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phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: The Demons Winchester, Part 2 (Prologue, Part One)
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: John/Mary, Dean/OFC, John/OFC, John/Dean, Dean/Sam, Sam/OMC(s), Dean/OMC(s), John/Dean/Sam, Bobby, Caleb (Total story)
Word Count: ~20,000 (total story)
Summary: What if? What if John and Mary were possessed? What would Dean and Sam be? How evil would Demon Winchesters be? Several nights before their wedding, John and Mary are taken by a pair of demon lovers. The next few years are much the same as canon...until their demon master comes looking for them, and takes Mary, sending John and the boys on the run.
A/Ns & Warnings: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
johnsgillygirl who won me and paid an enormous sum of money for the privilege during the March special auction over at Sweet Charity. She wanted 20,000 words of Demon boys...(I'm looking for one or two high quality caps of the scenes in "Dream a Little Dream" when double!Dean had black eyes...or for someone who reads this to make me a pretty cover with demony boys!). As to warnings...there is violence and mayhem, there is violent sex, some of which is consensual, some of which really isn't: Non-Con, Dub-Con, Drug use, violence, bondage, knife play, blood play, incest of every configuration including Daddy!cest, character death (none of the Winchesters).
They were a month or so from the big day. John pulled them in to Kansas for the wait. He liked the symbolism. This was where he’d come into the world. Where Kasha had given herself to keep him and the boys free. This would be the place where Dean came into his rightful power.
“Go check on your girl,” he said to Dean as they got out of the car in front of a small house. It had only taken John a day to find it and relocate the current residents. “I set up the portal in the back bedroom.”
Sam came around to help him unload the truck while Dean headed inside. “Time to inventory everything. No mistakes.” He thrust the small trunk of treasures into Sam’s hands and grabbed their bags.
With only a month, they had to make sure they had everything. No mistakes. Also meant they had to lay exceptionally low. Especially since killing the old demon, which reminded him. He went back to the truck and opened the passenger side door, pulling out the leather bladder. Once upon a time it had been a wineskin. Until someone figured out it was perfect for holding something else of greater value.
He followed Sam into the house and headed for the kitchen. “Set it all out on the table. I’ll get the list.” He shoved the bladder into the fridge and snagged a beer before fishing through his bag for his journal.
Sam went about emptying the chest, arranging the items in order of need. Along the top of the table he set up the candles. Thirteen black, seven white, three red. Then came the items that would raise the power required, a small cast iron cauldron, various herbal bundles that Dean would have to prepare carefully, the chalice, once consecrated and used on the altar of a church in New York, defiled in various ways, not the least of which was when the three of them and come inside it the night they acquired it. Sam was a little more careful with the vial of holy water that followed the chalice.
That would be one of Dean’s trials.
Sam kept pulling things from the chest then. The sacramental knife, forged in the fires of hell. Its blade was red and wicked sharp, the handle black. It would slice through nearly anything and the blade absorbed the blood, channeled it. The Seal of Dameron was next, safe in its leather pouch. There was the amulet for the baby…to mark it. Payment.
The leather cuffs were last, one for each wrist, each upper arm, each thigh, each ankle. Brown leather made from the skin of a witch butchered in the glorious days of the Inquisition, they were mostly ceremonial from what John could tell, a sign of containing the spirit within the body.
He sat down at the table with his journal, running a finger over the list of things they needed. Most of what remained to gather needed to be fresh and could only be brought together in the week leading up to the ceremony.
“Tomorrow we start scouting for the sacrifice and the meal.”
Sam nodded, snagging a chair himself. “How long does he have to be celibate again?”
John chuckled. None of the rest of it gave either of them pause, but the notion that Sam couldn’t touch his brother in the last three days was really chaffing. “Three days, you know that. If I have to, I’ll lock him up.”
“Right, cause you know I’d just let you.” Dean said as he came in from the living room.
“We can’t fuck any of this up Dean. That bastard would love nothing more than to get his hands on you.”
Dean rolled his eyes and went to the refrigerator, pulling out a beer. “No one is fucking anything…up. Sam will be a good boy and keep his hands to himself.”
John stood, pushing his chair away and crowded Dean up against the refrigerator. “No sex, no booze, no contact with any living thing for three days, Dean. I will lock you in a closet if I have to.”
Dean held his defiance for a minute, then sagged. “Fine.”
“Fine.” John stepped aside and opened the fridge, pulling out the bladder and handing it to Dean, taking the beer away. “Drink this. Everyday from now until your fast.”
Dean popped it open and sniffed at it. “What is it?”
“Demon blood. Old demon, nearly as old as Azazel. It’ll increase your strength.”
Dean raised an eyebrow and tilted his head back, pouring in a stream of the dark blood. Both eyebrows raised when he lifted his head again. “Wow.”
John grinned. “I should warn you, it also increases other aspects of your personality.”
Dean handed the bladder back and shook his head. “That’s…wow.”
John chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. It’s not as potent as what Azazel fed Sam when he was a baby…but it’s good. It should help you deal with the trials. Just don’t drink too much at once.” He tucked it back in the fridge. “How’s the girl?”
“Getting close. He’s dropped and positioned. By the end of the week maybe.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want to cut it too close. Sam, clean up this stuff and secure the chest. I want to go out and find us some fun.”
***
Dean knew from the tone in his father’s voice that he was looking for something rough and rowdy, but not too much so. It would only get them more attention than they needed just then.
So, Dean was a little skeptical when they pulled into a bar that was known to cater to hunters and other anti-social sorts.
“You boys go on in. Get your old man a beer. I got a call to make.”
Dean got out of the car and headed for the door, already sizing up the vehicles in the parking lot. His whole body was buzzing with the demon blood…running through him like a drug. He felt wired and powerful and horny as all hell. There would be a young crowd inside, judging by the flashy cars. A handful of the more serious hunters, judging by the older model dusty cars in the shadows.
He wasn’t sure what this was about, but he’d learned a long time ago not to cross the old man when he had something planned. It usually led to a beating…and not the good kind.
Sam was at his side as he reached the door, his hand dipping into Dean’s back pocket possessively. Normally, they only went into places like this when they were invited, like that thing with Singer, or when they were looking to throw a little bone to the hunting community.
Dean pulled Sam along, feeling the eyes that tracked their movements, all the way to the bar. He smiled at the bartender, a pretty blonde with a killer smile and tits trying to bust loose of a torn t-shirt.
“What’ll it be, handsome?”
“Three beers, and your number.” Dean said with a smirk. She winked at him and sashayed away to pour the beers. When she set them down on napkins, he noticed that one of the napkins had a phone number in black ink on it. He handed a beer to Sam and pocketed the napkin. He liked the invitation. Maybe she’d even live through the experience.
He turned and looked around them. He could pick out the hunters. They sat alone or in pairs, two by the back door. Two in the corner. Three scattered around the bar. They weren’t faces he knew, but he could smell them.
Sam was crowded up behind him, one hand cradling his beer, the other still in Dean’s back pocket. He was starting to get hyped up. He loved nights like this. He’d drink, fight, fuck…anything and everything until Dean dragged his ass home.
“This ain’t that kind of bar.” The voice was gruff.
Dean turned. The guy was big, not as tall as Sam, but broad, thick. “What kind of bar is that?” Dean asked, taking a sip from his beer.
“We don’t need none of your kind.”
Dean glanced up at Sam who shrugged. “My brother and I are just having a beer.”
“Brother?” It was clear the man didn’t believe him.
Dean nodded slowly. “I’m Dean, this is my brother Sam. Oh, and here comes our father.” Dean lifted his father’s glass and held it out to him.
“Problem?” John asked, looking from the man to Dean.
Dean shrugged. “I was just making introductions. This guy says our kind isn’t welcome, that it isn’t that kind of bar.”
“What kind is that?”
“He didn’t say.”
They both turned to the guy who took a step back. “I don’t want any trouble.”
John smiled slow. “Neither do we.” He held up his beer in salute before draining half of it. “That has to be a new record, you boys haven’t been in here five minutes.”
Dean pushed back against Sam. “Well, if our boy here could keep his hands off me in public…”
“Wanna put more than my hands on you in public.” Sam growled in his ear.
“Now, now…it’s a little early to be causing a ruckus. Settle down.” John waved down the bartender as he finished off his beer. “She’s cute.”
“Dean’s already tagged her.” Sam said, his hand slipping into Dean’s pocket and pulling out the napkin.
Dean grabbed it away from him and shoved it in his pocket. “If I gotta be celibate for three whole days, you’re going to be damn sure I’m getting my fill before that.”
John chuckled and turned to look around the room. “I’m going to mingle.”
“Mingle?” Dean was trying to figure out his father’s angle.
He looked back at them. “Hunters. We have a little demon problem. I’m just…hiring an exterminator…or twenty.”
He leaned in close. “As soon as Azazel gets wind of what we’re going to try, he’s going to send them after us…why do all the work ourselves? I let it slip to a few key players that something big is going down and what the signs are…and we get the next few weeks to prepare without worrying about all that political shit.”
Dean nodded slowly. That made sense. Half the reason the ritual hadn’t been completed in centuries was because it was forbidden, by both sides. No demon wanted one of their own becoming that powerful. No human wanted it either.
He’d never really had a run in with Azazel, but he remembered the shape of him, the black man in the red haze of fire. The yellow eyes. He remembered that.
He blinked and his father was gone to mingle.
Damn but he was horny. “I want to fuck something,” he said to Sam.
Sam nodded, his eyes skipping over the bar. “Boy or girl?”
Dean licked his lips and thought about it. He’d already had the girl. “Boy.”
“Young or old?”
“Young. Pretty.”
“How about that?” Dean followed his gaze to a tall, lanky kid near the juke box. It was obvious that he was trying too hard, baggy jeans and a zip up hoodie, hat on backwards, his nose and lip pierced. Trying to hide the pretty-boy features. His blond hair was died black, his eyes darkened with eyeliner. He was drinking a beer and trying to hit on every pretty girl that walked by.
“Oh, Sammy, you have a good eye.”
Sam grabbed his beer, dropped something into it and handed it to Dean. “Go get him tiger.”
“You’re not coming?”
Sam smiled his predatory smile and shook his head. “Got my eye on something else.” His eyes flicked to the end of the bar and the hunter watching them.
“You know Dad doesn’t want you fucking around with hunters.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Dean left him then, not even responding to that. He made for the kid at the jukebox. “Hey…I came in here with this girl, petite, brunette…got her a beer, but she seems to have disappeared. You seen her?”
The kid looked like he was going to blow Dean off. “No man…I ain’t seen no one like that. Was she hot?”
“Tits like melons, dude. Hey, you look like you’re out of beer. Want hers?”
For a second it looked like he was going to say no, but then he took it. “Thanks man. I’m a little tight.”
“I’ll bet.” Dean mumbled. He raised his own glass and drank down at least half the glass. The kid followed suit. Dean made small talk while the drug wormed its way in. “Hey, buddy…you okay?”
He unzipped his hoodie and breathed slowly. “Yeah,…just…hot…you know?”
“Wanna get some air?”
Dean set their glasses on the jukebox and steered the kid toward the back door. His cock was hard and it was pressing into his jeans. The night air did little to help. The kid swayed and Dean steered him away from the door.
“I shouldn’t be this drunk.” He staggered into the alley, leaned against the wall.
“Here, let’s get this off.” Dean finished unzipping the hoodie and pulled it off. “That help?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He slid a little and Dean moved in, hands on the kid’s hips.
“Easy. I’ve got you.” He kissed him then. The kid’s mouth fell open, then he was pushing at Dean. “Come on…let’s play nice.”
“You…I…” He was panting. Dean reached between his legs for his cock. It was slightly hard, but it got harder when he pressed into it.
“See, I knew you wanted me.” Dean kissed him again, pressing him against the wall. “You want me to slid my dick up inside you and make you come.”
“I…what?” The drug had him relaxed and lax and pliant. Not exactly what Dean wanted, but it was a start.
“You want me to put you on your knees like a dirty whore and fuck you. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He kissed the kid again, pulling his baggy jeans down and fisting his cock until it was full and hard. “That’s a good boy.”
Dean guided him down to his knees and unleashed his own cock. “Open your mouth.” The kid did what he was told and Dean slipped his cock inside it, slicking it up and warming it up before he shoved the kid forward.
He went down easy, his ass in the air. He wasn’t lying when he said he was tight. “Fuck!” Dean pushed inside him with only his spit for lube. The kid was going to know he’d gotten fucked when this was over.
He felt strong, buzzed and he fucked into the kid like he hadn’t gotten laid in months, leaving bruises all over his back and ass. The kid whimpered, tried to pull away, but Dean reached under him, stroking his cock until he came, then renewed his assault on the once-virgin ass.
His cock didn’t begin to soften after he finally came, and if anything he felt more aroused, more hungry for it. He pushed the kid down. He needed a challenge. A fight. He was panting as he leaned over the kid and mumbled the spell that would blur his memory even better than the drug. He’d remember he’d been fucked, but not what Dean looked like or that he maybe didn’t want it.
Dean patted his head. “Good little whore. Maybe I’ll send Sammy out to have a taste.”
***
Sam knew what he was doing. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t get in trouble for it later. This wasn’t one of the wannabe hunters, not a kid with something to prove. This guy had been around. Sam could smell it on him.
Probably lost someone close to him. Sam eyed him up while he sipped on a beer. Maybe his daughter. He looked like the type.
The man looked up at him. Haggard. Worn around the eyes. Already knew Sam was trouble. Already knew and was half way to not caring.
The bartender delivered the shot Sam had paid for and the hunter looked up at him. Sam smiled and lifted his beer.
He’d had a hard hunt, Sam could tell. Maybe not in the last twenty four hours, probably not around here, but he was stiff and sore…maybe hurt. He liked the hurt. Reminded him he was still alive. Or maybe it was penance for the fact that she wasn’t.
Sam didn’t care. He liked guys who liked it to hurt.
Sam tossed off his beer, scanned the room for his father. He was over in the corner with some hunter. Dean wasn’t back yet from the alley. Sam looked at the hunter, waited for his eyes, then casually stepped away from the bar, headed for the men’s room.
He felt the hunter move, slowed his pace, slipped into the men’s room and up to a urinal. He was already hard, just the thought of it…of this guy wanting it, was enough.
He couldn’t bleed him, not here, not now. Didn’t mean he didn’t want to though. He’d have to be careful.
The door opened and the man looked at Sam. Just looked. Sam’s cock twitched.
“You’re one of the Winchester boys.”
Sam nodded, smiling. “I’m Sam.”
“Hear you boys are trouble.”
“Is that what you hear?” Sam grinned, his cock still hanging outside his jeans. “Thought maybe you’d heard we like to fuck.”
The man’s face hardened, but he didn’t turn away. “Heard you like to fight. Kill stuff. And yeah, that you’ll fuck nearly anything that moves.”
“And some that don’t move at all.” Sam added, moving in close, crowding him against the sink. “So what is it you came in here for? Fighting? Killing? Or Fucking?”
The man’s face was red, his body tight. Sam cupped a hand to his groin. “Yeah, thought so.”
Sam didn’t waste time, got him turned around and his jeans undone, his hand filled with the man’s cock.
“Maybe we should…lock the door?”
Sam bit his shoulder lightly through his shirt. “Won’t be that long.” He yanked the jeans down, exposing a white ass. Well, white where it wasn’t bruised. Sam pushed the shirt up. The bruising was extensive, around his sides, down his back and onto the top of his ass.
Sam smiled, predatory and dark as his fingers pressed in against the bruises. The hunter closed his eyes and swayed a little. Sam entered him fast and hard, fucking in deep enough that the man rose to his tip toes. Sam’s thumbs played over the bruises, eliciting varying sounds from the man.
He resisted the urge to do more damage. It would only get him whupped later if he mangled a hunter. They were supposed to be laying low.
“Harder.” The hunter spoke through clenched teeth, his face only inches from the mirror. Sam was happy to oblige, tightening his grip on the man’s hips and pulling him into each savage thrust until he started to come.
He pulled out, spewing sticky strings over the man’s ass and backing away to tuck himself in.
The door opened and Sam looked up. “Oh, there you are.” Dean said. “Dad’s looking for you.”
Sam grinned. “Just…you know…mingling.”
“Yeah, right.” Dean’s eyes were dark, his nostrils flaring at the scent of come. The hunter was pulling his jeans up, looking away. Sam pushed him forward against the sink.
“Hold up there…I’m thinking maybe my brother needs something more than the pretty boy he took to the alley.” His eyes swept over Dean, over the tense body, the hard cock that his jeans did nothing to hide. “Do you Dean? You want something more?”
“You know Dad’s going to kill you, right?” Dean asked as he moved in closer. He was eyeing Sam, not the hunter. “Not supposed to dick around Sammy.”
Sam raised an eyebrow, sensing that his brother had no interest in the hunter, but definitely needed more. He let go and the hunter fled the room. Dean crowded Sam into the wall before he kissed him, rubbing his groin against Sam’s. “Gonna get a whipping when Dad finds out.”
Sam nodded. He had no doubt his father would find out. He had no doubt Dean would tell him. Because as much as Dean liked pain, he liked watching their father dish out pain nearly as much. “He’s gonna make you bleed Sammy.” Dean whispered into his ear.
Sam shivered, felt his cock twitch as Dean’s hand covered it. “I’m gonna lick it up, eat you up…”
Dean wasn’t often aggressive, not with Sam…and something about it was really fucking hot. Sam hissed as Dean’s hand squeezed his cock, then pushed his brother away. “If you think you can.”
Dean slammed Sam back into the wall. “Oh, I can baby brother. Can, will…make you beg for more.” His kiss was nearly violent, pressing Sam back into the wall.
“Dean, off your brother, we’re leaving.” Their father’s voice rolled around the room and Dean pulled away, but his hand closed on Sam’s neck and he shoved him toward the door. John’s eyebrow raised, but he didn’t say anything, just stepped aside so Dean could push Sam past him.
***
Sam was expecting the punishment, so he wasn’t surprised when his father dragged him into the house and up to the bedroom without really saying much of anything.
“Naked. Now.”
Dean sauntered into the room behind them and John turned to him, drawing him in to a slow, leisurely kiss. Sam stopped half way to naked, watching. Dean’s smile was dangerous, his eyes flooded with dark, black evil. “Need help getting there, Sammy?”
Sam watched him come, watched his father’s face fill with lust and pride.
Dean shoved Sam onto the bed and ripped his jeans off him, tearing the denim and leaving long scratches on Sam’s legs. “Naked, Sam.” Dean said, his eyes glittering. “Daddy’s gonna whip you.”
John was suddenly behind Dean, pulling him tight against him. “No. I’m not. You are.” John said, his hand cupping to Dean’s cock. “I’m going to watch.”
Dean leaned back, kissing his father before turning back to Sam. “Hope the hunter was worth it.”
Sam shuddered and finished pulling off his shirt. His father’s beating would be brutal, but quick. Dean though…Dean liked to take his time. “On your knees, Boy.” John said roughly, moving away to sit in the chair across the room.
Sam did as he was told, kneeling in the center of the bed. Dean’s hand stroked over his skin, down to his naked ass and back to his neck. “You need me to get the restraints, Sammy?” Dean asked, his soft voice belaying the excitement Sam knew was flushing through him. “Can you be still?”
Sam shook his head lightly. “Just get on with it.” He’d probably beg for them before it was over…because he wasn’t allowed to touch, had to take whatever Dean dished out…and eventually he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
Dean’s gently caressing hand grew hard, grabbing the back of Sam’s neck and forcing him down. “Fine.”
His hand slapped down, bare, open, slapping against Sam’s ass until it flushed warm and red. It wasn’t properly painful. This was more about humiliating Sam.
“You missed a spot.” John’s voice rumbled over the floor to them.
Sam couldn’t see him, but Dean’s hand smoothed over Sam’s skin, seeking out the one place that hadn’t turned pink. His slap was stinging and Sam could almost imagine him looking to their father for approval.
Dean’s hand left him and Sam watched him move to the trunk by the nightstand. He rummaged for a few minutes before coming up with a satisfied sound. He held up the paddle. Solid wood. Polished and well used over both their asses over the years.
John made an agreeing sound.
Sam cracked his neck and tried to relax. Tensing up only made it hurt worse. Dean wasted no time, cracking the paddle against him fast, hard enough that Sam was thrown forward. Five blows, then Dean moved around the bed to the other side.
“Gonna bruise you Sammy.” Dean growled.
“Do it.” Sam pushed his ass back and Dean laid into his other cheek. Five blows, then lower, over his thighs.
“Stop.” John was out of the chair, his hands on Sam’s thighs, pulling his legs apart. His hand was rough against sensitive skin, rougher still as it toyed with Sam’s cock, finishing the job of making it hard and leaving it hanging between his spread thighs. “Now the thighs. Make sure his balls know you’ve been there.”
John’s presence faded and Sam licked his lips in anticipation. He could feel their eyes, feel Dean watching for him to relax. The paddle whistled through the air and crack against his thigh, just the tip kissing his balls. It brought tears to his eyes and his hands fisted in the pillow under his head.
“Fuck.” He cursed into the pillow, hoping it would muffle the sound. Dean heard though and his next blow hit Sam’s balls and cock more than his thighs.
Sam gasped as his cock spasmed, his come spilling under him. His father was chuckling. “That didn’t take much.”
Dean barely waited for the orgasm to pass before he moved and hit him again. Over the other thigh, down to his knee. Sam was chewing on the pillow to keep his mouth in check. The more noise he made the worse the beating would get.
“Told you he was a bad boy.” Dean said, dropping the paddle on the nightstand and moving back to the trunk. When he came back to the bed he shoved a large butt plug into Sam’s ass with no lube. Then he was grabbing Sam’s cock and snapping on a cock ring.
“Dean…” Sam looked up over his shoulder at his brother who smiled viciously.
“Need the gag already, Sammy? Maybe it’s been too long since you got a proper whupping.”
“Don’t tease your brother, Dean.” John said. “Teach him.”
“Yes sir.”
His next trip to the trunk brought out one of the canes…thin, clear plastic. Sam closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He’d introduced his brother to the exquisite pain of a cane years before and Dean had grown to love them.
The first blow fell over Sam’s already red and stinging ass, and a series of them rained up his back and down his thighs, endlessly stinging, burning and before Dean was done, Sam’s lips couldn’t hold in the grunting.
His cock was hard again as Dean stopped his beating. Sam was panting, but so was Dean as he reached for the butt plug, pulling it out before shoving it back in.
“I want to see him bleed.” John said, suddenly closer to the bed. Sam spared a glance up to find him wrapped around Dean from behind, his hand unzipping Dean’s jeans and cradling Dean’s hard cock. “Want to watch him bleed while you fuck him.” He kissed over Dean’s neck, then shoved him toward the bed.
“You heard him Sammy…gonna make you bleed.” His fingers pulled the butt plug out and Sam didn’t see where it landed. He wasn’t empty long though. The bed shifted and Dean’s cock pressed into him.
Sam never saw the knife, but he felt its bite, carving into his skin. Dean fucked up into him, his mouth closing over the bleeding wound, his tongue delving into Sam’s flesh. At first the fucking and the sucking were slow, almost gentle.
“You’re supposed to be punishing the boy.” John’s voice slithered over them and Dean carved a second wound. He pushed in deep and held himself inside Sam while he smeared blood over his back. He leaned forward, offering a bloody finger to Sam, who sucked it in, clenching ass muscles around his brother.
“Like that?” Dean asked, but Sam wasn’t sure who he was asking until he realized his father was there, by the bed. He could hear them kissing as Dean renewed his rutting.
Together they licked blood up, their tongues tangling together, their fingers pressing into the wounds until Sam hissed. When Dean finally came and pulled out, John took his place while Dean stripped out of what was left of his clothes and went back to the trunk.
Sam actually screamed when his father dug his nails into the wounds Dean had made and John chuckled. “Maybe it’s time for that gag.”
***
It was almost dawn. John figured Sam had learned a lesson. Maybe three or four. He stirred on the chair, waking Dean who had dozed in his arms. “Let your brother loose.”
Dean nodded, smiling as they stood and looked down at Sam. He’d ended up in the restraints John had made for them when they were still teens, strong enough to hold any demon in a human body, perfect for the times they needed discipline. He was gagged too. They couldn’t afford to have the neighbors calling the cops on them.
His super-sized dildo stuck up out of his bruised and welted and bloody ass, and his cock was red with need, despite the very big puddle of come it was pressed into.
Dean moved to the bed, murmuring to Sam as he undid the cock ring and Sam’s come flooded out of him in an impressive stream. John stretched and cracked his back. “I’m going to get some sleep. Check up on your girl before you do.”
Dean nodded and continued the process of releasing Sam from his bonds. John knew Sam would recover fast. He always did. He appreciated the kid’s zeal and hunger, but sometimes he had to be shown who was in charge.
John moved out of the room and down the hall. He had to think of other things now. Like Azazel and the hunters.
They were skeptical anytime he brought them information. He knew that. But they really would be helpful in keeping the coming hordes off their back. Azazel had to be figuring it out. They had nearly all the pieces.
Any time now they’d come.
John cracked his neck before falling to the bed. He was looking forward to getting his hands dirty.
***
“He’s up to something.”
Sam could hear them, even though they couldn’t see Sam. He wrapped the dark around him like a coat and inched closer.
“His information’s been good.”
“Of course it has been.” Bobby Singer scowled at the other man. “Too good.”
He’d been tracking Singer since he hit Lawrence. His father was worried that the old hunter had figured it out. It was Sam’s job to figure out if he had, and deal with him.
He was more inclined to just deal with him and not worry about what he did, or didn’t, know.
“I’m telling you, Caleb I don’t like it.” Singer circled the truck and pulled a book out of the cab. “I been watching them. That boy of his? Ever have him look you in the eye?” He shivered.
“You got something more than a feeling?” Caleb asked as Singer put the book down on the tail gate of the truck.
“Maybe.” Singer pulled his hat off and scratched at his head. “I don’t know. It seems…far fetched.”
Caleb chuckled. “Right.”
Sam couldn’t see the book or what Singer was showing the other man.
“Wow.” Caleb wiped a hand over his face. “I mean…it’s not possible, right?”
Singer shrugged. “It would explain a lot.”
“You’ve hunted with him. More than once.” Caleb paced away and back again.
“I know. That last one…he bled that demon….like nothing I’ve ever seen, Caleb. Like he wasn’t human.”
“But what you’re suggesting…” Caleb pointed at the book. “What that is suggesting is that he’s…and his boys are…”
Singer was nodding. “Right. And he’s got half the hunting community running interference between his boys and the demon world…giving him all the space in the world to pull this off.”
Caleb shook his head. “It isn’t possible.”
Sam had heard enough. It was time to crash this party. He pulled the knife from his boot and inched around the wall that hid him from them. Caleb came his way and as he turned to pace back toward Singer, Sam emerged from the dark and sliced neatly through his throat, dropping him to the ground. Singer turned just before Sam got to him, a look of horror on his face.
He blocked Sam’s first strike, and Sam’s knife dragged over his arm. Sam laughed and followed as he backed off. “You’re the smart one, Hunter. How do you think this is going to end?”
***
Dean squinted toward the window as lights flashed. He rolled over and ran a hand down the skin of his girl. She opened her eyes, spread her legs. “Good girl.” Dean cooed to her. “But not right now. Check on the boy.” He watched her get up and move to the cradle near the bathroom door.
He got out of bed himself and went to the window. Sam was getting out of a truck, covered in blood. “Shit.”
They had two weeks left until the night of the ritual. Two weeks and Sam couldn’t keep control. He reached for the jeans he’d left on the chair He didn’t worry about the girl. She held the baby, rocking him gently, holding him to her breast to feed.
Dean bounded down the stairs as Sam burst in the front door, dragging a bound and gagged Bobby Singer with him. “What the fuck?”
Sam was breathless as he pushed Singer to his knees. “He knows. I got another one in the truck. Dead/
“Fuck, Sam.”
“Dad told me to deal with him.”
“So you bring him here? Are you crazy?”
“We need to know if he told anybody.”
“So you can go kill them too?” Dean paced around the woozy looking hunter. “What did you do to him?”
Sam held up a baggie with a syringe in it. “Just a little cocktail to loosen his tongue. Help me get him to the bunker. Then I’ll get rid of the truck and the body.”
***
By the time Sam got back from dumping the body and the truck in places that no one would find for at least a few weeks, his brother and father were emerging from the portal, wiping the blood from their hands.
“Well?”
John shook his head. “He isn’t talking.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, that happens when you kill them.”
John slapped Dean. “He wasn’t talking anyway. I put him out of his misery.”
“What now?” Sam asked.
John crossed to where the girl was holding the infant. He lifted the child from her. “We stay alert. We get ready. And we kill anyone or anything that gets between us and what we want.”
***
Three days. It was just three days. Seventy-two hours.
Dean’s nostrils flared as Sam pulled the girl out of the room. He could smell her. Could smell him. He knew he’d never see her again. Sam would finally get to have his way with her.
While Dean was locked up in this room with no outlet for his already growing hunger. His father chuckled and that made it worse.
“You going to be able to keep your hands off yourself?” John asked, crowding Dean up against the wall.
He was already caged, his cock held limp in plastic underneath his jeans. “I’m fine.”
“I can smell you.” His father whispered in his ear. ”We’re close Dean. No one has been this close, not in centuries.”
“I know.” Dean’s mouth pressed to John’s stealing a kiss before John stepped away.
John tossed the bladder of demon blood on the bed. “That’s all you get between now and then. Make it last.” He went to the door then, taking one last look around the room, then at Dean. “Holler if you decide you need help.”
Dean snorted. Any help he got from them would be less than helpful in the long run. It had been years since they’d gone more than a day or so without fucking one or the other…not to mention whatever playmates they found outside the family.
He paced the room, looked out the window. At least the room had a bathroom. Dean could take cold showers…cool the needy heat of his human flesh.
Three days. Seventy-two hours.
He could handle it.
He heard his father installing the locks and crossed his arms. It wasn’t like he had no self control. He knew the stakes.
His father’s voice rumbled under the door, telling Sam to take the girl into the bedroom so Dean couldn’t smell them. Too late.
Dean started pulling his clothes off and headed into the bathroom. The water poured out cold and he stepped in, shivering.
Title: The Demons Winchester, Part 2 (Prologue, Part One)
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: John/Mary, Dean/OFC, John/OFC, John/Dean, Dean/Sam, Sam/OMC(s), Dean/OMC(s), John/Dean/Sam, Bobby, Caleb (Total story)
Word Count: ~20,000 (total story)
Summary: What if? What if John and Mary were possessed? What would Dean and Sam be? How evil would Demon Winchesters be? Several nights before their wedding, John and Mary are taken by a pair of demon lovers. The next few years are much the same as canon...until their demon master comes looking for them, and takes Mary, sending John and the boys on the run.
A/Ns & Warnings: Written for
johnsgillygirl who won me and paid an enormous sum of money for the privilege during the March special auction over at Sweet Charity. She wanted 20,000 words of Demon boys...(I'm looking for one or two high quality caps of the scenes in "Dream a Little Dream" when double!Dean had black eyes...or for someone who reads this to make me a pretty cover with demony boys!). As to warnings...there is violence and mayhem, there is violent sex, some of which is consensual, some of which really isn't: Non-Con, Dub-Con, Drug use, violence, bondage, knife play, blood play, incest of every configuration including Daddy!cest, character death (none of the Winchesters).They were a month or so from the big day. John pulled them in to Kansas for the wait. He liked the symbolism. This was where he’d come into the world. Where Kasha had given herself to keep him and the boys free. This would be the place where Dean came into his rightful power.
“Go check on your girl,” he said to Dean as they got out of the car in front of a small house. It had only taken John a day to find it and relocate the current residents. “I set up the portal in the back bedroom.”
Sam came around to help him unload the truck while Dean headed inside. “Time to inventory everything. No mistakes.” He thrust the small trunk of treasures into Sam’s hands and grabbed their bags.
With only a month, they had to make sure they had everything. No mistakes. Also meant they had to lay exceptionally low. Especially since killing the old demon, which reminded him. He went back to the truck and opened the passenger side door, pulling out the leather bladder. Once upon a time it had been a wineskin. Until someone figured out it was perfect for holding something else of greater value.
He followed Sam into the house and headed for the kitchen. “Set it all out on the table. I’ll get the list.” He shoved the bladder into the fridge and snagged a beer before fishing through his bag for his journal.
Sam went about emptying the chest, arranging the items in order of need. Along the top of the table he set up the candles. Thirteen black, seven white, three red. Then came the items that would raise the power required, a small cast iron cauldron, various herbal bundles that Dean would have to prepare carefully, the chalice, once consecrated and used on the altar of a church in New York, defiled in various ways, not the least of which was when the three of them and come inside it the night they acquired it. Sam was a little more careful with the vial of holy water that followed the chalice.
That would be one of Dean’s trials.
Sam kept pulling things from the chest then. The sacramental knife, forged in the fires of hell. Its blade was red and wicked sharp, the handle black. It would slice through nearly anything and the blade absorbed the blood, channeled it. The Seal of Dameron was next, safe in its leather pouch. There was the amulet for the baby…to mark it. Payment.
The leather cuffs were last, one for each wrist, each upper arm, each thigh, each ankle. Brown leather made from the skin of a witch butchered in the glorious days of the Inquisition, they were mostly ceremonial from what John could tell, a sign of containing the spirit within the body.
He sat down at the table with his journal, running a finger over the list of things they needed. Most of what remained to gather needed to be fresh and could only be brought together in the week leading up to the ceremony.
“Tomorrow we start scouting for the sacrifice and the meal.”
Sam nodded, snagging a chair himself. “How long does he have to be celibate again?”
John chuckled. None of the rest of it gave either of them pause, but the notion that Sam couldn’t touch his brother in the last three days was really chaffing. “Three days, you know that. If I have to, I’ll lock him up.”
“Right, cause you know I’d just let you.” Dean said as he came in from the living room.
“We can’t fuck any of this up Dean. That bastard would love nothing more than to get his hands on you.”
Dean rolled his eyes and went to the refrigerator, pulling out a beer. “No one is fucking anything…up. Sam will be a good boy and keep his hands to himself.”
John stood, pushing his chair away and crowded Dean up against the refrigerator. “No sex, no booze, no contact with any living thing for three days, Dean. I will lock you in a closet if I have to.”
Dean held his defiance for a minute, then sagged. “Fine.”
“Fine.” John stepped aside and opened the fridge, pulling out the bladder and handing it to Dean, taking the beer away. “Drink this. Everyday from now until your fast.”
Dean popped it open and sniffed at it. “What is it?”
“Demon blood. Old demon, nearly as old as Azazel. It’ll increase your strength.”
Dean raised an eyebrow and tilted his head back, pouring in a stream of the dark blood. Both eyebrows raised when he lifted his head again. “Wow.”
John grinned. “I should warn you, it also increases other aspects of your personality.”
Dean handed the bladder back and shook his head. “That’s…wow.”
John chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. It’s not as potent as what Azazel fed Sam when he was a baby…but it’s good. It should help you deal with the trials. Just don’t drink too much at once.” He tucked it back in the fridge. “How’s the girl?”
“Getting close. He’s dropped and positioned. By the end of the week maybe.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want to cut it too close. Sam, clean up this stuff and secure the chest. I want to go out and find us some fun.”
Dean knew from the tone in his father’s voice that he was looking for something rough and rowdy, but not too much so. It would only get them more attention than they needed just then.
So, Dean was a little skeptical when they pulled into a bar that was known to cater to hunters and other anti-social sorts.
“You boys go on in. Get your old man a beer. I got a call to make.”
Dean got out of the car and headed for the door, already sizing up the vehicles in the parking lot. His whole body was buzzing with the demon blood…running through him like a drug. He felt wired and powerful and horny as all hell. There would be a young crowd inside, judging by the flashy cars. A handful of the more serious hunters, judging by the older model dusty cars in the shadows.
He wasn’t sure what this was about, but he’d learned a long time ago not to cross the old man when he had something planned. It usually led to a beating…and not the good kind.
Sam was at his side as he reached the door, his hand dipping into Dean’s back pocket possessively. Normally, they only went into places like this when they were invited, like that thing with Singer, or when they were looking to throw a little bone to the hunting community.
Dean pulled Sam along, feeling the eyes that tracked their movements, all the way to the bar. He smiled at the bartender, a pretty blonde with a killer smile and tits trying to bust loose of a torn t-shirt.
“What’ll it be, handsome?”
“Three beers, and your number.” Dean said with a smirk. She winked at him and sashayed away to pour the beers. When she set them down on napkins, he noticed that one of the napkins had a phone number in black ink on it. He handed a beer to Sam and pocketed the napkin. He liked the invitation. Maybe she’d even live through the experience.
He turned and looked around them. He could pick out the hunters. They sat alone or in pairs, two by the back door. Two in the corner. Three scattered around the bar. They weren’t faces he knew, but he could smell them.
Sam was crowded up behind him, one hand cradling his beer, the other still in Dean’s back pocket. He was starting to get hyped up. He loved nights like this. He’d drink, fight, fuck…anything and everything until Dean dragged his ass home.
“This ain’t that kind of bar.” The voice was gruff.
Dean turned. The guy was big, not as tall as Sam, but broad, thick. “What kind of bar is that?” Dean asked, taking a sip from his beer.
“We don’t need none of your kind.”
Dean glanced up at Sam who shrugged. “My brother and I are just having a beer.”
“Brother?” It was clear the man didn’t believe him.
Dean nodded slowly. “I’m Dean, this is my brother Sam. Oh, and here comes our father.” Dean lifted his father’s glass and held it out to him.
“Problem?” John asked, looking from the man to Dean.
Dean shrugged. “I was just making introductions. This guy says our kind isn’t welcome, that it isn’t that kind of bar.”
“What kind is that?”
“He didn’t say.”
They both turned to the guy who took a step back. “I don’t want any trouble.”
John smiled slow. “Neither do we.” He held up his beer in salute before draining half of it. “That has to be a new record, you boys haven’t been in here five minutes.”
Dean pushed back against Sam. “Well, if our boy here could keep his hands off me in public…”
“Wanna put more than my hands on you in public.” Sam growled in his ear.
“Now, now…it’s a little early to be causing a ruckus. Settle down.” John waved down the bartender as he finished off his beer. “She’s cute.”
“Dean’s already tagged her.” Sam said, his hand slipping into Dean’s pocket and pulling out the napkin.
Dean grabbed it away from him and shoved it in his pocket. “If I gotta be celibate for three whole days, you’re going to be damn sure I’m getting my fill before that.”
John chuckled and turned to look around the room. “I’m going to mingle.”
“Mingle?” Dean was trying to figure out his father’s angle.
He looked back at them. “Hunters. We have a little demon problem. I’m just…hiring an exterminator…or twenty.”
He leaned in close. “As soon as Azazel gets wind of what we’re going to try, he’s going to send them after us…why do all the work ourselves? I let it slip to a few key players that something big is going down and what the signs are…and we get the next few weeks to prepare without worrying about all that political shit.”
Dean nodded slowly. That made sense. Half the reason the ritual hadn’t been completed in centuries was because it was forbidden, by both sides. No demon wanted one of their own becoming that powerful. No human wanted it either.
He’d never really had a run in with Azazel, but he remembered the shape of him, the black man in the red haze of fire. The yellow eyes. He remembered that.
He blinked and his father was gone to mingle.
Damn but he was horny. “I want to fuck something,” he said to Sam.
Sam nodded, his eyes skipping over the bar. “Boy or girl?”
Dean licked his lips and thought about it. He’d already had the girl. “Boy.”
“Young or old?”
“Young. Pretty.”
“How about that?” Dean followed his gaze to a tall, lanky kid near the juke box. It was obvious that he was trying too hard, baggy jeans and a zip up hoodie, hat on backwards, his nose and lip pierced. Trying to hide the pretty-boy features. His blond hair was died black, his eyes darkened with eyeliner. He was drinking a beer and trying to hit on every pretty girl that walked by.
“Oh, Sammy, you have a good eye.”
Sam grabbed his beer, dropped something into it and handed it to Dean. “Go get him tiger.”
“You’re not coming?”
Sam smiled his predatory smile and shook his head. “Got my eye on something else.” His eyes flicked to the end of the bar and the hunter watching them.
“You know Dad doesn’t want you fucking around with hunters.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Dean left him then, not even responding to that. He made for the kid at the jukebox. “Hey…I came in here with this girl, petite, brunette…got her a beer, but she seems to have disappeared. You seen her?”
The kid looked like he was going to blow Dean off. “No man…I ain’t seen no one like that. Was she hot?”
“Tits like melons, dude. Hey, you look like you’re out of beer. Want hers?”
For a second it looked like he was going to say no, but then he took it. “Thanks man. I’m a little tight.”
“I’ll bet.” Dean mumbled. He raised his own glass and drank down at least half the glass. The kid followed suit. Dean made small talk while the drug wormed its way in. “Hey, buddy…you okay?”
He unzipped his hoodie and breathed slowly. “Yeah,…just…hot…you know?”
“Wanna get some air?”
Dean set their glasses on the jukebox and steered the kid toward the back door. His cock was hard and it was pressing into his jeans. The night air did little to help. The kid swayed and Dean steered him away from the door.
“I shouldn’t be this drunk.” He staggered into the alley, leaned against the wall.
“Here, let’s get this off.” Dean finished unzipping the hoodie and pulled it off. “That help?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He slid a little and Dean moved in, hands on the kid’s hips.
“Easy. I’ve got you.” He kissed him then. The kid’s mouth fell open, then he was pushing at Dean. “Come on…let’s play nice.”
“You…I…” He was panting. Dean reached between his legs for his cock. It was slightly hard, but it got harder when he pressed into it.
“See, I knew you wanted me.” Dean kissed him again, pressing him against the wall. “You want me to slid my dick up inside you and make you come.”
“I…what?” The drug had him relaxed and lax and pliant. Not exactly what Dean wanted, but it was a start.
“You want me to put you on your knees like a dirty whore and fuck you. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He kissed the kid again, pulling his baggy jeans down and fisting his cock until it was full and hard. “That’s a good boy.”
Dean guided him down to his knees and unleashed his own cock. “Open your mouth.” The kid did what he was told and Dean slipped his cock inside it, slicking it up and warming it up before he shoved the kid forward.
He went down easy, his ass in the air. He wasn’t lying when he said he was tight. “Fuck!” Dean pushed inside him with only his spit for lube. The kid was going to know he’d gotten fucked when this was over.
He felt strong, buzzed and he fucked into the kid like he hadn’t gotten laid in months, leaving bruises all over his back and ass. The kid whimpered, tried to pull away, but Dean reached under him, stroking his cock until he came, then renewed his assault on the once-virgin ass.
His cock didn’t begin to soften after he finally came, and if anything he felt more aroused, more hungry for it. He pushed the kid down. He needed a challenge. A fight. He was panting as he leaned over the kid and mumbled the spell that would blur his memory even better than the drug. He’d remember he’d been fucked, but not what Dean looked like or that he maybe didn’t want it.
Dean patted his head. “Good little whore. Maybe I’ll send Sammy out to have a taste.”
Sam knew what he was doing. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t get in trouble for it later. This wasn’t one of the wannabe hunters, not a kid with something to prove. This guy had been around. Sam could smell it on him.
Probably lost someone close to him. Sam eyed him up while he sipped on a beer. Maybe his daughter. He looked like the type.
The man looked up at him. Haggard. Worn around the eyes. Already knew Sam was trouble. Already knew and was half way to not caring.
The bartender delivered the shot Sam had paid for and the hunter looked up at him. Sam smiled and lifted his beer.
He’d had a hard hunt, Sam could tell. Maybe not in the last twenty four hours, probably not around here, but he was stiff and sore…maybe hurt. He liked the hurt. Reminded him he was still alive. Or maybe it was penance for the fact that she wasn’t.
Sam didn’t care. He liked guys who liked it to hurt.
Sam tossed off his beer, scanned the room for his father. He was over in the corner with some hunter. Dean wasn’t back yet from the alley. Sam looked at the hunter, waited for his eyes, then casually stepped away from the bar, headed for the men’s room.
He felt the hunter move, slowed his pace, slipped into the men’s room and up to a urinal. He was already hard, just the thought of it…of this guy wanting it, was enough.
He couldn’t bleed him, not here, not now. Didn’t mean he didn’t want to though. He’d have to be careful.
The door opened and the man looked at Sam. Just looked. Sam’s cock twitched.
“You’re one of the Winchester boys.”
Sam nodded, smiling. “I’m Sam.”
“Hear you boys are trouble.”
“Is that what you hear?” Sam grinned, his cock still hanging outside his jeans. “Thought maybe you’d heard we like to fuck.”
The man’s face hardened, but he didn’t turn away. “Heard you like to fight. Kill stuff. And yeah, that you’ll fuck nearly anything that moves.”
“And some that don’t move at all.” Sam added, moving in close, crowding him against the sink. “So what is it you came in here for? Fighting? Killing? Or Fucking?”
The man’s face was red, his body tight. Sam cupped a hand to his groin. “Yeah, thought so.”
Sam didn’t waste time, got him turned around and his jeans undone, his hand filled with the man’s cock.
“Maybe we should…lock the door?”
Sam bit his shoulder lightly through his shirt. “Won’t be that long.” He yanked the jeans down, exposing a white ass. Well, white where it wasn’t bruised. Sam pushed the shirt up. The bruising was extensive, around his sides, down his back and onto the top of his ass.
Sam smiled, predatory and dark as his fingers pressed in against the bruises. The hunter closed his eyes and swayed a little. Sam entered him fast and hard, fucking in deep enough that the man rose to his tip toes. Sam’s thumbs played over the bruises, eliciting varying sounds from the man.
He resisted the urge to do more damage. It would only get him whupped later if he mangled a hunter. They were supposed to be laying low.
“Harder.” The hunter spoke through clenched teeth, his face only inches from the mirror. Sam was happy to oblige, tightening his grip on the man’s hips and pulling him into each savage thrust until he started to come.
He pulled out, spewing sticky strings over the man’s ass and backing away to tuck himself in.
The door opened and Sam looked up. “Oh, there you are.” Dean said. “Dad’s looking for you.”
Sam grinned. “Just…you know…mingling.”
“Yeah, right.” Dean’s eyes were dark, his nostrils flaring at the scent of come. The hunter was pulling his jeans up, looking away. Sam pushed him forward against the sink.
“Hold up there…I’m thinking maybe my brother needs something more than the pretty boy he took to the alley.” His eyes swept over Dean, over the tense body, the hard cock that his jeans did nothing to hide. “Do you Dean? You want something more?”
“You know Dad’s going to kill you, right?” Dean asked as he moved in closer. He was eyeing Sam, not the hunter. “Not supposed to dick around Sammy.”
Sam raised an eyebrow, sensing that his brother had no interest in the hunter, but definitely needed more. He let go and the hunter fled the room. Dean crowded Sam into the wall before he kissed him, rubbing his groin against Sam’s. “Gonna get a whipping when Dad finds out.”
Sam nodded. He had no doubt his father would find out. He had no doubt Dean would tell him. Because as much as Dean liked pain, he liked watching their father dish out pain nearly as much. “He’s gonna make you bleed Sammy.” Dean whispered into his ear.
Sam shivered, felt his cock twitch as Dean’s hand covered it. “I’m gonna lick it up, eat you up…”
Dean wasn’t often aggressive, not with Sam…and something about it was really fucking hot. Sam hissed as Dean’s hand squeezed his cock, then pushed his brother away. “If you think you can.”
Dean slammed Sam back into the wall. “Oh, I can baby brother. Can, will…make you beg for more.” His kiss was nearly violent, pressing Sam back into the wall.
“Dean, off your brother, we’re leaving.” Their father’s voice rolled around the room and Dean pulled away, but his hand closed on Sam’s neck and he shoved him toward the door. John’s eyebrow raised, but he didn’t say anything, just stepped aside so Dean could push Sam past him.
Sam was expecting the punishment, so he wasn’t surprised when his father dragged him into the house and up to the bedroom without really saying much of anything.
“Naked. Now.”
Dean sauntered into the room behind them and John turned to him, drawing him in to a slow, leisurely kiss. Sam stopped half way to naked, watching. Dean’s smile was dangerous, his eyes flooded with dark, black evil. “Need help getting there, Sammy?”
Sam watched him come, watched his father’s face fill with lust and pride.
Dean shoved Sam onto the bed and ripped his jeans off him, tearing the denim and leaving long scratches on Sam’s legs. “Naked, Sam.” Dean said, his eyes glittering. “Daddy’s gonna whip you.”
John was suddenly behind Dean, pulling him tight against him. “No. I’m not. You are.” John said, his hand cupping to Dean’s cock. “I’m going to watch.”
Dean leaned back, kissing his father before turning back to Sam. “Hope the hunter was worth it.”
Sam shuddered and finished pulling off his shirt. His father’s beating would be brutal, but quick. Dean though…Dean liked to take his time. “On your knees, Boy.” John said roughly, moving away to sit in the chair across the room.
Sam did as he was told, kneeling in the center of the bed. Dean’s hand stroked over his skin, down to his naked ass and back to his neck. “You need me to get the restraints, Sammy?” Dean asked, his soft voice belaying the excitement Sam knew was flushing through him. “Can you be still?”
Sam shook his head lightly. “Just get on with it.” He’d probably beg for them before it was over…because he wasn’t allowed to touch, had to take whatever Dean dished out…and eventually he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
Dean’s gently caressing hand grew hard, grabbing the back of Sam’s neck and forcing him down. “Fine.”
His hand slapped down, bare, open, slapping against Sam’s ass until it flushed warm and red. It wasn’t properly painful. This was more about humiliating Sam.
“You missed a spot.” John’s voice rumbled over the floor to them.
Sam couldn’t see him, but Dean’s hand smoothed over Sam’s skin, seeking out the one place that hadn’t turned pink. His slap was stinging and Sam could almost imagine him looking to their father for approval.
Dean’s hand left him and Sam watched him move to the trunk by the nightstand. He rummaged for a few minutes before coming up with a satisfied sound. He held up the paddle. Solid wood. Polished and well used over both their asses over the years.
John made an agreeing sound.
Sam cracked his neck and tried to relax. Tensing up only made it hurt worse. Dean wasted no time, cracking the paddle against him fast, hard enough that Sam was thrown forward. Five blows, then Dean moved around the bed to the other side.
“Gonna bruise you Sammy.” Dean growled.
“Do it.” Sam pushed his ass back and Dean laid into his other cheek. Five blows, then lower, over his thighs.
“Stop.” John was out of the chair, his hands on Sam’s thighs, pulling his legs apart. His hand was rough against sensitive skin, rougher still as it toyed with Sam’s cock, finishing the job of making it hard and leaving it hanging between his spread thighs. “Now the thighs. Make sure his balls know you’ve been there.”
John’s presence faded and Sam licked his lips in anticipation. He could feel their eyes, feel Dean watching for him to relax. The paddle whistled through the air and crack against his thigh, just the tip kissing his balls. It brought tears to his eyes and his hands fisted in the pillow under his head.
“Fuck.” He cursed into the pillow, hoping it would muffle the sound. Dean heard though and his next blow hit Sam’s balls and cock more than his thighs.
Sam gasped as his cock spasmed, his come spilling under him. His father was chuckling. “That didn’t take much.”
Dean barely waited for the orgasm to pass before he moved and hit him again. Over the other thigh, down to his knee. Sam was chewing on the pillow to keep his mouth in check. The more noise he made the worse the beating would get.
“Told you he was a bad boy.” Dean said, dropping the paddle on the nightstand and moving back to the trunk. When he came back to the bed he shoved a large butt plug into Sam’s ass with no lube. Then he was grabbing Sam’s cock and snapping on a cock ring.
“Dean…” Sam looked up over his shoulder at his brother who smiled viciously.
“Need the gag already, Sammy? Maybe it’s been too long since you got a proper whupping.”
“Don’t tease your brother, Dean.” John said. “Teach him.”
“Yes sir.”
His next trip to the trunk brought out one of the canes…thin, clear plastic. Sam closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He’d introduced his brother to the exquisite pain of a cane years before and Dean had grown to love them.
The first blow fell over Sam’s already red and stinging ass, and a series of them rained up his back and down his thighs, endlessly stinging, burning and before Dean was done, Sam’s lips couldn’t hold in the grunting.
His cock was hard again as Dean stopped his beating. Sam was panting, but so was Dean as he reached for the butt plug, pulling it out before shoving it back in.
“I want to see him bleed.” John said, suddenly closer to the bed. Sam spared a glance up to find him wrapped around Dean from behind, his hand unzipping Dean’s jeans and cradling Dean’s hard cock. “Want to watch him bleed while you fuck him.” He kissed over Dean’s neck, then shoved him toward the bed.
“You heard him Sammy…gonna make you bleed.” His fingers pulled the butt plug out and Sam didn’t see where it landed. He wasn’t empty long though. The bed shifted and Dean’s cock pressed into him.
Sam never saw the knife, but he felt its bite, carving into his skin. Dean fucked up into him, his mouth closing over the bleeding wound, his tongue delving into Sam’s flesh. At first the fucking and the sucking were slow, almost gentle.
“You’re supposed to be punishing the boy.” John’s voice slithered over them and Dean carved a second wound. He pushed in deep and held himself inside Sam while he smeared blood over his back. He leaned forward, offering a bloody finger to Sam, who sucked it in, clenching ass muscles around his brother.
“Like that?” Dean asked, but Sam wasn’t sure who he was asking until he realized his father was there, by the bed. He could hear them kissing as Dean renewed his rutting.
Together they licked blood up, their tongues tangling together, their fingers pressing into the wounds until Sam hissed. When Dean finally came and pulled out, John took his place while Dean stripped out of what was left of his clothes and went back to the trunk.
Sam actually screamed when his father dug his nails into the wounds Dean had made and John chuckled. “Maybe it’s time for that gag.”
It was almost dawn. John figured Sam had learned a lesson. Maybe three or four. He stirred on the chair, waking Dean who had dozed in his arms. “Let your brother loose.”
Dean nodded, smiling as they stood and looked down at Sam. He’d ended up in the restraints John had made for them when they were still teens, strong enough to hold any demon in a human body, perfect for the times they needed discipline. He was gagged too. They couldn’t afford to have the neighbors calling the cops on them.
His super-sized dildo stuck up out of his bruised and welted and bloody ass, and his cock was red with need, despite the very big puddle of come it was pressed into.
Dean moved to the bed, murmuring to Sam as he undid the cock ring and Sam’s come flooded out of him in an impressive stream. John stretched and cracked his back. “I’m going to get some sleep. Check up on your girl before you do.”
Dean nodded and continued the process of releasing Sam from his bonds. John knew Sam would recover fast. He always did. He appreciated the kid’s zeal and hunger, but sometimes he had to be shown who was in charge.
John moved out of the room and down the hall. He had to think of other things now. Like Azazel and the hunters.
They were skeptical anytime he brought them information. He knew that. But they really would be helpful in keeping the coming hordes off their back. Azazel had to be figuring it out. They had nearly all the pieces.
Any time now they’d come.
John cracked his neck before falling to the bed. He was looking forward to getting his hands dirty.
“He’s up to something.”
Sam could hear them, even though they couldn’t see Sam. He wrapped the dark around him like a coat and inched closer.
“His information’s been good.”
“Of course it has been.” Bobby Singer scowled at the other man. “Too good.”
He’d been tracking Singer since he hit Lawrence. His father was worried that the old hunter had figured it out. It was Sam’s job to figure out if he had, and deal with him.
He was more inclined to just deal with him and not worry about what he did, or didn’t, know.
“I’m telling you, Caleb I don’t like it.” Singer circled the truck and pulled a book out of the cab. “I been watching them. That boy of his? Ever have him look you in the eye?” He shivered.
“You got something more than a feeling?” Caleb asked as Singer put the book down on the tail gate of the truck.
“Maybe.” Singer pulled his hat off and scratched at his head. “I don’t know. It seems…far fetched.”
Caleb chuckled. “Right.”
Sam couldn’t see the book or what Singer was showing the other man.
“Wow.” Caleb wiped a hand over his face. “I mean…it’s not possible, right?”
Singer shrugged. “It would explain a lot.”
“You’ve hunted with him. More than once.” Caleb paced away and back again.
“I know. That last one…he bled that demon….like nothing I’ve ever seen, Caleb. Like he wasn’t human.”
“But what you’re suggesting…” Caleb pointed at the book. “What that is suggesting is that he’s…and his boys are…”
Singer was nodding. “Right. And he’s got half the hunting community running interference between his boys and the demon world…giving him all the space in the world to pull this off.”
Caleb shook his head. “It isn’t possible.”
Sam had heard enough. It was time to crash this party. He pulled the knife from his boot and inched around the wall that hid him from them. Caleb came his way and as he turned to pace back toward Singer, Sam emerged from the dark and sliced neatly through his throat, dropping him to the ground. Singer turned just before Sam got to him, a look of horror on his face.
He blocked Sam’s first strike, and Sam’s knife dragged over his arm. Sam laughed and followed as he backed off. “You’re the smart one, Hunter. How do you think this is going to end?”
Dean squinted toward the window as lights flashed. He rolled over and ran a hand down the skin of his girl. She opened her eyes, spread her legs. “Good girl.” Dean cooed to her. “But not right now. Check on the boy.” He watched her get up and move to the cradle near the bathroom door.
He got out of bed himself and went to the window. Sam was getting out of a truck, covered in blood. “Shit.”
They had two weeks left until the night of the ritual. Two weeks and Sam couldn’t keep control. He reached for the jeans he’d left on the chair He didn’t worry about the girl. She held the baby, rocking him gently, holding him to her breast to feed.
Dean bounded down the stairs as Sam burst in the front door, dragging a bound and gagged Bobby Singer with him. “What the fuck?”
Sam was breathless as he pushed Singer to his knees. “He knows. I got another one in the truck. Dead/
“Fuck, Sam.”
“Dad told me to deal with him.”
“So you bring him here? Are you crazy?”
“We need to know if he told anybody.”
“So you can go kill them too?” Dean paced around the woozy looking hunter. “What did you do to him?”
Sam held up a baggie with a syringe in it. “Just a little cocktail to loosen his tongue. Help me get him to the bunker. Then I’ll get rid of the truck and the body.”
By the time Sam got back from dumping the body and the truck in places that no one would find for at least a few weeks, his brother and father were emerging from the portal, wiping the blood from their hands.
“Well?”
John shook his head. “He isn’t talking.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, that happens when you kill them.”
John slapped Dean. “He wasn’t talking anyway. I put him out of his misery.”
“What now?” Sam asked.
John crossed to where the girl was holding the infant. He lifted the child from her. “We stay alert. We get ready. And we kill anyone or anything that gets between us and what we want.”
Three days. It was just three days. Seventy-two hours.
Dean’s nostrils flared as Sam pulled the girl out of the room. He could smell her. Could smell him. He knew he’d never see her again. Sam would finally get to have his way with her.
While Dean was locked up in this room with no outlet for his already growing hunger. His father chuckled and that made it worse.
“You going to be able to keep your hands off yourself?” John asked, crowding Dean up against the wall.
He was already caged, his cock held limp in plastic underneath his jeans. “I’m fine.”
“I can smell you.” His father whispered in his ear. ”We’re close Dean. No one has been this close, not in centuries.”
“I know.” Dean’s mouth pressed to John’s stealing a kiss before John stepped away.
John tossed the bladder of demon blood on the bed. “That’s all you get between now and then. Make it last.” He went to the door then, taking one last look around the room, then at Dean. “Holler if you decide you need help.”
Dean snorted. Any help he got from them would be less than helpful in the long run. It had been years since they’d gone more than a day or so without fucking one or the other…not to mention whatever playmates they found outside the family.
He paced the room, looked out the window. At least the room had a bathroom. Dean could take cold showers…cool the needy heat of his human flesh.
Three days. Seventy-two hours.
He could handle it.
He heard his father installing the locks and crossed his arms. It wasn’t like he had no self control. He knew the stakes.
His father’s voice rumbled under the door, telling Sam to take the girl into the bedroom so Dean couldn’t smell them. Too late.
Dean started pulling his clothes off and headed into the bathroom. The water poured out cold and he stepped in, shivering.
