed eagerly.
“Keep going straight and keep your ears open.”
Y/N limped to a stop and leaned back against an overgrown tree, reached into her pocket, and pulled out the stolen cell phone. She was down to two bars of service. She prayed it was enough to send out a GPS signal to Sam. She stuffed the cell back into her pocket and looked down at her feet. They were torn up, bleeding heavily in some places. If those guys who took her had dogs, they would certainly be able to find her. She had to keep moving.
She desperately needed a break, though. Y/N was exhausted, and her last bit of energy was tapped. She could feel her battered body starting to shut down involuntarily. Y/N knew if she didn’t find a safe space to hide soon, she could be in real trouble.
Shoving away from the tree, she relentlessly pushed through the wooded area, desperately trying to find anything that looked familiar. Nothing but trees, brush, and branches surrounded her. She had walked for another fifteen minutes before she heard it. Freezing in place, she listened intently. Footsteps, and not in a cadence she recognized. With a terrified look behind her, she started to run frantically.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” she heard a maniacal voice shout. It only made her run faster and harder in the opposite direction. Glancing nervously behind her to see if she could spot the man chasing her, she stumbled awkwardly and as she tried to right herself – a strong hand lashed out and viciously grabbed her arm. She felt a sharp pain a second later in her neck.
“Gotcha,” a different male’s hateful voice said in her ear. Without rational thought, Y/N thrust the butt of the shotgun into the man’s face, shattering his nose. He cursed loudly, dropping her arm, and frantically grabbing his broken face with both hands. Y/N then spun on him and fired indiscriminately in his direction. She heard the man cry out as dark spots danced in front of her eyes. She fired again for good measure and heard a hoarse grunt before she turned uneasily and blindly started to stumble away, inadvertently dropping the shotgun in the process.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck FUCK she thought anxiously. Okay, we’ve dealt with this already. Take deep slow breaths. Slow your heart down. Control your movements. We can handle this. We beat the drugs once; we can beat them again.
Only this time, she wasn’t as positive.
“Wait, did you hear that?” Sam asked impatiently. Dean slowed the Impala down and listened intently through the open windows. Pulling the car off to the side of the road, he shut the engine down. The brothers listened intently to the world around them, hearing the wind blowing through the leaves and the odd cricket when suddenly
BANG! BANGBANG!
Dean’s furious eyes narrowed.
“They’re hunting something out in those woods,” Sam said, critical eyes on the tree line. He leaned back, vainly trying to see what was there.
“What are the chances it’s her?” Dean asked stonily. Sam turned to look back at the laptop, shrugging.
“It’s possible. She’s in the woods somewhere,” he responded. “Her signal is moving slowly, but I can’t pinpoint an exact location in the woods here.”
“Then we’re going in,” Dean said impatiently, opening his car door. Sam slapped his laptop shut and shoved it under his seat before following suit. When he got to the trunk of the car, Dean already had it open and a shotgun pulled out. He reached in and grabbed his own sawed-off, shoving shells into his pockets. Dean grabbed his pistol and shoved it into the back of his jeans along with a throwing knife. Sam grabbed his own pistol, then reached over to grab one of their empty backpacks and shoved a canteen and the first aid kit inside it. Dean looked at his brother with a raised brow.
“We don’t know what shape she is in. We should be prepared,” Sam explained gently. Dean’s eyes narrowed as he studied his brother, then he reached over and grabbed the other empty backpack and did the same. Dean added a blanket to his pack, while Sam added extra ammunition and a flare gun to his.
BANG! BANGBANG! BANG!
Gunshots rang out again, causing the brothers to look at the woods sharply. Dean slammed the trunk to the impala hard and racked the first shot in the shotgun.
“Let’s go, Sammy,” Dean snapped viciously as he led the way in.
Y/N blinked rapidly, desperately trying to clear her vision as she forced herself to move. She tripped and stumbled awkwardly into a nearby tree, scraping the skin off her arm in the process. A whimper escaped her as she forcefully pushed off the tree and forced her legs to keep moving. She had to keep going, she had to keep moving. She refused to die out here in the woods; she had to get back to Dean.
She wiped a hand across her neck and felt a small trickle of blood. She knew they injected her with whatever illegal drug they had been doping her with. She wiped her hand on her jeans, then reached behind her to grab the stolen pistol from the back of her pants. She didn’t know how many bullets she had left in it, but it made her feel comfortable having it in her hand.
She pressed on then, shoving away from the tree and moving slower than before as she made her way into the woods.
I can’t… I CAN’T…she thought miserably. A strangled sob got stuck in her parched throat as she stopped moving and leaned against a tree. Her breathing started growing ragged, almost like she couldn’t get enough air. She started yanking at her shirt, vainly trying to pull it away from her neck.
“I can’t… I can’t breathe,” she whispered brokenly to no one in particular. She pushed off the tree she leaned wearily against and attempted to walk again. She stumbled awkwardly with every few steps she took. The blurred vision and the dizziness told her the drugs were almost at full effect. It wouldn’t be long before she blacked out completely.
She felt an unknown hand grab her shirt to stop her, and with quick maneuvers made on instinct, she had it off her exhausted body in moments. With the remaining energy she had, she thrust her hand upward and felt the heel of her hand connect roughly with the nose of the person behind her. The sickening crunch and following yowl of pain was music to her ears. Y/N fought through the blurry vision and dizziness to grab the man’s head and forcibly bring it down sharply to her uplifted knee. She cried out herself at the violent contact, her entire leg aching terribly from the hit, but the man was unconscious and wouldn’t be bothering her anymore.
Four down. Two left.
Dean held up a hand with a closed fist when he heard the shrill cry of pain. He recognized that sound anywhere. He and Sam locked eyes, and Dean moved his fingers toward the direction he heard the sound coming from. Sam nodded and turned toward it. Slowly and silently, the two hunters crept forward until a gunshot had them running.
The following scream had Dean seeing red.
Fiery pain tore savagely through Y/N’s abdomen, ripping an agonized scream from her burning throat. She staggered her steps, colliding into a tree before collapsing into the brittle leaves on the dirt floor of the forest.
“Y/N!!!!” She heard someone shout frantically. Pulling on all the strength she had left, she yelled back.
“I’m here!!” her hoarse voice cried out. Y/N put both hands on her stomach and pressed, feeling lightning hot pain race through her, riding her veins down to her leg. She felt something warm and sticky there. When she lifted a hand to see what it was, she was mildly surprised to see something red on her fingertips.
She dropped her hand back to the bleeding wound, a hoarse groan ripped from her as complete exhaustion finally took hold. Her stinging, blurry eyes slowly drifted shut, tears making tracks through the dirt and blood on her face.
“She’s over here!” a gruff voice close to her shouted frantically. She listened carefully for the footsteps to come closer to her, but instead, she heard another gunshot. Shouting. Angry voices and crashing foliage. Flesh hitting flesh and another gunshot.
Y/N tried to hang on but felt herself start to drift. Between the drugs and now the gunshot wound, her desperate grip on reality was slipping fast. She felt her head fell back and her mouth open, which was helpful. It made breathing a little easier.
“Y/N. Y/N can you hear me? Y/N!!” she scarcely heard someone say, gently grabbing her face. She tried opening her eyes, but they wouldn’t listen to her. Her harsh breathing started to come in painful little gasps.
“I’m here,” she desperately tried to whisper. Everything sounded so distant, so far away from where she was right then.
“Dean!!” the voice shouted, fear lacing the word. Sam, then, she thought wearily. Her arms were getting heavier, numb even. Even the unbearable pain was going away. She hoped this was just the drugs making her feel this way. She didn’t want to die.
“You’re not gonna die, Y/N. Just hang on. DEAN!!” Sam shouted. That’s nice, she thought distractedly. She heard the distant rustling then the pain was back, sharp and engulfing her. She gasped, her eyes flying open to stare right into the brilliant green of Dean’s frantic ones as he relentessly pushed on her stomach wound.
“C’mon baby, you gotta stay awake for me,” Dean said, his voice filled with anguish and fear. Over his shoulder, Sam was on his phone. No doubt he was calling for help. Y/N’s eyes drooped.
“De…. Dru…gg…ed…” she got out through a pant, then grimaced as a violent wave of pain ran through her body, causing her to shiver violently. Dean’s eyes instantly started looking over her face and neck, before spotting the pinprick on her neck that was bleeding slightly.
“Drugged? They drugged you?” he asked frantically, but she was already out. “Babe? Y/N!? Y/N!!”
Dean started to panic, pushing two fingers into her neck to find your pulse. He found your pulse beating too slowly, but at least it was beating. He had no clue what kind of drug they gave her. Sam hung up the phone and turned back to his big brother.
“We need to get her to the road. They can’t land life flight in the woods,” he said, looking down at Y/N.
“They drugged her, Sammy. See if any of them have any drugs or syringes on them. I’ll start taking her to the car,” Dean demanded, moving to pick Y/N up bridal style so he could carry her. Sam nodded and started going through the pockets of the men around them.
Minutes later, Sam ran up to him with a syringe in his hand. Together they got Y/N to the car, then made it to the main road just as Rescue was pulling up.
The first thing she was aware of was the beeping of the heart rate monitor. The second was the heavy warmth around her hand. She could tell it had been there a while, that she had been there a while, simply by the ache in her joints and muscles. What she wouldn’t give to just stretch and instantly feel everything pop and move back into place like they were naturally supposed to be.
Instead, she tried opening her very heavy eyelids to see where exactly she was.
The hospital room she was in was dimly lit, just a lamp in the corner on the lowest setting. It looked dark outside the window, so it was either really late or really early. When her tired eyes caught the sleeping man in the chair next to her, a contented smile played on her face.
Dean looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes were rumpled. He was sleeping soundly on his folded arms, one eager hand wrapped around hers in a very tight grip. Suddenly, whatever they were arguing about before seemed so unimportant. She couldn’t even remember what it was about. All she really wanted more than anything right then was to see his gorgeous eyes and his charming smile.
Gently squeezing the hand he had a secure grip on, she tried to call his name with no success. Her throat was dry and scratchy, so any sound came out sounding broken and crackly. Thankfully, the door to her private room opened then and Sam walked in with a cup of coffee. When he realized she was awake, he smiled fondly at her with wet eyes.
“Hey, Y/N,” he said quietly, walking over to the opposite side of the hospital bed that Dean was resting on. He leaned down and gently kissed her on the top of the head, knowingly causing her to close her eyes and grin at him. “Welcome back.”
Sam then walked around the hospital bed to where Dean was and set his coffee down on one of the tables in the room. He put his hands on each one of Dean’s shoulders, squeezing slightly.
“Dean… Hey, I need you to wake up for me,” Sam said soothingly, rubbing his arms to gently wake him up. The older Winchester still woke with a jolt and a slight groan. Y/N watched him, eagerly waiting for him to look up at her.
“Look who’s awake, Dean,” Sam said softly. Dean immediately looked up at Y/N and his eager face broke into a relieved smile when he saw her pretty eyes looking back at him. He carefully moved from the chair to the side of her bed and gently pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth. Y/N pressed her hands to his face, needing to feel him, his skin on hers.
“Hey, baby,” Dean whispered tenderly. Y/N sniffled in response, carefully slipping her hands to his flannel shirt, and fisting it tightly. Sam had taken a step back, pouring some water into a cup with a straw for Y/N. He willingly handed it over to Dean who then took it and carefully held it out to Y/N. She took a few long sips of the water and attempted to clear her sore throat of the crude clogging it.
“Are they dead?” she asked, her pleasant voice sounding raw and painful. Dean nodded.
“Yeah, they’re all dead. You’re safe now,” Dean said, running his hand over her hair. “And I am so sorry…”
“No apologies,” Y/N mumbled, gently interrupting him. “You didn’t hang up the phone and got me away from them. That’s more than enough.” Dean shook his head, intentionally avoiding her eyes.
“If I never told you to leave, you would never have been in that position,” he said regretfully. Y/N couldn’t argue that one. Instead, she just took his hand and interlaced her fingers with his.
“Lesson one in learning how to fight correctly: don’t kick each other out of the bunker,” she whispered tenderly, a gentle smile playing on her lips. Dean simply shook his head, swallowing hard. Y/N carefully studied his face. “Hey,”
Dean looked up at her, taking in the cuts and bruises scattered across her face. The guilt in his heart weighed down heavily on him and she could see it in his eyes. She pulled his face back down to hers and eagerly pressed their lips together again.
“I don’t blame you, Winchester,” she whispered fiercely against his lips. “But if it makes you feel better, I forgive you.”
Sam watched from the far side of the hospital room as his big brother and Y/N took the time to thank whoever listens to them that she made it out of this horrible ordeal alive. The drugs that those men kept pumping her full of took three full days to get out of her system. Thankfully, there should be no lasting damage to her. The gunshot wound was superficial, but thanks to the drugs, bled a lot. She’ll have an ugly scar, but she’ll live to talk about it.
It was the rape kit they had to do on her that infuriated the brothers. The doctors inadvertently discovered the need for it when they were prepping her for surgery. It took everything Sam could do to control Dean and his relentless fury. He was on the receiving end of a few punches before he invariably got Dean in a hold that stopped the violent attacks.
“Listen to me. HEY! LISTEN to me!” Sam shouted furiously at his brother once Dean was pressed up against the wall with his arms pinned. “Stop. You’re going to get kicked out of the hospital if you keep this up. The guys who kidnapped her are to blame for this. Not you, not me, and not the medical staff, alright?”
Dean stormed out of the hospital with Sam and Y/N’s doctor watching with frowns on their faces.
“Is he going to be okay?” they asked Sam. He didn’t know how to answer that, so Sam just shrugged. He told the doctors to do what they had to do for Y/N and he’d sign whatever paperwork was needed. Sam ended up sitting with Y/N for almost two days before Dean made his way back. When he arrived, he looked like he hadn’t slept and reeked of smoke and gasoline.
“They won’t be able to hurt her again,” he said as he stared at Y/N from the foot of her bed. Sam simply shook his head and sent Dean to the hotel room he rented to get a hot shower and some sleep.
Sam knew this was going to be new nightmare material for both his brother and Y/N. Dean’s overwhelming guilt would be enough to inevitably create new scenarios in his head that wouldn’t be real. He’ll wake up screaming horribly in the middle of the night thinking he didn’t save Y/N in time. And since Y/N had the Winchester habit of not talking about things, she’d be reliving this in her dreams as well. All Sam could do is be prepared to help them as best he could from the sidelines and remind them how to avoid getting to this place again.
Which does, in fact, start with not kicking each other out of the bunker during a fight.
Warnings:graphic depictions of violence, physical torture, psychological torture, major character death, major character reincarnation, blood, gore, throat-slitting, water torture, serious injury, cursing
Summary:When Dean denies his baby brother the redemption he begs for after learning he is Lucifer’s true vessel, Sam gives up and gets sloppy. “Hunters” take him with revenge on their minds, but when they learn he can’t die, the torture escalates.
An email shows up at Bobby’s with a video clip of Sam getting his throat cut, prompting him to call Dean. He learns that the older Winchester has no clue where his brother is and is forced to explain what happened. Together with Castiel and the help from another angel, they discover who really has Sam… and why.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: written for the 2021 SPN Eldritch Bang - MY FIRST BANG! I hope you enjoy the damage, terror, and torture. It’s my first time, be gentle. ;)
Art done by the amazing QuickReaver. You can view the beautiful pieces here - and I have to say that she is an amazing person, artist, and human being for working so well with a newbie to the Bang world. I am so lucky to have met her and her art is WONDERFUL (and totally spoiler alert for the story) THANK YOU for being amazing and incredible. I’m so glad we met!
Beta’d by jdl71 and HMCyre
“Look, Sam… It doesn’t matter. Whatever we do. I mean, it turns out that you and me, we’re the fire and the oil of the Armageddon. You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good,” Dean said. Sam froze, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“Dean it doesn’t have to be like this. We can fight it,” he pleaded.
“Yeah, you’re right. We can. But not together. We’re not stronger when we’re together, Sam. I think we’re weaker. Because whatever we have between us – love, family, whatever it is – they are always gonna use it against us. And you know that. Yeah, we’re better off apart. We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing, if we just go our own ways,” Dean said. Sam was shaking his head, standing between the two beds in his hotel room. He still gets a double, he’ll always get the double.
“Dean, don’t do this,” Sam begged.
“Bye, Sam,” Dean said, hanging up.
At that moment, Sam’s whole world stops. The very last lifeline he was hanging on to had given up on him. The crushing weight he felt in his chest forced the air out of his lungs, and he can’t breathe but the numbness that is filling him doesn’t care. He lets his arm fall from his ear, the phone tumbling out of his hand and drops to the floor. He felt cold suddenly like there was ice water flowing through his veins, and soon his entire body was chilled. He wasn’t sure if he’s inhaled yet, the crushing weight in his chest getting worse, but he’s had to right? He hasn’t passed out yet.
First the voicemail.
Now, this.
I lost my brother.
No,Sam tells himself fiercely. We’re not brothers anymore.You quit being Dean’s brother the moment you choose Ruby over him. Slowly, Sam sinks down to sit on one of the beds as his mind starts running a mile a minute.
Dean doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore, and you shouldn’t be surprised. You’re a monster and hunters kill monsters, remember? He made that clear with the voicemail. Not only did you release Lucifer, but now you’re his vessel? You’re evil, Sam, the kind of evil that never gets redeemed. When Dean does find you, he’s going to kill you and it’s nothing less than you deserve.
The voice in Sam’s head wasn’t wrong. Sam had let his brother down time and again prior to this epic fail and now there was no turning back. He was a monster and Dean would never forgive him for the wrongs he had done. How do you forgive the man who ended the world?
Sam sat there holding his head in his hands. He felt wetness on his face and wondered when he started to cry. His breath hitched slightly through the weight on his chest when a new thought came to him.
Moving robotically, Sam walked over to where his duffle was sitting on the small table in the room and dug out his Taurus. He pulled the slide back to make sure it’s loaded and saw a bullet in the chamber. He put the barrel of the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter explode from the opposite side of his head, painting the ugly carpet and wallpaper a Rorschach painting. Sam’s body crumbled in a heap on the floor, the handgun still clutched in his right hand, and blood seeped into the carpet from the left side of his head that was missing.
Sam stood in a dark void, surrounded by nothingness. He was dressed in the same clothing he was wearing that day, moments before he shot himself in the head. Hearing footsteps coming up behind him, he turned to see Lucifer walking up to him, his arms clasped behind his back casually. A sardonic smirk danced across his lips as he watched his vessel with dancing eyes.
“I told you, Samuel. I’m not going to let you die,” Lucifer said, walking up to Sam. Lucifer presses two fingers to his forehead.
With a heaving inhale, Sam woke up covered in his own blood on the ugly carpet floor of his hotel room. The left side of his face was covered in blood and brain matter, his hair matted, and skin smeared with it. His head and skull, however, were intact… as if nothing happened. A shaky hand raises and feels along the right side of his head, and just under his hairline Sam feels a small scar. A parting gift from the Devil, reminding him of his power.
A sob rose in Sam’s throat as he realized that Lucifer had brought him back to life, but he swallowed it down and pushed himself to a standing position.
He reached back into his bag and pulled out a silver hunting knife. Turning the knife in on himself, he plunged the blade into his stomach. A grunt of pain was pulled from him as he fell back; warm, sticky blood rushing past his fingers. The pain was unbearable, radiating from his abdomen and pulsing up into his chest.
“Dean…” he whimpered pathetically, hating himself for calling out to a man who no longer cared if he lived or died. After a few minutes, he started to grow cold, and his vision started to darken. It was then that he saw the figure of Lucifer walking up to him in the hotel room, his head tilted as he studied the wound.
“Silver blades don’t bother me, Sam,” he said, smiling and entertained. “But that’s a nice try.”
Sam didn’t know how long he was out for this time, but when he opened his eyes, the hunting knife rested in his left hand. It gleamed in the light of the motel, cleaned of all the blood. His shirt and jeans, however, were tacky and clinging to him in places with his blood. Sam’s head dropped back and he blinked away tears.
Maybe something that will do more significant damage to my body, he thought, pushing himself up to a standing position. He brought the knife with him into the bathroom and he set it on the sink as he dug into his bathroom kit. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled out the bottle of prescription painkillers. He stared at it for a long moment, then filled up one of the disposable glasses with water. He started to take the pills three at a time until the bottle was empty.
He didn’t know how long it would take for the drugs to start destroying his organs. When he looked at the bathtub, he grabbed the knife before climbing in it. Very carefully, he placed the tip of the knife against the delicate skin of his wrist and followed the scar left behind from the ghouls so many years ago. A pained grunt escaped him as he watched dark red blood start to pulse out of the wound. He quickly switched hands and did the other wrist as sickness started to swirl in his stomach. He noticed his breathing was getting labored as well.
Sam scrunched his body down in the tub so he could let his head fall back against the cool porcelain, suddenly feeling very hot. His eyes drifted away from the blood pumping out of his wrists and lazily looked out of the bathroom door and into the bedroom where his vision was starting to get blurry. There, he swore he saw a figure sitting on the bed. He was bent over, elbows resting on his knees, staring at him with disappointment.
“If you think I can’t purify your blood of that Vicodin, Sammy, you really have underestimated me,” Lucifer said with a frown. Slowly, Sam’s eyes slid shut on the blurred image of the Devil watching him die in a motel bathtub.
Yet again, Sam opened his eyes sometime later. Still covered in his own blood and all that remained of his attempt this time was the scars on his wrists. As Sam went to pull himself out of the tub, he spotted a small orange bottle on the counter near the sink. He pulled his shirt off and let it splat on the porcelain before making his way over to see what it was.
He was both furious and frustrated when he picked up a full bottle of Vicodin with his bloodstained hand.
After that, Sam tried a variety of other ways to kill himself with no success: electrocution, drowning, setting himself on fire behind the motel, hanging himself from the ceiling. Each time, Lucifer greeted him just before he died and called him out on his attempt. Each time Sam opened his eyes, he was put back together completely, but left with scars.
He must have killed himself a dozen times since his last phone call with his brother… no, not your brother. You don’t have a family. You don’t get to have family. Sam lay on the filthy carpet in the room and stared at the ceiling.
“You’re really not gonna let me die, are you?” he asked pathetically. Somewhere in the distance, he heard his cell phone ringing, but couldn’t be bothered to pick it up. At that point, he couldn’t be bothered to do much of anything.
“That’s pretty nice timing, Cas,” Dean said with a relieved smile.
“We had an appointment,” Castiel replied. Dean smirked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t ever change,” he replied.
“How did Zachariah find you?” Castiel asked. Dean sighed as he reached into his pocket for his phone.
“Long story. Let’s just stay away from Jehovah’s Witnesses for now on, okay?” he says opening his phone and dialing Sam’s number.
“What are you doing?” Castiel questioned.
“Something I should have done in the first place,” Dean said, listening to the other line ringing. When it went to voicemail, Dean got a confused look on his face. He pulled the phone away from his ear and redialed the number. Again, voicemail.
“What is it?” Castiel asked as Dean pulled the phone away and shoved it back in his pocket.
“Sam’s not answering,” he said, concern touching his voice but not enough for Castiel’s liking. “He’s probably pissed at me and ignoring my calls.”
“What did you do?” Castiel asked. Dean side-eyed him this time. The two turned and started walking.
“What’s with the twenty questions, Cas?” Dean questioned. “I… said some things I shouldn’t have. Said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. Things we need to hash out together so we can get back on the same page.”
“It would be nice to see you actually caring about your brother again, Dean,” Castiel said, an air of arrogance in his tone. Dean chose to ignore that comment on the grounds that he didn’t want to look too closely at what that meant.
“Whatever.”
Sam sat at the rickety table in his hotel room tapping on his laptop, searching for ways to stay dead permanently. Through websites and chat rooms, he was able to eliminate some of the suggested ways to die. Frustrated, he slapped the lid shut and leaned back against the chair.
Why is it so hard to figure out how to die and stay dead? He thought, looking out the window of his room. Maybe looking online wasn’t the right way to do this. Frowning, he opened the laptop again and searched for the closest library. Finding the address, he wrote it down on a piece of paper, tore it off the notepad and stuffed it into his pocket as he stood to leave the room.
Opening the door to step out of the room, a burst of stars exploded in front of his eyes and he stumbled back into his room. Sam felt hands on his arms, and he lashed out. At least two of his hits landed, but he still ended up on his back with a knee on his throat. Moments later, he felt the cold metal of a gun pressed to his temple, causing him to freeze. By the time his vision cleared, he saw four faces staring down at him.
“Hey there, demon boy,” one of the faces said. Sam eyed them warily.
“I’m not going to fight you,” he said quietly. One of the men snickered.
“You mean any more than you already did?” a different one said.
“That’s a shame, really. Because we really want to fight you,” the third one said. Sam looked at him with a frown.
“I don’t have much money,” Sam said, pointing at the table. “You can take what I do have. The laptop too. My gun is under the pillow on the bed.”
“Oh, Sammy, we don’t want your shit,” the skinny one said. Sam’s eyes narrowed, instantly realizing the men in front of him were hunters. Two of the men hauled him up, twisting his arms behind him. The gun at his temple moved to the front of him, aimed at his heart. “We want your head on a spike, demon boy.”
A swift hit to the back of the head and Sam slipped into unconsciousness, unaware that he was being dragged away from the security of his motel room and thrown into the trunk of a car.
When Sam woke up, he found himself tied to a rusted metal chair. There were straps holding him down: his chest; his biceps; his forearms; his head; his lap; his thighs; his shins. The restraint chair was old but effective. He tried to move but found himself unable to do anything. This made him nervous. What made him more nervous was he didn’t have a shirt or any shoes on. He tried to look around as much as he could with his head restrained but was unable to move much. That might have been a blessing in disguise given how badly his head hurt.
“Look who’s finally awake! I was starting to think that Paul hit you too hard,” a male voice said cheerily. Sam glared as best he could, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he hurt. The man walked in front of him and looked Sam in the eye with a wide, sadistic smile. “How are you enjoying your chair? I hope it’s comfortable because you ain’t leaving it for a while.”
“Where the hell are we?” Sam asked. The man laughed.
"Some place no one will ever hear you scream, demon boy,” the man said, standing in front of Sam. “Rumor has it we have you to thank for this insanity happening all over the world. You! You were the one who let good old Lucifer out of his cage. What the hell were you thinking, boy?” the man sneered. When the man said Lucifer’s name, worry started to grow in the pit of his stomach.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said shakily. The man in front of him dropped his smile and swung at him. The punch hit Sam squarely in the jaw, and he felt something crunch from the hit. Stars danced in front of his eyes for a few seconds, and when Sam opened his eyes once more, the man was smiling again.
“Now, don’t you lie to me. We know the truth about you. An old friend of yours filled us in. Told us you’ve been sucking down demon blood like a damn vampire at an all-you-can-eat buffet, that you got these magical powers that let you kill demons and see the future… oh and YOU LET THE FUCKING DEVIL OUT!” the man shouted at him. Sam flinched away; who told him? Whoever it was, they told him everything.
“Looks like you started having fun without us, Carl,” a different voice called out. The man in front of Sam stepped back to give the newcomer space. When he stepped into the light and Sam got a look at him, he blanched. Billy placed a foot on the lower part of the restraint chair and leaned his weight on it, bending down to look Sam in the face.
“What, no hello for your old friend?” Billy asked with a tilt of his head. “Devil got your tongue?”
Sam remained silent, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of a response. Billy snorted and shook his head standing up straight.
“We kill evil, Sam,” Billy said, looking down at the man strapped to the chair. “And you are one evil son of a bitch. You and that so-called brother of yours, Dean. Once we get your brother here, we’re gonna take the both of you out for ending the world.”
“Dean had nothing to do with this. I’m the one who did it, leave him out of this,” Sam growled. Billy raised a brow.
“You would defend your brother,” he scoffed. Sam shook his head.
“Dean was trying to stop me when I let Lucifer out. He didn’t even know what I was doing. He had nothing to do with this. You have me, do whatever you want to me, but leave him out of this,” Sam said defiantly. He glared at Billy, daring him to challenge him again. The two men stared at each other. Finally, Billy smirked.
“Well, we did find you all by yourself,” Billy said thoughtfully. Sam refused to look away.
“Deans not involved in any of this. I failed him, and he gave up on me,” Sam said quietly. Billy stared at Sam, trying to tell if he was lying.
“Dean wants nothing more to do with me. One of the last things he said to me was he wanted to kill me, so,” Sam muttered quietly, his voice catching at the end. Billy smirked at him. Weakness,he thought. Still a weakness for you.
“Big brother finally realized what a burden you really are,” Billy said appreciatively. The other men in the room chuckled. Sam swallowed, his eyes twitching. “You’re a waste of life, Samuel. Pathetic. You ruin everything you touch, including your brother.” Sam swallowed hard.
“So, you really are on your own. Giving up on a monster like you was the best thing Dean could have done.” The two stared at each other, Billy with malice in his gray eyes and a sinister smile on his face.
“Well, boys, you heard the man. We can do whatever we want to him,” Billy said, looking at the others. Sam swallowed deeply then, glancing at the other three men in the room. Fear settled in his belly. “Let’s see just how demonic Sam really is.”
He didn’t even see the first punch coming. The hit came from the right, a hand with brass knuckles slammed into the side of Sam’s face. The strap holding his head in place caused his chin to take the full force of the hit at once. A cry escaped his lips as he felt the blow shatter his cheekbone. Another hit came from the opposite side, this one just a fist but feeling just as harshly. The crunch he felt in his jaw from the very first hit happened again, and a sharp pain raced from his jaw up through his temple. Tears of pain leaked from his eyes.
“Baby’s crying? Why are you crying, Sammy? This is what you deserve,” Carl said, swinging a fist at him again, this one colliding with his abdomen. All the air rushed out of his lungs, and Sam started to cough. The chair kept him strapped upright, so he couldn’t bend over like his muscles wanted him to do. Another fist with those brass knuckles clocked him in the face, causing him to shout out. The skin near his eye split and he whimpered. Blood dripped from the split skin there, a bruise already starting to bloom. Another punch followed; this one from the opposite side without the brass knuckles. Both blows were enough to cause Sam to see stars in front of his eyes.
“Where’s all that magical power now, demon boy?” Billy shouted. Sam couldn’t answer, coughing with his eyes clenched closed and his breathing coming harsh through his nose.
“I asked you a question!” Billy shouted, slapping Sam across the face. A whimper escaped his lips as the sting went across his broken cheekbone. Sam refused to answer, turning narrowed hazel eyes toward Billy. Billy chuckled. “Not gonna answer? That’s fine.”
Billy swung again, an uppercut that broke his nose. The punch was hard enough to tip the chair Sam was in, sending it crashing to the floor. The metal chair jarred Sam roughly. Between the hit and the fall, Sam was gasping for breath through whimpers. Billy pulled off the brass knuckles and tossed them onto a rolling tray nearby, shaking out his hand. Billy glanced at the guys and one of them stepped forward with a baseball bat in his hand. Before Sam could recover enough, the man swung the bat and brought it down hard on Sam’s abdomen.
All the air rushed out of Sam’s lungs once again in a hoarse shout, then he broke into a sob as pain radiated through his belly and to his back. The man swung and hit Sam again, only this time in his chest. The echoing crack told of Sam’s ribs breaking. A third hit left Sam gasping for breath. The hits after that had Sam crying out sharply each time the bat made a connection with his chest. Not soon enough, Billy grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him back.
“We don’t want to kill him too quickly, Carl,” he said. Billy nodded his head behind him, as if telling the guy to stand down. Carl turned to stare at Sam for a long moment, watching as the man breathed in short, harsh pants, before finally turning away. Billy watched him throw the bat on the rusted medical table and storm out of the decaying room with a frown.
“Matt. Skip. Grab the pliers and break his fingers,” Billy said quietly.
“You got it, boss,” Matt said before Billy stepped away. One of the men grabbed two pairs of pliers. He tossed one pair to the other and the two chuckled as they clicked them a few times.
“Please,” Sam begged in a whimper, tears running from his eyes. Billy heard it and looked down at the younger brother with a raised brow before walking over and staring down at him.
“This is because of your blood drinkin’ ways, Sam. Monsters get punished before they die,” he said cruelly. Sam blinked at him, tears breaking free and running back to his hair. He would be shaking his head if he could.
“I didn’t know,” he whispered brokenly. Billy scoffed.
“Right,” he answered before turning and walking out of the room. Matt and Skip broke Sam’s pinky fingers simultaneously. He only released a whimper when they broke his ring fingers simultaneously. But by the time they got to his middle fingers, he couldn’t help but release shouts of pain, no matter how much his head told him he deserved the punishment they were dealing him.
By the time they were done breaking all his fingers, Sam was officially crying. His chest hurt, his face hurt, and now his fingers hurt. He knew he wasn’t going to survive this, so why wouldn’t they just kill him already?
“Get this asshole up,” Billy said. Matt and Skip hauled the restraint chair he was sitting in back to a seated position. The shift left Sam lightheaded for a few moments. It was just long enough for Billy to step forward, grab a fist full of his hair to pull his head back and press a knife against his throat. Sam froze instantly.
“Let’s see what kind of things work on the demon boy, shall we?” Billy said. The blade bit into the soft skin at his throat, drawing blood from a very thin cut. Sam tried to control his breathing so the blade wouldn’t cut deeper than necessary. Sam swallowed nervously.
“I’m not a demon,” Sam defended weakly. Billy smirked.
“You sure as hell drink demon blood, and that shit ain’t human,” a voice said. Sam glanced at where the men were standing, getting nervous.
“One way to find out,” Billy said, pulling the blade from Sam’s neck. Placing the tip of the blade in the soft part of the muscle of Sam’s left bicep, Billy very slowly started to push the blade into his arm. A sadistic smirk played on Billy’s lips as he watched Sam clench his teeth to keep from yelling.
“Go ahead and scream Sam. No one is coming to save you,” Billy said before shoving the knife all the way through his arm. A short, rough scream escapes Sam followed by a series of grunts as he tries to control the pain. Billy reached a hand behind him and snapped his fingers. Another silver knife was placed in his open palm. Billy set it against Sam’s right bicep and slowly started to push the blade in once again. Sam grunted his way through the pain until Billy shoved the knife through the muscle. Another scream ripped from his throat. A ragged sob escaped him.
“Dean,” he muttered quietly. Billy’s sadistic smirk turned cruel.
“Dean ain’t coming to save you now, demon boy. He gave up on you. Something he should have done a long time ago,” he said. “Dean never loved you, Sammy. You were never his family. You were a waste of space and I can’t wait to rid the planet of you.”
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, silently agreeing with everything Billy said.
“Hey, Carl! Go get the salt,” Billy called out. Laughter came from the men behind him while the smallest of the group, the man who greeted him when he first woke up, stood up and walked over to one of the rusted cabinets. Opening the door with a screech, he pulled out a cylinder container and carried it over to where Sam lay strapped to the chair. Billy looked over at Carl with a smile.
“Would you like to do the honors?” he asked. Carl glared at Sam.
“With pleasure,” Carl muttered, opening the container. “You know, my sister was killed in one of those crazy ambushes that occurred when you released the Devil from his cage. They tore her apart in front of her two kids. Mauled her. We couldn’t even have a funeral for her.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, tears in his eyes. Carl shook his head.
“Not as sorry as you’re gonna be,” he growled. Carl poured some of the salt into his hand, then shoved it into Sam’s face, burying it into the open wounds from the beating he had taken earlier. Sam hissed at the burn that came from the salt hitting the open wounds then started to shout as Carl rubbed the salt further into the wounds, using his fingernails to dig it in and tear at the cuts. Carl even went as far as to dump some of the salt into Sam’s mouth.
Soon, he flipped the salt canister closed and turned away. Sam panted as the salt burned into his cuts, the heavy breathing sucking more granules deeper into the wounds. Carl walked over to the rusty rolling tray, set down the canister, and picked up the pliers that were used to break his fingers. Sam watched as Carl walked back toward him and started shaking his head. Instead of breaking his toes, however, Carl proceeded to tear off each one of Sam’s toenails.
Blood dripped down Sam’s toes. Just as Carl pulled the last one, a crack was heard, and a hoarse scream of pain erupted from Sam. Matt had taken a baseball bat to his ankle, no doubt shattering the bones there. A sob followed Sam’s scream, having not been able to move and his bones taking the full brunt of the attack. Carl looked over his shoulder at Matt, a smirk on his face. He reached over and moved Sam’s foot attached to the shattered ankle, causing him to scream again.
“Do the other ankle,” a voice said quietly. Matt and Carl looked over at Billy, who turned to look at the man who walked into the room. Paul, an older man with a stoic expression, slowly stepped into the room staring Billy down. Billy and Paul glared at each other for a long moment, then Billy nodded his agreement. The other two men shrugged, and Carl moved to the other side. Sam shook his head, a sob escaping his throat. Matt moved in front of Sam and swung. CRACK!
Sam’s blood-curdling scream echoed through the entire hall of the abandoned hospital, the acute agony that was piercing his legs causing him to blackout in the end. Billy sat watching the men hurt him without remorse. Matt and Carl looked up when they heard the back door open, causing Billy to look over his shoulder. Before Billy could speak, Paul did.
“Is the room ready?” Paul asked. Skip nodded. “Excellent. Get him up and out of that chair. We have somewhere to be.”
Matt and Skip men dropped Sam in a heap atop the old mattress before turning and walking out, locking the door to the small hospital room behind them. Sam moaned weakly as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but it was hard when his hands were practically useless. After a while, he was able to shift himself onto his shoulder at least and used his elbow to push himself up into a seated position.
Taking stock of his injuries, he realized they wrapped his arms where the knives were. His face felt swollen and warm, and he could only open one eye. Looking down at his feet, his ankles looked horrific, and he knew he wasn’t walking anywhere any time soon. He dropped his head against the wall and let out a weak sob as he thought about his predicament.
Once he was feeling stable, Sam opened his one eye and looked around the decaying room to see where he was. They had cleaned the room out, leaving him with the old, moldy mattress they dropped him on, an itchy blanket if you could call it that, and a bucket in the corner. No food, no water. No light of any kind.
He used his elbows to push himself into a kneeling position, and he crawled his way over to the door, trying to open it. Locked, as expected, but he had to try. He shuffled himself back to the mattress and settled himself as best he could.
Alone in that room, trapped with kidnappers who wanted nothing good for him, he let himself feel the emotions overwhelming him and gave in to the tears pressing against his eyes.
Sam woke up with a jolt when the metal door to the room he was locked in was suddenly kicked open. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. He started coughing almost immediately, causing the pain to ricochet through his body. A light moan escaped him.
“Wakey, wakey, demon boy…” he heard a voice say before one of them kicked him in the chest. He curled in on himself, trying to protect his already injured ribs. Even that small movement amped the pain up through his body.
“Get him up,” he heard Carl say. “Billy wants him in the showers.”
Sam felt arms grab him and start dragging him away from the mattress, cries of pain escaping his lips involuntarily when his broken ankles dropped and hit the floor. A hand slapped the back of his head.
“Shut the fuck up, demon,” one of them said. Opening the one good eye he had, he forced his head up to look around and see who had him. Matt and Skip. Sam did his best to try and remember where they were going in the abandoned hospital, but the pain he was in made him dizzy and he lost his way three turns in.
Matt and Skip dragged Sam through the halls of the decaying building to a locker room that had an old shower in it. In the shower was a large bucket filled to the rim with water. Matt and Skip forced Sam to his knees, ignoring his cries of pain. Billy stepped up and smiled at him.
“I always wondered if demons reacted to water torture, Sammy,” he said with an air of confidence. Billy held out a rosary made from red and black crystals, the crucifix on the end silver and well-loved. He held it in front of Sam’s face for a long moment, then dropped it into the bucket. “Especially if it’s an entire drum of holy water. Want to find out?”
“The name is Sam,” Sam gasped out defiantly. Billy simply laughed.
“Still mouthy till the end. Just like your brother,” Billy replied. Sam’s heart clenched painfully at the mention of his brother. Billy bent over to get eye to eye with Sam. “You know, he never really loved you, right Sammy? How could he love a monster like you? You ruined his life.”
Sam stared at Billy for a long moment before his eyes dropped, accepting the words. He already knew them. Billy saying them didn’t make them any less true.
“Maybe we should call him, see if he wants to come by and participate in this religious testing we’re doing,” he shouted, holding his hands out. Pulling out a cell phone, he held it in front of Sam’s face. Sam recognized it as his own.
“No calls from big bro, Sammy. He’s given up on you. He should have killed you when he had the chance,” Billy said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “No worries. I’ll make sure we take care of that for him.”
Sam’s heart clenched in his chest with every word Billy said, knowing they were true. Billy smirked as he stood up straight, watching how Sam wilted at his words. He wasn’t about to tell Sam his brother actually did call him – twice in fact. It just meant they needed to get their work done and get out of there before Dean started looking for his brother.
“Dunk him,” he ordered. Matt and Skip shoved Sam’s head under the water and held it there as he thrashed, trying to get himself out of the water. Soon, Sam ended up inhaling some of the water and slowly stopped thrashing around.
“Pull him out,” Billy said, and the men yanked Sam out of the water, shoving him to the ground. They watched as he coughed and gasped, trying to get air back into his lungs. Once he was able to take a breath of air uninhibited, Billy nodded at him. The men grabbed him and yanked him back up.
“No. No, please,” Sam begged quietly.
“Again,” Billy said, and the men shoved Sam’s head back under the water. Sam thrashed again, desperately trying to find relief from the cold water that his head was shoved into, desperately trying not to inhale the water into his lungs. Sooner than he liked, his body started to respond despite what his mind was telling him, and he inhaled water again.
Yanked out of the water and cast aside once again, Sam coughed hard and expelled whatever water he could from his lungs. Billy squatted down in front of him and watched with narrowed eyes.
“If your brother killed you when he should have, none of this would be happening right now,” he muttered. Sam’s eyes filled with tears, knowing how true Billy’s words were.
“I’ll say this, he ain’t smokin,” Matt said, glancing at Billy. Skip shook his head.
“Either your holy water ain’t worth a shit, or he’s a different kind of demon,” Skip replied, leaning against the wall. Billy gave the two men a look that he hoped would silence them. Skip simply smirked and shrugged. “Just saying.”
“Pick him up again,” Billy growled. Matt and Skip chuckled as they grabbed Sam again. They manhandled Sam back up to his knees, ignoring his cries of pain. Billy grabbed a fist full of Sam’s hair and lifted his head. Sam looked up at him with fear and resignation in his eyes. Billy simply stared at him for a few long moments then shoved his head away. “Dunk him.”
The men dunked Sam’s head back under the water, and Sam reflexively fought back but his heart simply wasn’t in it anymore. After all, he had nothing to live for now that Dean had given up on him.
The two dragged an unconscious Sam by his wrists through the halls of the hospital, laughing maniacally. Kicking the door open to the room that had become his cell, they dropped him unceremoniously onto the mattress. His body made a squelching sound when it landed, which caused the guys to laugh harder.
“You guys don’t feel even a little guilty about what we’re doing here?” they heard a voice say. Matt and Skip turned to see Paul leaning against the door jam, arms crossed over his chest. The dark look in his eyes made the two men stop laughing.
“C’mon, Paul,” Skip said with a shrug of his shoulders. “He started the fucking apocalypse. He was drinking demon blood.”
“Not to mention letting Lucifer out,” Matt said. Paul eyed the two men judgmentally.
“My point was you shouldn’t be enjoying it so much. We have a job to do, and we’ll get it done. But we don’t get to act like Neanderthals while doing it,” Paul said critically, studying the two men harshly. He raised a brow. “We’re taking a big risk here doing this, coming after Sam Winchester. Maybe you should remember that while you are celebrating.” The two had the decency to look chastised.
“Sorry, boss,” Skip said.
“Yeah, sorry, boss,” Matt agreed. Paul nodded thoughtfully.
“Go check the perimeter and make sure we haven’t been compromised,” he ordered quietly. The two men nodded and slipped from the room as silently as possible. While walking away, Skip looked back at Paul standing in the doorway, watching over Sam.
“I always forget that Paul is actually the one running this thing, not Billy,” he said with a shake of his head. Matt snorted.
“Billy only wishes he was as smart as Paul. I’d follow Paul anywhere. I’d just as well shoot Billy as work with him. Billy will be the one to get us killed,” Matt said. Skip nodded his head as they walked out the side door they used as their entrance.
“You ain’t kidding.”
Paul stood in the doorway and watched the unconscious man. It was hard to believe what he had done, what his brothers and sisters were able to manipulate him into doing with the help of the demons. It infuriated him, this civil war they had going on. All parties involved with the start of the apocalypse would be punished, including the human Sam Winchester, the vessel of Lucifer. He and his little band of outlawed misfits would prove that it wasn’t necessary to start something as drastic as the end of the world.
Carl walked up to where Paul was, looking into the room where Sam lay unconscious before turning his glowing blue eyes to his leader.
“We’re going to have to do something about Qaphsiel,” he said, voice monotone and emotionless. “He’s starting to get a little out of hand.”
“What do you mean?” Paul asked, his own glowing blue eyes looking at the vessel his partner had taken over.
“He just needs to be reminded where he stands in this line-up. Seraphim like him are not allowed to be ordering anyone around, making decisions, or changing plans,” Carl growled. Paul turned his eyes back to Sam and sighed heavily.
“Are you sure it wasn’t the vessel?” Paul asked.
“No, it was Qaphsiel. No one speaks that way other than him,” Carl retorted.
“It wasn’t my idea to bring him on in the first place, Gadiel,” he said pointedly. Carl’s glowing eyes narrowed slightly in indignation. “I’ll have a word with him, remind him of his place. Will that suffice?”
“Yes, for now,” Carl said. “What is it that you want me to do?”
“Prepare the chair for him,” Paul said, a head tilt toward Sam. “It’s time to finish this.”
An electrical buzzing sound roused Sam. He jolted, instantly aware of the ache in his body. The electrical buzzing sound happened again, causing Sam to lift his head and look around, only to see Paul standing next to him with a long metal rod. That was also when he realized he was attached to a metal chair, strapped down tightly with leather straps across his chest, legs, and arms. He eyed the man warily.
“You destroyed this planet, letting Lucifer out of his box. You know that, right?” Paul said quietly. Sam watched him apprehensively. “You damned the entire world.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Sam whispered softly. “I didn’t know what…”
“Don’t give me that shit!” Paul yelled suddenly, moving forward. Sam startled slightly, and his eyes widened as he eyed the cattle prod coming toward him.
“No, no, wait,” Sam begged, then a ragged scream ripped through his throat as Paul pushed the cattle prod into his hip and turned the power on. Electricity burned through his body, fire running through his nerves as his muscles jumped and spasmed for the seconds the cattle prod was active against his skin. Paul pulled the cattle prod away, leaving Sam panting and sweating harshly.
“You are the reason we’re all gonna die,” Paul said viciously, stabbing him again with the cattle prod, lighting up Sam’s body again. Sam’s body convulsed in the chair, his voice screaming in pain as electricity ran through him. Billy and Carl walked up on the duo, watching with narrowed eyes. When Paul pulled the electrical stick back again, Sam sobbed. Blood started to seep from his ears.
“Please,” Sam sobbed. Paul glanced at Carl who approached with a bucket of water and dumped it on Sam. The cold water startled him, seeping into his jeans and the leather straps holding him in place. Wide, scared eyes looked over at the men standing nearby and watching.
“Rot in hell,” Paul growled, before stabbing Sam a third time with the cattle prod, this time longer than the previous. Electricity arced over Sam and the metal chair he was tied to, the water steaming off his body. The scream he let out was loud and harsh, his muscles so tight they looked close to snapping. Against his broken bones, the pain had to be excruciating, but no one would stop Paul from his actions.
When Paul finally pulled the cattle prod away from Sam, the men in the room watched as water and blood dripped off his body. Paul was breathing heavily, lifting a hand to wipe at the sweat under his nose. Billy stared wide-eyed at Paul, shocked at the extreme measure he had just taken. Paul shot Carl a look, and Carl quickly moved forward to press two fingers to the pulse point in Sam’s neck. He waited a few seconds before looking at Paul and shaking his head.
“Start packing up your shit. We’re out of here before dark,” Paul breathed, throwing the cattle prod onto the metal counter. The clang echoed in the room.
When Sam opened his eyes again, he was standing on the beach. The sand felt warm between his toes, the ocean air tasted salty on his tongue.
“I can make it stop, you know,” Lucifer said. Sam looked to the right of himself and saw the Devil walking up to him. He had his pants rolled up to his calves, his hands in his pockets. Lucifer was looking out the ocean waves, his expression peaceful. Content. “You could stay here, be at peace.”
“No.”
“Dean can’t save you, Sammy. He won’t. He has abandoned you. Forgotten you. I’m here. I can save you, but I can’t find you with the ruins on your ribs; I can’t stop them unless you tell me where you are. If you won’t say yes, at least tell me where you are so I can stop them from hurting you.”
“No,” Sam said, shaking his head with fear in his eyes. Lucifer shook his head in sadness, placing a hand on the younger Winchester’s shoulder.
“You don’t have to say yes, Sam. Just let me protect you,” Lucifer all but begged.
“I said no! No!” Sam said, stepping away from Lucifer. The Devil frowned as he watched Sam for a moment. He then stepped forward, clamping his hands down on Sam’s shoulders.
“Sam, when I resurrect you, you’ll be back in their clutches. It will start all over again,” Lucifer said. He shook his head. “Why can’t you believe that I care about you? I wish you’d believe me,” Lucifer said with a sigh.
“Perhaps next time, you’ll have changed your mind.”
Sam was about to respond but didn’t have a chance. He suddenly felt as if he was falling, plummeting through space. When he felt himself land, he was back in his body. He opened his eyes and gasped a lungful of air, scaring the man in the room with him.
“What the fuck!?” Carl shouted, looking at a gasping Sam. Sam’s eyes darted all over the room, trying to figure out what was going on. He realized he had been untied from the chair and shoved into the corner of the room “How the hell are you still alive?”
Sam started coughing, trying to clear his throat. Carl ran out of the room and called out to the other guys, who came running in a flash. Paul, who was in front of the group, stalked up to Sam and held a knife to his throat. Sam pressed himself against the wall as tightly as he could to get away from the blade cutting into the sensitive skin of his throat.
“How are you breathing?” Paul asked coldly.
“Lucifer,” Sam gasped. “Lucifer refuses to let me die.”
“Lucifer won’t let you die?” Paul repeated, his tone questioning Sam’s sanity. Sam started to shake his head then stopped when he felt the knife dig deeper into his skin.
“Nn…no. Said I can’t say yes if I’m dead, so..” Sam said, his eyes lifting to look into Paul’s.
“Well, then,” Billy said, a malicious grin playing on his lips. “That changes everything.”
“Gentlemen,” Paul said, his voice low and even. “This just became a whole new thing.” The rest of the men looked at each other in surprise and uncertainty.
“If you want out, now is the time,” Paul said, turning his head to look at the small group of men.
“What the fuck? No, none of us are leaving,” Billy started. Paul interrupted him.
“You don’t have a say in how this goes. This is my op, Billy. Not yours. You work for me, so shut the fuck up,” Paul sneered, the first real bit of emotion he had shown since Sam had been taken. Carl had a look of satisfaction on his face while Billy held up his hands in a surrender motion and took a step back. Sam simply watched everything in silence, a knife still pressed solidly against his throat.
“I don’t know about this,” Matt said quietly. “How much penance does one need to make for starting the apocalypse?” That made Paul’s eyes narrow minutely.
“Well, I’m staying. I can’t wait to get my hands on him again,” Billy said gleefully. That made most of the men roll their eyes.
“I’m here till you call it,” Carl said to Paul.
“I’ll stay if you stay,” Skip said to Matt. “We always work together. You want to do this? We’ll do it together.” Matt then nodded.
“So, we’re all in then,” Paul said, a sadistic smirk coming to his lips. Sam suddenly got very nervous. “Excellent. Let’s see how many ways we can kill a traitor.”
Billy stepped forward first, a fist to Sam’s face knocking him to the side. The rest of the men took a step back to watch as Billy beat Sam: punching him in the face, swiftly kicking him in the chest, stomping on his hand. Skip shoved Billy out of the way a few minutes later, finding the courage to participate. Kicking Sam’s knee, he ignored the man’s screams as he destroyed Sam’s leg. Carl walked up and kicked Sam in the face, breaking his jaw. Paul stomped on Sam’s chest, breaking his ribs, and puncturing his lung. As Sam rolled over to try and protect his chest, another kick to his head snapped his neck, killing him instantly.
“Back again, I see,” Lucifer said, watching Sam reappear at the beach. He smirked watching Sam look around confused. When Sam finally looked at the Devil, his eyes grew sad.
“They killed me again?” he asked. Lucifer nodded.
“Are you ready to tell me where you are now?” the Devil asked. Sam shook his head.
“No. Never,” he answered quickly. Lucifer shrugged.
“You must enjoy the pain, Samuel. If that’s what you want, I could give it to you instead of these… people,” Lucifer said, snapping his fingers.
Sam opened his eyes to find himself being drug down one of the dirty hallways by his wrists. He turned his head to look around, then thrashed a bit to try and get loose. Skip and Matt looked over at him.
“Look who’s back with us!” Skip exclaimed, pinning Sam’s arm behind him. Sam cried out as he tried to get free but instead found himself hauled up to a standing position. “C’mon, demon boy. Time for you to walk for yourself.”
“Where are you taking me?” Sam demanded. The men laughed at him as they guided him to the kitchen on the first floor of the abandoned hospital. Finding the old refrigerator unit, Matt opened the door while Skip shoved him in there.
“Have a nice night!” he sang before Matt shut the door. Sam launched himself at the door only to find that there was no handle to get out from inside the refrigerator unit. If he remembered correctly, it was also an air-tight unit as well. With no power, it was pitch black in the small room. Sam started to panic, banging on the refrigerator door.
“Let me out of here! Let me out!!” he shouted. He tried to shove the door open, run his fingers along the walls to find a weakness, and even find a vent somewhere that he could possibly break through. Nothing. He was alone in a room with limited air supply and no light. It was only a matter of time before the oxygen would run out and he would suffocate. His panic only grew.
“God, Dean, I’m so sorry. Please. Please find me,” he begged, tears forming in his eyes again as he panted. His panic attack was short-lived though, as he felt himself grow tired.
Sam sat on the grass near a lake in the woods. Birds chirped in the woods around him, the breeze rustling the leaves. The water rippled slightly as fish came to the surface and ate the bugs that danced across the top of the water. When Sam ran his fingers over the grass, he felt the individual blades. They were sun-warmed and smelled fresh.
“How did you end up here this time, Sam?” Lucifer asked, sitting down next to him. Sam immediately stiffened. The two men looked over the water until Lucifer turned and looked at Sam. Sam avoided his eyes.
“I asked you a question,” the Devil said, his voice sharpening slightly. Sam swallowed.
“They locked me in a refrigerator,” he said softly. Lucifer chuckled.
“Those guys are creative, I’ll give them that,” he said. They sat quietly for a moment together. “I’m betting if I send you back right now, you’d still be in that refrigerator. Care to find out?”
Sam was about to answer when Lucifer touched his head with two fingers.
Sam opened his eyes and gasped but didn’t see anything but darkness. He felt his lungs tighten in his chest, desperate for air that wasn’t there. Slowly, he felt himself drift off once again, his heart thudding hard in his chest.
“And again, so quickly. So, it was the fridge then?” Lucifer said with a frown. Sam looked at his hands then at Lucifer with wide, scared eyes.
“And you haven’t figured out who really has you yet, have you?” he said with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. Sam’s expression turned confused.
“What?” he breathed. Lucifer shook his head.
“Nope, I’m not giving you any clues. That would ruin the game. You have to figure it out yourself,” he said, holding a hand up. Sam suddenly got angry.
“This isn’t a game! This is… This is torture!” he shouted. Lucifer suddenly glared at Sam.
“Yes,” he said stonily. “It’s absolutely torture. It’s not something you should be dealing with and if you told me where you were, Samuel, I would be there to stop it and you wouldn’t be in pain anymore. I’ve already told you how much I care about you. What more do I have to do?”
Sam swallowed nervously, eyeing Lucifer with fear.
“You are my one true vessel, Samuel. I can protect you if you tell me where you are,” Lucifer reiterated. Sam shook his head.
“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know where I am,” he replied quietly. Lucifer sighed disappointedly.
“Well, then,” the Devil said. He snapped his fingers and Sam went back.
Sam gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut when he came to, trying to hold his breath. He knew there was no air in the fridge he was in, and he didn’t want to die right away. He wanted to see if he could find an emergency exit button or something before he passed out again. He crawled toward the door and felt once again for a handle. It was only a minute later that he was unconscious on the ground.
It went on like that for hours: waking, gasping for air and suffocating inside the refrigerator. Until one time when he woke up the door was open. When he gasped, he inhaled air and his lungs expanded painfully. Sam panted, his hands clawing at his chest as four men stared down at him. He barely followed what was being said above him.
“What did I tell ya?” Billy asked, staring down at Sam.
“What the actual fuck, dude,” another voice said. “How in the hell did you get Sam Winchester away from his brother?”
“Dean gave up on him. Left him out on his own, so we plucked him up and have been keeping him here for a few weeks now,” Billy responded. Sam started coughing, rolling on his side.
“And you’re telling me he can’t die? Like, at all?” a woman’s voice said.
“Nope. Every time we’ve killed him, he’s come back. Said Lucifer doesn’t want him dead. How fucked up is that?” Billy said. Sam had started to push himself up on all fours when Billy pushed the barrel of his gun to the side of his head. “Get up slowly, demon boy, and put your hands behind your back.”
Sam frowned, doing what he said. Once his hands were behind his back, he felt the cold of metal handcuffs being snapped tightly around his wrists. The gun was moved from the side of his head to the base of his skull.
“Walk,” Billy said, shoving the gun against him. Sam darted a glance at the other people with Billy, realizing the two men and a woman who were with him were not the people who were there before. “I said, walk demon boy!”
Sam started walking, following one of the men to a wing of the hospital he hadn’t been to before. His nerves started to get the best of him, realizing this couldn’t be a good thing. Once they entered a room, he realized there was a chair in the middle of it with chains to hold him and a tray of items he was sure were going to be used against him. He tried to back out of the room. He got a gunshot to the thigh for his effort.
Sam collapsed with a shout of pain, blood seeping through his jeans from the gunshot wound.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Billy? You wanna wake the others up?” the female shouted at him, looking over her shoulder in a panic. The two men he didn’t know came over and dragged Sam over to the chair.
“They are asleep on the other side of the hospital, they didn’t hear a thing,” Billy said with a laugh. The woman watched as Sam was chained to the chair.
“So, who wants to go first?” Billy asked, waving a hand over the items. One of the men walked over and grabbed a metal rod. He tested the weight of it against his opposite hand as he walked over to where Sam was now sitting. Sam eyed the man warily. With a sadistic smile, he swung the rod at Sam’s chest. A loud crack was heard throughout the room. Billy laughed as Sam gasped for breath. He set his gun aside and walked over to Sam, punching him in the face. Billy and one man then took turns hitting Sam, leaving the woman and a third man standing by to watch. They shared a look of concern.
“You two don’t want to take a turn?” Billy asked.
“Oh, no. This is all you two,” the woman said, holding her hands up. “I’m perfectly good watching.”
“What about him?” Billy said, nodding to the other person in the room who had yet to speak a word. The woman turned and looked at the man standing near her. He stared stoically at Billy and the other man.
“I’m gonna go with no. Jackson’s gonna watch too,” the woman said with a smirk. Billy shook his head with a smirk.
“What, he doesn’t talk?” Billy asked.
“No… not so much,” the woman said.
“Suit yourself,” Billy shrugged, walking back over to the table of tools. Billy picked up the silver blade and tested its weight in his hand. The other man walked over and threw the rod down. Sam gasped for breath as he rested his chin on his chest.
“Watch this,” Billy said, walking back over to Sam. The woman moved to stand in front of Jackson.
“Y’all ready for this?” he asked. Billy grabbed a handful of hair, then pulled the blade clean through the strands. His laugh echoed through the room as he sprinkled the cut hair over Sam’s body. Billy continued to cut Sam’s hair off until most of the long locks were gone. The haphazard haircut left Sam crying silent tears.
“And now for the grand finale,” Billy said, grabbing Sam’s head and pulling it back. The motion exposed Sam’s throat to the room. Sam’s one eye that wasn’t swollen shut widened as he realized what was about to happen
“This is how we take care of traitors,” the man said, taking the knife and slicing it across Sam’s throat, blood spurting forward in a spray. Sam choked on his own blood, his mouth gaping. The blood spilled down his front, coating himself in the dark blood.
“What the fuck is going on here!?” Carl shouted as he walked into the room, Paul hot on his heels. Billy smirked over at Carl and Paul, the sounds of Sam still choking echoing in the room.
“I’m showing my friends what’s up with the demon boy,” Billy said proudly, his hands displaying the now twitching corpse of Sam Winchester. The blood from his throat glistened in the low light as it continued its slow descent from his slit throat to the floor. With a growl of frustration, Paul stormed up to him and punched him in the face with inhuman force. Billy staggered back in surprise, a hand cupping his now bleeding nose. He looked up at Paul with shock in his wide eyes.
“You have put us in a great deal of danger bringing outsiders into our operation,” Paul said, his voice low and controlled, his eyes glowing a violently bright blue. Billy’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and he straightened. It was like another force had taken over his body.
“I did no such thing,” his voice thundered angrily, echoing loudly through the room. “These people are like us and want judgement for the wrongs Samuel has committed against us.” The room crackled with ethereal energy as the men stood up to each other. The other hunters in the room moved away from the men, eyeing them warily.
“Take the demon boy and hang him in his room by his wrists and watch him. Make sure no one else goes into the room,” Carl demanded of Billy. Billy’s bright blue eyes narrowed on the man.
“It is not you who is my superior, therefore you are not giving me any orders,” Billy seethed.
“He is my second in command, and you will do as he says,” Paul growled.
“Is that so?” Billy growled. Paul stepped forward.
“Do it now, Qaphsiel,” he said firmly. The group watched as Billy touched Sam’s body, the ties instantly falling away from his body with a sizzle of a blue-green glow. Billy then grabbed Sam by what was left of his hair and dragged his body away from the room, a trail of blood being left behind.
“I…I thought his name was Billy,” the man who had beaten Sam said weakly. Carl and Paul turned and looked at the others standing in the room. Carl looked at the two standing there and narrowed his eyes.
“Wasn’t there three of you?” he questioned. The woman shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.
“No. It was always just the two of us,” she said with disdain. Paul and Carl shared a look with each other. “Why? What happens now?”
Bobby walked over to his computer and turned the machine on, sitting back and sipping on his coffee while the thing booted up. He was still adamantly against using this kind of technology, but if he wanted to be more involved with the rest of the world, he had to step it up and get with it. So, he went and got one and he used it for some research and to keep up with email.
Once the machine was fully up and running, Bobby opened his internet browser and went to his email. Most of what he got was junk mail anyway, and he didn’t think he’d get much different that morning until he spotted an unusual-looking subject line. You should know about this Curious, he clicked on the email. Attached to it was a video clip. The body of the email was short and concise: “They’ve got Sam.”
Bobby clicked on the video clip, and it was obvious it was taken in secret. Inside the room was a group of men laughing and carrying on, surrounding someone who was tied to a chair. The one in the chair looked awful: emaciated and beaten up badly.
“Y’all ready for this?” the man behind the restrained guy asked. He received cheers from the group. The man grabbed a handful of hair and yanked the restrained guy’s head up and Bobby gasped as he recognized Sam’s face covered in swollen bruises and obviously infected cuts.
“This is how we take care of traitors,” the man said. Then he took a knife and sliced it across Sam’s throat, blood spurting forward in a spray that reached where the camera was. Bobby immediately turned and vomited into the trash can next to his desk, heaving up the coffee he had just been sipping on. Soon, his vomiting turned into dry heaves, his heart and his chest hurting with the amount of grief that overcame him as he realized that he just witnessed Sam’s death.
Turning away from his desk and computer, Bobby stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed his phone. As soon as Dean answered, Bobby was all but begging.
“Tell me Sam is with you,” Bobby pleaded in a sob.
“Bobby?” Dean questioned.
“Tell me!!” Bobby shouted.
“No. Sam and I haven’t been together in weeks, you know this. Why, what’s going…”
“Get your ass to my place. Now.”
Hours later, Dean put the car in park in front of Bobby’s place, a puff of dust surrounding the Impala from the gravel. He climbed out of the car and stretched his back out before slamming the door shut behind him. Climbing the stairs to the front door, Bobby met him on the porch.
“Where the hell is Sam?” Bobby ground out, grabbing Dean by the arm. Dean looked at the older man confused.
“What’s going on Bobby?” Dean asked. Bobby shook Dean.
“Where the hell is he?!” Bobby shouted. Dean swallowed, putting his hands on his hips. Bobby dropped his hand, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know, Bobby. I haven’t spoken to him in weeks. Last time I talked to him, he wanted to get back together, and I told him we were better off working apart,” Dean explained, turning, and looking away.
Warnings:graphic depictions of violence, physical torture, psychological torture, major character death, major character reincarnation, blood, gore, throat-slitting, water torture, serious injury, cursing
Summary:When Dean denies his baby brother the redemption he begs for after learning he is Lucifer’s true vessel, Sam gives up and gets sloppy. “Hunters” take him with revenge on their minds, but when they learn he can’t die, the torture escalates.
An email shows up at Bobby’s with a video clip of Sam getting his throat cut, prompting him to call Dean. He learns that the older Winchester has no clue where his brother is and is forced to explain what happened. Together with Castiel and the help from another angel, they discover who really has Sam… and why.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: written for the 2021 SPN Eldritch Bang - MY FIRST BANG! I hope you enjoy the damage, terror, and torture. It’s my first time, be gentle. ;)
Art done by the amazing QuickReaver. You can view the beautiful pieces here - and I have to say that she is an amazing person, artist, and human being for working so well with a newbie to the Bang world. I am so lucky to have met her and her art is WONDERFUL (and totally spoiler alert for the story) THANK YOU for being amazing and incredible. I’m so glad we met!
Beta’d by jdl71 and HMCyre
“Look, Sam… It doesn’t matter. Whatever we do. I mean, it turns out that you and me, we’re the fire and the oil of the Armageddon. You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good,” Dean said. Sam froze, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“Dean it doesn’t have to be like this. We can fight it,” he pleaded.
“Yeah, you’re right. We can. But not together. We’re not stronger when we’re together, Sam. I think we’re weaker. Because whatever we have between us – love, family, whatever it is – they are always gonna use it against us. And you know that. Yeah, we’re better off apart. We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing, if we just go our own ways,” Dean said. Sam was shaking his head, standing between the two beds in his hotel room. He still gets a double, he’ll always get the double.
“Dean, don’t do this,” Sam begged.
“Bye, Sam,” Dean said, hanging up.
At that moment, Sam’s whole world stops. The very last lifeline he was hanging on to had given up on him. The crushing weight he felt in his chest forced the air out of his lungs, and he can’t breathe but the numbness that is filling him doesn’t care. He lets his arm fall from his ear, the phone tumbling out of his hand and drops to the floor. He felt cold suddenly like there was ice water flowing through his veins, and soon his entire body was chilled. He wasn’t sure if he’s inhaled yet, the crushing weight in his chest getting worse, but he’s had to right? He hasn’t passed out yet.
First the voicemail.
Now, this.
I lost my brother.
No,Sam tells himself fiercely. We’re not brothers anymore.You quit being Dean’s brother the moment you choose Ruby over him. Slowly, Sam sinks down to sit on one of the beds as his mind starts running a mile a minute.
Dean doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore, and you shouldn’t be surprised. You’re a monster and hunters kill monsters, remember? He made that clear with the voicemail. Not only did you release Lucifer, but now you’re his vessel? You’re evil, Sam, the kind of evil that never gets redeemed. When Dean does find you, he’s going to kill you and it’s nothing less than you deserve.
The voice in Sam’s head wasn’t wrong. Sam had let his brother down time and again prior to this epic fail and now there was no turning back. He was a monster and Dean would never forgive him for the wrongs he had done. How do you forgive the man who ended the world?
Sam sat there holding his head in his hands. He felt wetness on his face and wondered when he started to cry. His breath hitched slightly through the weight on his chest when a new thought came to him.
Moving robotically, Sam walked over to where his duffle was sitting on the small table in the room and dug out his Taurus. He pulled the slide back to make sure it’s loaded and saw a bullet in the chamber. He put the barrel of the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter explode from the opposite side of his head, painting the ugly carpet and wallpaper a Rorschach painting. Sam’s body crumbled in a heap on the floor, the handgun still clutched in his right hand, and blood seeped into the carpet from the left side of his head that was missing.
Sam stood in a dark void, surrounded by nothingness. He was dressed in the same clothing he was wearing that day, moments before he shot himself in the head. Hearing footsteps coming up behind him, he turned to see Lucifer walking up to him, his arms clasped behind his back casually. A sardonic smirk danced across his lips as he watched his vessel with dancing eyes.
“I told you, Samuel. I’m not going to let you die,” Lucifer said, walking up to Sam. Lucifer presses two fingers to his forehead.
With a heaving inhale, Sam woke up covered in his own blood on the ugly carpet floor of his hotel room. The left side of his face was covered in blood and brain matter, his hair matted, and skin smeared with it. His head and skull, however, were intact… as if nothing happened. A shaky hand raises and feels along the right side of his head, and just under his hairline Sam feels a small scar. A parting gift from the Devil, reminding him of his power.
A sob rose in Sam’s throat as he realized that Lucifer had brought him back to life, but he swallowed it down and pushed himself to a standing position.
He reached back into his bag and pulled out a silver hunting knife. Turning the knife in on himself, he plunged the blade into his stomach. A grunt of pain was pulled from him as he fell back; warm, sticky blood rushing past his fingers. The pain was unbearable, radiating from his abdomen and pulsing up into his chest.
“Dean…” he whimpered pathetically, hating himself for calling out to a man who no longer cared if he lived or died. After a few minutes, he started to grow cold, and his vision started to darken. It was then that he saw the figure of Lucifer walking up to him in the hotel room, his head tilted as he studied the wound.
“Silver blades don’t bother me, Sam,” he said, smiling and entertained. “But that’s a nice try.”
Sam didn’t know how long he was out for this time, but when he opened his eyes, the hunting knife rested in his left hand. It gleamed in the light of the motel, cleaned of all the blood. His shirt and jeans, however, were tacky and clinging to him in places with his blood. Sam’s head dropped back and he blinked away tears.
Maybe something that will do more significant damage to my body, he thought, pushing himself up to a standing position. He brought the knife with him into the bathroom and he set it on the sink as he dug into his bathroom kit. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled out the bottle of prescription painkillers. He stared at it for a long moment, then filled up one of the disposable glasses with water. He started to take the pills three at a time until the bottle was empty.
He didn’t know how long it would take for the drugs to start destroying his organs. When he looked at the bathtub, he grabbed the knife before climbing in it. Very carefully, he placed the tip of the knife against the delicate skin of his wrist and followed the scar left behind from the ghouls so many years ago. A pained grunt escaped him as he watched dark red blood start to pulse out of the wound. He quickly switched hands and did the other wrist as sickness started to swirl in his stomach. He noticed his breathing was getting labored as well.
Sam scrunched his body down in the tub so he could let his head fall back against the cool porcelain, suddenly feeling very hot. His eyes drifted away from the blood pumping out of his wrists and lazily looked out of the bathroom door and into the bedroom where his vision was starting to get blurry. There, he swore he saw a figure sitting on the bed. He was bent over, elbows resting on his knees, staring at him with disappointment.
“If you think I can’t purify your blood of that Vicodin, Sammy, you really have underestimated me,” Lucifer said with a frown. Slowly, Sam’s eyes slid shut on the blurred image of the Devil watching him die in a motel bathtub.
Yet again, Sam opened his eyes sometime later. Still covered in his own blood and all that remained of his attempt this time was the scars on his wrists. As Sam went to pull himself out of the tub, he spotted a small orange bottle on the counter near the sink. He pulled his shirt off and let it splat on the porcelain before making his way over to see what it was.
He was both furious and frustrated when he picked up a full bottle of Vicodin with his bloodstained hand.
After that, Sam tried a variety of other ways to kill himself with no success: electrocution, drowning, setting himself on fire behind the motel, hanging himself from the ceiling. Each time, Lucifer greeted him just before he died and called him out on his attempt. Each time Sam opened his eyes, he was put back together completely, but left with scars.
He must have killed himself a dozen times since his last phone call with his brother… no, not your brother. You don’t have a family. You don’t get to have family. Sam lay on the filthy carpet in the room and stared at the ceiling.
“You’re really not gonna let me die, are you?” he asked pathetically. Somewhere in the distance, he heard his cell phone ringing, but couldn’t be bothered to pick it up. At that point, he couldn’t be bothered to do much of anything.
“That’s pretty nice timing, Cas,” Dean said with a relieved smile.
“We had an appointment,” Castiel replied. Dean smirked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t ever change,” he replied.
“How did Zachariah find you?” Castiel asked. Dean sighed as he reached into his pocket for his phone.
“Long story. Let’s just stay away from Jehovah’s Witnesses for now on, okay?” he says opening his phone and dialing Sam’s number.
“What are you doing?” Castiel questioned.
“Something I should have done in the first place,” Dean said, listening to the other line ringing. When it went to voicemail, Dean got a confused look on his face. He pulled the phone away from his ear and redialed the number. Again, voicemail.
“What is it?” Castiel asked as Dean pulled the phone away and shoved it back in his pocket.
“Sam’s not answering,” he said, concern touching his voice but not enough for Castiel’s liking. “He’s probably pissed at me and ignoring my calls.”
“What did you do?” Castiel asked. Dean side-eyed him this time. The two turned and started walking.
“What’s with the twenty questions, Cas?” Dean questioned. “I… said some things I shouldn’t have. Said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. Things we need to hash out together so we can get back on the same page.”
“It would be nice to see you actually caring about your brother again, Dean,” Castiel said, an air of arrogance in his tone. Dean chose to ignore that comment on the grounds that he didn’t want to look too closely at what that meant.
“Whatever.”
Sam sat at the rickety table in his hotel room tapping on his laptop, searching for ways to stay dead permanently. Through websites and chat rooms, he was able to eliminate some of the suggested ways to die. Frustrated, he slapped the lid shut and leaned back against the chair.
Why is it so hard to figure out how to die and stay dead? He thought, looking out the window of his room. Maybe looking online wasn’t the right way to do this. Frowning, he opened the laptop again and searched for the closest library. Finding the address, he wrote it down on a piece of paper, tore it off the notepad and stuffed it into his pocket as he stood to leave the room.
Opening the door to step out of the room, a burst of stars exploded in front of his eyes and he stumbled back into his room. Sam felt hands on his arms, and he lashed out. At least two of his hits landed, but he still ended up on his back with a knee on his throat. Moments later, he felt the cold metal of a gun pressed to his temple, causing him to freeze. By the time his vision cleared, he saw four faces staring down at him.
“Hey there, demon boy,” one of the faces said. Sam eyed them warily.
“I’m not going to fight you,” he said quietly. One of the men snickered.
“You mean any more than you already did?” a different one said.
“That’s a shame, really. Because we really want to fight you,” the third one said. Sam looked at him with a frown.
“I don’t have much money,” Sam said, pointing at the table. “You can take what I do have. The laptop too. My gun is under the pillow on the bed.”
“Oh, Sammy, we don’t want your shit,” the skinny one said. Sam’s eyes narrowed, instantly realizing the men in front of him were hunters. Two of the men hauled him up, twisting his arms behind him. The gun at his temple moved to the front of him, aimed at his heart. “We want your head on a spike, demon boy.”
A swift hit to the back of the head and Sam slipped into unconsciousness, unaware that he was being dragged away from the security of his motel room and thrown into the trunk of a car.
When Sam woke up, he found himself tied to a rusted metal chair. There were straps holding him down: his chest; his biceps; his forearms; his head; his lap; his thighs; his shins. The restraint chair was old but effective. He tried to move but found himself unable to do anything. This made him nervous. What made him more nervous was he didn’t have a shirt or any shoes on. He tried to look around as much as he could with his head restrained but was unable to move much. That might have been a blessing in disguise given how badly his head hurt.
“Look who’s finally awake! I was starting to think that Paul hit you too hard,” a male voice said cheerily. Sam glared as best he could, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he hurt. The man walked in front of him and looked Sam in the eye with a wide, sadistic smile. “How are you enjoying your chair? I hope it’s comfortable because you ain’t leaving it for a while.”
“Where the hell are we?” Sam asked. The man laughed.
"Some place no one will ever hear you scream, demon boy,” the man said, standing in front of Sam. “Rumor has it we have you to thank for this insanity happening all over the world. You! You were the one who let good old Lucifer out of his cage. What the hell were you thinking, boy?” the man sneered. When the man said Lucifer’s name, worry started to grow in the pit of his stomach.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said shakily. The man in front of him dropped his smile and swung at him. The punch hit Sam squarely in the jaw, and he felt something crunch from the hit. Stars danced in front of his eyes for a few seconds, and when Sam opened his eyes once more, the man was smiling again.
“Now, don’t you lie to me. We know the truth about you. An old friend of yours filled us in. Told us you’ve been sucking down demon blood like a damn vampire at an all-you-can-eat buffet, that you got these magical powers that let you kill demons and see the future… oh and YOU LET THE FUCKING DEVIL OUT!” the man shouted at him. Sam flinched away; who told him? Whoever it was, they told him everything.
“Looks like you started having fun without us, Carl,” a different voice called out. The man in front of Sam stepped back to give the newcomer space. When he stepped into the light and Sam got a look at him, he blanched. Billy placed a foot on the lower part of the restraint chair and leaned his weight on it, bending down to look Sam in the face.
“What, no hello for your old friend?” Billy asked with a tilt of his head. “Devil got your tongue?”
Sam remained silent, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of a response. Billy snorted and shook his head standing up straight.
“We kill evil, Sam,” Billy said, looking down at the man strapped to the chair. “And you are one evil son of a bitch. You and that so-called brother of yours, Dean. Once we get your brother here, we’re gonna take the both of you out for ending the world.”
“Dean had nothing to do with this. I’m the one who did it, leave him out of this,” Sam growled. Billy raised a brow.
“You would defend your brother,” he scoffed. Sam shook his head.
“Dean was trying to stop me when I let Lucifer out. He didn’t even know what I was doing. He had nothing to do with this. You have me, do whatever you want to me, but leave him out of this,” Sam said defiantly. He glared at Billy, daring him to challenge him again. The two men stared at each other. Finally, Billy smirked.
“Well, we did find you all by yourself,” Billy said thoughtfully. Sam refused to look away.
“Deans not involved in any of this. I failed him, and he gave up on me,” Sam said quietly. Billy stared at Sam, trying to tell if he was lying.
“Dean wants nothing more to do with me. One of the last things he said to me was he wanted to kill me, so,” Sam muttered quietly, his voice catching at the end. Billy smirked at him. Weakness,he thought. Still a weakness for you.
“Big brother finally realized what a burden you really are,” Billy said appreciatively. The other men in the room chuckled. Sam swallowed, his eyes twitching. “You’re a waste of life, Samuel. Pathetic. You ruin everything you touch, including your brother.” Sam swallowed hard.
“So, you really are on your own. Giving up on a monster like you was the best thing Dean could have done.” The two stared at each other, Billy with malice in his gray eyes and a sinister smile on his face.
“Well, boys, you heard the man. We can do whatever we want to him,” Billy said, looking at the others. Sam swallowed deeply then, glancing at the other three men in the room. Fear settled in his belly. “Let’s see just how demonic Sam really is.”
He didn’t even see the first punch coming. The hit came from the right, a hand with brass knuckles slammed into the side of Sam’s face. The strap holding his head in place caused his chin to take the full force of the hit at once. A cry escaped his lips as he felt the blow shatter his cheekbone. Another hit came from the opposite side, this one just a fist but feeling just as harshly. The crunch he felt in his jaw from the very first hit happened again, and a sharp pain raced from his jaw up through his temple. Tears of pain leaked from his eyes.
“Baby’s crying? Why are you crying, Sammy? This is what you deserve,” Carl said, swinging a fist at him again, this one colliding with his abdomen. All the air rushed out of his lungs, and Sam started to cough. The chair kept him strapped upright, so he couldn’t bend over like his muscles wanted him to do. Another fist with those brass knuckles clocked him in the face, causing him to shout out. The skin near his eye split and he whimpered. Blood dripped from the split skin there, a bruise already starting to bloom. Another punch followed; this one from the opposite side without the brass knuckles. Both blows were enough to cause Sam to see stars in front of his eyes.
“Where’s all that magical power now, demon boy?” Billy shouted. Sam couldn’t answer, coughing with his eyes clenched closed and his breathing coming harsh through his nose.
“I asked you a question!” Billy shouted, slapping Sam across the face. A whimper escaped his lips as the sting went across his broken cheekbone. Sam refused to answer, turning narrowed hazel eyes toward Billy. Billy chuckled. “Not gonna answer? That’s fine.”
Billy swung again, an uppercut that broke his nose. The punch was hard enough to tip the chair Sam was in, sending it crashing to the floor. The metal chair jarred Sam roughly. Between the hit and the fall, Sam was gasping for breath through whimpers. Billy pulled off the brass knuckles and tossed them onto a rolling tray nearby, shaking out his hand. Billy glanced at the guys and one of them stepped forward with a baseball bat in his hand. Before Sam could recover enough, the man swung the bat and brought it down hard on Sam’s abdomen.
All the air rushed out of Sam’s lungs once again in a hoarse shout, then he broke into a sob as pain radiated through his belly and to his back. The man swung and hit Sam again, only this time in his chest. The echoing crack told of Sam’s ribs breaking. A third hit left Sam gasping for breath. The hits after that had Sam crying out sharply each time the bat made a connection with his chest. Not soon enough, Billy grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him back.
“We don’t want to kill him too quickly, Carl,” he said. Billy nodded his head behind him, as if telling the guy to stand down. Carl turned to stare at Sam for a long moment, watching as the man breathed in short, harsh pants, before finally turning away. Billy watched him throw the bat on the rusted medical table and storm out of the decaying room with a frown.
“Matt. Skip. Grab the pliers and break his fingers,” Billy said quietly.
“You got it, boss,” Matt said before Billy stepped away. One of the men grabbed two pairs of pliers. He tossed one pair to the other and the two chuckled as they clicked them a few times.
“Please,” Sam begged in a whimper, tears running from his eyes. Billy heard it and looked down at the younger brother with a raised brow before walking over and staring down at him.
“This is because of your blood drinkin’ ways, Sam. Monsters get punished before they die,” he said cruelly. Sam blinked at him, tears breaking free and running back to his hair. He would be shaking his head if he could.
“I didn’t know,” he whispered brokenly. Billy scoffed.
“Right,” he answered before turning and walking out of the room. Matt and Skip broke Sam’s pinky fingers simultaneously. He only released a whimper when they broke his ring fingers simultaneously. But by the time they got to his middle fingers, he couldn’t help but release shouts of pain, no matter how much his head told him he deserved the punishment they were dealing him.
By the time they were done breaking all his fingers, Sam was officially crying. His chest hurt, his face hurt, and now his fingers hurt. He knew he wasn’t going to survive this, so why wouldn’t they just kill him already?
“Get this asshole up,” Billy said. Matt and Skip hauled the restraint chair he was sitting in back to a seated position. The shift left Sam lightheaded for a few moments. It was just long enough for Billy to step forward, grab a fist full of his hair to pull his head back and press a knife against his throat. Sam froze instantly.
“Let’s see what kind of things work on the demon boy, shall we?” Billy said. The blade bit into the soft skin at his throat, drawing blood from a very thin cut. Sam tried to control his breathing so the blade wouldn’t cut deeper than necessary. Sam swallowed nervously.
“I’m not a demon,” Sam defended weakly. Billy smirked.
“You sure as hell drink demon blood, and that shit ain’t human,” a voice said. Sam glanced at where the men were standing, getting nervous.
“One way to find out,” Billy said, pulling the blade from Sam’s neck. Placing the tip of the blade in the soft part of the muscle of Sam’s left bicep, Billy very slowly started to push the blade into his arm. A sadistic smirk played on Billy’s lips as he watched Sam clench his teeth to keep from yelling.
“Go ahead and scream Sam. No one is coming to save you,” Billy said before shoving the knife all the way through his arm. A short, rough scream escapes Sam followed by a series of grunts as he tries to control the pain. Billy reached a hand behind him and snapped his fingers. Another silver knife was placed in his open palm. Billy set it against Sam’s right bicep and slowly started to push the blade in once again. Sam grunted his way through the pain until Billy shoved the knife through the muscle. Another scream ripped from his throat. A ragged sob escaped him.
“Dean,” he muttered quietly. Billy’s sadistic smirk turned cruel.
“Dean ain’t coming to save you now, demon boy. He gave up on you. Something he should have done a long time ago,” he said. “Dean never loved you, Sammy. You were never his family. You were a waste of space and I can’t wait to rid the planet of you.”
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, silently agreeing with everything Billy said.
“Hey, Carl! Go get the salt,” Billy called out. Laughter came from the men behind him while the smallest of the group, the man who greeted him when he first woke up, stood up and walked over to one of the rusted cabinets. Opening the door with a screech, he pulled out a cylinder container and carried it over to where Sam lay strapped to the chair. Billy looked over at Carl with a smile.
“Would you like to do the honors?” he asked. Carl glared at Sam.
“With pleasure,” Carl muttered, opening the container. “You know, my sister was killed in one of those crazy ambushes that occurred when you released the Devil from his cage. They tore her apart in front of her two kids. Mauled her. We couldn’t even have a funeral for her.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, tears in his eyes. Carl shook his head.
“Not as sorry as you’re gonna be,” he growled. Carl poured some of the salt into his hand, then shoved it into Sam’s face, burying it into the open wounds from the beating he had taken earlier. Sam hissed at the burn that came from the salt hitting the open wounds then started to shout as Carl rubbed the salt further into the wounds, using his fingernails to dig it in and tear at the cuts. Carl even went as far as to dump some of the salt into Sam’s mouth.
Soon, he flipped the salt canister closed and turned away. Sam panted as the salt burned into his cuts, the heavy breathing sucking more granules deeper into the wounds. Carl walked over to the rusty rolling tray, set down the canister, and picked up the pliers that were used to break his fingers. Sam watched as Carl walked back toward him and started shaking his head. Instead of breaking his toes, however, Carl proceeded to tear off each one of Sam’s toenails.
Blood dripped down Sam’s toes. Just as Carl pulled the last one, a crack was heard, and a hoarse scream of pain erupted from Sam. Matt had taken a baseball bat to his ankle, no doubt shattering the bones there. A sob followed Sam’s scream, having not been able to move and his bones taking the full brunt of the attack. Carl looked over his shoulder at Matt, a smirk on his face. He reached over and moved Sam’s foot attached to the shattered ankle, causing him to scream again.
“Do the other ankle,” a voice said quietly. Matt and Carl looked over at Billy, who turned to look at the man who walked into the room. Paul, an older man with a stoic expression, slowly stepped into the room staring Billy down. Billy and Paul glared at each other for a long moment, then Billy nodded his agreement. The other two men shrugged, and Carl moved to the other side. Sam shook his head, a sob escaping his throat. Matt moved in front of Sam and swung. CRACK!
Sam’s blood-curdling scream echoed through the entire hall of the abandoned hospital, the acute agony that was piercing his legs causing him to blackout in the end. Billy sat watching the men hurt him without remorse. Matt and Carl looked up when they heard the back door open, causing Billy to look over his shoulder. Before Billy could speak, Paul did.
“Is the room ready?” Paul asked. Skip nodded. “Excellent. Get him up and out of that chair. We have somewhere to be.”
Matt and Skip men dropped Sam in a heap atop the old mattress before turning and walking out, locking the door to the small hospital room behind them. Sam moaned weakly as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but it was hard when his hands were practically useless. After a while, he was able to shift himself onto his shoulder at least and used his elbow to push himself up into a seated position.
Taking stock of his injuries, he realized they wrapped his arms where the knives were. His face felt swollen and warm, and he could only open one eye. Looking down at his feet, his ankles looked horrific, and he knew he wasn’t walking anywhere any time soon. He dropped his head against the wall and let out a weak sob as he thought about his predicament.
Once he was feeling stable, Sam opened his one eye and looked around the decaying room to see where he was. They had cleaned the room out, leaving him with the old, moldy mattress they dropped him on, an itchy blanket if you could call it that, and a bucket in the corner. No food, no water. No light of any kind.
He used his elbows to push himself into a kneeling position, and he crawled his way over to the door, trying to open it. Locked, as expected, but he had to try. He shuffled himself back to the mattress and settled himself as best he could.
Alone in that room, trapped with kidnappers who wanted nothing good for him, he let himself feel the emotions overwhelming him and gave in to the tears pressing against his eyes.
Sam woke up with a jolt when the metal door to the room he was locked in was suddenly kicked open. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. He started coughing almost immediately, causing the pain to ricochet through his body. A light moan escaped him.
“Wakey, wakey, demon boy…” he heard a voice say before one of them kicked him in the chest. He curled in on himself, trying to protect his already injured ribs. Even that small movement amped the pain up through his body.
“Get him up,” he heard Carl say. “Billy wants him in the showers.”
Sam felt arms grab him and start dragging him away from the mattress, cries of pain escaping his lips involuntarily when his broken ankles dropped and hit the floor. A hand slapped the back of his head.
“Shut the fuck up, demon,” one of them said. Opening the one good eye he had, he forced his head up to look around and see who had him. Matt and Skip. Sam did his best to try and remember where they were going in the abandoned hospital, but the pain he was in made him dizzy and he lost his way three turns in.
Matt and Skip dragged Sam through the halls of the decaying building to a locker room that had an old shower in it. In the shower was a large bucket filled to the rim with water. Matt and Skip forced Sam to his knees, ignoring his cries of pain. Billy stepped up and smiled at him.
“I always wondered if demons reacted to water torture, Sammy,” he said with an air of confidence. Billy held out a rosary made from red and black crystals, the crucifix on the end silver and well-loved. He held it in front of Sam’s face for a long moment, then dropped it into the bucket. “Especially if it’s an entire drum of holy water. Want to find out?”
“The name is Sam,” Sam gasped out defiantly. Billy simply laughed.
“Still mouthy till the end. Just like your brother,” Billy replied. Sam’s heart clenched painfully at the mention of his brother. Billy bent over to get eye to eye with Sam. “You know, he never really loved you, right Sammy? How could he love a monster like you? You ruined his life.”
Sam stared at Billy for a long moment before his eyes dropped, accepting the words. He already knew them. Billy saying them didn’t make them any less true.
“Maybe we should call him, see if he wants to come by and participate in this religious testing we’re doing,” he shouted, holding his hands out. Pulling out a cell phone, he held it in front of Sam’s face. Sam recognized it as his own.
“No calls from big bro, Sammy. He’s given up on you. He should have killed you when he had the chance,” Billy said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “No worries. I’ll make sure we take care of that for him.”
Sam’s heart clenched in his chest with every word Billy said, knowing they were true. Billy smirked as he stood up straight, watching how Sam wilted at his words. He wasn’t about to tell Sam his brother actually did call him – twice in fact. It just meant they needed to get their work done and get out of there before Dean started looking for his brother.
“Dunk him,” he ordered. Matt and Skip shoved Sam’s head under the water and held it there as he thrashed, trying to get himself out of the water. Soon, Sam ended up inhaling some of the water and slowly stopped thrashing around.
“Pull him out,” Billy said, and the men yanked Sam out of the water, shoving him to the ground. They watched as he coughed and gasped, trying to get air back into his lungs. Once he was able to take a breath of air uninhibited, Billy nodded at him. The men grabbed him and yanked him back up.
“No. No, please,” Sam begged quietly.
“Again,” Billy said, and the men shoved Sam’s head back under the water. Sam thrashed again, desperately trying to find relief from the cold water that his head was shoved into, desperately trying not to inhale the water into his lungs. Sooner than he liked, his body started to respond despite what his mind was telling him, and he inhaled water again.
Yanked out of the water and cast aside once again, Sam coughed hard and expelled whatever water he could from his lungs. Billy squatted down in front of him and watched with narrowed eyes.
“If your brother killed you when he should have, none of this would be happening right now,” he muttered. Sam’s eyes filled with tears, knowing how true Billy’s words were.
“I’ll say this, he ain’t smokin,” Matt said, glancing at Billy. Skip shook his head.
“Either your holy water ain’t worth a shit, or he’s a different kind of demon,” Skip replied, leaning against the wall. Billy gave the two men a look that he hoped would silence them. Skip simply smirked and shrugged. “Just saying.”
“Pick him up again,” Billy growled. Matt and Skip chuckled as they grabbed Sam again. They manhandled Sam back up to his knees, ignoring his cries of pain. Billy grabbed a fist full of Sam’s hair and lifted his head. Sam looked up at him with fear and resignation in his eyes. Billy simply stared at him for a few long moments then shoved his head away. “Dunk him.”
The men dunked Sam’s head back under the water, and Sam reflexively fought back but his heart simply wasn’t in it anymore. After all, he had nothing to live for now that Dean had given up on him.
The two dragged an unconscious Sam by his wrists through the halls of the hospital, laughing maniacally. Kicking the door open to the room that had become his cell, they dropped him unceremoniously onto the mattress. His body made a squelching sound when it landed, which caused the guys to laugh harder.
“You guys don’t feel even a little guilty about what we’re doing here?” they heard a voice say. Matt and Skip turned to see Paul leaning against the door jam, arms crossed over his chest. The dark look in his eyes made the two men stop laughing.
“C’mon, Paul,” Skip said with a shrug of his shoulders. “He started the fucking apocalypse. He was drinking demon blood.”
“Not to mention letting Lucifer out,” Matt said. Paul eyed the two men judgmentally.
“My point was you shouldn’t be enjoying it so much. We have a job to do, and we’ll get it done. But we don’t get to act like Neanderthals while doing it,” Paul said critically, studying the two men harshly. He raised a brow. “We’re taking a big risk here doing this, coming after Sam Winchester. Maybe you should remember that while you are celebrating.” The two had the decency to look chastised.
“Sorry, boss,” Skip said.
“Yeah, sorry, boss,” Matt agreed. Paul nodded thoughtfully.
“Go check the perimeter and make sure we haven’t been compromised,” he ordered quietly. The two men nodded and slipped from the room as silently as possible. While walking away, Skip looked back at Paul standing in the doorway, watching over Sam.
“I always forget that Paul is actually the one running this thing, not Billy,” he said with a shake of his head. Matt snorted.
“Billy only wishes he was as smart as Paul. I’d follow Paul anywhere. I’d just as well shoot Billy as work with him. Billy will be the one to get us killed,” Matt said. Skip nodded his head as they walked out the side door they used as their entrance.
“You ain’t kidding.”
Paul stood in the doorway and watched the unconscious man. It was hard to believe what he had done, what his brothers and sisters were able to manipulate him into doing with the help of the demons. It infuriated him, this civil war they had going on. All parties involved with the start of the apocalypse would be punished, including the human Sam Winchester, the vessel of Lucifer. He and his little band of outlawed misfits would prove that it wasn’t necessary to start something as drastic as the end of the world.
Carl walked up to where Paul was, looking into the room where Sam lay unconscious before turning his glowing blue eyes to his leader.
“We’re going to have to do something about Qaphsiel,” he said, voice monotone and emotionless. “He’s starting to get a little out of hand.”
“What do you mean?” Paul asked, his own glowing blue eyes looking at the vessel his partner had taken over.
“He just needs to be reminded where he stands in this line-up. Seraphim like him are not allowed to be ordering anyone around, making decisions, or changing plans,” Carl growled. Paul turned his eyes back to Sam and sighed heavily.
“Are you sure it wasn’t the vessel?” Paul asked.
“No, it was Qaphsiel. No one speaks that way other than him,” Carl retorted.
“It wasn’t my idea to bring him on in the first place, Gadiel,” he said pointedly. Carl’s glowing eyes narrowed slightly in indignation. “I’ll have a word with him, remind him of his place. Will that suffice?”
“Yes, for now,” Carl said. “What is it that you want me to do?”
“Prepare the chair for him,” Paul said, a head tilt toward Sam. “It’s time to finish this.”
An electrical buzzing sound roused Sam. He jolted, instantly aware of the ache in his body. The electrical buzzing sound happened again, causing Sam to lift his head and look around, only to see Paul standing next to him with a long metal rod. That was also when he realized he was attached to a metal chair, strapped down tightly with leather straps across his chest, legs, and arms. He eyed the man warily.
“You destroyed this planet, letting Lucifer out of his box. You know that, right?” Paul said quietly. Sam watched him apprehensively. “You damned the entire world.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Sam whispered softly. “I didn’t know what…”
“Don’t give me that shit!” Paul yelled suddenly, moving forward. Sam startled slightly, and his eyes widened as he eyed the cattle prod coming toward him.
“No, no, wait,” Sam begged, then a ragged scream ripped through his throat as Paul pushed the cattle prod into his hip and turned the power on. Electricity burned through his body, fire running through his nerves as his muscles jumped and spasmed for the seconds the cattle prod was active against his skin. Paul pulled the cattle prod away, leaving Sam panting and sweating harshly.
“You are the reason we’re all gonna die,” Paul said viciously, stabbing him again with the cattle prod, lighting up Sam’s body again. Sam’s body convulsed in the chair, his voice screaming in pain as electricity ran through him. Billy and Carl walked up on the duo, watching with narrowed eyes. When Paul pulled the electrical stick back again, Sam sobbed. Blood started to seep from his ears.
“Please,” Sam sobbed. Paul glanced at Carl who approached with a bucket of water and dumped it on Sam. The cold water startled him, seeping into his jeans and the leather straps holding him in place. Wide, scared eyes looked over at the men standing nearby and watching.
“Rot in hell,” Paul growled, before stabbing Sam a third time with the cattle prod, this time longer than the previous. Electricity arced over Sam and the metal chair he was tied to, the water steaming off his body. The scream he let out was loud and harsh, his muscles so tight they looked close to snapping. Against his broken bones, the pain had to be excruciating, but no one would stop Paul from his actions.
When Paul finally pulled the cattle prod away from Sam, the men in the room watched as water and blood dripped off his body. Paul was breathing heavily, lifting a hand to wipe at the sweat under his nose. Billy stared wide-eyed at Paul, shocked at the extreme measure he had just taken. Paul shot Carl a look, and Carl quickly moved forward to press two fingers to the pulse point in Sam’s neck. He waited a few seconds before looking at Paul and shaking his head.
“Start packing up your shit. We’re out of here before dark,” Paul breathed, throwing the cattle prod onto the metal counter. The clang echoed in the room.
When Sam opened his eyes again, he was standing on the beach. The sand felt warm between his toes, the ocean air tasted salty on his tongue.
“I can make it stop, you know,” Lucifer said. Sam looked to the right of himself and saw the Devil walking up to him. He had his pants rolled up to his calves, his hands in his pockets. Lucifer was looking out the ocean waves, his expression peaceful. Content. “You could stay here, be at peace.”
“No.”
“Dean can’t save you, Sammy. He won’t. He has abandoned you. Forgotten you. I’m here. I can save you, but I can’t find you with the ruins on your ribs; I can’t stop them unless you tell me where you are. If you won’t say yes, at least tell me where you are so I can stop them from hurting you.”
“No,” Sam said, shaking his head with fear in his eyes. Lucifer shook his head in sadness, placing a hand on the younger Winchester’s shoulder.
“You don’t have to say yes, Sam. Just let me protect you,” Lucifer all but begged.
“I said no! No!” Sam said, stepping away from Lucifer. The Devil frowned as he watched Sam for a moment. He then stepped forward, clamping his hands down on Sam’s shoulders.
“Sam, when I resurrect you, you’ll be back in their clutches. It will start all over again,” Lucifer said. He shook his head. “Why can’t you believe that I care about you? I wish you’d believe me,” Lucifer said with a sigh.
“Perhaps next time, you’ll have changed your mind.”
Sam was about to respond but didn’t have a chance. He suddenly felt as if he was falling, plummeting through space. When he felt himself land, he was back in his body. He opened his eyes and gasped a lungful of air, scaring the man in the room with him.
“What the fuck!?” Carl shouted, looking at a gasping Sam. Sam’s eyes darted all over the room, trying to figure out what was going on. He realized he had been untied from the chair and shoved into the corner of the room “How the hell are you still alive?”
Sam started coughing, trying to clear his throat. Carl ran out of the room and called out to the other guys, who came running in a flash. Paul, who was in front of the group, stalked up to Sam and held a knife to his throat. Sam pressed himself against the wall as tightly as he could to get away from the blade cutting into the sensitive skin of his throat.
“How are you breathing?” Paul asked coldly.
“Lucifer,” Sam gasped. “Lucifer refuses to let me die.”
“Lucifer won’t let you die?” Paul repeated, his tone questioning Sam’s sanity. Sam started to shake his head then stopped when he felt the knife dig deeper into his skin.
“Nn…no. Said I can’t say yes if I’m dead, so..” Sam said, his eyes lifting to look into Paul’s.
“Well, then,” Billy said, a malicious grin playing on his lips. “That changes everything.”
“Gentlemen,” Paul said, his voice low and even. “This just became a whole new thing.” The rest of the men looked at each other in surprise and uncertainty.
“If you want out, now is the time,” Paul said, turning his head to look at the small group of men.
“What the fuck? No, none of us are leaving,” Billy started. Paul interrupted him.
“You don’t have a say in how this goes. This is my op, Billy. Not yours. You work for me, so shut the fuck up,” Paul sneered, the first real bit of emotion he had shown since Sam had been taken. Carl had a look of satisfaction on his face while Billy held up his hands in a surrender motion and took a step back. Sam simply watched everything in silence, a knife still pressed solidly against his throat.
“I don’t know about this,” Matt said quietly. “How much penance does one need to make for starting the apocalypse?” That made Paul’s eyes narrow minutely.
“Well, I’m staying. I can’t wait to get my hands on him again,” Billy said gleefully. That made most of the men roll their eyes.
“I’m here till you call it,” Carl said to Paul.
“I’ll stay if you stay,” Skip said to Matt. “We always work together. You want to do this? We’ll do it together.” Matt then nodded.
“So, we’re all in then,” Paul said, a sadistic smirk coming to his lips. Sam suddenly got very nervous. “Excellent. Let’s see how many ways we can kill a traitor.”
Billy stepped forward first, a fist to Sam’s face knocking him to the side. The rest of the men took a step back to watch as Billy beat Sam: punching him in the face, swiftly kicking him in the chest, stomping on his hand. Skip shoved Billy out of the way a few minutes later, finding the courage to participate. Kicking Sam’s knee, he ignored the man’s screams as he destroyed Sam’s leg. Carl walked up and kicked Sam in the face, breaking his jaw. Paul stomped on Sam’s chest, breaking his ribs, and puncturing his lung. As Sam rolled over to try and protect his chest, another kick to his head snapped his neck, killing him instantly.
“Back again, I see,” Lucifer said, watching Sam reappear at the beach. He smirked watching Sam look around confused. When Sam finally looked at the Devil, his eyes grew sad.
“They killed me again?” he asked. Lucifer nodded.
“Are you ready to tell me where you are now?” the Devil asked. Sam shook his head.
“No. Never,” he answered quickly. Lucifer shrugged.
“You must enjoy the pain, Samuel. If that’s what you want, I could give it to you instead of these… people,” Lucifer said, snapping his fingers.
Sam opened his eyes to find himself being drug down one of the dirty hallways by his wrists. He turned his head to look around, then thrashed a bit to try and get loose. Skip and Matt looked over at him.
“Look who’s back with us!” Skip exclaimed, pinning Sam’s arm behind him. Sam cried out as he tried to get free but instead found himself hauled up to a standing position. “C’mon, demon boy. Time for you to walk for yourself.”
“Where are you taking me?” Sam demanded. The men laughed at him as they guided him to the kitchen on the first floor of the abandoned hospital. Finding the old refrigerator unit, Matt opened the door while Skip shoved him in there.
“Have a nice night!” he sang before Matt shut the door. Sam launched himself at the door only to find that there was no handle to get out from inside the refrigerator unit. If he remembered correctly, it was also an air-tight unit as well. With no power, it was pitch black in the small room. Sam started to panic, banging on the refrigerator door.
“Let me out of here! Let me out!!” he shouted. He tried to shove the door open, run his fingers along the walls to find a weakness, and even find a vent somewhere that he could possibly break through. Nothing. He was alone in a room with limited air supply and no light. It was only a matter of time before the oxygen would run out and he would suffocate. His panic only grew.
“God, Dean, I’m so sorry. Please. Please find me,” he begged, tears forming in his eyes again as he panted. His panic attack was short-lived though, as he felt himself grow tired.
Sam sat on the grass near a lake in the woods. Birds chirped in the woods around him, the breeze rustling the leaves. The water rippled slightly as fish came to the surface and ate the bugs that danced across the top of the water. When Sam ran his fingers over the grass, he felt the individual blades. They were sun-warmed and smelled fresh.
“How did you end up here this time, Sam?” Lucifer asked, sitting down next to him. Sam immediately stiffened. The two men looked over the water until Lucifer turned and looked at Sam. Sam avoided his eyes.
“I asked you a question,” the Devil said, his voice sharpening slightly. Sam swallowed.
“They locked me in a refrigerator,” he said softly. Lucifer chuckled.
“Those guys are creative, I’ll give them that,” he said. They sat quietly for a moment together. “I’m betting if I send you back right now, you’d still be in that refrigerator. Care to find out?”
Sam was about to answer when Lucifer touched his head with two fingers.
Sam opened his eyes and gasped but didn’t see anything but darkness. He felt his lungs tighten in his chest, desperate for air that wasn’t there. Slowly, he felt himself drift off once again, his heart thudding hard in his chest.
“And again, so quickly. So, it was the fridge then?” Lucifer said with a frown. Sam looked at his hands then at Lucifer with wide, scared eyes.
“And you haven’t figured out who really has you yet, have you?” he said with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. Sam’s expression turned confused.
“What?” he breathed. Lucifer shook his head.
“Nope, I’m not giving you any clues. That would ruin the game. You have to figure it out yourself,” he said, holding a hand up. Sam suddenly got angry.
“This isn’t a game! This is… This is torture!” he shouted. Lucifer suddenly glared at Sam.
“Yes,” he said stonily. “It’s absolutely torture. It’s not something you should be dealing with and if you told me where you were, Samuel, I would be there to stop it and you wouldn’t be in pain anymore. I’ve already told you how much I care about you. What more do I have to do?”
Sam swallowed nervously, eyeing Lucifer with fear.
“You are my one true vessel, Samuel. I can protect you if you tell me where you are,” Lucifer reiterated. Sam shook his head.
“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know where I am,” he replied quietly. Lucifer sighed disappointedly.
“Well, then,” the Devil said. He snapped his fingers and Sam went back.
Sam gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut when he came to, trying to hold his breath. He knew there was no air in the fridge he was in, and he didn’t want to die right away. He wanted to see if he could find an emergency exit button or something before he passed out again. He crawled toward the door and felt once again for a handle. It was only a minute later that he was unconscious on the ground.
It went on like that for hours: waking, gasping for air and suffocating inside the refrigerator. Until one time when he woke up the door was open. When he gasped, he inhaled air and his lungs expanded painfully. Sam panted, his hands clawing at his chest as four men stared down at him. He barely followed what was being said above him.
“What did I tell ya?” Billy asked, staring down at Sam.
“What the actual fuck, dude,” another voice said. “How in the hell did you get Sam Winchester away from his brother?”
“Dean gave up on him. Left him out on his own, so we plucked him up and have been keeping him here for a few weeks now,” Billy responded. Sam started coughing, rolling on his side.
“And you’re telling me he can’t die? Like, at all?” a woman’s voice said.
“Nope. Every time we’ve killed him, he’s come back. Said Lucifer doesn’t want him dead. How fucked up is that?” Billy said. Sam had started to push himself up on all fours when Billy pushed the barrel of his gun to the side of his head. “Get up slowly, demon boy, and put your hands behind your back.”
Sam frowned, doing what he said. Once his hands were behind his back, he felt the cold of metal handcuffs being snapped tightly around his wrists. The gun was moved from the side of his head to the base of his skull.
“Walk,” Billy said, shoving the gun against him. Sam darted a glance at the other people with Billy, realizing the two men and a woman who were with him were not the people who were there before. “I said, walk demon boy!”
Sam started walking, following one of the men to a wing of the hospital he hadn’t been to before. His nerves started to get the best of him, realizing this couldn’t be a good thing. Once they entered a room, he realized there was a chair in the middle of it with chains to hold him and a tray of items he was sure were going to be used against him. He tried to back out of the room. He got a gunshot to the thigh for his effort.
Sam collapsed with a shout of pain, blood seeping through his jeans from the gunshot wound.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Billy? You wanna wake the others up?” the female shouted at him, looking over her shoulder in a panic. The two men he didn’t know came over and dragged Sam over to the chair.
“They are asleep on the other side of the hospital, they didn’t hear a thing,” Billy said with a laugh. The woman watched as Sam was chained to the chair.
“So, who wants to go first?” Billy asked, waving a hand over the items. One of the men walked over and grabbed a metal rod. He tested the weight of it against his opposite hand as he walked over to where Sam was now sitting. Sam eyed the man warily. With a sadistic smile, he swung the rod at Sam’s chest. A loud crack was heard throughout the room. Billy laughed as Sam gasped for breath. He set his gun aside and walked over to Sam, punching him in the face. Billy and one man then took turns hitting Sam, leaving the woman and a third man standing by to watch. They shared a look of concern.
“You two don’t want to take a turn?” Billy asked.
“Oh, no. This is all you two,” the woman said, holding her hands up. “I’m perfectly good watching.”
“What about him?” Billy said, nodding to the other person in the room who had yet to speak a word. The woman turned and looked at the man standing near her. He stared stoically at Billy and the other man.
“I’m gonna go with no. Jackson’s gonna watch too,” the woman said with a smirk. Billy shook his head with a smirk.
“What, he doesn’t talk?” Billy asked.
“No… not so much,” the woman said.
“Suit yourself,” Billy shrugged, walking back over to the table of tools. Billy picked up the silver blade and tested its weight in his hand. The other man walked over and threw the rod down. Sam gasped for breath as he rested his chin on his chest.
“Watch this,” Billy said, walking back over to Sam. The woman moved to stand in front of Jackson.
“Y’all ready for this?” he asked. Billy grabbed a handful of hair, then pulled the blade clean through the strands. His laugh echoed through the room as he sprinkled the cut hair over Sam’s body. Billy continued to cut Sam’s hair off until most of the long locks were gone. The haphazard haircut left Sam crying silent tears.
“And now for the grand finale,” Billy said, grabbing Sam’s head and pulling it back. The motion exposed Sam’s throat to the room. Sam’s one eye that wasn’t swollen shut widened as he realized what was about to happen
“This is how we take care of traitors,” the man said, taking the knife and slicing it across Sam’s throat, blood spurting forward in a spray. Sam choked on his own blood, his mouth gaping. The blood spilled down his front, coating himself in the dark blood.
“What the fuck is going on here!?” Carl shouted as he walked into the room, Paul hot on his heels. Billy smirked over at Carl and Paul, the sounds of Sam still choking echoing in the room.
“I’m showing my friends what’s up with the demon boy,” Billy said proudly, his hands displaying the now twitching corpse of Sam Winchester. The blood from his throat glistened in the low light as it continued its slow descent from his slit throat to the floor. With a growl of frustration, Paul stormed up to him and punched him in the face with inhuman force. Billy staggered back in surprise, a hand cupping his now bleeding nose. He looked up at Paul with shock in his wide eyes.
“You have put us in a great deal of danger bringing outsiders into our operation,” Paul said, his voice low and controlled, his eyes glowing a violently bright blue. Billy’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and he straightened. It was like another force had taken over his body.
“I did no such thing,” his voice thundered angrily, echoing loudly through the room. “These people are like us and want judgement for the wrongs Samuel has committed against us.” The room crackled with ethereal energy as the men stood up to each other. The other hunters in the room moved away from the men, eyeing them warily.
“Take the demon boy and hang him in his room by his wrists and watch him. Make sure no one else goes into the room,” Carl demanded of Billy. Billy’s bright blue eyes narrowed on the man.
“It is not you who is my superior, therefore you are not giving me any orders,” Billy seethed.
“He is my second in command, and you will do as he says,” Paul growled.
“Is that so?” Billy growled. Paul stepped forward.
“Do it now, Qaphsiel,” he said firmly. The group watched as Billy touched Sam’s body, the ties instantly falling away from his body with a sizzle of a blue-green glow. Billy then grabbed Sam by what was left of his hair and dragged his body away from the room, a trail of blood being left behind.
“I…I thought his name was Billy,” the man who had beaten Sam said weakly. Carl and Paul turned and looked at the others standing in the room. Carl looked at the two standing there and narrowed his eyes.
“Wasn’t there three of you?” he questioned. The woman shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.
“No. It was always just the two of us,” she said with disdain. Paul and Carl shared a look with each other. “Why? What happens now?”
Bobby walked over to his computer and turned the machine on, sitting back and sipping on his coffee while the thing booted up. He was still adamantly against using this kind of technology, but if he wanted to be more involved with the rest of the world, he had to step it up and get with it. So, he went and got one and he used it for some research and to keep up with email.
Once the machine was fully up and running, Bobby opened his internet browser and went to his email. Most of what he got was junk mail anyway, and he didn’t think he’d get much different that morning until he spotted an unusual-looking subject line. You should know about this Curious, he clicked on the email. Attached to it was a video clip. The body of the email was short and concise: “They’ve got Sam.”
Bobby clicked on the video clip, and it was obvious it was taken in secret. Inside the room was a group of men laughing and carrying on, surrounding someone who was tied to a chair. The one in the chair looked awful: emaciated and beaten up badly.
“Y’all ready for this?” the man behind the restrained guy asked. He received cheers from the group. The man grabbed a handful of hair and yanked the restrained guy’s head up and Bobby gasped as he recognized Sam’s face covered in swollen bruises and obviously infected cuts.
“This is how we take care of traitors,” the man said. Then he took a knife and sliced it across Sam’s throat, blood spurting forward in a spray that reached where the camera was. Bobby immediately turned and vomited into the trash can next to his desk, heaving up the coffee he had just been sipping on. Soon, his vomiting turned into dry heaves, his heart and his chest hurting with the amount of grief that overcame him as he realized that he just witnessed Sam’s death.
Turning away from his desk and computer, Bobby stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed his phone. As soon as Dean answered, Bobby was all but begging.
“Tell me Sam is with you,” Bobby pleaded in a sob.
“Bobby?” Dean questioned.
“Tell me!!” Bobby shouted.
“No. Sam and I haven’t been together in weeks, you know this. Why, what’s going…”
“Get your ass to my place. Now.”
Hours later, Dean put the car in park in front of Bobby’s place, a puff of dust surrounding the Impala from the gravel. He climbed out of the car and stretched his back out before slamming the door shut behind him. Climbing the stairs to the front door, Bobby met him on the porch.
“Where the hell is Sam?” Bobby ground out, grabbing Dean by the arm. Dean looked at the older man confused.
“What’s going on Bobby?” Dean asked. Bobby shook Dean.
“Where the hell is he?!” Bobby shouted. Dean swallowed, putting his hands on his hips. Bobby dropped his hand, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know, Bobby. I haven’t spoken to him in weeks. Last time I talked to him, he wanted to get back together, and I told him we were better off working apart,” Dean explained, turning, and looking away.
Title – Of Nightmares and Sandalwood Pairings – Y/N & Dean Word Count – 3,928 Warnings – Do Nightmares count? Cursing, arguing SPNMixedBingo Square filled – Early Morning, Touch Starvation, Bed Sharing Prompt: “I don’t sleep. My mind has the scary capability of being dark and demented.” “you are afraid of your dreams?” “Yes,” he said quietly.
She doesn’t know what wakes her up, only that something was off, and she couldn’t sleep until she fixed whatever it was. Rolling over and looking at the clock, Y/N realized that it was just before three in the morning.
With a sleepy groan, Y/N climbed out of her warm bed. She reached for a flannel (undoubtedly stolen from one of the brothers, she’s certain) to pull over her tank top and shorts. She slipped on her flip-flops before wandering out of her room to see what was out of the ordinary.
The kitchen was dark, the dishes sitting in the drying rack, so it wasn’t that. Sam’s bedroom door was closed, and she could hear his gentle snores behind it, so she knew it wasn’t him. The bathroom light was off and the door was open, so no one was there.
Dean’s bedroom door, however, was open. Curiously, Y/N walked toward his room and looked inside to find his bed unmade and empty. Frowning, she walked down the hall to the library in search of the older Winchester. The expansive room designated as the ‘Dean Cave’ was dark and empty, as was the library. It wasn’t until she heard familiar music coming from the garage that she got the idea to check there.
Opening the door quietly, she spotted him. He was standing barefooted in the garage with the hood of Baby up, dressed in dirty jeans and a black t-shirt that fit snugly over his chest and shoulders. His expression held a world of unspeakable pain that he couldn’t seem to hide as he focused on some invisible problem with the classic car, his mind a million miles away.
Y/N frowned as she stared thoughtfully at him, knowing something wasn’t right.
Gently closing the door behind her, she walked up to the cooler Dean had a beer sweating on. She picked up the bottle and took a long pull from it, switching off the music with her other hand. The entire garage instantly plunged into silence, causing Dean to startle. He turned on her quickly, pulling his loaded gun from the small of his back and pointing it at her chest in less than a second. His fierce eyes narrowed, a controlled fury there she hadn’t seen in over a decade.
She swallowed the hoppy beer, carefully set the bottle back down, and gently leaned against one of the older cars that were parked in the garage.
“Morning, stranger,” she muttered, a tired frown on her face. Dean grunted at her as he pulled the loaded gun away from her direction, uncocking it and carefully putting it back where it came from.
“Dammit, Y/N. I could have killed you,” he muttered gloomily. Y/N simply raised a brow at him. “And quit drinking my beer!”
“Why are you armed inside the bunker? You know it’s safe here, Dee,” she answered instead. Dean intentionally threw her a dirty look before leaning against the car again, looking down into the engine block. He willfully refused to properly answer her. She tried again.
“Hey, what’s going on?” she asked gently. Dean tried to ignore her once again. Y/N frowned at him. She looked at the Impala, remaining quiet for a few minutes. Dean didn’t move. After a while, Y/N started to shiver, so she pulled the flannel she had on around herself tighter.
“It’s really late. Or early, depending on how you look at it. Why are you awake right now?” she asked. Dean snapped and slapped the side of the car, causing a loud sound to echo in the garage and Y/N to jump.
“What’s with the twenty questions, Y/N? Can’t you tell I want to be left alone? Can’t you get the hint?” Dean shouted furiously at her. Y/N looked down and away, away from his angry face. She felt her emotions start to overwhelm her again, but she swallowed down her frustration. She refused to be deterred. His deflection wasn’t going to work this time. She started picking at the sleeves of the flannel she wore
“No,” she said quietly.
“What?!” Dean snapped at her. Y/N carefully lifted her eyes and stared thoughtfully at Dean, her face not giving away her emotions.
“I said, no,” she repeated herself. “I can’t just go back inside and act like I don’t know that you are out here hurting. I want to give you your space and let you take out your frustration or whatever it is you are feeling on Baby, but I just can’t walk away this time.” She shrugged, looking away.
“Sorry,” she said distantly, as she diligently studied the car she was leaning on. Dean stared at her, his hands on his hips. He undoubtedly knew he was being cruel. But it was his typical reaction to lash out and push people away. After a long minute, he released a long, heavy sigh.
“I had a nightmare,” he said quietly. Y/N looked over at him silently, encouraging him to continue speaking. She watched as Dean walked over to the Impala and rested his hands on the end of the car, leaning over the engine block yet again.
“What was it about?” Y/N asked, her voice soft in the large room. Dean gently shook his head, staring down at the car once again. “Must have been pretty bad if it’s keeping you awake right now.”
“I’m fine, Y/N,” Dean growled impatiently. Y/N bit her tongue. Yeah, you look terrific. Instead, she just watched as he stared sightlessly at the engine again.
“Why don’t we go inside? I’ll make us something to eat, or maybe we can just grab a few drinks,” she politely suggested. Anything to get that icy cold look off his face. “We don’t even have to talk about the nightmare unless you want to.” Dean remained silent, but the twitch in his jaw showed her that the man heard her. After a few minutes of silence and Y/N sighed.
“Dean, come on. Work with me here,” Y/N started, standing up straight to face the older brother. That’s when Dean snapped again. He reached up and slammed the hood of the Impala, much rougher than he typically would. He turned toward her and growled.
“I’ve about had it with you, Y/N, and your feel-good bullshit. I just said I didn’t want to talk to you, and I don’t want to talk about it,” he shouted. Y/N wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore, only that she was done with him and with his bullshit.
“Stop fucking yelling at me!” Y/N finally shouted back, causing Dean to shut his mouth with an audible click. “Jesus Christ, Dean. What the hell is your problem? Not everyone is your fucking enemy or is trying to hurt you. I’m not trying to fucking hurt you!”
Dean stared at her, his breathing harsh through his nose as he tried to control his temper and his raging emotions as he watched Y/N finally lose her temper with him.
“I woke up, and I didn’t know why. I was merely checking on you and Sam and noticed you were missing. I’m so sorry that my checking on you was such a fucking inconvenience to you, Dean!” she bellowed snidely. The two glared defiantly at each other for a long minute. Finally, Y/N held her hands up in a surrender motion.
“You know what,” she started, her voice low and monotone. “Forget I said anything. You want to stay out here and wallow in self-pity and whatever bullshit you got rolling around in that head of yours instead of talking to me about it, be my guest. I’m done.” Y/N turned on her heel and walked toward the door out of the garage and back into the main part of the bunker.
For reasons Dean didn’t understand, he instantly started to panic.
“Y/N,” he said cautiously to get her attention.
“Go fuck yourself,” she muttered fiercely, simply waving her hand at him. She swung open the door, moments away from crossing the threshold. His panic grew, and he intuitively knew if he didn’t get her attention back now, he would be doing irrevocable damage to their relationship.
“Y/N!!”
That stopped her. Dean’s voice sounded agonized, hurt, and broken down. But at this point, so was Y/N. She turned back to look at him, one foot inside the pleasant warmth of the bunker and ready to forget this even happened.
“What?!” she snapped at him; her kind eyes narrowed and glassy.
“I don’t sleep,” Dean said. Y/N’s expression changed from one of hurt and anger to one of confusion.
“What?” she bit out, confusion coloring her tone this time.
“I don’t sleep. After my nightmares, I don’t sleep. My subconscious mind has the scary capability of being dark and demented,” he gently explained, his eyes anywhere but on her face. “Once it starts, I can’t seem to stop it, so it’s just safer to… not sleep.”
“You’re afraid of your dreams?” Y/N asked softly, her heartbreaking for him.
“Yeah. Sure,” he said quietly. His weight subtly shifted between his bare feet.
Y/N watched him for a long moment, then walked back into the garage. The door slammed shut behind her, but she ignored it. Dean noticed she was walking toward him and shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling incredibly vulnerable now. Once she was next to him, Y/N carefully wrapped her hand around his arm, slid it down his soft skin, and held onto his wrist. She gently rested her head against his shoulder as she pulled his left hand out of his pocket and intertwined their fingers together.
Dean turned his head to look cautiously at her, his mask sliding into place so she couldn’t read what he was thinking. She didn’t need to see his face to feel his trepidation, his worry, his comfort at her closeness, or his self-loathing for feeling he didn’t deserve it. Y/N lifted her Y/C/E to Dean’s green ones.
“Do you trust me?” she asked quietly.
“You know I do,” Dean answered just as softly. Y/N offered a tiny smile before gently pulling him with her toward the direction of the door inside.
“Come on,” she whispered, tilting her head toward the door. Y/N squeezed his hand, then took a step back, away from the Impala. “Come on, Dean.”
Dean watched her try to pull him away from the car, the garage, his sanctuary, with pain-filled eyes before he closed them and sighed brokenly. It was then he finally moved and let Y/N pull him toward the door back inside the bunker. She turned away from him to see where she was going, but once they were down the stairs, she turned and looked back at him. When she looked back at Dean, he had his eyes fixed on the ground.
Y/N stepped closer to him, still leading them through the bunker, carefully wrapping his arm around her waist. She felt more than heard his breath catch as his fingers brushed against the bare skin of her belly from where her tank top rode up a little. He naturally tried pulling away, but she wouldn’t let him. He genuinely needed comfort, and she wasn’t going to let him deny himself that. Once they were in front of his room, she turned to look at him.
“I’m going to run to my room for a moment to grab some things. Be in bed by the time I get back,” she explained softly to him. Dean shook his head and instantly started to protest, which caused Y/N to hold up a dainty finger to his lips. His eyes opened fractionally at her soft touch.
“I wasn’t asking,” she said knowingly. She stared resolutely into Dean’s eyes until she saw when he relented, then nodded her head. She squeezed his hand before she turned and walked across the hall and down a few doors to where her room was. Once inside, she moved quickly. She grabbed her sandalwood and vanilla lotion, tucked her pillow under her arm, and turned off her diffuser. She emptied the water and oils she had in the machine already, wiping it out with a microfiber cloth.
Opening the small wooden case of oils, she chose a few scents she thought Dean would find calming: Sandalwood, Cinnamon, and Caramel. She put drops of the oils in the diffuser and grabbed a bottle of water to fill it with once she got back into Dean’s room. She grabbed her sound machine then left her room, using her elbow to flip off her light.
Walking into Dean’s room, she was pleased to see he had done what she had asked. He was lying on his back. His thick blanket was pulled to his waist, and he was staring wistfully at the ceiling. The room was dim and cool, the only light coming from a lamp on his nightstand. Y/N walked over to the bed and dropped the pillow from under her arm onto his bed. Dean turned his head to watch her.
Without saying a word, she went over to where his desk was and set all her items down. The first thing she did was plug in the diffuser. She set the machine on his desk, removed the lid, and opened the bottle of water in her hand. Filling the basin to the top of the waterline, she put the lid back on it. She then set it to run steadily throughout the next 8 hours. Sealing the water bottle once again, she moved to her next task.
She then turned her noise machine on to the sound of white noise. Typically, she’d fall asleep to the sound of ocean waves or rainfall, but this was for Dean. White noise was the easiest thing to choose. She set the volume to low: loud enough to be heard over the noise of the diffuser but quiet enough to be in the background and not keep them awake. She picked up her lotion and turned to face Dean.
“Take your shirt off and turn over on your belly,” she said softly, walking over to the bed. Dean stared at her for a long moment, wanting to argue. “Just trust me, Dean.”
With a huff, he sat up and pulled his t-shirt over his head. He tossed it aside and rolled over onto his belly, and settled down on his bed. Y/N grabbed her pillow and put it up next to Dean, so she had something to lay on, pulled off her flannel and tossed it over the chair, climbed up onto the bed, and straddled his hips. She felt Dean stiffen as her body touched his, and she instantly hushed him.
“It’s okay, Dean. Close your eyes and take deep breaths,” Y/N quietly said. Dean heard a soft ‘click’ of the lotion bottle opening, then silence. Slowly, Dean willingly let his eyes drift shut. He inhaled slowly, and the spicy scent that filled his senses started calming him almost instantly. When he exhaled, he felt Y/N’s soft hands run over his tense shoulders.
“That’s it,” he heard her say, her voice almost melodic. “Take some deep breaths. Inhale slowly, exhale just as slow. Let the sandalwood and cinnamon fill your senses, calm your mind, ease your spirits.”
Her hands started out gentle as they ran over his shoulders and up to his neck, slowly growing in pressure. Her hands would find a knot in his muscles and spend some extra time there, focusing on the spot and adding some careful pressure there to ease the tension. The entire time he continued his deep breaths, focusing on keeping them even and steady.
“I want you to think about something good, something that brings you joy,” Y/N said as her hands ran up and down his spine. “Think about a moment when you remember being completely at ease and relaxed. Who was there with you, where you were, what you were doing…”
Dean immediately thought of the evening a few nights ago, when the three of them were sitting around the library just hanging out and chatting. They were sharing a bottle of whiskey they found created by Metallica. When Dean found out about it, he was so excited he bought four bottles. They opened one immediately when they got home and just sat around the table and talked about music while passing the bottle around. He found out just how much music they all actually had in common that same night.
“Now take a deep breath, nice and slow…”
He inhaled, and the scent of vanilla filled his nose with the spicy scent of wood and cinnamon. He felt pressure on the base of his skull now, easing tension he didn’t even know he had there. He took a deep breath and released a soft moan of pleasure as he exhaled, turning his head so that Y/N had easy access to his neck and skull.
“Just breathe easy and let the tension go… Focus on the good and release the tension in your body…”
Her warm hands felt so good sliding across his skin, putting pressure on different parts of his body that were sore. He was feeling peaceful with the warmth of her body close to his, and he felt himself drifting…
“Take a deep breath, Dean. In through your nose and release slowly out through your mouth,” he heard her soft voice say next to his ear. He inhaled slowly, and when he exhaled, he felt her warm hands put solid pressure on the muscles next to his spine, moving slowly upward. He felt the vertebra give, popping deeply and releasing tension as her hands moved their way from his lower back upward to his shoulders. It pulled a deep moan from him as his muscles gave a slight twitch before relaxing under her touch. Once she had finished the pressure trail up to his neck, she ran her hands gently up and down his spine.
“There you go,” he heard her soft voice mumble gently to him. “Just breathe deeply, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Let the scent of sandalwood and vanilla calm you. Clear your mind of any thoughts and rest.”
Dean felt the pressure again, but this time against his neck and skull. Y/N pressed her thumbs at the base of his skull, pushing down against the soft spot at the center and brushing outward to where the occipital nerve rests on each side. At first, he tensed up again, but remembering what she said about breathing, he forced himself to relax and continue the deep breathing. Soon, the soft touches grew deeper and harder, gently pressing the tension away.
With everything that was happening all at once, he caught himself slowly growing tired, and sleep danced on the edges of his consciousness. He fought the urge to slip away until he heard Y/N start humming above him. Just as he floated off to sleep, he realized she was humming Hey Jude.
When Y/N realized that he was asleep, she intentionally slowed her hands against his skin until she stopped moving altogether. Moving as slow as she possibly could, she gracefully slid off Dean’s body and reached over to turn off the light. The room instantly dropped into complete darkness, and Y/N used her hands to guide her to the opposite side of Dean’s bed. With careful movements, she slid under the covers and curled up next to Dean.
She ran her fingers through his short hair, running her fingers down his back to where the sheet and blanket rested at his waist. Using careful and slow movements, she gently pulled them up over them both. Once they were properly covered, she leaned over and tenderly kissed Dean on the temple.
“Good night, Dee,” she whispered almost silently into his ear before snuggling up against him. With a deep sigh, Y/N felt herself relax off to sleep herself.
The next time he became aware of his surroundings, he felt a pleasant warmth pressed up against him. It was in his arms. He took a deep breath, and the spicy scent that calmed him the night before was still lingering nearby. He realized, quite suddenly, that he had slept soundly the rest of the night after a horrific nightmare.
He slowly opened his eyes, looking down to find Y/N wrapped in his arms. Her head rested peacefully on her pillow, her back pressed against his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist. Dean stared at her, uncertain what to think.
“Stop thinking so hard, it’s still too early,” Y/N muttered, her voice rough with sleep. She snuggled down into her pillow, her body pressing closer against Dean’s.
“I slept through the night last night,” he said softly. Y/N smiled; eyes still closed.
“Yes, you did,” she said.
“I haven’t slept through the night after a nightmare. Ever,” Dean said thoughtfully. “How did you do that?”
“Hmmm?” Y/N hummed sleepily, rolling over and gently pushing at Dean. He promptly turned onto his back and let Y/N curl up on his chest; her hand curled up next to her face, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. Dean wrapped his arm around her, running his fingers up and down her arm. Y/N smiled gently at his touch.
“I said, how did you get me to sleep through the night after a nightmare?” he asked softly, tilting his head toward hers. Y/N pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Is the diffuser still running?” she questioned. When Dean didn’t respond, she repeated herself. Dean lifted his head and looked around his room until his eyes fell on a small machine shooting a mist into the air on his desk. When he asked if that was it, he confirmed it was still going.
“Then it’s not time to get up yet. Go back to sleep, I’ll explain it later,” Y/N said. Dean looked down at the woman in his arms and let a smile play on his lips. He carefully brushed a kiss on her forehead then snuggled down under the blankets and closed his eyes.
Maybe he should have nightmares more often if it meant he got to wake up with Y/N in his arms, asleep in his bed. Maybe he could have this after all, and it would be okay. Maybe there was something more here than he originally thought. Maybe… Dean felt a hand against his cheek, causing his eyes to open, then slip shut as he felt Y/N’s soft lips press against his in a tender kiss.
Their mouths moved against each other gently, cautiously feeling each other’s lips against each other sweetly. Just as Dean was about to deepen the chaste kiss, Y/N pulled away and slowly opened her eyes to stare at him.
“You’re thinking too much. Go back to sleep,” she whispered, gently brushing a delicate fingertip over his mouth. “I’ll answer all of your questions in a few hours. Then maybe we can try this again.”
Dean watched as Y/N shot him a sleepy grin, then settled back down against him. He blinked once, then twice, then broke into a huge smile. Tightening his arms around the extraordinary woman in his bed, he buried himself into her and the delicious warmth of her skin. There was a promise of something exciting and new waiting for him after they woke up once again.
If all his nightmares had this kind of outcome, he’d take all the night terrors he could get.
Request by @jessicalynnann: What about one where the reader and Eileen get super drunk while the boys are out and Eileen calls Dean to come get the reader and she is all giggly and flirts with Dean and it is fluffy and just cute.
Summary: You and Eileen have a girls night that end with you confessing something to the man that you love.
The brothers are gone for the night, and that means you and Eileen have the entire bunker to yourselves. Dean has the good alcohol stashed in the library where Sam won’t be able to find it, but you know exactly where it is. You’ll have to buy him more bottles if you and Eileen are going to drink them all. You’re seated at the table with your feet resting on the wood surface, and Eileen is seated on the floor next to you.
“You know what we never talk about?” you ask with a slight slur.
“What?”
She may be drunk, but she can still read your lips. Plus, her hearing aid helps with some of the sound.
“You and Sam. You two are so cute together,” you giggle. “You need to make a move because he’s not getting any younger.”
“We’re just friends,” she says and takes another sip of her bottle.
“Yeah, friends who need to fuck,” you laugh.
“Okay, what about you and Dean?”
She gets up on wobbly legs and takes a seat next to you so she can see you and read your lips better.
“What about me and Dean?”
”Come on, you two are practically dating.”
She’s right. You and Dean are so close and have kissed each other before, but nothing has gone beyond that. He treats you like a girlfriend without the sex and vice versa. It’s kind of annoying since all you want to do is rip his clothes off, but he hasn’t had the “talk” with you yet. It wouldn’t be hard if he didn’t make it so damn difficult to get over.
“Dean isn’t into me like that,” you shake your head.
“Yeah, okay,” she scoffs. She looks at the half-drunk bottle and sets it down with a sigh. “I’m going to go to bed.”
“What? No, stay with me,” you whine.
“I’m seeing two of you right now,” she chuckles. “That’s me saying I need to stop. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Fine. I don’t mind drinking by myself.”
Eileen wobbles away to her room, leaving you alone in the library. You’re almost done with Dean’s most expensive bottle when you hear the metal door to the Bunker open. You look to the right and see Sam and Dean walk down, and your eyes widen with happiness.
“Sammy! Dean! You’re back!” you giggle loudly.
“Are you drunk?” Sam chuckles.
“I don’t know, am I?”
“Okay, where is Eileen?”
“In her room. Are you going to tuck her in? Kiss her goodnight?” you giggle.
Sam doesn’t say anything but make eye contact with his brother. Sam leaves the party and heads to Eileen’s room to see if she is okay.
“Are you drinking my good stuff?” Dean gasps, looking at the bottle in your hand.
“Yeah-huh,” you nod and remove your legs from the table. “Don’t worry, Dean, I’ll get you more.”
“You better. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
“No,” you huff and slide the bottle from you. “I’m mad at you.”
“Why?”
“Because you won’t tell me how you feel. If it were up to me, I’d fuck you right here and now.”
Dean’s eyes get a little darker, but he won’t say what’s really on his mind. You’re not in the right mind for this conversation, so the best thing he can do is take you to bed and talk with you tomorrow about this.
“Okay, come on, let’s go to bed.”
Dean reaches for you and helps you to your feet, but you don’t want to go to bed just yet. You fling yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Let’s stay here. No one is here to watch,” you giggle.
“No, I’m taking you to bed. Don’t make this harder for me.”
“The only thing on you that I want hard is your dick.”
Dean chuckles and nods impatiently, knowing that he is going to have to carry you to bed if you’re not going to walk yourself. Without thinking, he bends down and grabs your legs, lifting you up and over his shoulder. You squeal in surprise, hitting his back with almost dead-weight, laughing when he starts to walk toward your room.
“You have such a perfect ass, Dean.”
You slap his ass, making Dean roll his eyes in resistance. It is taking everything in him not to throw you down and fuck you right here and now. He has been holding himself back since the moment he laid his eyes on you; he can wait a night. He takes you to your room and sets you gently on the bed so he doesn’t hurt you.
“Dean, please stay,” you say breathlessly.
You keep trying to get him to stay, but he keeps dodging your efforts to stay. It gets to the point where it pisses him off just how much he can’t take advantage of you. He pulls away from you completely and holds your shoulders, staring deeply into your eyes.
“Y/N, listen to me. I want nothing more than to get you into bed. If you still want me when you’re sober, then I will spend all night making sure you know how much I love you,” he whispers the last part.
“You are a beautiful white man, Dean Winchester.”
“Okay,” he sighs.
“What woman wouldn’t want you? You’re the best man ever.”
“Sleep tight. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Dean tucks you into bed, and as soon as you feel the covers over you, you fall into a deep sleep. Dean kisses your forehead and leaves your room, closing your door softly behind him. He leans against the door in thought, trying to calm his racing heart. Maybe you feel the same about him because drunk words are sober thoughts, and he can’t stop thinking about you.
Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why! Follow my library blog @queenofdeansbooty-writes where I reblog all my stories, so you can follow that if you can’t be tagged!
Summary: Dean broke up with you to get you out of the hunter life that you knew nothing about. What happens when you end up finding each other again after you had just gotten released form Crowley’s clutches?
Square Filled: torture (2021) for @spndarkbingo
Author’s Note: this is based on a tiktok! here is the link. go follow the person who made the video!
Much to Dean’s guilt, this is his tenth date that he’s been on since the two of you broke up. Half of the girls he goes out with, he doesn’t really have any interests in them, but it helps fill the hole where you once were. He didn’t break up with you because he lost feelings for you–he thought the world of you and was planning on proposing to you. It’s because of the fact that you weren’t a hunter, and you didn’t know how to protect yourself from any kind of monster.
If they somehow found out that you were his girlfriend, then they would definitely go for you to get to him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Crowley got his hands on you, only to torture you for information on him. He wouldn’t be a good boyfriend or a good husband if he dragged you into his shit only for you to get killed because of it.
That’s why he’s on yet another date with a girl he just met the day before. She is beautiful, like all the others, but no one compares to your beauty. All Dean can think about is you sitting across from him, throwing bits of bread at his face for something he said. Charlotte, Catherine, Caroline… whatever her name is, must sense how broken Dean is because she sets her fork down with a sigh.
“Everything okay?” Dean asks.
“I’m just trying to see why that girl keeps staring at you,” she says.
Wow, that is not what Dean was expecting her to say. He frowns and turns around, locking eyes with the one woman that he never thought he’d see. You’re standing there with such a heartbroken look on your face at the fact that he is on a date. No words are being said, but everything is said between the looks in your eyes. You shove your hoodie sleeves further down your arms to hide your skin from prying eyes.
Breaking the eye contact, you walk to the bar where a strong drink is calling your name. Why are you at this bar? Why did Sam lead you here? Did he know his brother was on a date? Unbeknownst to Dean, you’ve still been in contact with Sam because you didn’t want to lose him as a friend.
Dean watches you go to the bar with emotional eyes, turning to his date with tears in his eyes. He clears his throat and gives his date a smile to pretend like he’s fine.
“Is there something going on between you two?”
“Nothing at all,” he lies.
“Really? Because your eyes tell me a different story.”
Dean sighs and looks to the bar again, watching as you down a double shot. The end of your sleeve falls down, and his eyes widen at the scars littering your arm. They’re mostly long and jagged scars, but there are small circular scars as well. Where the fuck did you get those? He knows your body more than you do, and he would remember scars on your arms.
Someone did that to you while he wasn’t there to protect you.
You feel his eyes on you from across the room, but you ignore them. They burn holes into you, and you’re not sure you won’t crack under the pressure. The bartender mouths something to you, but you’re too overwhelmed to understand what he is saying.
“I’m sorry. Here you go.”
You toss double the amount of your drink onto the bar counter, not caring about the amount. Your bar stool screeches on the floor as you leave, and you rush out of the bar as quickly as you can.
“Y/N, wait!” Dean says ten seconds later.
You halt on the sidewalk and sigh deeply, wiping your eyes with the back of your hoodie before turning around.
“Dean, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Where did you get those?” Dean jumps right into it.
You knew he would ask about them if he saw them. You weren’t careful in hiding them apparently. What’s the point in lying to him at this stage? You’re never going to see him again, so what the hell?
“Someone named Crowley found me and hurt me until I told him where you were,” you say truthfully. “But I never gave in. He eventually let me go when he realized I was no ‘fun’ anymore.”
Shock is all that you can see on Dean’s face. This is why you didn’t want to see him. You knew you would break down if you ever saw his face again. You’re trying not to cry, not in front of him.
This is exactly what Dean was afraid of happening, and he wasn’t even there to protect you.
Dean is confused, though, because Crowley hasn’t shown up in a while. Neither has his demons, so if he was torturing you, then he must not have gotten what he wanted.
“Why didn’t you tell him where I was? I would have taken care of it!”
“If Crowley had found you, then he would have hurt you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you in pain.” The weight of your words settles on Dean’s shoulders, and his heart breaks in two. “Go back to your date, Dean.”
You shove your hands into your hoodie’s front pocket and turn away from him.
“I’ll see you around.”
Dean watches you with tears in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop you. You have scars from people that never should have been in your life, and it’s all because of him. You’re never going to be the same, and it’s all Dean’s fault.
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Warnings:You better be 18+ before you read this. DEMON!DEANNON-CONSENSUAL SEX. IMPLIED MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Slight fingering, dubious consent, unprotected vaginal penetration, slight cock-warming, creampie, hints of dominance and submission, orgasms. Possible Stockholm? If I forgot anything, please let me know, I want to make sure readers are aware. Read with caution.
Summary: You are in the bunker with Demon!Dean. Sam has been murdered and the exits are all locked down. No matter how much you run, you can’t escape. He’s hungry and he’s coming for you.
Paring: Demon!Dean x Trapped Fem!Reader
A/N: I am used to writing smut for Demon!Dean, but this time I felt like taking a darker route. D!Dean in his full-on, not giving a shit, no morals style. This story is triggering and is meant to be triggering, so feel free to simply scroll past it if it’s going to offend you.
Please don’t post any of my work anywhere else, do not steal, copy, or use parts of it. I have worked hard on this story and it’s not yours to take.
Word Count: 3.5k
The sounds of Sam’s screams were never going to leave your mind. It was a broken record that played over and over inside your mind. His death seemed like it had taken forever. A part of you blames yourself. If you maybe had been more firm in your stance on this whole situation, Demon Dean wouldn’t be here, Sam would still be alive, and you would be lying in your comfortable bed far away. However, he was insistent, and look where it got him.
It’s been a while I know but my life is just a hot mess anymore haha. Hope you like it though. :) I’m posting from my phone I’ll add the tag list later today ☺️
Fic Summery: Sophia has never known love, her always picking the “good guy” him always turning out to be like a snake in the weeds. What will happen when she's took home one night by a “bad guy” him showing her things she never knew about herself.
Part Summery: Sophia learns more about the boys and meets Bobby
I don’t know when I fell asleep, or even how I did it. I felt like that’s all I’ve been doing lately. Maybe that’s why I felt so groggy when I woke up.
I woke up in the back of the car. It was dark, rain pitter pattering on the car roof. I was surrounded by different cars, all of them looking abandoned. But I couldn’t see much, the only light came from a street light in the distance.
A crushing weight of abandonment feels my chest as I think I’ve been left behind. The thoughts of Dean saying he would protect me seems like empty promises now.
With my eyes starting to burn I climb out of the car. The rain washes over me in a biting chill. I wrap my arms around myself and with no sense of direction I start to walk towards the light.
It’s not as far as it seems, it’s just behind a tower of crushed cars.
A two story faded blue house stands just a little ways away. Despite the distance I can see the light coming from the windows.
With no other options I walk towards it. Having no idea how late it is and if they would even let in a stranger.
I glup knowing I wouldn’t be able to speak to them. Dean was the only one who could get me to talk and it seemed that he was nowhere around.
By the time I reach the door I’m shivering the cold rain soaking the clothes I’m in. My bare toes aching at the cool weather.
With a shaking hand I lift it to knock on the door, hoping someone would answer.
I jump when the door swings open, Dean standing there with a hooded jacket on his toned frame. A large umbrella in his hand.
I watch his face soften as he sees me. Most likely looking like a drowned rat.
“Oh, Kitten. I was just about to come get you. Come in here and let’s dry you off.” He says, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me into the house.
It is considerably warmer than outside. The inside of the house is cluttered but homey at the same time. Books and papers are littered on every surface.
Sam is sitting at the folding card table in the kitchen, an older man is standing by him.
“Who is she?” The older man asks, looking at me like I was a threat.
“Dean new damsel in distress. You know my brother and his savior complex.” Sam says, making me wonder what I did to make him not like me.
“Shut it Sammy.” Dean says, pulling me around the corner into the next room. Towards the lit fireplace.
“Come on Sophia, let’s get you warm.” Dean says placing me right in front of the flames.
I instantly start to relax as the heat wraps around my body.
“I’ll get you something to drink.” Dean says peeling off his jacket and placing it on my shoulders.
I smiled at him. Wondering how I could ever think he forgot about me. Of course Dean wouldn’t abandon me.
As he walks off I hear him whisper something to someone, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching me.
I turn around seeing the older man just a few feet away from me.
“Well seeing as you’re in my house I think you ought’ to know my name.” He says holding his hand out to me.
“Bobby Singer, paranoid bastard.” He shocked me with his introduction.
Despite it I take his hand and shake it, smiling at him.
“You’re a quiet one huh?”
“She doesn’t talk.” Dean says joining us, handing me a cup of coffee.
“What for?” Bobby asks, looking at me. Like he expects me to answer.
Gluping I shrug, knowing why but it was hard to explain.
“Her last boyfriend was an abusive dick is why.” Dean says sipping his coffee casually like he didn’t just say what he just said.
“Ahh.” Bobby says, nodding his head.
“Well, did you boys teach him a lesson?”
“Not yet.” Dean says winking, making an uncomfortable feeling settle in my stomach.
“But enough about that. Let’s get down to business.” Dean says, as Sam walks into the living room with us. Him holding his own cup of jo.
“Do you trust her?” Bobby asks, jerking his head towards me.
I sigh hating being talked about like I wasn’t there but what was to be expected when I was mute all the time.
“Like he said. She doesn’t talk. Dean’s the only one she will talk to.” Sam says, making me blush.
I drop my head feeling embarrassed.
“She just needs some time to get back on her feet. I’m helping her, yes I trust her. She doesn’t know anything about what we do but she’s on our side. Right Sophia?” Dean asks, making me look up at him.
I nod my head with a smile, having no idea what he was talking about but clearly they were into something shady. But I expected that when I went to work with Dean. When they were selling something that seemed impossible to own.
But I wasn’t going to tell anyone. Even if I could, Dean and Sam had been nothing but good to me. I wouldn’t betray them. I just knew I wouldn’t.
“Alright if you idjits trust her, that’s good enough for me. Now let’s get down to business.” He says taking one more swig of his drink and moving to turn towards a large book with a bunch of numbers on it.
It was a records book of some kind.
Dean smiles at me, both him and Sam finding a place to sit. Bobby sitting behind the desk, closes to me. Even though I was still cold I moved away from the fire to sit next to Dean on the couch.
“Lucky for you Cas gave you a heads up on the ones hunting your asses.” Bobby says looking at Sam like he was in trouble.
“Going after Dick Roman alone was stupied even for you.”
“I got close.” Sam says, looking away clearly annoyed.
“Close ain’t close enough. I thought I taught you better than that.” Bobby says, making me wonder if he was their father.
I look at Dean wondering what they were talking about. Who was Dick Roman? Did Sam try to kill him? Was the blood on Sam’s shoe human?
A sinking feeling of realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Sam and Dean were murderous.
“So what do you want us to do?”
“It ain’t up to me. Your father left the family business to you boys. You made the mess, you get to fix it.” Bobby says, pointing at Sam.
“It was a mistake Bobby. But mistakes can be fixed.” Dean says sitting up straighter.
“We need a plan. Get rid of the heat off of Cas before that chief Naomi fires him and business can go back to usual.”
“What stealing and selling rare artifacts to Bella so she can make more of a profit then you boys? John might not have been father of the year but he started this to help people not just make a quick buck.” Bobby says scolding them.
I was more confused than I have been in a long time but I couldn’t help listening to them. Trying to figure out what was going on.
“So what do you suggest?” Dean asks, seeming to honestly want Bobby’s advice.
“Break him down from the bottom up. Take what matters most and we can watch Dick shrivel.”
“Alright? Where do we start?” Sam asks.
Bobby digs through the book in hand and pulls out a picture sliding it over to Sam. I couldn’t really tell but it looked like a picture of a dock.
“These are empty shipping containers that are going to be full of drugs, guns you name it this weekend. But that’s not what I’m interested in. Dick’s got kids he plans on putting on one of them. Gonna trade them for something. Don’t know, don’t care. But there are folks kids about to be taken forever and that doesn’t sit right with me.”
“When do we start?” Dean says his jaws locked, Sam’s forehead wrinkled in worry but both of them looked different.
Like they were ready for battle, ready to do anything. Ready to kill.
I didn’t know what this was, or what I got myself into. What did Bobby call it?
The family business?
Either way, I was in it and didn’t see a way out.
It didn’t take long for them to hatch out a plan as if they had done this a hundred times. Sam and Dean decided to stop the kids from ever getting to the docks and if that didn’t work, worse case they could just break the kids out.
I didn’t understand what was going on. Luckily for me it seemed I didn’t have to. No one asked for my input or help. The three men moving around the room talking about so many illegal things as if they were talking about the weather.
I sat on the couch watching them. I should have been more freaked out I know but I wasn’t. I ran away from Sam just because he had blood on his shoe but listening to these men talk about busting open shipping containers and stealing the contents didn’t phase me.
I’m sure there was something messed up in my head. All the beatings from Harry most likely did some damage up there.
Or maybe I was just numb to it all. Yelling and violence was the only thing that seemed to scare me.
I was in no danger with these men. They were clearly criminals, clearly what people would say bad men but despite knowing that.
Despite knowing that Sam definitely tried and might have killed someone and Dean helped cover it and Bobby seemed like the crazed uncle that was behind the whole thing and to top it all off I was a vulnerable mute. I felt safe. Safe enough to pull my feet up under me, curling up and falling asleep.
When I woke up the house was silinet. It is still dark out. The only noise was from the crackling fireplace and soft breathing.
I sat up looking around me to see the only other person was Dean sleeping on the floor beside me.
I look at the clock on the wall seeing it’s just a little past two in the morning. I laid my head back down on the arm of the couch knowing I should go back to sleep but I was wide awake.
I lay there, tossing and turning for a bit trying to get more comfortable but nothing was working. Seeing that it was now fifteen past three I knew there was no chance I was going back to sleep. Sitting up again I let out a frustrated sigh.
I flinch when I hear how loud it was, my eyes snapping to Dean. I frown at myself seeing his green irises staring at me.
“You okay?” He asks softly unlike my loud mouth.
I nod looking down at him.
“S-sorry.” I force out wanting him to know I didn’t mean to wake him.
“S’okay.” He says sitting up, the blanket over him falling to show his bare chest..
He yawns, lifting his arms over his head showing his toned body. I flush, realizing I have never seen this much of him.
I turn my head, not wanting him to catch me looking. It clearly is not working when I hear a chuckle.
“You know I don’t care if you look right?” He says standing up.
I take a breath and look up at him towering over my body. I only came to his waist from sitting on the couch.
“I’m gonna get something for us to drink and then maybe you can try going back to sleep okay?” He asks using his fingers to tuck my hair behind my ear.
I nod and smile at him, butterflies feeling my stomach from his simple touches.
He smiles at me and turns to head towards the kitchen. From there I sat. I could see him open the fridge but I could see what he grabbed.
It only takes him a moment for him to return with a beer in one hand and an orange juice for me.
I blush, smiling that he bothered to remember that I liked it. Taking it from him I take a sip of the cool tart liquid sliding down my throat with ease.
Dean sits to the right of me taking a drink of his own beverage. Us sitting on the couch in siliance for a moment or two.
“Did you just say sorry?” He asks out of the blue, making me turn to look at him.
I nod confused by his sudden question.
“That’s what I thought I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I have dreams about you talking to me all the time.” He says, surprising me by his honesty.
He never seemed to mind being open about what he thought that was for sure.
Yawning he runs his hand across his face, something he does when he’s tired I noticed. I don’t know what gave me the courage to do it but I reach my left hand out and place it on his thigh patting it.
He looks down at my hand then up at me, giving me a playful smile.
“Careful Sophia, I might think you’re flirting with me.” He says teasing.
I knew he was joking but that doesn’t stop me from blushing.
I try to pull my hand away but he grabs it pulling me closer to him with it.
“Come’re.” He says pushing his words together, something else he seems to do when he’s tried.
I do as he asks setting my glass down and crawling over to him
He lets go of my hand dropping his grip to my hip, him using it to guide me to sit on his lap. I blush from the intimate possession but I don’t protest. Knowing Dean would never do anything I didn’t want to do.
He reaches up grabbing my face gently with both hands, him pushing my hair out of my face.
“You know you’re a very good girl right Sophia?” He asks, his question catching me off guard.
My body also catches me off guard by the flip my stomach does.
I don’t know how to respond to that even if I did talk but Dean doesn’t seem to mind. Dean pulls me closer to him, lowering my head down until our foreheads are pressed together.
He closes his eyes shut for a moment making me wonder what’s going on inside him.
“The things I would do to you…” He whispers under his breath making something deep inside me ache.
“But I can’t…” He says letting out a sigh, it’s a sigh of disappointment.
“It’s not a good idea. But I’ve never been known to be the one to do the right thing.”
I wrinkle my forehead completely confused on what he’s getting at.
I didn’t have time to process it either. Dean tilting his head just enough so his lips touched mine. They were soft, but firm. Just like how he was. A gentleness to him that made you want to fall into him. Trust him completely.
It was a scary feeling if I’m honest. Something I couldn’t understand. How I could trust him as much as I do given everything that has happened between me and Harry.
Maybe it was because he was so honest with everything. Maybe it was because he acted like he was the messed up one. Maybe it was because despite him seeing me broken he still decided to help me.
I don’t know what it was but no matter what I couldn’t deny that I trusted him. More than I’ve trusted anyone for a long time.
I watch Amora pull away from me after I look at the scars on her wrist. I had the exact same ones on mine but she was the one who put them there. I wandered over why for months afterwards and every time I remembered they were there. What happened, what was so bad that made her do that to herself?
“So tell me a bit about you.” She says smiling at me. It makes her eyes light up.
“There’s not much to tell.” I say to stall knowing that there was more than enough to tell. But she wouldn’t believe any of it. I couldn’t even believe this was happening. How did I get marked to a human?
“How about you? Tell me about you.” I say leaning back into the couch.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” I say realizing I meant it. I wanted to know everything about her.
She blushes, her teeth digging into her lip before she looks up to meet my eyes with hers. Their ash blue is so bright compared to my emerald eyes.
“I was born and raised here, well not here in this house. I moved here when I was fourteen after my parents died.”
“I’m sorry.” I say understanding her loss.
“Don’t be, it happened a long time ago.” She says waving it off, but in truth it only happened eight years ago. My mother died when I was four and it still feels like it happened yesterday.
“What did your parents do? If you don’t mind me asking.” I say remembering why I came here in such a rush.
Hunters didn’t get marked to humans, same way hunters didn’t get marked to royals. There was not interbreeding. It just didn’t, couldn’t happen.
“Oh umm my mom was a teacher, my dad a macainic why?”
“Just wondering.”
Her parents must have been hunters that left life. It was rare but it happens.
“What about you?”
“Both my parents were hunters.”
“Hunters?” She qustions making me feel stupid for not thinking before I talked.
“It’s what we call the guard. We hunt down all the bad, evil people.” I say it in a vague way of telling her what I did.
“Oh right. Guess that explains why you are in it huh?”
“Well I’m not really good at much else.” I say shrugging.
“I doubt that.”
I met her eye, lifting my brow at that statement. Wondering what she meant by that.
She smiles and shrugs answering my unasked question.
“You just seem like you would be good at a lot of things.”
“Thanks sweetheart but don’t overestimate me, you’ll give me a big head.” I say watching as her cheeks turn pink.
When ringing fills the air she jumps and quickly pulls her phone out of her pocket.
“Hello?” She says, answering it.
She mouths I’m sorry as she stands up and takes a few steps away from me.
“No, I’m kinda busy at the moment.” She says her eyes, bouncing back to me.
I smile at her, she blushes and turns her back to as if I was distracting her.
“I have someone over. No, I understand that’s no reason to be late for my job but-.” She says to what I guess is her boss.
I used this time to look at her, I kinda felt like a creep for checking her out while she wasn’t looking but I couldn’t help it.
She was beautiful. Her hair was red and reaching down to her waist. Not red like Clarks but cherry red. Reminding me of blood or pie. She had wide hips that I wanted to wrap my arms around. She was curvy in all the right places. I never let myself think about my mate thinking I would never find her but I was more than happy with what I was given. Her tight jeans let me see her thick thighs and round butt.
“Sorry about that.” She says turning to face me again.
My eyes jump to her above average chest, her tank top showing it off well. I quickly looked at her face not wanting her to know what I was doing.
“It’s fine.” I say smiling at her.
“Well my boss is pissed at me.” She says plopping down next to me, her knee bumping mine.
I smile, liking that she already seemed comfortable with me.
“So where were we?” She asks, looking at me with her dusty blue eyes meeting mine.
“Getting to know each other I guess.” I say trying to sound more confident than I was.
My heart was racing and all I could think about was pulling her into my arms. I finally had someone that would truly love me. I have a family of my own now.
“You didn’t hear me did you?” She asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I’m sorry what?” I ask, making her giggle.
It makes my stomach flip from the sound. I wanna roll my eyes at myself for how pathetic I feel. I was like a love struck puppy.
“I said, are we asking normal questions or personal ones?”
She says tucking her hair behind her ear, her face red.
“Oh.” I say it is my turn to blush my mind going to all the dirty questions I could ask her.
“Either is fine.” I say smiling at her.
“Okay umm I would say what’s your birthday but I guess I know that one.” She says grinning.
“Yeah I would say so.” I say knowing we share the same birthday right down to the second.
She smiles at me, chewing on her lip softly.
“Cat got your tongue sweetheart?”
“Guess so.”
I smile at her and nod my head.
“What is it that you really want to ask?” I ask her knowing she has something on her mind. I don’t know how I know but I can just tell by looking at her.
“I umm it’s…nevermind.” She says, shaking her head and looking down at her fingers.
“It’s okay, go ahead. I’m an open book.” I doubt her question could be very important.
Or at least not enough to scare her off. I hope so.
“Have you umm had sex?” She asks, her cheeks flushed.
I lift an eyebrow not expecting that question from her. The royals teaching not to have sex until you find your mate so why would she think I might have had sex.
“Yes.” I say answering truthfully. Hunters weren’t so weird about that order from God. Being on the road was lonely, hunters understood it. It wasn’t like you ever had to worry about one of your children running around that you didn’t know about.
The only person who could ever carry my child was sitting in front of me. The person who would be the mother of my children. The woman I just made her face drop and sadness filled her eyes.
This is part 11 of Kitten. Here is the next part trying to work in the new story line my brain picked for this story. Hope you like it. Let me know what you think.
Fic Summery: Sophia has never known love, her always picking the “good guy” him always turning out to be like a snake in the weeds. What will happen when she's took home one night by a “bad guy” him showing her things she never knew about herself.
Part Summery: Sam tells Sophia the truth only for him to make her forget it all.
“Sit. We need to talk.” Sam says, looking more threatening than I have ever seen him.
Gulping and feeling like I didn’t have a choice I walked over to him and sat in the chair he pushed out with his foot.
He sits up straighter, popping his neck and rolling his shoulders like he has been there a while. Maybe he has. I locked myself up in my room for hours.
“We have a few things to talk about. First, what you think you saw earlier, I’ll explain.” He says picking up the leather bound journal beside him.
I jump when he throws it at me and it lands in my lap.
“That’s our dad’s. Mine and Dean’s. That’s what he left us when he finally went off the rails. I’m sure you know by now me and Dean aren’t your average joes. We are the head of a rather big mob.” He says making me surprised and hurt.
Dean wasn’t as innocent as I was led to believe.
“Look, I don’t expect you to understand it. But if you are going to stay here and be with Dean you will have to get used to us coming home bloody from time to time.” He says making me blush, from him saying I was with Dean also from being confused.
“Dean likes you. More than I’ve seen him like anyone in a very long time. I would like it if you stayed. For his sake. But you can’t go running off anytime something scary happens. We deal with scary things everyday. We will protect you. You are safe here but you will need to learn.” He says his brow wrinkled from how serious he looks.
Sighing he sits up straighter.
“It’s complicated with you being here. Dean normally keeps his pets away from here. Only letting them stay here on the weekends. I’m not used to having to pretend to be someone I’m not.”
My head spins with the information trying to understand what he was saying. I look at the book in my hands tempted to open it but also not wanting to.
All I knew was Sam had blood on him. Blood that wasn’t his. He was acting like that was normally and that wasn’t. I had to leave but where would I go? What would I do?
Despite everything, all I wanted to do was go to Dean. He would explain it. He always explained everything to me.
‘Why didn’t I just let him do that in the first place?’ I think feeling dumb all of a sudden.
“Sophia.” Sam says, making me look up at him. His big brown eyes softened.
“I’m sorry, I get a little domante when I’m trying to make a point. I just want you to stay here. My brother is happy, something he hasn’t been for a long time. Since we were kids.” He says, ringing his hands.
“I’m not going to force you into staying but think about it. I’ll explain everything. Dean doesn’t have to know. He doesn’t want you to know about the wicked world we live in. Not that I blame him. He’s scared about running you off with the things he likes in the bedroom let alone the things he does for work. Just forget this talk happened. I promise I didn’t hurt anyone. Well, anyone bad… I’ll try to keep myself blood free from now on.” He says smiling a boyish smile.
“Do you think you can stay?”
I glup, feeling overwhelmed. Fear, confusion, regret, and a whole mess of other things swam inside my head.
“Here let me get you some water.” Sam says quickly jumping up.
He walks over to the corner of the room where a mini fridge sits, bringing me a bottle of water. Twisting the lid off he hands it to me.
I smiled, taking it from him, hoping it helped settle my thoughts. I took a drink and was surprised at how good it tasted. Knowing I was asleep for a long time I took another drink, this one longer than the first one.
I blink when my head starts swimming. Suddenly feeling like my head weighs a hundred pounds I try to hold it up only for everything to go black.
I wake up on the bathroom floor feeling exhausted. My head and body are aching. Sitting up I try to remember what happened. Sam had blood on his shoe. Human blood?
Standing up I stumble to the door and then through my room. I open the bedroom door stopping when I see Dean sleeping against the wall.
I leave my bedroom door open and walk down the hall trying to make my way to the exit. When I reach the steps that lead outside I stop when I see Sam, him dressed in sweats and a t-shirt.
“Hey, you’re awake.” He says smiling softly at me.
I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.
“I’m sure you are scared of me after what you saw. I want to explain.” He says putting his hands in his pockets.
“I ran over a cat. I got out to help it, it belonged to some old lady and I packed it inside her house for her. I got blood all over my suit but I had an extra one in the car I just picked up from the cleaners. But no extra shoes, that’s why they had blood on them.” He says calmly, his brown eyes never leaving mine.
I take a breath not knowing if I should believe him or not.
“What are you talking about?” Dean asks, walking down the hall, him looking just as sleepy as I felt. His hair in messy tuffs around his head.
“I was just explaining to Sophia how I got blood on me. From the cat I hit yesterday.” Sam says looking over at Dean.
“Oh, yeah sorry about him scaring you. I would have explained but you wouldn’t let me in.” Dean says, looking at me, his green eyes meeting mine. The sensarty in them makes me calm down a bit.
“You’ve been in your room for a while. Do you want some food?” He asks gently.
“I can make us some food.” Sam smiles timidly at me.
Still feeling a bit confused I nod my head not having any reason not to trust them.
“Come on?” Dean questions holding his hand out to me, a question on his face.
I take his hand letting him lead me to the kitchen. Sam flips on the light as we walk in and goes to the fridge, while Dean gently pulls me to sit down next to him at the table.
“Like I said, I’m really sorry about scaring you.” Sam says bring me a glass of water.
“You think you could find it in your heart to forgive me?” He says softly.
I look up at him, not finding a cruel fleak in his eyes. I nod, earning a smile.
“Thank you. I promise not to do it again.”
“Oh Sam hush and get to cooking I’m starving.” Dean says waving off his baby brother.
It doesn’t take long for Sam to make us some oatmeal and egg whites.
While Dean complains about the healthy food I eat my own breakfast.
“I think you should stay home today. Sophia was pretty shaken up last night. I can cover your work for you.” Sam says talking to Dean.
“That would be great thanks.” Dean says smiling at his little brother.
They continue to talk as I eat slowly. Neither of them seem to mind. Nothing seems weird or out of place then any other time I have eaten with them. I quickly realized that I over reacted to what I saw yesterday.
Sam wasn’t a killer. He was too sweet to be.
After we ate we all helped clean up something I found oddly nice. Glad that Sam wasn’t cleaning up after me anymore.
Sam went to get ready for work while me and Dean went back to my room. I still felt tired despite sleeping so long but I guess sleeping on a bathroom floor would do that.
I climb into bed, Dean joining me after grabbing the coloring book, crayons, notepad and pens.
“I think we should have a talk. If that’s okay?”
I nod but Dean grabs my chin stopping me.
“Use your words Kitten.” He says softly yet sternly.
“Yes.” I say after swallowing hard.
“Good girl.” He says grinning.
“I want to talk to you about what happened yesterday.” He says letting go of my face and handing me the notepad and a pen.
“Not about Sam hitting a cat but about what happened between me and you.” He says, making me blush.
That seemed like so long ago but it was only yesterday. I nod telling him I’m ready to talk about it.
“I’m gonna be honest, I would like to do it again and more than that. But I’ll do it if you are ready. If you want to.”
“Yes.” I nod proud of myself for speaking again but I open my mouth wanting to say more.
“But? You’re shy?” Dean questions me gently, not in a mocking way.
I shake my head, Dean hands me the notebook and pen.
‘I’m afraid I don’t know what to do or what you want from me.’ I write out.
He reads it, nods and hands me the notebook back.
He smiles gently.
“I can show you what to do. One of my favorite things to do honestly. We can take it slow.” He says, sighing, running his hands through his hair.
“Honestly I’m a bit worried about scaring you.”
I shake my head, not scared of Dean. Him the only person I’ve felt safe with in a very long time.
He smiles softly, lifting his hand he gently touches my face.
Leaning towards me I close my eyes, my breath catching in my throat. His lips brush mine in a sweet gentle kiss.
I feel myself melt as my face heats up.
I hear him take a deep breath and pull away from me. His green eyes bore into mine making my stomach tangle up in knots.
Lifting his hand he gently strokes my cheek with his thumb.
“You’re-.” Dean starts to say but is cut off by Sam barging through the door.
“We gotta go!” He says looking frantically at Dean, making Dean jump from the bed.
I quickly follow his actions as Dean and Sam run down the hall.
“What’s going on?” Dean asks, running behind Sam.
“Just got a call from Cas. Apparently he’s getting some heat from helping me last night. He lied and said it wasn’t me, that we are out of town. Cops are on the way to search the place. We gotta go now. Make it seem like we haven’t been here in a few days.” Sam spills out, throwing a duffle at Dean, it is already packed.
I’m shocked at the information I’m getting but I don’t have time to process it. Dean grabbed my wrist to pull me with him.
“You’re taking her?” Sam asks, shocked.
“Dude she barely speaks, you think the people that are looking for us are going to believe that she can’t? They’ll do more than hurt her to get to us and you know it.” He says, he words making me feel sick.
With that said he pulls me along with him. Sam is not saying anything else but he doesn’t look happy.
Dean opens the back car door, throws his bag in it and then holds it open for me. I stop and look up at him, scared to get into the fear of what’s going to happen next.
Sighing, Dean looks at me, his face wrinkled with anxiety.
“Come on Kitten. You’ll be safe with us. I’ll explain everything I promise, but we gotta go. Right now.” He says his worried eyes convince me of the urgency.
I answered him by climbing into the car and shutting the door behind me. Sam is already in the front seat. Dean jogs around the car and gets behind the wheel.
As he starts the engine and pulls out of the garage. He takes off his tires spinning from his speed. As we zoom down the street the car in silence I can’t help but think.
This is part 10 of Kitten. I know it’s been a while since I posted anything. I’m sorry about that. Life is crazy. Anyways. Here is the next part please don’t hate me for it. It’s not what I planed on writing but writers block sucks. Hope you like it.
Fic Summery: Sophia has never known love, her always picking the “good guy” him always turning out to be like a snake in the weeds. What will happen when she's took home one night by a “bad guy” him showing her things she never knew about herself.
Part Summery: Sophia suspects the truth about the brothers and what they really do for work.
After we ate dinner Dean led me back to my room. Him casually talking about things that didn’t matter. I knew he was doing it for my benefit to help me relax.
But before we could get down the hall the door opened at the top of the steps Sam walked inside.
He turns to see us, greeting us with a simple Hey.
I smile and wave back thinking about trying to reply but stop myself. Wanting to save my words for Dean. Well at least for now.
“Dinners in the kitchen.” Dean says, nodding his head towards that direction.
“Thanks.” Sam says, taking a breath as he reaches the bottom of the steps. Him running his fingers through his hair.
“Everything okay?” Dean asks, prompting me to look Sam over.
I stop when I spot a dark stain on Sam’s shoe. It was dried telling me it’s been there at least an hour.
That also made me realize that Sam was wearing different clothes. He was still dressed in a nice suit but it was a different color than before. Faint scratches were on his neck as well.
There was blood on Sam’s shoe. Why?
I felt a wave of fear run through me as I took a step away from him.
“What’s wrong Sophia?” Dean asks, turning to face me.
I ignore his question only pointing to Sam’s shoe. My stomach drops when Dean looks at it, seeming to be unfazed.
Sam look’s down and clenches his jaw as he looks back up at me.
“Look, it’s not what you think.” He says taking a step towards me but I ignore him.
Turning a bolt down the hall my mind screamed at me to run to get out of here as fast as I could.
I ran as fast as I could hearing both Dean and Sam call after me. Reaching my bedroom I close the door behind me, locking it and moving to slam the desk against it.
I frantically look around for something to defend myself with suddenly not wanting to be around either of them. Every shady thing the brothers did came to mind all at once.
I was living with bad men. Killers it seemed.
I jump and even scream as someone knocks on the door.
“Sophia, it’s me. Calm down.” Dean says his voice is gentle and even.
“Sophia I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain.” Sam says, him sounding just as kind. Even a bit sad.
I shake my head as if they can see me and run to lock myself into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me.
I hear them knocking and trying to get me to open the door so I cover my ears to block out the sound.
Tears stream down my face as I picture them breaking down the door and dragging me out to kill me too.
I knew too much right? What did I expect? Trusting complete strangers I met at a club. The banging gets louder, making me cry out in fear and sobs.
I never saw either of them angry but I was about to. Curling up tighter into a ball I can only blame myself for my fate.
But neither of them come. Soon the sound of their muffled voices and knocking stop. Only the sound of my crying is left. I stay that way crying myself to sleep.
When I wake up I’m still in the bathroom, it feels like hours have passed. My stomach twisted in hunger telling me maybe it was longer than that.
Sitting up from the hard floor I move to my feet and open the bathroom door seeing the desk is exactly where I left it. Pushed against the door.
I walk cautiously towards it half expecting them to still be standing there. I look over at the clock to see it’s well past midnight. Nearly five in the morning.
I wonder if Sam and Dean left for work. Work? What really was their job? Dean said it wasn’t exactly legal. What did that mean?
I push the desk back into it’s palace quietly hoping they are gone and I could get out of here. The thought of leaving fills me with mixed emotions. I wanted out, scared they were gonna hurt me but I also wanted to stay the feelings I was growing for Dean still very much there. It also didn’t help that they saved me.
Opening the door slowly I jump seeing Dean there but I quickly realize he was sleeping. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his bend down. Gently snores leave his mouth making me wonder how long he’s been there.
Since I locked myself inside my room most likely.
I leave my bedroom door open and walk down the hallway not really sure what my plan was.
Was I leaving? Where would I go? Was I going to stay? I didn’t really know either one of them.
I carefully move down the hall towards the exit. The whole bunker is pitch black except for the red lights lighting my path along the wall.
Walking past the kitchen I ignore the very loud growl my stomach lets out. I jump when a light clicks on my head snapping to the source.
Sam sits at the wooden tables, the lamp in the middle being turned on by him. Him most likely hearing my stomach.
He looks as if he’s been up all night, a deadly serious look on his face.
I glup at the sight of him, scared of what he will do to me.
He pushes a chair away from the table, pointing to it.
“Sit. We need to talk.”
A/N Do you want me to add some supernatural things to this fic? Do you want some Sophia x Sam action? Thank you for reading :)
This is part 4 of Angel Eyes sorry for not posted in ages. But I found this on a flash drive from like 2017 so I edited and thought I should post it. I hope you like it.
Fic Summary: This is backstory to kind help people understand Dean and Callie’s relationship. Sam, Dean and Callie go get tattoos :P
Walking into the bathroom I bent over untying my boots. Kicking them off I stood up and met my green eyes in the mirror. Reaching up to take my hair down I stopped when there was no longer a black string around my wrist. I quickly opened the bathroom door shocking Sam he was behind it and I almost hit him.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked dropping his bags by the door and walking up to me. I was taken back when he grabbed my arms softly as if I was going to pass out.
“I lost my antipossion charm.” I say biting my lip.
“You what?” Dean and Sam asked, clearly mad.
“I didn’t mean to. It was on my wrist and I guess it must have broke.”
“Great, what are we going to do now? I doubt Booby just has another one laying around.” Dean asked, throwing up his arm and walking away from me.
“Even if he did, who says she wont lose it again.” Sam says sitting on the bed.
“I’m right here, ya know. Maybe it’s in the hotel room.”
“We just got here. I doubt you lost it in the past five minutes.” Sam said.
“Well it’s not like I can just tattoo the thing to me.” I said throwing up my arms and moving to the door shutting it, probably a little too rough., but I hate being treated like I’m five.
“Wait a minute.” Dean says, making me turn to face him.
“Why not get it tattooed. It would get rid of having to keep up with it. And plus its one sure way, no demon would ever get into us ever again.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” I say agreeing. “I always wanted to get a tattoo anyways.” I say shrugging.
“And what if I don’t.” Sam says standing up.
“Oh come on Sammy it’s common sense, to get one.” Dean says lifting his hands.
“Yeah, it’s the smart thing to do.” I say smiling, getting butterflies about the thought of getting tattooed.
“Oh and what are we meant to tell the person that does it?” Sam asks.
“The truth. It looks like some tribal tattoo that people walk around with all the time. The worse case they think we are weirdos but there still going to do it.” I say sitting down beside Dean on the bed.
“Callie is right, money is money. They don’t care as long as they get paid.”
“What if they only take cash?”
Sighing I throw my head back hitting Dean’s shoulder.
“Then we go to the bar, play a little pool and go back. With cash. Why are you so against getting a tattoo?” I ask
“Yeah, Sammy it can be on your ass for all I care.” Dean says laying back on the bed’s headboard making me fall, sence I was still leaning on him.
Glaring up at him I sat back up, only getting a small laugh out of him.
“How do we even know it will work?”
Sighing again I laid back on Dean’s legs reaching back to grab my phone off the nightstand. Flipping it open I pressed 3 it calling Bobby.
“Callie, it’s 1AM what the hell do you want?” Bobby answered sound sleepy and mad.
“Sorry Bobby. I didn’t realize it was so late but I have a important question.”
“About what?” He said trying to be helpful but not hiding his anger.
“The charms you gave us. If we tattoo the symbol to ourselves will that work the same as wearing them?”
“What kind of idjit are you? Of course it will work. Next time you decide to bother me while I’m sleeping make sure it’s a damn good question.”
“Sorry Bobby, just wanted to make sure.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I’ll let you go back to sleep. Good night Bobby. Sweet Dreams.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” He says hanging up.
“He is mean when he is sleepy.” I say looking up at Dean as I close my phone.
“What did he say?” Sam asked.
“Looks like your getting inked up, buttercup.” I say smiling at him.
Sighing, he clenched his jaw.
“I’ll be in the car. Hurry up.” He says walking out to the car grabbing his jacket as he went.
“I think he needs a nap. He is a little grumpy.” I say looking back up at Dean.
“I think you’re right. Better not keep him waiting.” He says smiling, clearly enjoying this as much as me.
Sitting up I walk to the bathroom grabbing my shoes and sitting on the tub to put them back on.
“Where do you think I should get it?” Dean asked leaning against the door frame to the bathroom.
Looking up at the ceiling I bit my lip, thinking of where a tattoo would look good on Dean. The first thing was anywhere. Shaking away that thought. I thought of where I like tattoos on guys.
“Hmm… Shoulder, shoulder blade, or chest.” I say tying my boot and pulling on the other one.
“What about you. Where are you going to get it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want it super viable. Like I don’t want to have to worry about people being like what’s that?”
“I think you should get it on your ribs.” Dean says as I finish tying the other boot.
“Why the ribs. That’s the worse place to get a tattoo.” I say standing up and walking out of the bathroom, feeling Dean follow me.
“Well one because it’s hot and two I know you can take the pain.” He says making blood rush to my cheeks.
“Is that so?” I ask turning to face him, a smirk finding my lips.
I almost smack myself for how flirty that sounds but it’s hard not to when you have Dean in front of you.
“Yeah. You’re kinda a badass.” He says smirking and winking at me.
I laugh softly, him joining me. Rolling my eyes I shake my head a little.
“Maybe.” I say walking to the door, stepping out into a soft sprinkle.
“Rain!” I say smiling up at the sky loving the cool drops on my heated cheeks.
“What was about not being five?” Dean asked behind me and pinched my side, making me jerk a little.
“Shut up.” I say sticking my tongue out at him, earning a laugh.
I jump when Baby’s horn goes off. Looking at Dean’s price postion I see Sam sitting in the front seat looking like a parent who just cought his child having sex.
“Again, I repeat, grumpy.” I say looking back at Dean and stepping off the curb to get into the car.
“Why not bug him a little more.” Dean says opening the driver door for me.
Taking the hint I get in and move to the middle, Sam clenching his jaw making me laugh.
“Oh don’t be so grumpy. It’s only a little seat sharing.” I say poking his hard jaw.
“Just can we get this over with?”
“Damn Sam, Bobby is not the only one that’s mean when he is tired.” Dean says starting the car backing out.
“I just want to get this done so I can take a shower and get a few hours in before I have to get up in the morning.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wants to run before dawn.” I say shrugging.
One look from Sam is enough to make me shut up and hold up my hands as a surender. I lean into Dean to get away from Sam before he bursts a blood vessel. Feeling bad for now getting up front, for wanting to bug him more.
Maybe feeling the same or seeing Sam’s face. Dean lays his arm over my shoulders and pulls me closer to him, giving Sam as much space as he can get with all of us up front. Leaning into Dean’s side I close my eyes and just listen to the rain picking up and hitting the Impala’s roof. Moving his arm down, I shift slightly laying my head on Dean’s shoulder, feeling completely relaxed. No not relaxed. At home.
When Dean’s neck starts vibrating with him humming I let myself enjoy it till the point of my eyes don’t want to stay open anymore.
I softly smack Dean’s chest, making him stop.
“What was that for?” He asks sounding shocked.
“You’re making me fall asleep.” I say a yawn leaving my mouth, making a laugh leave Dean’s.
“Dean, maybe we should go back to the motel. Let Callie sleep.”
“Oh your not getting out of this that easy, buttercup.” I say sitting up and looking at him, making me slightly dizzy but I ignore it, it fading quickly.
“Yeah, because we are here.” Dean says pulling into the parking lot of a tattoo and piercing shop.
Getting out of the car, I quickly follow Dean to escape the picking up rain.
“Welcome. What can I do for you?” Asks the tattooed bearded main at the front desk.
“Hi, we’re looking to get a tattoo. We heard this was the place to come.” Dean says, making the man laugh.
“Well that’ll be right. I’m Chet, nice to meet you.” Chet says holding out his hand to Dean.
“Dean.” He says taking it.
“And you Miss?” He asks looking down at me.
“Callie.” I say waving and smiling.
“And the tall fella?” He asks looking over me at Sam.
“Oh that sour thing is my little brother Sammy. Sammy come say hi.” Dean says waving him over.
“It’s Sam.” He says holding his hand out to Chet.
“Well, nice to meet you folks. So like I said before, what can I do for you?”
“We all three want this.” Sam says handing Chet a piece of paper with the simbel roughly graw on it.
“You draw this yourself?” Chet asks, taking the picture and looking down at it stroking his beard.
“Yeah, I did. Look, not to be rude, but can we hurry this up I would really like to get some sleep.” Sam says, looking tired.
“Well just slow down there a minute.” Chet says not even the least bit surprised with Sam’s mood.
“How big are you three talking? Because if you want something huge It’s going to be more than one trip. Plus you have how are you going to pay and where you want it at.”
“No bigger than three inches.” I say getting an agreement from both the boys.
“Altight. That will be 75 each. That’s without color.”
“You take credit?” Dean asks.
“Yes, sir we do.”
“Well, let’s do this.” Dean says, pulling out his wallet and handing him his card.
I’m a little surprised when he doesn’t look at it or ask for ID.
“Alright, well let me go draw this up and you three can talk about where you want it and who goes first.” Chet says taking the picture Sam drew and walking in the back.
“Sam you can go first.” I say sitting on one of the black leather couches, Dean sitting beside me.
“Why do I go first?” Sam asks sitting in a plastic chair across from us.
“Because you won’t have to wait you can go out and sleep in the car while we get ours done.” I say like it’s obvious.
“Okay sure, whatever.”
“Man he really is tired.” Dean says laying his arm on the back of the couch.
“Yeah, well it will be over soon and we will never have to worry about it again.” I say smiling up at Dean, because I would probably just get a glare from Sam.
On the note I could feel his death glaze burn a hole in my head.
“So did you decide where you are going to get yours?” I ask, whoever wants to answer.
“I’m working on it.” Dean says winking at me, making me roll my eyes.
“What about you Clauda?” Sam asks
“Still thinking.” I say biting my trying to think of where would be the best place.
All three of us fall into a comfortable silence waiting on Chet. He returns around thirty minutes later.
“Alright I got everything all set up. So who is going first.”
Both me and Dean pont to Sam.
“Alright, son, follow me back.” Chet says holding the beads hanging over the door out of Sam’s way.
“Be nice!” I say getting a Yeah, Yeah and a wave from him.
Chet laughs and walks thru the door with Sam in front of him.
“So, you really don’t know where you are getting yours?” Dean asks looking down at me.
“No, everywhere I think don’t seem right.” I say biting my lip.
“I have an idea.” Dean says.
“Oh gosh.” I say covering my face, slightly worried.
“Well at least hear me out first.”
“Okay fine, fine. What is your idea?” I ask, looking up at Dean to meet bright green eyes.
“You pick for me and I pick for you.” He says shrugging.
“That way if we can get an outsider’s thoughts on it.”
Smiling, I nod my head.
“You know I really like that.” I say, saying exactly how I felt.
“See and you didn’t trust me.”
“Oh, I trust you. I trust you get me into trouble by putting it on my forehead.”
Laughing Dean ran his hand down his face.
“I was thinking more your cheek but if that’s what you want to go with, its your face darlin’.” He says pulling me closer to him and tickling me softly.
Giggling I push his hands away, just as Chet and Sam walk out.
“Well that was fast.” Dean says, sounding halfway disappointed.
“Yeah, I’ll be out in the car.” Sam says doing just that.
“Alright who’s next.”
“Me!” I say standing up and walking over to Chet.
“You gonna bring your boyfriend with you?” Chet asks nodding at Dean.
Blushing at the boyfriend comment, I ignore it and turn to face Dean feeling dumb since he is picking the spot for the tattoo.
“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” I say running to him and grabbing his forearm just to pull him up from his seat.
I hear Chet laugh behind us making me wonder exactly what life he thinks we have.
Following him back into the other room, Dean laces his fingers with mine making me smile up at him. He quickly returns it making my stomach do flips.
“Room three.” Chet gestures to the last door.
Dean quickly takes the lead pulling me behind him. When we step into the room I can help the rush I get when I see the chair with the gun beside it.
“You okay?” Dean asks looking down at me.
“Yeah, why?” I ask, confused as why he would ask that.
LIfting our joined hands he lets go to show me how my hand is shaking.
“Oh. They’re the good kind. Here feel my heart.” I say taking his hand and placing it to my chest before I can think.
Realizing what I did I feel myself blush a little but I keep his hand there. He is my “boyfriend” after all.
Smiling Dean moves his hand up to my neck, pulling me to him to kiss my forehead.
“One hell of an adrenaline rush huh?” Dean asks moving so Chet can get to his spot beside the chair.
“So do we know where we want it?” Chst asks when he sets down.
“He does.” I say pointing to Dean and moving back a little.
“Oh, alright what’ll it be son?” He asks looking up at Dean.
“She wants it on her rib. Here.” Dean says placing his hand on my right side just under my bra strap.
“And you’re okay with that?” Chet asks looking at me, making eye contact. I guess to see if I’m lying.
“Yes, it’s perfect.” I say telling the truth.
Feeling all at once how I could not picture it anywhere else.
“Alright well take a seat, I’ll fix the chair once you’re on it. Dean there is a stool in the hall if you want to grab it so you have somewhere to sit.”
“Alright.” He says walking out of the room quickly returning since the stool was just outside the door.
“Is this your first tattoo?” Chet asked, fixing the chair so he could reach my rib easily.
“Yep.” I say popping the P getting comfortable on my left side.
“Well let me tell you it’s going to hurt a lot.”
“She can take it.” Dean says sitting on the stool my face becoming even with his belly.
“Well just let me know if you need to take a break. Don’t worry though I got 20 years under my belt. Or should I say gun. You’re in good hands.”
“Thanks Chet.” I say smiling at him and laying my head on my left arm, my other one laying in front of me.
“Lift your shirt for me please.” Chet says.
“I got it.“ Dean says before I can even move. Pulling my shirt up I feel as if it’s in slow motion but maybe that’s just because I’m suddenly very aware of how many scars I have on my stomach and hips.
I realize that it’s not Dean seeing them, it’s Chet. I can hear the questions now. But they never come. Instead I feel something like paper being stuck to my sink.
"So you from around here?” Chet asked, one of us.
“No. Road trip. She got it in her head that we all should get tattoos.”
“Hey! It’s for a good reason.” I say sticking my tongue out at Dean even though he is not eye level with me. Well he is never eye level with me.
“About that if you don’t mind me asking. Your brother said something about it being in the family. He didn’t make much since. He was not in a chatty mood.
"Yeah, it’s been in his family for years. All the way back to the tribes. The people believed that it could keep you from getting posed.” I say smiling a “what the hell smile”.
“Oh thats a new one.”
“Yeah, but like I said she got it in her head. So it had to be done. But at the end of the day it’s a badass tattoo.”
“That it is.” Chet said starting up the gun making a buzz fill the room.
“Ready?” He asked from behind me.
“Ready.” I say as Dean seems to shrink down to my level. Him pulling the lever on the bottom of the stool. He still has to bend down a little to be eye to eye with me but that’s better than nothing.
When the needle of the gun first touched my skin it felt like I was being punched so hard it made my ribs brake. Groning I clenched my jaw and grabbed onto the nearest thing which happened to be Dean’s forearm.
“Are you okay?” Chet asked, pulling the gun from me.
“Yes” I say closing my eyes and groaning again.
“Man that hurts worse than getting sticked up.” I say taking a deep breath thru my nose and blowing it out of my mouth.
“Should I keep going?”
“Yeah, keep going.” I say moving my hand to Dean’s.
Feeling the pain again I bit my lip so I didn’t make a noise. It still hurts but this time I knew what to expect. It felt like someone was digging a white hot nail down my side.
After a minute it slowly turned into a dull pain as my skin in that spot went numb.
“Dean is it?”
“Yeah.” Dean says pushing my raven hair off my face.
“You got a keeper. Never have I ever seen a first timer get a tattoo on their ribs and be this quiet or still.”
“Yeah, she is good at that.”
Laughing I moved my right arm over my head and looked down as best as I could watching Chet wipe away ink from my side.
Smiling at the butterflies again I laid my arm back down. Dean laying his hand on the back of mine lacing his fingers through mine.
“That scar on her hip. I walked in on her sewing it up herself.” Dean said, sounding almost like he was bragging.
“Yeah and you should have heard the ear full I go for it.” I say, smiling softly, my eyes closed.
It seemed to help with the pain, the less I talked. So that’s what I didn’t do. I lay there listening to Dean and Chet talk about me and what happened so I had to get sewn up. Dean came up with the lie that I was a nurse in afghanistan. That’s where we met, that’s where the scar he was talking about came from. If only it was that noble. When really it came from breaking up a bar fight between Dean and some dude hitting on me very, very hard. To the point I almost stabbed him. Dean did walk in on me sowing up and I did get an ear full. But it was not just him telling me how I should not have tried to break up the fight. Or sow myself up.
It had a mix of the crystal green his eyes get when he is hurting. It didn’t take two glances to see that he was mad at himself more than me. He thought it was his fault.
Always dose.
“Callie you alright?” Dean asks, making me open my eyes and look up at him, a yawn leaving my mouth.
“Well I guess that answers my question.” Chet said laughing.
“What?”
“I thought you passed out of something. I told him you were fine but he wanted to be sure.”
“No, yeah, I’m okay. Just listening to you talk. Your voice is relaxing.” I say smiling up at him, making him scratch the back of his head telling me I embarrassed him which didn’t happen often.
“Well you’re halfway done. So finish your nap.” Dean says, trying to laugh it off.
“Thanks.” I say smiling and closing my eyes.
Lucky me Chet started another conversation with Dean about what all he has hunted.
He went on about telling him something about a bear which I think was one of the werewolves we have killed or maybe a windigo.
“Alright, you are done.” Chet said, turning off everything.
“Can I see?” I ask sitting up a little. An ache in my side.
“Let me clean you up first.”
Nodding I layed back on the chair and poked Dean’s chest making him look down at me.
You never really considered yourself a very confident person, but you had to admit, getting a little dressed up and taking the time to pretty up your face was giving you a chance to smile at yourself.
The makeup was light, but you added a few more touches that you usually wouldn’t. You applied a little bit of foundation, just to give your face that little bit of glow, then you added a little lip gloss. Something to pop your lips a little more, some color and a little shimmer. Eyeliner and mascara were your go tos for everyday life, but they seemed to even brighten up your face more with the help of the others.
Smiling at yourself, you then reached for the earrings you had chosen for the night. Taking the back off one, you turn your head a bit and slip the hook in your ear lobe with ease. Something you don’t always get since you lack earrings on a day to day basis. Just another thing you only do for special occasions.
Preparing the second earring, you could hear large boots taking on the stairs out in the other room. You smile even more knowing that Dean was home and you couldn’t wait to see what he thought of your little get up.
“Hey! I’m just about done, I’ll be out in a sec!” you yell out to him as you slide in your second earring, this one of course giving you a little more fight than the last. But once you got it in, you grabbed the small back piece and slowly made your way out into the other room; your smile as big as ever as you turned the corner because you were overly excited to see him after such a long day.
“Hey! How was your…” your sentence and excitement were immediately cut off when you saw him. Instead of being met with his bright smile and amazing green eyes, you saw his beautiful lips in a frown, his head low and his lively eyes full of confusion and hurt.
“Hey…” Walking up to him, you place your hand along his arm as you try to get him to look up at you. “What is it? What happened?” His tongue poked out against his lips briefly before he was able to look up, and you swear that only hurt you more.
“I uh…I’m sorry, I hate to do this but, can…” he finally looks you in the eye, regret spilling from him as he shakes his head a bit. “…can we just stay in tonight?”
“Yeah.” There was no question, and never would be. Not when he looked like that. “Of course we can.” you say, calming him as you lift your hand to his chest and run your fingers over his white button up.
“I um…why don’t you go and get out of this.” you tug on the lapel of his jacket a bit. “And I um…I’ll head upstairs and order us something, okay?”
“Okay.” he agrees, his right hand coming up to your hip and holding you there for a moment as he dips down and kisses you on the cheek.
You watch him walk into the bedroom before you carefully make your way up stairs and go for the take out menus in the kitchen. Sam and Sarah went out on their own date, so it was just the two of you in the house now. You find one of your favorite places and call them up, putting in an order fairly quickly before heading back downstairs to change out of your dress and heels and into your pajamas.
Dean was in the bathroom at that time, so by the time he came out, you were just finishing up. You hung your dress back up and then went into the bathroom to remove the mask you had applied not too long ago. You were sad to see it go, but you also knew that Dean would definitely give you another chance to do it again.
When you left the bathroom for the second time that night, you smiled softly when you saw Dean sitting on the couch, the controller resting on his thigh while his hand lazily laid over it. He was looking in the direction of the TV, but you were sure by the blankness on his face that he wasn’t paying any attention to it. Moving around the back of the couch, he didn’t even look up at you, which confirmed your thoughts.
Resting your hands on his shoulders, you start to massage them a bit, finally getting his attention. He attempts to look over his shoulder at you, but you just barely get a view of the side of his face before he drops his head.
Carefully, you climb over the back of the couch, spreading your legs so that Dean’s body fits perfectly between them before continuing to work the stress out of his neck and shoulders.
“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but you know I’m here if you need to, right?” He remains silent, his head just dangling as he enjoys the feeling of your hands working their magic. But, then his right hand lifts and lands on yours, effectively stopping your movements.
At first you thought that maybe you hurt him. Maybe he got into a fight or he just got hurt on some job he was on and you hit an injured spot.
“Eddie lied to me.” You lean a bit to the left as you try to look at him, but his head is still low. Though at least he’s looking more in your direction now.
“About what?”
“About Cassies killer.” Your eyes widen a bit, but you don’t truly know how bad it is yet. “They don’t have him.”
“What!?” your shock came out more like a cry. “Why would he lie about that?” Dean shakes his head a bit, letting his hand fall from yours now.
You take that opportunity to climb over the rest of the couch and you slide into his lap, straddling him now as your hands meet the sides of his face.
“Dean…”
“Bobby said they had him. They had DNA evidence and they were so close to getting him.”
“So…what happened?” Now that he was talking again, you let your hands slip down his neck, your nails lightly scraping against his skin as you tried to continue with the comforting touches.
“They lost it.” he nods at your shock. “Someone stole it all. Everything they had…it’s gone.”
“Someone…wait, what?” As if it was like he was hearing it all for the first time, he lifts his head and looks away from you for a moment. “Someone stole it? Like…came into the station or the lab or whatever, and stole it.”
“Yeah.”
“But…how does…”
“I don’t know.” Feeling defeated yourself from this information, you let your hands fall from him, your mind racing as you stare down at his chest.
“But…why lie about it? Why not just…not tell you anything and just…”
“Cause they did get someone.” As you looked to him for answers, he took a deep breath and slid his hands along your waist. “Apparently there were two of them. They caught the guy who attacked her outside the bar. But the one who…”
“Is still out there.” you finished the sentence that neither of you wanted to complete. “Either that, or someone’s covering for the person who did.”
“Yeah.” Now that everything was out, the hurt hit you. It felt like a punch to the gut, and you didn’t even want to think about how he was feeling.
“I’m so sorry.” you whisper softly, your hands sliding back up his chest and up to the base of his neck. “I can’t even…” Dean sighs softly through his nose, his right hand sliding across your arm until he reaches your cheek.
“It’s okay.” his thumb drags along your skin, his eyes exhausted as he looks at you. “I just…I don’t even know how to feel right now.” Your hands slowly meet the sides of his face as you lean in, your lips lightly brushing against his.
“I’m sorry for canceling our date.” he whispers against your lips, his eyes closed as he grips the exposed skin on your waist.
“You didn’t cancel it. You just changed the plans.” you stole another kiss before he could apologize anymore.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to make anything up to me.” With your forehead resting against his, you run your fingers along his neck and up into his hair where you start to lightly massage his scalp. He releases a quiet, satisfied moan and lets his head fall forward even more. You chuckle a little as you sit back a bit, letting his head rest on your chest now. He lets out a drawn out breath, clearly comfortable in his new position.
You keep running the tips of your fingers through his soft strands, even letting them travel down the back of his neck here and there. Dean didn’t seem to mind. He just continued to release quiet noises of agreement.
When his hands lightened their grip on your waist though, you let out a breathy chuckle as you tried to look at his hidden face.
“Don’t fall asleep before food gets here.” His groan this time was a little deeper. Obviously that’s exactly what was happening. “You need to eat something.” you giggle, still enjoying the feeling of his hair slipping between your fingers.
“Then you should probably stop doing that.”
“But I love your hair.” He smiles a little before lifting his head. Your hands slide back along his neck as he sits up; his sleepy, yet adorable eyes looking into yours. You think he’s going to say something, but instead he just leans in.
Dean only planned on a quick, sweet kiss, but the thing is, your lips were a drug to him. The way they moved with his just kept him wanting more. So the one turned into two, then into three. When he finally forces separation, he keeps close as he lets his fingers run along your side.
