Keeping the Devil at BayPairings:
mentions of violence, mentions of verbal abuse, self injurySpoilers:
Sam knows pain all too well, and he knows how to use it to his advantage. When Dean presses into the cut on his hand, he remembers this.Author's Note:
I've never really seen anything like this in the fandom before (granted, I'm not that well read in the fandom yet), so I'm anxious to see how it will be received, therefore, feedback would be especially appreciated with this one.
Sam didn’t like pain. Pain had been a constant in his life since he was old enough to hold a shotgun. It was something he was used to, but he got more than enough to not want more.
But pain had always made things make sense. If you get hit in a fight, it means you weren’t fast enough, needed to be better. Pain was a result of an action. It was logical. And Sam knew a lot of other things about pain; he had grown up watching it affect his father and brother in so many ways. He was familiar with the two types of pain; physical, and emotional. His family were experts in both. And sometimes, he learned, one could chase away the other. He slowly made the connection as he saw Dean come back to that week’s motel room battered from a bar fight after a day when they lost someone they were trying to save. He saw it too, when his father would hurl words at Dean, calling him useless and a failure after a hard day. Easing his pain by causing it for Dean.
But Sam wasn’t like them. He didn’t need the macho satisfaction of taking on an opponent and winning, revelling in the hurt that came with it. And throwing around painful words just left him agitated and guilty. So the first time it was his fault, a shotgun blast a second too late, he got back and locked himself in the bathroom staring at the floor, so full of emotion that it felt like he would burst. He was paralyzed with the urge to let his frustration and anger surge out, without knowing how to. He rubbed his hand over his face and felt the burn of a scrape he had forgotten about. Without thinking, he dug his nails into his skin and dragged them over the surface of his wound. His fingers came away with bits of scab sticking to them. He stood up and looked into the mirror, repeating the action. This time he was rewarded with little smears of red. After a few more minutes of doing this, he dabbed gently at his cheek with some toilet paper, washed his hands, and left the bathroom.
The progression was slow from that moment. It only occurred to him occasionally to press into whatever injury he was sporting at the time when things got difficult. It took a year before he had the thought to create the wounds himself when he needed the release.
Sam was tired of hunting. He was behind in school because of all the transfers, and the idea of not graduating on time felt like dying of shame. As usual, this topic brought on the same tired fight between Sam and his dad. Dean stood on the sidelines, trying to placate them both, like always. It felt like this every time, like Sam was just going to break with the anger of how much he hated their lives, the finality he felt every time, like something just had to change. He had to run, to get away. He made a move for the door, but John placed himself firmly in front of it, an immoveable force.
“No, not again Sam. You’re going to stay right here. You’re selfish and careless, and I won’t have you abandoning this family again.”
Sam turned and fled to the bathroom, unable to stay under the weight of two pairs of eyes.
When he slammed the door and whirled around to stare at the mirror, his first thought was to focus the spinning world around him the only way he knew how. He pressed at bruises and picked at old scabs, but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t get his thoughts to slow. He yanked the knife out of his boot and pulled off his jeans, pressing the blade against his thigh lightly. He pushed the tip into his skin harder and drew it across his leg sharply. Blood welled up in a neat line. He did it again, drawing a parallel line above the first, deeper this time. He kept going until he had ten cuts in a row up his thigh. He let the blood trickle down and caught it with squares of toilet paper before it could hit the floor. When the bleeding stopped, he pulled up his pants and walked out of the bathroom, straight to his bed. He fell asleep quickly, despite the burning of his leg.
And once Sam had discovered it, he used the relief cutting gave him, but only when he couldn’t find anything else. He couldn’t risk Dean or his dad finding out.
But of course, that didn’t go as planned.
Sam was out cold from getting knocked against a wall by a poltergeist. Dean scooped him up and rushed out of the house. Sam was sixteen, finally getting big enough that Dean had trouble carrying him. John followed and flung himself into the driver’s seat just as Dean got Sam settled in the back. He climbed in beside his dad and they rocketed out of the driveway and down the street. When they got back to the hotel, Dean laid Sam down on the bed. John looked carefully at Sam’s head. There was a lump forming, but it wasn’t worse than any of them had before.
“Take care of him, I have to go back and finish off that poltergeist.” He turned and left without another word.
Sam woke up to Dean leaning over him with a strange expression. Dean didn’t say anything when he saw that Sam was awake.
“What?” Sam asked. He didn’t like the way Dean was looking at him.
“Sammy, tell me you didn’t do this to yourself.” He gestured at Sam’s lap.
Sam was sitting in bed in his boxers, the fresh cuts clearly visible, along with several scars. He didn’t say anything.
“I saw the blood and I thought you were hurt so I had to check. Jesus Sam, what could be that bad that you’d have to...”
“Like you don’t know,” Sam said harshly. He grabbed his pants from the edge of the bed and draped them over his legs. He was too dizzy to stand up and put them on. “Just because I don’t go out and get in fist fights doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use pain to my advantage Dean.”
Dean stared at him. “You’re just a kid. You shouldn’t, you can’t be this...”
“Fucked up? Broken?” Sam offered. “Well it comes with the lifestyle, I guess.”
“Sammy.” Dean yanked Sam forward into a tight hug. Sam was caught off guard. Dean didn’t really do this that often, not since they were little.
“Sammy please. Don’t do this. Somebody’s gotta come out of this family functional. If you got something to work out, you come to me. Just... you can do whatever you need to make yourself feel better, just don’t hurt yourself.”
“Don’t tell Dad,” was all Sam could think to say. Dean looked at him with an expression that made Sam want to take his knife to his leg.
It stopped after that, for a long time. He looks back and still isn’t sure how he dealt until college, when things got so much better. But now it’s different. Now it’s a whole new thing he’s struggling against.
He doesn’t think Dean realises the implications when he squeezes Sam’s stitched up hand in that warehouse. Maybe he doesn’t remember, but Sam does. The flash of clarity as the pain shoots through his hand brings it all back. And Lucifer vanishes.
Sam doesn’t fall back into the habit right away. He presses his thumb into his scarred palm whenever the fallen angel’s voice becomes too much to handle. But of course, his hand heals. And old habits die hard.
About a month after Sam starts chasing Lucifer away with his knife, Dean turns to him suddenly in their motel room and says,
“Sam, I’m not an idiot.”
“I know you’ve been doing it again.”
Sam wants to say what, to pretend he doesn’t know what Dean is talking about, but there’s no point. So he doesn’t say anything.
“When I grabbed your hand, I didn’t want you to start doing that again, I just, I don’t know. I needed you to focus for a second.”
“Pain helps me focus.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sam hadn’t been expecting that answer. “But isn’t there anything else? Can’t you work it off or something, tire yourself out?” He sounds desperate, but resigned, like he knows the answer but can’t help asking.
“I’ve tried everything. When I’m tired or stressed it’s the worst.”
Dean nods and doesn’t say anything for a second. “Let me see.”
“Sam, I just want to make sure you’re okay. I get it, alright? I don’t like it, but I get it. I just want to make sure they’re not too bad.”
“No.” Dean doesn’t need to see the thick red scars and the fresh cuts that run down the length of his thighs. Some of them probably are a little too deep, but Dean doesn’t need to know that. He can’t know that. Because Dean worries too much, blames himself for too much, and this doesn’t need to be one more thing on the list.
Dean glares at him, then his expression goes soft and concerned. “Just be careful, okay Sammy? Don’t let him get to you too much. And only do it when it gets bad. If you want to do it for any other reason, or if it starts to get out of control, fucking tell me, okay?”
Sam nods. He won’t, but he nods to reassure Dean. He doesn’t know whether he can keep it under control or not; he’s already started doing it for reasons other than the angel riding in his head, but he refuses to be a burden to Dean any further.
“I’m only letting you do this because it keeps the bastard out of your head.”
Sam wants to say ‘like you could stop me,’ but instead he says, “I know.” He tries not to think about how inevitable it seems now, that he would start this up again. He fell back into it so easily, sometimes Lucifer just felt like an excuse.
“You’re gonna be okay Sammy. I know you are. Eventually you won’t have to do this anymore.”
Sam smiles at that. At least Dean has hope.
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the YearPairing:
Slight Dean/Cas mentionsWarnings:
GSummary: Cas experiences his first ever Christmas on earth, and at first, he's thrilled. When he loses faith, Dean makes it his mission to cheer him up, with Sam's help.AN:
This is so cheesy, it verges on some bizarre crack fluff. I'm not even sure I should be posting it, it's that over the top. Just keep in mind, I'm not serious, kay?
The hard thwack of a well aimed snowball is Castiel’s first real experience with snow. He turns to see Dean grinning and wiping his cold hand on his jeans. Sam is laughing and Bobby is rolling his eyes, but smiling. It’s Cas’ first Christmas on earth, and he’s very curious about the holiday. He watched early Christians celebrate their saviour’s birth in secret, blending their celebrations with the pagan rites of the time. It was for safety, out of necessity, but the tradition stuck. He hasn’t seen the celebration on earth since then, and he’s never been a part of it. So he watches carefully every time they’re out in the town. He knows the Winchester Christmas traditions are far from usual, and he wants to get a feel for what the holiday is to most humans.
He is thrilled. Everywhere they go, songs play on the radio, hymns, songs of praise. People sing them on corners, go door to door. There are boxes and buckets in stores, give to the needy, and people do. Cas eagerly grasps the hand of a bell-ringing man outside of Walmart, thanking him for doing the Lord’s work tirelessly in the cold. The man is surprised, but he smiles. Cas asks Dean for a dollar to put in the man’s bucket. Dean hands him a five and grumbles something about wanting change.
“Dean this is wonderful,” Cas says after he drags Dean to a church service where they sang Away in a Manger. Cas had tried to get Dean to teach him the tune, but Dean had refused, so Castiel just closed his eyes and listened to the people praise his father.
But the next day he hears something that breaks his heart.
“I hate going out around Christmas. All those damn people ringing bells, asking for money.”
“I know! I just give them some change because it’s so awkward to walk by without giving anything. It’s like they’re judging you.”
And then later, in a clothing store, a woman speaks to her husband.
“Which dress would Casey look better in?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I want the girls to look nice when we go to church on Christmas Eve.”
“I don’t know why we get all dressed up and go to church this one day a year, like it matters any more than the other three hundred and sixty four.”
They get back to Bobby’s and Dean asks him what’s wrong.
“These people, Dean. They don’t believe in the things they’re saying and doing. The hymns are just songs to them. How can they praise without feeling? They just do these things because it’s what they’re supposed to do. Does no one believe?”
Cas looks so desperate that Dean’s first instinct is to try and make it all better.
“Sam does. He always wanted to go to church on Christmas, said it was important to be in a place of god on the holiday, when praying just isn’t enough, but we never had the time.”
“Your brother has lost much of his faith through these times we have been in. He no longer prays. I don’t hear it anymore.”
Dean searches for something to say, anything to convince Cas that it’s not all meaningless, but to Dean, it always was. He comes up with nothing, so he offers Cas a glass of eggnog. Later on, he goes to Sam.
“Sam, we gotta do something about Cas.”
“He’s all down because people do the Christmas thing without actually believing any of it.”
Sam frowns. “Let me think.” After a minute, his face lights up. “I have an idea.”
“Are we gonna have to do some cheesy ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ crap?
“Yes,” Sam says resolutely. Dean sighs.
Sioux Falls is small, but it still has a shelter, and that’s the first place Sam drags a grumpy Dean and dejected Cas. He has a paper bag full of things that he won’t show either of them and he seems convinced that this is going to solve everything. They park the Impala out front and Sam hands Castiel a scarf.
“What’s this for?”
“This is a homeless shelter. It’s cold, and the people here need things like that. Give it to someone who looks like they could use it.”
“I don’t see what this is supposed to do.”
“Just do it.”
They go inside and stand awkwardly for a few minutes before Cas strides over to a thin, tired looking woman and offers her the scarf.
“This is for you. Merry Christmas,” he adds as an afterthought.
The woman smiles. “Thank you, God bless.” She stands up and goes to a corner of the room where an old man is sitting against the wall. She says something, then hands the scarf to him.
“Why did you do that?” Castiel asks when the woman takes her seat again.
“Ernie is sick, he needs it more than I do. I can get by alright in the cold.” Cas frowns at her, then hurries back to Sam and Dean.
“Sam, do you have anything else in that bag?” Sam pulls out a pair of gloves. Cas takes them and goes back to the woman.
“Here, take these. And please keep them for yourself.”
The woman smiles again and takes the gloves. “Thank you dear. Merry Christmas.”
Their next stop is the town’s one and only church, a tall old building with a bell at the top. Sam walks inside and begins climbing the stairs.
“Bobby told me about this,” he says to Dean. “Every year, the youth group buys Christmas presents and dinner for a local family in need.”
They come into a large hall with many tables, where teenagers and a few adults are wrapping presents.
“Sam, what is this?” Castiel asks.
“Why don’t you go find out.”
Cas walks up to a tall, lanky boy who is struggling to fit wrapping paper over a remote control car. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Uh, wrapping a present?”
“Yes, but why? What is all this?” The boy eyes him cautiously.
“It a thing out youth group does. We find a family that can’t afford Christmas, and we all pull together money to buy them presents and stuff. They give us lists of things they want, and we go shopping for it, then bring it back here and wrap it. Then one of the grown ups brings it all to them. It’s usually anonymous so we don’t know who the family is.”
“And why do you do this?”
“To give the family Christmas. Do you know how much it would suck to be a little kid, wake up to no presents or a tree? And it would suck for the parents too, because their kids would be all sad and they couldn’t do anything about it.”
“Oh.” Cas wants to hug the kid or shake his hand, but he gets the idea that wouldn’t be good, so he turns to the first adult he can find and says, “Is there anything I can do to help here?”
“Well it’s a bit late to donate, and the kids have got the wrapping mostly under control... You could help load the wrapped presents into my van?”
“Yes, I’d like to do that.”
“Okay then, come with me. My name’s Judy, what’s yours?”
“Huh. Well Castiel, I don’t think I’ve seen you around, are you new in town? What brings you here tonight? The last service was over hours ago.”
“My friends are helping me see that there are still people of faith doing good things in the name of my father on this holiday.”
“Wow, that’s quite a mission. You must have some good friends.”
Cas takes several trips up and down the long flight of stairs, carrying wrapped presents to Judy’s car. When they’ve finished, Judy rubs her numb fingers and invites Cas and his friends to stay for a cup of coco.
“No, thank you. This has been very nice. I hope my father sees the things you have done here.”
He returns to find Sam and Dean, who have been drinking hot coco, telling stories to amuse the kids who have finished wrapping. Sam looks up when he sees Cas come in.
“Feeling better?” he asks.
“Good. We’ve got one more stop.”
They pull up in front of a long building that says hospice on the front. Cas doesn’t know what that means, but no one is saying anything, so Cas doesn’t ask. The air feels suddenly sombre and he’s unsure why.
“This one is a little different. Do you remember Sheriff Mills? Well we’re going to see her great aunt. She’s blind because of a brain tumour, and she doesn’t have much time left.”
“Why would you bring me here?”
They walk through the doors and to the front desk, where Sam gets directions to Gertrude Mills’ room.
“Just wait. Talk to her.” Sam pushes Cas into the dim room, staying outside. He and Dean watch from the doorway as Cas slowly goes over to the woman.
Cas doesn’t know what to say. “I’m, ah... I’m a friend of your great niece.”
“Well come in then. There’s a plate of cookies on the table there.” Cas glances to where she’s pointing. There is a small table with nothing on it.
“So what brings you here, son?”
“I’m... not sure.”
“That’s okay. It’s all a part of God’s plan. Come have a seat and talk for a while.”
It is, Cas thinks as he sits beside the old woman at the window. They don’t talk for a few minutes, and Cas is starting to wonder again why he was brought here, when Gertrude speaks.
“I’m sorry. What would you like me to say?”
“No, I mean you don’t make any noise. I can’t hear you breathing and you don’t rustle when you move. You don’t fidget while you sit.”
“You’re somethin’ else, aren’t ya? You’re not like everybody else.” Suddenly, Castiel thinks he knows why he was brought here. It was a part of God’s plan, truly.
“Yes,” he says, standing up. He gently takes her hand, then puts his other hand to her forehead. He reaches out and touches her softly with his grace.
“You’re an angel,” she breathes.
“Oh thank you son, thank you. Praise the Lord for giving me such a gift. I have been touched by an angel and blessed on Christmas Eve. Thank you.”
Tears begin to run from her eyes, and Castiel keeps her hand in his.
“My name is Castiel. There is a place in heaven waiting for you, I believe. You have such strong faith. That will be rewarded.”
“Castiel,” she says, trying out the sound of his name. “I can go in peace now, Castiel. Thank you.”
“Thank you, for the unwavering strength of your faith has brought me hope. May your Christmas be blessed.”
More tears slip down the old woman’s face. Cas gives her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and walking out of the room.
Sam and Dean are waiting for him, nervous looks on their faces. Castiel feels tears wet his face.
“Thank you,” he says to both of them. “There is still faith left to be found in this world, I see now. It is such a beautiful thing.”
Sam smiles and Dean pulls Cas into a tight hug.
“You gotta have faith for the rest of us weak humans, Cas. I couldn’t see you like that. I’m just lucky that Sammy is a fucking genius here. I don’t know the first thing about prayin’ and God.”
“Thank you Sam.”
“No problem. It was good for me too. It reminded me that so much good comes out of people believing in God. It’s not all apocalypses and possession.”
“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, Cas!”
“Merry Christmas, Dean.”
Walkin' in a Winter WonderlandPairing:
GSummary: And face unafraid, the plans that we made, walking in a winter wonderland. Dean decides something while he's out in the snow with Cas.AN:
I was going to post this earlier, but I completely lost track of time. This fic came to me at work while I was singing the line in italics above.
Castiel has seen snow before. He has seen blizzards and flurries and snow in such unlikely places as Hawaii. Dean knows this. But he also knows that Cas has never felt
snow, and if the angel is no longer an angel, Dean wants to show him all the perks of being human that he can. So Dean pulls on his jacket and drags Cas outside, insisting that they go for a walk. He doesn’t throw snowballs or knock Cas over or any of the other things he would usually do in the snow. He just walks, looking at the soft white around him until Castiel does the same.
“Cold?” Dean offers.
“Yeah, I guess it is. I like it though. Everything’s clear. And you can see stuff comin’ from a mile away.” Damn. He hadn’t meant to bring hunting and strategy into this, but he doesn’t know how else to act, what else to say. He keeps walking, into the trees that surround the little motel Sam and Dean are staying in. A sudden rustling and a surprised noise has Dean spinning around, but when he sees what has happened, he laughs. Castiel is standing underneath a tree branch that just unloaded a pile of snow onto his head. He sputters and Dean comes over to help him brush the snow off of his hair.
“It’s down my shirt. It’s cold.” He sounds so surprised that Dean can’t help but laugh again. He leans closer and kisses Cas softly, rubbing his cold cheeks to warm them up.
They kept walking, coming through the trees to a field, endlessly white and smooth. They stand and stare for a minute.
“Snow is very beautiful.”
Dean plucks up the courage to grab Cas’ hand as they walk through the field. The snow is ankle deep, but Dean made Cas change into a pair of boots before they left, so his feet wouldn’t get cold or wet. They walk in silence for a long time until Dean speaks.
“I’m sorry for hiding this, us. No one knows that... that I’ve been with guys before. And relationships are weird for me to begin with. You’re the first person I didn’t have to worry about protecting, and keeping all this shit from. ...I’m gonna tell Sam. And Bobby. I’m gonna be out.” Once Dean starts, he can’t seem to stop. “And not just with them. With everybody. I’m not gonna hide it anymore. We can really be together.”
Cas’s smile is small and gentle. “I’d like that.”
The three of them sit in front of the cheerful crackling of the electric fireplace Sam turned on for some unknown reason. Dean is sipping nervously at a glass of whiskey and glancing from Cas, to Sam. Cas gives him the smallest hint of a smile, and Dean clears his throat.
“So, Sammy, uh... I’ve got somethin’ to tell you.” Sam looks up from his book, alarmed. “Aw, jesus, don’t look at me like that! Makin’ this harder than it already is.”
Sam leans in close. “Dean, what is it?”
“I’m... with Cas.” Sam blinks at him.
“...With Cas? Like, you’re together?” Dean nods.
“Oh, okay.” Sam goes back to reading his book.
“What, that’s it?”
“What do you want me to say, Dean? Make some big deal that you’re bi? Just because you think it’s not macho to like dudes, doesn’t mean that I care. And Cas is cool. Not to mention you don’t have to worry as much about demons or something holding him ransom for you.”
“Oh. Well then.” Dean immediately leans over and starts making out with Cas. He feels something soft thunk into the back of his head and looks down to see a balled up pair of socks.
“That doesn’t mean that I’m okay watching you two get freaky. Keep the PDA to a minimum.”
Cas reaches out and takes Dean’s hand. That works, he thinks.
Thirty Years to the StartPairing:
None. You can imply all you want, and I would imply Dean/Cas, but none, really. Warnings:
Graphic torture, graphic noncon, hellRating:
NC-17Summary: Dean has been in hell for thirty long years. Finally, he gives in. Alistair makes him into something that is barely human. Then the angel comes.AN:
This one was really tough to write. There was lots of revision. All the love to everyone who read it and helped me. I hope it's as good as I envisioned. I mention the use of a metal pear, if you're not up on your medieval torture methods, this is what I'm referencing: http://www.medievality.com/pear-of-anguish.html
The knife is gone from his flesh. The voices, the screams, everything he was seeing is gone and there’s only the blackness behind Dean’s eyelids. He leaves them shut.
“Whadda ya say, Deanny boy? You can get off the rack for such a sweet little price. You’ll like it, I promise. Putting those damned souls through their paces. They deserve it, you know. Just like you.”
“Okay.” It’s barely rasped out through Dean’s broken vocal cords. Alistair asks him to repeat himself.
“I’ll do it.”
Just like that, the hooks in his flesh, the chains he was suspended from are gone. He is unharmed. But there’s someone else there now, a man with a sweaty, dirty face that’s so panicked, Dean can tell he hasn’t been here long. Alistair presses a knife into his hand and steps back.
“Show me what you’ve got, son.”
Dean tests the knife on his palm and steps forward. It’s impossibly sharp, but his skin heals over as soon as the cut is made. He stares at the man before him for a second before leaning in and quickly jabbing the knife. He comes away with one of the man’s eyes. He takes the other, twisting the blade in his socket.
“Very good, take the eyes first so he can’t see the rest coming. You’re a natural.”
Dean thinks for a moment and before he can act, Alistair is handing him the blade he was thinking of. Dean uses it to slowly carve away the skin on the man’s face. He lets the screams wash over him as the man flails against his bonds, splattering blood on Dean’s face. He cuts off each ear, carves out the lips and split’s the man’s tongue in half, listening intently as he gurgles and chokes on the blood. The two split muscles of his tongue twist in his open mouth. Dean is fascinated by it. He begins cutting sections of the man’s fingers off, taking each fingertip first, then moving down from there. He takes two of them and shoves them in the drooling, blood filled mouth, down into the throat where they can’t be spat out. The man chokes and a fingertip comes flying out of his mouth. Alistair laughs.
“Oh, I have plans for you. You’re gonna go far with me here to teach you.”
Dean ignores Alistair’s words, just keeps cutting and jabbing and twisting the knife in flesh.
“Here, try this now, trim him down a bit.” He hands Dean a knife designed to cut flesh from bone. “It gets boring if you use the same tool for too long. We want to offer a variety of sensations to the customer.” He laughs.
Dean can’t feel the stretch of time wear away, just knows that the body will not die, that it’s not really a body, but a damned soul that he is destroying endlessly. Eventually there’s nothing left to tear or stab, but the body is still moving, writhing and bleeding. Alistair puts a hand on his shoulder and grins.
“This is a beautiful start, beautiful.”
The body suspended before him fades away, and another one appears. It’s a young man, well toned and thrashing against the chains. He’s angry. That comes as a surprise. Dean has known fear, heard the screams of anguish, known hopelessness and doubt, but never has he seen anger here.
“Come on man! All I was trying to do was save my sister! She’s thirteen! I go to hell for that?”
Something pricks in Dean’s mind, some flash of recognition, but it doesn’t reach the surface because Alistair is handing him a red hot poker and encouraging him to go for the sensitive skin on the inside of the thighs. Dean stares for a second more, but once he plunges the hot metal into the man’s thigh, the screams wash over him and renew his energy, making him forget everything else. Alistair makes suggestions as Dean goes, casually telling him that the skin between the fingers is extremely sensitive, and that his forehead will bleed wonderfully.
The man cries for his sister, and Dean learns quickly that every soul clings to one thing when it’s torn apart. After countless souls have come and gone under his hand, Dean starts to see it. All the other demons whose job is to torture can see human souls. They grow dim the more the soul is broken. Dean never stops to wonder why he can’t see his own. He doesn’t remember having one. There isn’t time to stop and ponder things in hell, so Dean never has time to consider the fact that he no longer distinguishes himself from the demons around him. Dean sees, like they do, beyond the physical manifestations to the glowing life of the soul, the actual being that he is tearing apart. He hears and knows these souls as they break beneath his hand. And he finds that he enjoys it. It’s a thrill that keeps him going, to watch the glow become dirty and dull. It feeds him to dig in and take apart something so pure and whole, too clean to belong here.
“Please! PLEASE! My sons need me, they’re alone. Who will take care of them?”
“They need you?” Dean sneers. “You’re a worthless mother. They didn’t even love you.”
Dean steps back, watches with a smirk as the woman’s face changes. He knows the scene that is materializing in her eyes, having put it there himself. This is Alistair’s specialty, reaching into the broken souls and putting all the worst of them into visions that become the soul’s new reality. Dean was more skilled with blades and chains, but he picked up quickly when the souls started displaying themselves to him. He twisted their fears and losses into visions that consumed a soul completely. It broke them in a way Dean found intriguing and new.
“That’s right bitch. You gave up everything for them and they hated
Dean pushes her further, tracing her tear tracks with the tip of his knife. Blood mixes with the tears and drips off her face as her whole body shudders. Dean goes in with the knife while she sobs, cutting the noise off and causing a scream to replace it. He can always tell when he has a soul at that breaking point, when they simply can’t take any more. Sometimes it doesn’t take long, and sometimes Dean has to completely shred the light and body before him.
Alistair throws a girl at his feet, pretty and young. With the first thought flashing through his head, Alistair is growling,
“Yes. That’s right Dean. You want it. Take it, it’s yours.”
He needs no more encouragement. Hell is fluid like a dream, so Dean doesn’t actually have to remove any clothing between pinning the girl down, and pushing into her. Her screams drive Dean faster, raking his knife down her back as she struggles desperately to get away. He bites hard into her neck, tasting blood and licking his lips. He kisses the girl roughly, pushing her own blood into her mouth. Blood spills between her legs and over Dean’s hands as he grips her torn back. He smears it over her breasts and face, laughs and licks at her chest.
This is his favourite thing, tearing into a soul both physically and mentally, a scar that cannot be forgotten. He likes it when he’s the first, digging in and wrecking them before he throws them away to get passed down the line, taken endlessly under knives and fucked like the useless damned they are.
He forces the metal pear into the ass of a middle aged man, twists the handle and bites at the man’s lips as he screams, the pear expanding and tearing him open. Then he yanks it out and shoves himself in, the blood slicking his way, hot and wet. He forces himself in the man’s throat, letting him choke as his own blood trickles down his throat.
Alistair is there as always, and when Dean tosses the man aside, there is another, this one a bit more Dean’s style, thin and young and terrified. He grabs him by the neck and pulls him upward with inhuman strength. He reaches down with the other hand and flicks the knife, splitting the boy open. He feels the blood gush onto his legs and he swipes his fingers through it, shoving them in the boy’s mouth. Then a blinding light fills his senses and the boy hits the ground hard when Dean drops him.
Alistair is frozen and tense beside him when the light dims, but Dean is cocky and eager for this new event to unfold, whatever it is.
“Angel,” Alistair hisses. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come for this soul.”
Dean smirks when he realises that the scruffy angel is gesturing at him. “Me? Must get boring up in heaven. The angel’s come for a good time!” He holds his knife loosely in his hand and imagines all the things he’ll do to the pretty, pure, lost thing. What can one angel do in hell?
He jabs at the angel with his knife, but the angel is well out of his way before Dean can reach him. Dean keeps slashing and reaching, but the angel keeps his distance until he begins to look impatient, almost annoyed.
The angel surges forward and Dean prepares his knife, but before he gets a chance to strike, the angel clamps a hand on his shoulder and Dean’s entire body burns. He snarls and thrashes to get away, but he is somehow fused to the angel from that one point of contact. The pain is white hot, like nothing Dean experienced in hell or in the life from before that he doesn’t remember. Dean sinks his knife into the angel’s shoulder, but the angel just pulls it out and tosses it away. Dean howls and digs his fingers into the angel’s chest, pushing with all of his unnatural strength, but nothing gives. He fights in panic like a cornered animal, biting and kicking at the immoveable being holding him tightly. The angel looks him in the eyes, and once again, a glow lights up hell. But this time it’s coming from inside Dean. As the angel fights up through the layers of hell with him, the glow seems to give them aide, protecting them from some of the demons that try to keep them there. Dean doesn’t stop trying to escape, but when he’s pulled up to the surface, things start falling away, and he remembers.
Dean is reliving his years in hell. Bright, terrifying flashes of the chains and screams overwhelm him until he thinks he won’t be able to stand it, only to fade away and be replaced by a new scene of torture.
The sensations that surround him in the space between these visions are beyond description. It’s as though every single molecule of his body is filled with some sort of burning hum, yet he has no body. There is no beginning or end to the feelings and nothing to be feeling them with. The next memory hits him much harder than the others did.
He is being torn apart, ripped into by something he can’t see. This time he is aware of his body, but only in the sense that he can feel it shredding under invisible claws. The raking pain is the only physical awareness he has. Someone is screaming ‘No! Stop it!’ but Dean can’t see who, can’t see at all. Can only feel.
After that it’s a rush of images, sounds and sensations so fast and strong that he can’t make sense of any of it. It’s all familiar, his in some way, but he can’t tell how or slow anything down enough to process it.
“Sammy,” he moans. It’s the first thing that comes to him clearly. His Sammy. That means something. Everything. He just doesn’t know why. The memories continue to pour through him until it’s too much, and he passes out.
Dean opens his eyes to a blinding light that slowly resolves itself into a man with bright blue eyes. He doesn’t know who the man is, but the word angel comes to mind.
“Hello Dean. I am Castiel. I have remade you. You will not remember this.” Then he puts a hand to Dean’s forehead.
Dean wakes up in the dark, in a wooden box.
Title: He's Got a Gift
Pairing: Dean/Cas with a side of Sam, Dean/Cas/Sam
Summary: Cas is awesome. Dean wants Sam to see just how awesome Cas is. And the angel is more than willing.
AN: So this is the last of my wincestiel reserve. The last one got a really good response, which makes me extremely happy. But comments are love, so you should leave me some of those. The more specific, the better.
It was St. Patrick’s Day, and all Dean wanted was to get really, really drunk. Sam was on board for this plan, and Cas was going to get drunk whether he wanted to or not. It no longer took an entire liquor store for this to happen, but Dean had still maxed out one of his fake credit cards to buy enough booze to get him there.
They found a hotel as far out of town as they could, and Dean set up a system to ensure the best night possible for everyone. If he was actually going to take the time to celebrate a holiday entirely for drinking, he was going to do it right. The strongest stuff went to Cas first, because he needed it the most. Dean saved a bottle of the good scotch for himself, and Sam could have whatever he wanted because Dean was just happy he agreed to this.
With Dean playing bartender, they were all pretty wasted by midnight. Even Cas was slowly swaying in his chair. His voice got deeper and looser when he was drunk. It always made Dean laugh. Cas stood up, bracing himself on the table, and came around to lean into Dean’s side. He lost his balance and ended up tumbling into Dean’s lap. He looked very confused for a second, but then reached for Dean’s glass and took a sip. Dean smacked the back of his head.
“Hey! I gave you a whole bottle of the 110 proof rum to yourself. Keep your hands off my scotch.”
“But it tastes better,” Cas said, practically pouting.
Sam laughed. “At least he’s got good taste.”
“Yeah, well that’s my good taste he’s drinking, and there’s not a whole lot left.”
Cas leaned into Dean and nuzzled his head. Instinctively, Dean responded to the touch by rubbing his hand up and down Cas’ thigh. The angel tipped his head back and closed his eyes.
“Hey, ew, guys, stop it.”
“Oh, come on. You like it. I mean, Cas is awesome. He does this thing with his tongue when he blows you, it’s like, well I don’t really know what it is, but it fucking rocks. And when he kisses... His fucking mouth man. It’s just. Cas, show him!”
Cas slowly lifted his head up and opened his eyes to look at Sam. Then he heaved himself from the chair and pitched forward, catching himself on Sam’s chair. He stared at Sam some more before leaning in and grabbing Sam’s face to kiss him. He had to brace himself awkwardly to hold Sam and not fall over, but he was giving his all to the kiss, and it gave Dean a nice view of his ass, so it didn’t really matter. Sam flailed at first, surprised by the face full of Cas, his brother’s boyfriend and all, but the kiss was really pretty good. He put his whole body into it, or as much as he could while he was standing and Sam was sitting. He bit at Sam’s lip with just the right amount of pressure. When he pulled off, Sam was a little out of breath. But Cas stayed right there in his space, so close Sam’s eyes couldn’t focus on him properly.
“See what I mean?” Dean asked. Sam was still too surprised to speak, but his head nodded for him. He reached out and pulled Cas back in, this time actually responding to Cas’ teeth and lips.
“That mouth,” Dean said. “The things he can do with it.”
Then there was a hand at Sam’s crotch, rubbing and squeezing, and he gasped and leaned away from the kiss. Cas stared at Sam, just kept staring and Sam wondered if this was what Dean felt like all the time, Cas staring at him. Then Cas got on his knees.
“He’s going to show you. It’s so fucking hot, when he gets you in his mouth. He can go so deep.”
Sam was pretty sure this was wrong, something about Cas being an angel and Cas being Dean’s angel, but Dean was goading them on beside him and Sam’s pants were open before he realised that this was actually happening. Cas’ mouth slid over his dick and Sam would blame his surprised moan on the fact that he was drunk, and not that Cas took him all the way in one go, without any warning. Sam couldn’t even remember the last time he got a blowjob. It was probably Jessica and he was firmly Not Thinking About That while there was an angel sucking him off like he was born to do it. He couldn’t seem to keep quiet, and that’s something, because he almost never made noise in bed, but now he kept letting out little ‘oh, oh, oh!’ noises like he was the chick in some porno.
He didn’t even notice that Dean had gotten up and was standing beside him until Cas slid his mouth off of Sam’s cock and turned to suck on Dean’s instead. Sam was disappointed that it seemed like his turn was over, but it didn’t take long for Cas to turn back to him, this time sucking hard and bobbing his head fast like he was trying to get Sam off right then and there. It worked. Sam grabbed Cas’ head with both hands and clenched them in his hair while he came. As soon as he was spent, Cas pulled off and was back to Dean, licking up the bottom of his dick and practically worshipping it. Putting aside that it was his brother, it was actually pretty hot seeing Cas like that, and Sam had never thought of the angel that way before. Dean was right, he was fantastic with his mouth.
Dean couldn’t seem to stop talking, rambling streams of encouragement as Cas took him in.
“Yeah, mmm that’s it, come on, yes, oh, good, good, oh Cas yeah.” Sam laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was so like Dean to not be able to shut up, even during sex. Dean opened his eyes and looked at Sam long enough to flip him off before grabbing Cas’ head and shouting ‘Fuck!’
When Cas let Dean slide out of his mouth, Dean helped him to his feet and gathered him into a hug. He tilted his head against the angel’s and smiled and Sam was drunk enough to admit that it was really fucking cute, and not crack a joke, because Dean was only showing this affection around Sam because he was drunk as well, and Sam didn’t want to ruin it. Instead, Sam just put his dick back in his pants and had another drink.
I just finished the rough draft of a fic I have fondly been referring to as hellfic. It was supposed to be the epic tale of Dean's stay in hell, how he became an evil, torturing, thing under Alistair's guide, and how Cas saved him and remade him.
It's not even close to that. It's a little over three pages of a sad attempt at telling that epic story. What I need now, is a strong, determined beta who will be brutally honest with me and help this story become as good as it can be.
If you do this, I will forever be in your debt, you can own my soul and all that good stuff. :)
Title: Lust Versus Love
Pairing: Dean/Cas with a side of Sam, Dean/Cas/Sam
Summary: Dean is used to quick and dirty one night stands. That's not what Cas wants. Dean doesn't know any other way, so he's forced to go to Sam for help.
AN: Here's another wincest free wincestiel for you. It isn't related at all to the other one I posted, I just happened to be in the mood to write lots of this pairing.
“Sam, I need your help.” Dean sat down resolutely in front of his brother.
“Okay, with what?”
“Sex. With Cas. He says I’m not doing it right.”
Sam’s face flicked through several different emotions before settling on amused. “Your virgin angel says you don’t know how to have sex?”
“I know how to have sex! ...Just not the way he wants me to. He wants it all candles and rose petals. I don’t do that shit.”
“He actually wanted you to light candles?”
“No! You know what I mean! He wanted it all lovey and close. I usually just-“
“Stop. I don’t want to hear what you usually do. I’m still processing the fact that we’re even having this conversation.”
“Come on, Sam! I wanna make it good for him.”
“I know. Just try, being slow with it.”
“I was going slow, I didn’t want to hurt him.”
“No, not like that, I mean, make every action count. Make it mean something.”
“What the hell are you even saying?”
“Hang on. Cas? Can you come down for a minute? It’s about Dean.”
“Is he in- Oh. Hello Dean.” Castiel glanced awkwardly at Dean, then looked at Sam. Dean stared at Cas the whole time. “What did you need?”
“So Dean tells me that you guys aren’t working out so well in the bed department.”
“Yes. He is too hurried and unfeeling when we make love.”
Dean cringed at the phrase and Sam laughed. “See, this is exactly what I was trying to tell you. He wants you to mean it when you have sex with him.”
“What? How do you not mean it?”
Sam sighed in frustration. “Cas, come here. Dean, have you ever pulled his hair?”
“Yeah, once. He didn’t like it.”
“Okay, instead of yanking it back, try this. Cas, I’m gonna touch you now, just so I can demonstrate something to Dean. Trust me. This’ll help.”
He stepped up to the angel until their chests were almost touching, then he gently threaded his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair. He guided Cas’ head back and leaned in, sucking at his neck. When he pulled away, Cas just stood there, wide eyed.
“You like that?” Cas nodded. “Good. See Dean, you just have to make him feel like every touch means something important.” He spoke without taking his eyes from Castiel’s. “Make every part of him feel something. There are lots of sensitive areas on the body. And kissing. Kissing is important. So is the way you kiss. Hold him while you kiss him, and make it slow and smooth.”
Sam put one hand on the side of Castiel’s face and the other on the back of his neck, pulling him in and kissing him slow and deep. Dean coughed awkwardly.
“I thought you were straight.”
Sam pulled away, but didn’t break eye contact with Cas. “Usually.” He reached into the trenchcoat, past the suit jacket, and pulled Cas’ dress shirt out from his pants. “Every touch means something,” he said as he grazed his fingernails over Castiel’s hip bones. Cas gasped.
“Do that again.”
Dean stood up and took a step towards them. “Okay, I think I get it now.” But Sam was reaching up under the shirt, and Cas tipped his head back. “Hey. Stop molesting my angel.”
Sam laughed and stepped back. “Okay, let’s see you do it then.”
Dean nudged Sam out of the way and pulled Cas close to him. “Let’s get these off,” he said, sliding off the trenchcoat and jacket. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist and muttered, “I feel like I’m at the freakin’ prom.”
Dean kissed Cas, awkwardly at first, like he didn’t know how, but when Cas responded, he leaned into it, moving his hands to cup the angel’s face. He opened his eyes to find Sam behind Cas, sucking on his neck. Cas kept his eyes closed, his head tilted to give Sam easy access.
“What are you doing?” Dean demanded.
“Helping.” Then he reached around and began to undo shirt buttons. Dean smacked his hands away. If the shirt was coming off, Dean was going to be the one to take it off.
He pushed it off Cas’ shoulders and Sam pulled it the rest of the way. Then Cas grabbed the hem of Dean’s t-shirt and pushed it up until Dean took it off. Just as Dean was about to kiss him again, Cas turned around and did the same for Sam.
“Wait what? What’s happening here?” Dean stared at Cas and his now shirtless brother.
“I want you both. You don’t have to do anything with each other. Just do this, for me?”
Dean’s first reaction was hurt. He wanted to say no. He wanted to go shoot something, because he had been stupid and assumed things that apparently weren’t true.
“Dean,” Cas said sharply. “I always want you. Above anyone. I love you and will always love you. This is not that kind of wanting.”
Dean stared at Cas for a second before deciding to have sex now and think about it later. He agreed to what was happening and pulled Cas in for a heavy kiss. Cas finished undressing both brothers once Dean had freed him of his own pants and then Sam manoeuvred Castiel over to the bed. He pushed him gently onto it and climbed on top, kissing Cas and letting his hands roam. Then Cas flipped them over and crawled down Sam’s body, and all Dean could do was watch. Once he got over the fact that he was watching his brother get his dick sucked, it was kind of hot. Seeing Cas bob his head up and down, lips stretched and wet. After a minute he pulled off and looked behind him.
Dean went over to him and Cas got up on his knees, sucking Dean in briefly. It caught Dean by surprise. He had never tried this before, and Dean didn’t think he would want to, it seemed too dirty for an angel to ever do. Dean put his hand on the Castiel’s shoulder and got him to lie down on his back, beside Sam. For the first time, he really looked at Cas’s body, and he suddenly understood what Sam had been saying. He began with a kiss, sure like he hadn’t been before, then slid down to suck at Cas’ neck. He bit lightly at his collarbones and teased each nipple with his mouth. He brushed his thumbs over Cas’ hipbones before licking and biting them. It earned him a gasp and a sharp jerk of Castiel’s hips. Dean grinned and slowly slid his mouth over from Cas’ hip to his cock, licking up from the base to the tip. He took the tip in his mouth and sucked teasingly before going back up for another kiss.
“Dean I want you.” Cas said, and Dean knew what he meant. He got up to look for the lube, but Cas already had it in his hand, thank you angel powers. It felt like forever until he was buried inside Cas, breathing heavily at the intense feeling. He was about to start moving when Cas said his brother’s name.
Dean had completely forgotten Sam was there. He started thrusting into Cas as Sam positioned himself in front of him, and Cas was sucking him again. He was pushed repeatedly onto Sam as Dean rolled his hips over and over, running his hands down Castiel’s back. He was overwhelmed now, by the need to touch Cas. It made sense. He had treated Cas like any other fuck, not letting how he truly felt about him come through. But once he let it, he couldn’t get enough.
His hips sped up on their own accord and Dean felt himself coming. He reached down to jerk Cas off as he did, and Cas made a muffled noise around Sam’s cock. Then it was Sam coming; Dean could tell from the way his body tensed up as Cas sucked him through it. Dean pulled Cas off of both of them and into a kiss, not even thinking about where his mouth had just been. Sam slid out of the way as Dean laid Cas down on the bed. He still hadn’t gotten off. So Dean went down on him, slow and teasing like Dean sometimes liked it. Sam walked away, off to the bathroom, leaving them alone. Just Dean and Cas. And Dean pulled out all the stops, made it as good as he could until Cas was coming hard in his mouth. He pulled off and wiped his lips.
“So, was that better?” He grinned.
“Yes, that is what I wanted.”
“Was it because Sam was there? Did you just want a threesome or something?”
“No, Dean. I told you. I want you. And I finally have you now. Sam just helped.”
Dean didn’t quite understand what Cas was saying , but he smiled and kissed him all the same.
Title: Bourbon and Sharing
Pairing: Dean/Cas with a side of Sam, Dean/Cas/Sam
Summary: All Dean wants is to get drunk and have sex with Cas. Cas has other plans. Plans that include Sam.
AN: This is one of three Dean/Cas/Sam fics that I wrote, just to see what it was like. They're all Dean/Cas romantically, but Sam gets thrown in for some sexy times. There is no wincest involved though, in case that weirds you out.
Since Cas had discovered his fondness for alcohol, Dean had been teaching him the ways of drinking like a pro. He taught him the difference between the good shit, and what they usually got, and which beers went best with which foods. He even told him what little he knew about wine, which Cas seemed to really like. That ended up with a very nervous Dean asking a guy in a liquor store which wine his boyfriend would like best with their fancy dinner, but Dean didn’t tell Cas that. He just presented the wine and grinned like an idiot when Cas tasted it and smiled.
But tonight wasn’t about fancy dinners or good whiskey. It was about getting wasted. Dean had had enough of blood and hex bags and broken bones, and he was ready to toss back too many shots and have sex with his angel. Cas and even Sam had liked the idea, so they made the drive all the way back to Bobby’s to make a night of it. Bobby was glad to see them alive and when he saw Dean’s finger in the splint, he rolled his eyes and brought out a bottle of bourbon he had been saving.
They got right down to business. Sam retold the story of the hunt to Bobby while Dean grouched and sipped his bourbon. It was not his fault the damn floor was wet when he dashed off to save Sam’s ass, and it’s pretty hard to fire a gun when your trigger finger’s broken. But Sam had gotten nothing worse than a bloody nose from the whole thing, so Dean didn’t know what he was complaining about.
After a few hours of drinking and shooting the shit, Bobby said something about getting old, and left the three of them with a warning that if they drank him dry, he’d shoot them.
When the room was spinning nicely, Dean started rubbing Cas’ thigh, slowly moving his hand higher. Cas ignored it at first, but eventually he leaned back in his chair and spread his legs just enough to give Dean better access. They were both still carrying on a conversation with Sam about something unimportant, so Dean had to wait before he leaned in and whispered in Cas’ ear.
“You wanna go upstairs now?”
Cas didn’t move or look at him. “Can we take Sam with us?”
“What?!” Sam looked over at Dean’s outburst, so Dean grabbed Cas by the arm and dragged him outside.
“What the hell do you mean, ‘can we take Sam with us?’ Did you not get what I was talking about?”
“Yes, I did. I simply thought we could include him in our sexual activities tonight.”
Dean put his hands on his head and turned away in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re actually saying this to me. How drunk are you?”
“I think I am reasonably drunk, but I’m not sure what that has to do with this. Sam is an attractive man, I don’t see why my interest in him should surprise you.”
“He’s my brother!”
“And that is supposed to make him unattractive to me?”
“No, but that means I don’t involve him in my sex life. Ever!”
“My brothers often engage in relationships that could be compared to intercourse, it is not unusual.”
“Well I’m not a frickin’ angel.”
“There are several examples of incestuous relationships in the bible.”
“God, don’t say that word!”
“Fine. But I have an attraction to your brother, and I intend to act on it.” Without another word, Cas turned around and headed back into the house. Dean followed, still baffled at the angel.
“Sam, would you like to have intercourse with me?” Sam looked up from the table and blinked. Then he caught sight of Dean standing behind Cas.
“Uh, I don’t think Dean would like that.”
“But you would, if he was okay with it.”
“Um... I... It’s kinda hard to think about an answer to that with Dean standin’ there glaring at me.”
Cas turned around and sent Dean a glare of his own, but then had a better idea and changed tactics. He came in close to Dean and touched his chest.
“You wouldn’t necessarily have to do anything with Sam in order for this to happen. But this is something I want very much, and I would never do something that would hurt you.”
He could see Dean starting to cave, so he turned said, “Sam. I want to have sex with you. Do you want this, or not?” He fixed Sam with the stare he recently discovered was considered to be sexual, and waited.
“Only if Dean’s okay with it,” Sam said finally. Cas turned back to Dean.
He looked up at him. “Dean.”
“Fuck. Cas, why do you do this to me?” He walked over to the table, poured himself a generous amount of bourbon, and swallowed it in one gulp. “Okay, let’s do this.” No one moved for a second. “Come on Sam, do you want to get some angel ass or not?”
Sam jumped to his feet. “Oh.”
“Yeah, that’s right, come on. One time offer. I don’t share.”
“I like it when you’re possessive of me.” Even sober, Dean could never tell whether Cas was joking or not.
They got upstairs and Dean immediately started undressing Cas, because he just wanted to get laid tonight damnit, so this was not going to be awkward and ruin it. Sam pulled off his shirt and Cas stepped out of Dean’s hands and went over to him. He reached up and pulled Sam down into a kiss, and for a minute, Dean just watched, because the last time he saw Cas kiss someone else, they were storming Crowley’s stronghold and all of Cas’ skills were from the pizza man. This time it wasn’t strangely hot, but it was still interesting to see Cas do what he’s done to Dean from an outside perspective. Cas bent his head down and bit at Sam’s collarbone. Sam put one hand on the back of Cas’ head, and the other on his waist. Dean felt his possessive jealousy flare up, but he pushed it away. He was going to try for the mature adult this time and remind himself that Cas loves him, and no one else. This was just a physical thing. He knew plenty about that.
So instead of getting angry, Dean went over to them and fit himself behind Cas. He breathed in the smell of his hair for a second. They fit so well together. It was him and Cas, he knew. He licked the shell of Cas’ ear and felt him shiver. He wanted to whisper ‘you’re mine,’ in his ear but it felt wrong, so instead he plucked up the drunken courage and said,
“You love me, right?”
Cas immediately turned around. “Of course I do.” He kissed him softly. Sam and Cas were shirtless, but Dean was still completely clothed, so he pulled off his shirt and brought Cas in close. Behind him, Sam was unbuttoning his pants. Dean laughed.
“Cas and I are havin’ a moment, and Sammy’s gettin’ naked.” Sam looked up, surprised and a little embarrassed.
“What else am I supposed to do?”
Cas looked at each of them. “There needs to be two of me,” he said with a frown. He went back over to Sam and pushed off his boxers. Not wanting this to be a weird back and forth thing, Dean reached around and undid Cas’ button and pushed his pants and underwear down together. He quickly took off his own pants and took a moment to get over the fact that they were all standing naked in a room together.
He pulled Cas over to the bed and laid him down on it. He lay beside him and started sucking on his neck, teasing his nipples with his hands. Dean felt movement on the bed and Cas started twitching from whatever Sam was doing. It wasn’t until Dean felt Cas’ hips buck up from the bed that he looked down to see Sam blowing him, moving his head slowly up and down. Dean was a bit surprised. He never thought Sam was the type to like a cock in his mouth. Then again, there was enough weird about this situation that Dean should stop being surprised. He started biting and sucking at Cas’ nipples, adding to the sensation that was making him squirm on the bed.
“Can I fuck you?” Dean and Cas both looked down at Sam, who was staring at Cas intently.
“Yes,” Cas replied. Dean pulled the lube out of the pocket of his discarded jeans and handed it to Sam. He focused on the angles Cas presented as he lay there being opened up by Sam’s fingers. Dean licked up Cas’ chest and kissed him. The angel’s mouth went slack when Sam pushed into him, and Dean couldn’t help but look. Cas had his legs wrapped around Sam’s waist and his face scrunched tight when Sam started moving.
“Don’t hurt him,” Dean said automatically.
“I won’t.” But Dean still watched Cas’ expression carefully as Sam rolled his hips. He knew what it looked like when Cas was enjoying himself versus when he was in pain. Cas reached for Sam, pulled him down into a kiss, and Dean watched him bite Sam’s lip when he hit that spot. Cas reached out blindly for Dean and found his cock. He wrapped a hand around it and started pumping it awkwardly at the difficult angle. Dean put his hand over Cas’ and watched as Cas was jerked with the force of Sam’s thrusts. Sam moved out of the way so Dean could kiss Cas again. Cas tightened his fist and sped it up, making Dean moan into the kiss. He heard Sam gasp and assumed Cas had squeezed his muscles like he did when he wanted Dean to come. Sam made a stuttering noise and snapped his hips erratically. Dean came a few seconds later, splattering on Cas’ chest. Sam was still inside Cas, jerking him off as he rolled his hips through his own orgasm. When Cas came, Sam cried out as he tightened around his sensitive cock. Then he pulled out and collapsed beside him.
Cas reached up at Dean for a kiss. “Thank you.”
Title: Trust (2/2)
Summary: This is about trust. And control. Dean needs to learn how to let go. And Cas will show him.
AN: I think I just really like to torture Dean. But he gets what he wants in the end. And so does Cas.
Dean’s still standing, wide eyed, at the edge of his bed when Sam wakes up. He rolls over and blinks at Dean, then sits straight up when he sees Dean’s expression.
“Dean, what’s wrong?”
“What are those marks on your arms?”
Dean looks down at his arms. The indents of the ropes he was bound with have faded some, leaving red lines in their wake. “Nothing,” he says again. He goes over to his bag and picks up his jacket, sliding it on to hide the marks. Every movement he makes causes the toy to shift inside him. Bending over sends a rush of pleasure through him and he has to bite his lip not to make a noise. Sam can’t know, he can never know about what Cas is doing to him.
Sam studies him closely and Dean works hard to compose his face.
“Where were you?” Sam asks.
“I didn’t go anywhere.”
“Yes you did. You clothes are dusty and you’ve got marks on your arms. Where were you?”
Dean is slowly coming back to his senses, so he knows exactly what to say to shut Sam up. “I was with Cas,” he replies, putting on a smirk for good measure. Sam makes a face and forgets about the marks on Dean’s arms.
“So, breakfast?” Sam suggests. Dean thinks food is probably the best idea ever, so he agrees and follows Sam out the door. Walking produces little sensation, but when he sits down in the driver’s seat of the Impala he gasps at the change in angle and the pressure. Sam gives him a look. Dean thinks quickly, but the best excuse he can come up with is that the seat is cold. For once, Sam doesn’t force him to tell the truth.
The short drive to the little restaurant on the other side of town is one of the most uncomfortable things Dean has ever experienced. Every time he shifts or the car goes over a bump, it sends pleasure spiking through him. To make it all worse, there is the constant vibration of the Impala’s engine, keeping him on the edge. He grips the steering wheel hard and hopes Sam doesn’t notice his erection tenting the front of his jeans.
“Dude, you’re walking funny.”
“I fell. Hurt my ankle.”
“You’re not walking with a limp. You’re walking weird. What aren’t you telling me?”
Dean can’t think of anything to say that Sam will believe and can’t bring himself to hint at what happened last night, so he shrugs.
“Nothing. Don’t have to believe me.” Sam frowns but doesn’t push it further.
Dean fidgets the whole time they’re eating, trying to find a way to sit that doesn’t leave the toy pushing into him, making it hard to think. Twice he catches himself simply rocking his hips back and forth, caught up in the feeling of the toy shifting inside him. Thankfully, Sam is too involved with his breakfast to notice Dean’s problem, but he does notice when he looks up from his finished meal and sees Dean’s half eaten stack of pancakes.
“They too much for you?” he laughs, gesturing at the plate. Dean rolls his eyes.
“Ha ha, very funny.” With that, he shoves a bite of the now cold pancakes into his mouth. He manages to get through the rest of his breakfast quickly enough, with Sam watching him curiously. He needs to get out of this booth and away from people. He stands up and tosses money on the table as soon as he has swallowed his last bite. Sam is startled by his sudden departure and takes a minute to catch up.
“What was that?” Sam demands when they’re back in the Impala and pulling out of the parking lot.
“Thought I saw a demon. Didn’t want a scene in front of the whole place.” He know the lie is going to come back to bite him, but he’s just throwing out the first things that come to mind, too distracted to properly think.
“Really? The newspaper article said the attacks were on the other side of town, but they could be using the diner as a base, away from the scene. Let’s go back to the hotel, get into our suits, and head to the police station to get some more info.”
Dean actually sighs with relief when he turns off the engine in the hotel parking lot. He holds perfectly still, and for the first time, there is no feeling at all. He can tell the toy is still there, keeping him open, but it’s not pressing or rubbing or doing anything distracting. Then he remembers he has to get out of the car. He stands up quickly and tries to walk like nothing is wrong. Sam is already half into his suit when Dean gets through the door. He raises an eyebrow at Dean but doesn’t say anything. Suddenly, Dean has an idea.
“Hey, I’m going to stay here and try to figure out what the demons are doing here. You go ahead and talk to the cops.”
Dean needs this. He can be alone, pull the toy out and get himself off. He can barely think through the almost painful arousal. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees movement. There is Cas, staring sternly at him. He’s gone the next second, without saying anything, but Dean knows what it means.
“I changed my mind, I’m coming with you. I don’t feel like being stuck in this shithole all day.” Sam shrugs and Dean carefully stands up and starts putting on his suit.
After the hell of the drive over, Dean is beyond thankful to be standing still in the police station, actually able to focus on the case for the first time that day. They hit up the houses of the victims’ families, which are thankfully all within walking distance. Then it’s back to the same restaurant for lunch. (The town has very little to offer in the area of food, and Sam insisted they look into Dean’s demon sighting from that morning.) Dean manages to sit still, in relative comfort, peacefully eating his burger, until he notices Sam glancing around every few seconds. It takes him a minute to remember why.
Sam leans in close, whispering, “Dean you were right! This place is full of demons. I think we’re the only humans in here.”
“Good job figuring that one out.” A tall, older man in a flannel shirt and suspenders saunters over to them, leering in a way that looks completely wrong on the man’s kind features. Dean scanned the room quickly. Two demons sitting at a booth on the other side of the room. One standing near the door. If they could get past the one in front of them, they might be able to get out through the kitchen door, where they wouldn’t draw attention from passersby. There were too many to take down without more help. Dean thought of calling Cas, but couldn’t bring himself too. He couldn’t look at him with Sam around, it would all fall apart.
So Dean stands up, wishing he could be eye level with the bastard. Sam follows his move, glancing over at Dean in the hopes of some sort of signal. Dean flicks a look at the door to the kitchen, hoping Sam gets it. He seems to, so Dean lunges without warning at the demon, shouting, “Go!” Sam dashes around the tall demon and makes for the door. One of the demons sitting at the booth, wearing a middle aged woman, sends Sam flying backwards. Dean gets heaved up and slammed into the table as he tries to bring Ruby’s knife down into the demon’s chest. He easily knocks the knife from Dean’s hand, and begins slamming his head into the greasy tabletop repeatedly. Dean has his eyes closed against the pain when he hears a shout and feels the demon release him. Sam has poured holy water over the demon’s head. While he’s distracted and thrashing, Sam yanks Dean towards the front doors, where they’ll only have to get past one demon instead of two. Dean slashes at the demon guarding the door, hoping to give Sam a chance to get out, but the middle aged woman grabs him by the shirt and heaves him back at the same time Dean is being knocked flat by the woman in front of the door. He rolls himself onto his stomach and is about to crawl away when her arm wraps around his throat, pulling him backwards onto his knees. Dean cries out. That damn plug in his ass shifted as she pulled him, and pleasure is shooting through his body. The demon smirks.
“You like that?” she asks sweetly. She reaches down to palm at his dick, which had gone soft for the first time all day, but is now coming back to attention. Dean shouts again and Sam yells his name. He comes rushing over, Ruby’s knife in hand. He yanks Dean out of the way and thrusts the knife into the demon’s neck. Dean lies on the floor, body rushing with heat. He doesn’t want to move, because now that he remembers the toy is there, any movement will make him feel. Then Sam’s hands are all over his body, checking for injuries. Dean bats him away. That’s the last thing he needs.
“Dean what happened? Are you okay?” He’s stopped touching, but is still hovering over Dean, so Dean forces himself to sit up, biting back a moan as he does.
“I’m fine Sammy.”
“That noise you made. I’ve never heard you sound like that before. What happened?”
Dean is getting so sick of Sam’s questions today. “She just caught me by surprise. It hurt.”
“She caught you by surprise twice?”
“The noise. You made it twice.” Sam is staring at him intently and Dean knows there’s no way he’s going to get out of this with some half-assed lie, so he give in and offers Sam a piece of the truth.
“She frickin’ molested me, okay?”
‘That was a... oh god that was a sex noise. I just heard you moan. I thought I could escape this with you and Cas, but no, the universe is determined to scar me.
Sam goes to stand up, then stops. “Wait. A demon got you that turned on?”
“Fuck you,” is all Dean can think to spit back. Sam laughs and stands up, offering Dean a hand. Dean takes it and bites his lip as he is pulled to his feet with the plug pressing inside him. Sam looks around at the dead bodies sprawled across the floor.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he says. Dean agrees. The drive back to the hotel is almost painful. Dean’s cock aches from the rush of blood. He’s never been this turned on in his life, and not being able to do anything about it only turns him on more. He hates that. He is supposed to be the one making Cas desperate and begging, not the other way around.
They get back to the hotel and Sam is immediately on his computer, scanning the screen for who knows what. Dean changes out of his suit slowly, trying his hardest not to cause the plug in his ass to brush up against his prostate. He is mostly unsuccessful, and by the time he has managed to get back into a t-shirt and jeans, he’s just about panting with the intensity of the feeling. He lies down on the bed and grabs the remote, flipping through the channels and trying to stay as still as possible. He manages an hour of staring blankly at the screen before he is silently begging to Castiel, praying for him to release Dean from this agonizing wait.
For a minute, there is nothing, and Dean thinks Cas isn’t coming. But then he’s at the side of the bed, leaning in closely and whispering in his ear.
“Are you ready?” Dean nods quickly. “Tell me.”
“I’m ready, Cas, please.” Castiel stares at him a minute before standing up and turning away from him.
“Sam. I am taking your brother with me for a while. I will bring him back to you before you need to leave this place.”
Sam looks up, surprised, and says, “Uh, okay?” Cas puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder without another word, and they’re gone. This time it’s not an empty warehouse, or even a room at all. It’s a large grassy plain, so bright and green and cliché that it hurts Dean’s eyes. Cas begins to slowly undress him as soon as Dean has his footing, and Dean lets him without contributing to the process. Cas just thinks his own clothes away, touching Dean’s face gently before ordering him to lay down on his back. He stands over Dean for a moment, just staring at him.
“You were impatient. Did you not trust that I would come back for you?”
“No, I did, I just. It was so fucking much, Cas. I couldn’t think. I needed to get off.”
“This is not about getting off, Dean.” He looks at Dean sternly, then kneels down beside him. “I saw that demon touch you. Would you have let her get you off? Let her touch you like I have?”
“No! Fuck no!”
“Then you understand. You have to want this, just the way it is. You must let me, want me, to show you.”
“I do! How do I get you to believe me?” Castiel says nothing, reaching down and slowly pulling the plug out. He pushes two slick fingers in its place, curling them to brush gently against the spot the toy had been teasing all day. Dean arches his back.
“Cas please, man, come on. I’ve waited all damn day.”
“You’ve waited. You’ve wanted this.” It’s not a question but Dean says yes anyway. “Tell me what you want.”
“God, Cas. I want you... I want you to fuck me.” It takes effort to say, and Dean still feels a little wrong saying it, but when Cas pushes into him, finally, he wraps his legs around the angel’s waist and stops caring. He sets a steady pace right away, pumping into Dean hard and insistent. Dean just absorbs the feeling, clutching at Castiel’s arms. It takes him a minute to realise what’s different from the last time Cas did this. He wants it now, he isn’t just enjoying the feeling. He wants Cas all over him, pushing inside him and taking him like this. He clenches down, wanting to make Cas come. Wants to feel it inside him. Cas isn’t hitting his prostate every time, but the intermittent bursts of sharp pleasure keep him breathless.
“Cas,” he gasps. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, but he knows he needs to say it. “Cas.”
Cas touches his face, brushing fingers over his cheeks and lips, and it’s not like any sex they’ve ever had before, but Dean likes it, and he doesn’t even think to deny it any more. He wants to kiss Cas but is afraid to ask. They’ve kissed before, but this feels so new, he doesn’t know how to go about it anymore. The angel seems to know what he wants, because he presses his mouth into Dean’s, and it’s a whole different kind of kiss. Dean reaches up hungrily into it and Castiel keeps him grounded, lets him explore the new experience, holding Dean’s face in his hands. His hips start pumping faster, and he grips Dean’s shoulders, leaving his mouth pressed open and unmoving against Dean’s. When he comes, Dean tightens his legs around Cas’ waist, pulling him in closer so he can feel it pass through Castiel’s entire body.
“Cas, I love you.” Dean forces out the words before he can second guess them or think it through. He just knew, when he could feel Cas shudder and clutch at him as he came, inside him, that this was what he was trying to say. Nothing else could make him want this. He’s never wanted it before, not really, but he wants to give everything to Cas, and to feel him everywhere. He trusts Cas to take care of him, and not hurt him.
“I had hoped you would.”
Rating: G Extreme fluff
Summary: Alabanza means to raise this thing to God's face and to sing
Quite literally "praise to this"
AN: The summary and the inspiration for this fic is from the song Alabanza from In The Heights, a broadway musical.
Alabanza means to raise this thing to God's face and to sing
Quite literally "praise to this"
Dean peels off his shirt in the hot sun and stares at the engine under the hood of his baby. Something is making a noise that it shouldn’t and Dean will find it if it kills him. He reaches down for his beer and finds it empty.
A moment later, Cas is standing in front of him, holding sunscreen and a fresh beer. “I saw you from the window. I thought you would need these.”
“Thanks Cas. You wanna help me put it on?” Dean makes a suggestive wink and Cas gives him a slight smile in return.
“I will help you get your back,” he says, squeezing some of the lotion onto his hand. Dean turns and feels Cas put his hands on his back. The lotion is cool as Cas smoothes it into Dean’s skin and it feels good. When he’s done, Cas stands with his hands pressed against Dean’s back and says something Dean doesn’t catch.
Castiel shakes his head. “Nothing.” He chooses to walk back to the house instead of popping right in. Dean smiles. Maybe the angel is finally learning something.
It’s late and Dean is mostly asleep when he feels Cas press his lips to Dean’s forehead and whisper something.
“Huh?” Dean mumbles, trying half-heartedly to open his eyes.
“Nothing, go back to sleep.”
Dean does just that.
Dean doesn’t know where he is, he just knows that he hasn’t seen Cas in a week, and now Cas has zapped them off someplace and is currently taking Dean’s pants off.
They had just finished a hunt in Idaho, a small nest of vampires, mostly newbies turned by one old vamp who had lost her family to hunters years before. It had been fairly easy to take them out, and Sam and Dean were just about to celebrate when Cas showed up.
“Cas, where are we?”
Castiel pauses long enough to say, “A hunting cabin in Michigan,” before he yanks off his tie and pulls Dean close.
Soon they’re on the floor in front of an empty fireplace and Dean is over Cas, rolling his hips into him again and again. Cas is writhing and murmuring Deans name and another word Dean doesn’t understand. It sounds familiar, but Dean can’t focus or stop long enough to ask.
Dean is swearing and storming around the hotel room, packing his things, while Sam sits on his bed wrapping a deep cut on his arm in gauze.
“Fucking witches! Cas, be useful and pack Sam’s stuff. We gotta get out of town before someone notices the fire.”
Cas complies and begins shoving Sam’s clothes into his bag. Sam will bitch that they aren’t folded or organised, but Dean really doesn’t care. He does not feel like dealing with the cops today. Then he hears a chuckle and Cas says something. He looks up and Cas is watching him.
“You say somethin’?”
“What was that, Spanish?”
“It was nothing, Dean.”
They make it out of town in time, and Sam doesn’t even complain when Dean blasts ACDC as they fly down the highway.
Hunts have been slow to come lately, so Sam and Dean agreed that they could afford to take a week at Bobby’s to rest. Cas comes along for the ride, insisting that it’s because he enjoys reading Bobby’s collection of books. Sam looks pointedly at Dean when Cas says this, and Dean smirks. Cas doesn’t bother trying to defend himself.
Their first night there promises to involve too much drinking and plenty of name calling all around, but about an hour in, Dean grabs Cas and drags him out the door. He’s only a little tipsy, so he trusts himself to navigate through the salvage yard and the scraggly trees at the edge of Bobby’s property, up to the top of a grassy hill he and Sammy used to sled down in the winter. He sits down and yanks Cas down with him, tilting his head back to stare at the bright expanse of stars. Cas stares at Dean instead.
“Alabanza,” he says quietly. Dean hears him.
“What’s ‘at mean? You keep saying it.”
“It is a word of praise. It is to thank God for one of his creations.”
“And you’ve been saying that about me?” Dean is doubtful when he asks this, and Castiel has to hold back a sigh.
“Of course I have, Dean. You are my father’s most beautiful creation. I see the sculpture of Adam, the first, in your body. Your eyes are kind after everything you have seen. They are like your mother’s. You are loyal and strong, in spirit, as well as physically. You love so fiercely, like no other human I have seen, for those you know, and those you don’t. You would save every soul on this planet if you could, Dean. You are a beautiful, righteous man. I praise the Lord for you in every way I know.”
Dean is speechless, so Cas kisses him, and whispers ‘alabanza’ against his lips.