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phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Where It Hurts, Part Five of Five
Characters/Pairing: Sam, John, Dean, Sam/Dean,
Rating: NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 038 Touch
Word Count: 2275
Summary: Six months have passed since Sam's ordeal as the prisoner of Kendall Garrett. While John Winchester hunts for the bastard, Dean tries to hold Sam together while Sam slowly sinks under the pressure
Warnings: Very, very Dark Fic. This is a follow on to "The Good Son". The overall story will involve torture and rape. This is Part Four of Five.
The first part can be found here
The second part can be found here
The third part can be found here
The fourth part can be found here
This is my thirteenth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100_situations. Clicky for table
Warmth. Warm cotton on cool skin. Soft darkness that felt comfortable against his face. The touch of a body close beside him. Sam snuggled into the feeling, reaching instinctively for a body that wasn’t actually there.
Sam shifted, sure he had felt the touch of Dean’s skin on his. He opened one eye, wincing as the room around him spun and hitched before stabilizing. A sloped ceiling overhead lead his eyes down to a table between two windows. A lamp on the table was on, but covered by a dark cloth to dim the light. Shades were drawn.
Dean was nearby, asleep on the second twin bed, his back to Sam. Sam closed his eyes and could feel his brother’s skin on his back. His body hurt, in some ways it hurt more than anything he could remember. The pain radiated from his head and through his limbs. The warmth helped, the soft touch of blankets and pillows and goose down eased the pain.
He turned, onto his back, wincing as the welts of his last beating rubbed the sheets, but clinging to the more physical pain as a means of keeping himself grounded. The house around them was still, but they weren’t alone. His father was moving toward him. Another man was downstairs, in the kitchen.
Everything about his father was different as he opened the door to the room. He was softer, he moved with a quiet grace Sam didn’t remember as he tried to keep from disturbing them. Sam reached out, a caress against John’s mind. The recoil was enough to pull him back inside himself and John smiled.
He came to sit on the side of the bed, his big hands buried between his legs. “You had me pretty scared,” he said softly.
Sam nodded. “Me too.” His voice was deep, scratchy. “How long?”
“Three days. Dean woke up after two.”
“Where?”
“Kansas. With a friend.”
Sam stretched under the blankets and glanced aside at Dean. He could feel the affects of pain killers working through him. “What did you give him?”
John followed his gaze. “He was hurting pretty good. I gave him some Vicoden to dull the pain.”
“Got any more?”
John smiled, his hand rising as if to brush the hair out of Sam’s eyes before he pulled it back, his eyes darting away, but not before Sam felt the rush of fear. “Sure. I’ll get it.”
“Dad.” Sam caught his hand and pulled it to his face, pressing it to his cheek. He held it there, his eyes rising up to meet his father’s eyes. John’s eyes widened slightly, and Sam could sense the joy the simple touch brought him. Sam turned his face to feel the calloused hands on his skin. “I don’t want you to be afraid to touch me.”
John cleared his throat, accepting the invitation, his hand curling in Sam’s hair before sliding back to his cheek. “I don’t want you to be afraid to let me,” he whispered fiercely. Sam captured his other hand and pulled to his chest, over his heart.
John leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead and Sam closed his eyes. The pain was less somehow with his father touching him. He breathed in the deep scent he remembered from his childhood…the smell of his father that always told him he was home. “Rest.” John said, rising. “I’ll bring you some pills. I imagine it will be a while before you’re up on your feet.”
As he left, Dean rolled over, his eyes sweeping over Sam, as if checking to make sure he was still real. “Hey.”
Sam pushed his head into his pillow and smiled at Dean. “Hey. You okay?”
Dean made a face and brought his hand up out of the blankets to run through his hair. “I’m sore, my ass hurts and I haven’t got a clue what really happened back there, but yeah, okay.”
Sam nodded, his eyes closing as he felt his awareness shifting yet again. Dean’s hand on his head, in his hair. One mind, one body. Sam grinned. His hand slipped under the blankets, down to his cock. He stroked it slowly, coaxing it to life.
“Hey!” He felt Dean start and pulled his hand away. “What was that?”
“A side affect.” Sam said.
“Why’d you stop?”
Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean. “Dad’s coming.”
The door opened and John re-entered the room, a bottle of water in one hand. He set the bottle and pills on the table between the bed. “Think you’re up to some food?”
“Starving.” Dean said and Sam’s stomach rumbled.
“Apparently I am too,” he said dryly.
“Amos is cooking. I’ll bring up a tray when it’s ready.”
Dean waited until the door was closed before turning to Sam again, propping himself up so that he could see clearly. “Side affect?”
Sam smirked as he stroked himself again and Dean moaned. “Relax and enjoy it.”
“Last time you said that to me you were getting ready to fuck me.” Dean said flippantly, laying back, but Sam had stopped and was sitting up, despite the pain. His face had paled, his heart fluttered. Sam pushed himself to his feet and moved the two steps to Dean’s bed.
Dean. Sam’s eyes were frantic, seeking out Dean’s even as his mind was busy sorting through images and feelings and Dean started when he realized he could see what Sam was thinking.
I am sorry, Dean. I needed to be able to touch you to reach you…to…I needed your strength, I couldn’t do it alone.
It babbled into Dean’s mind almost incoherently, accompanied by distressed sounds that might have been words from Sam’s mouth and Dean sat up, gathering Sam into his arms, pressing his forehead to Sam’s.
It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay.
Sam shook as their skin connected and the memory lay open between them. Sam’s plan, the touch, the fight…Garrett. Dean shuddered at the sight of what Sam had done to him with no weapon but his mind and the strength he stole from Dean and their father.
It’s over, Sammy…all over…and I’m still right here.
Slowly Sam sat up, breathing deeply to regain some composure. Dean kicked himself for his stupidity and Sam stroked a hand over his cheek. “Not your fault.” Sam whispered.
“This is going to get old fast.” Dean muttered, though he softened it with the brush of his lips against Sam’s.
Dean’s hand rose to mimic Sam’s movements and his smile was wicked. “Though, I can see some clear advantages.
Sam smiled back, until it was lost in a yawn. Dean stifled his own yawn under his hand, not sure whether it was his own yawn, or just an echo of Sam’s. “Take your pills, Sammy. Your headache is killing me.”
Sam shuffled back to his bed and downed the pills before settling back into the soft cocoon. It was quiet as they lay there together, despite the separation. I love you Dean.
“I love you too Sammy.”
John stood on the porch, looking out over the fields that surrounded the farm house. The sun had set, but was still painting the sky with fire. He allowed himself the luxury of relaxing, something he hadn’t had since Mary died. Not like this. Behind him, he could hear Sam and Dean bickering over the rules of some board game.
Sam still wasn’t strong enough to move on, but Dean was recovering quickly. The bond between them was new and strange and he could tell it was different between Sam and Dean than it was between Sam and him, but he was okay with that. Being jealous of Dean was silly anyway.
John tuned out the sounds from the house and stepped down off the porch. Sam had sacrificed a lot that night. He had saved Dean. John could still see it when he closed his eyes. That moment when the three of them had been one whole, when Garrett’s mind was open under Sam’s attack. The way his skin had burst open, his body ripping itself to shreds.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
John closed his eyes and turned into the wind.
“Time to move on?”
John turned to Sam’s voice, surprised. His face must have betrayed it and Sam smiled. “I’m figuring out how to…block it some. You guys deserve some privacy.” He ducked his head, that shy, familiar look as he scuffed his feet on the dirt.
John could see the changes though. Some of the innocence was gone from his face, the creases in his forehead were deeper. He hesitated unexpectedly sometimes. John turned back to the feeling of the wind on his face. “Maybe.” He said, then realized how far they’d just come from Sam’s question. “Moving on that is.”
“Duty calls.”
John nodded.
“I wanted…I know there’s a lot I don’t need to say, since you saw so much.” Sam came closer, his eyes narrowing as he tracked something in the distance. “But I saw a lot too.”
“Sam—“
“No, let me finish, Dad. This…Garrett…me…none of this is your fault.”
Their eyes met and everything that had passed between them flared in them. Sam had taken more from Dean, rendering him unconscious, and largely unaware of what Sam was doing. John on the other hand had seen it all, felt it all. Sam had seen his share of John and his actions as well. Maybe that accounted for the differences in them both. The pieces of each other they had taken away from the exchange.
“I feel like I could have done something differently.” John offered, his hands in his jacket pockets.
Sam shrugged. “Maybe…but Garrett played us, right from the start. We can’t waste time on blame.”
They were quiet for a while. John’s hand lifted to Sam’s shoulder. “I like this feeling,” he said softly. Sam let a part of him reach across the ever-present connection.
Me too.
John looked over his shoulder, feeling Dean’s questioning look. “He’s going to need you.”
Sam nodded. “You too.”
“I’ll be around.”
“I know.”
“Sam.” Dean’s voice was breathy, unsteady against Sam’s collarbone.
Tell me
“More.”
Sam’s hands played down Dean’s back. His fingers moved with a delicacy that drove Dean crazy. His breath was hot and moist against Dean’s neck. His lips never really touched, just glazed as Sam breathed.
The night air was warm, the grass deep enough to hide them from casual view.
Touch me, please Sam couldn’t keep the need from the thought and he arched his neck back as Dean’s lips connected with his throat. Dean’s hands sought out Sam’s ass, pressing forward until Sam was on his back.
“God, Sammy.” Dean’s tongue traced over his jaw, down to his throat. Sam’s cock was hard and pressed between them. Dean could feel his own cock as if it to was pressed between Sam’s belly and his own. His nipples hardened as he licked Sam’s.
Dean pulled his hands over Sam’s skin, still warm from the run through the meadow earlier…or maybe from desire. He wrapped his hands around Sam’s hips and pushed his groin closer, rubbing their cocks together. Want
Dean shook his head, turning his attention back to Sam’s lips. Sensations moved through him, Sam’s desire, Sam’s need. His desire, his need. Echoing back and forth until Dean thought he could come without ever touching himself. Please Dean…want you so much
His skin burned with his own want for it, and he swallowed hard. His eyes sought out Sam’s, seeking confirmation. Sam nodded, his eyes rolling closed as he moved his hips against Dean, dropping the head of Dean’s cock right against his opening.
Dean held himself still, debating, thinking…too soon, too much…Sam’s desire filled him as his hands grabbed Dean’s hips and pulled him closer. Dean’s cock moved, opening Sam. Want
Words failed him as Sam’s heat enveloped him and Sam flexed his hips, angling himself for Dean. “Fuck me, Dean.” His spoken voice was husky with lust and Dean melted against him, his movements slow, small. “Yes.”
He tilted his hips, pressing himself against Sam’s prostrate, and feeling the echo in his own. “Sammy.”
Tiny strokes. Sam moaned and Dean felt it in his stomach. Dean opened his eyes as Sam’s back arched under him. “Here, Sammy…right here.”
Dean groaned, his face flush as he felt the echo of his hands palming over Sam’s nipples. Sam whimpered as Dean moved a little more, still taking small strokes, pressing skin to skin. Sammy
Sam lifted his chin, inviting Dean’s mouth over his neck. Lips and tongue and teeth and Dean was close…so close. Dean. Hands grabbing, pulling, then Sam’s hand closed over his, guided it to his thigh, sliding it down, over that spot. Yours. Always.
The skin was rough under his hand, warming under his touch and it was everything in a single moment. Sam
Dean
Sam
Dean
SamDean
SamDeanSamDean
Dean collapsed on top of Sam, tears streaming from his face as his cock exploded and his hand burned against the physical mark on his leg. “Shh. Dean. I’m right here.” Sam stroked a hand down his brother’s back as he cried against Sam’s shoulder. Tell me where it hurts
Dean leveraged himself up, meeting Sam’s eyes. He tried to smile, his whole body shaking. Right here Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s and they melted into one, mind, body, pain, joy…a second orgasm…the night sky faded and nothing in the world existed but this…SamDeanSamDean
In the quiet that followed, laying entangled together, tears dried, Dean imagined that just maybe it didn’t hurt quite as much as it did before.
Author's Notes: Well...wow...this has been an intense ride. Thank you to everyone who stuck with it this long. I really started this just wanting to explore evil in the world of Supernatural that was human in nature...Where it went from there took me by surprise and in a lot of ways I felt like I was just channeling it from somewhere.
I'm going to have to write some soft, cuddly SamandDean now, just to recover. Enjoy!
Um...yeah...Story continues in "Dreaming in Stereo"
Title: Where It Hurts, Part Five of Five
Characters/Pairing: Sam, John, Dean, Sam/Dean,
Rating: NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 038 Touch
Word Count: 2275
Summary: Six months have passed since Sam's ordeal as the prisoner of Kendall Garrett. While John Winchester hunts for the bastard, Dean tries to hold Sam together while Sam slowly sinks under the pressure
Warnings: Very, very Dark Fic. This is a follow on to "The Good Son". The overall story will involve torture and rape. This is Part Four of Five.
The first part can be found here
The second part can be found here
The third part can be found here
The fourth part can be found here
This is my thirteenth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on
100_situations. Clicky for tableWarmth. Warm cotton on cool skin. Soft darkness that felt comfortable against his face. The touch of a body close beside him. Sam snuggled into the feeling, reaching instinctively for a body that wasn’t actually there.
Sam shifted, sure he had felt the touch of Dean’s skin on his. He opened one eye, wincing as the room around him spun and hitched before stabilizing. A sloped ceiling overhead lead his eyes down to a table between two windows. A lamp on the table was on, but covered by a dark cloth to dim the light. Shades were drawn.
Dean was nearby, asleep on the second twin bed, his back to Sam. Sam closed his eyes and could feel his brother’s skin on his back. His body hurt, in some ways it hurt more than anything he could remember. The pain radiated from his head and through his limbs. The warmth helped, the soft touch of blankets and pillows and goose down eased the pain.
He turned, onto his back, wincing as the welts of his last beating rubbed the sheets, but clinging to the more physical pain as a means of keeping himself grounded. The house around them was still, but they weren’t alone. His father was moving toward him. Another man was downstairs, in the kitchen.
Everything about his father was different as he opened the door to the room. He was softer, he moved with a quiet grace Sam didn’t remember as he tried to keep from disturbing them. Sam reached out, a caress against John’s mind. The recoil was enough to pull him back inside himself and John smiled.
He came to sit on the side of the bed, his big hands buried between his legs. “You had me pretty scared,” he said softly.
Sam nodded. “Me too.” His voice was deep, scratchy. “How long?”
“Three days. Dean woke up after two.”
“Where?”
“Kansas. With a friend.”
Sam stretched under the blankets and glanced aside at Dean. He could feel the affects of pain killers working through him. “What did you give him?”
John followed his gaze. “He was hurting pretty good. I gave him some Vicoden to dull the pain.”
“Got any more?”
John smiled, his hand rising as if to brush the hair out of Sam’s eyes before he pulled it back, his eyes darting away, but not before Sam felt the rush of fear. “Sure. I’ll get it.”
“Dad.” Sam caught his hand and pulled it to his face, pressing it to his cheek. He held it there, his eyes rising up to meet his father’s eyes. John’s eyes widened slightly, and Sam could sense the joy the simple touch brought him. Sam turned his face to feel the calloused hands on his skin. “I don’t want you to be afraid to touch me.”
John cleared his throat, accepting the invitation, his hand curling in Sam’s hair before sliding back to his cheek. “I don’t want you to be afraid to let me,” he whispered fiercely. Sam captured his other hand and pulled to his chest, over his heart.
John leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead and Sam closed his eyes. The pain was less somehow with his father touching him. He breathed in the deep scent he remembered from his childhood…the smell of his father that always told him he was home. “Rest.” John said, rising. “I’ll bring you some pills. I imagine it will be a while before you’re up on your feet.”
As he left, Dean rolled over, his eyes sweeping over Sam, as if checking to make sure he was still real. “Hey.”
Sam pushed his head into his pillow and smiled at Dean. “Hey. You okay?”
Dean made a face and brought his hand up out of the blankets to run through his hair. “I’m sore, my ass hurts and I haven’t got a clue what really happened back there, but yeah, okay.”
Sam nodded, his eyes closing as he felt his awareness shifting yet again. Dean’s hand on his head, in his hair. One mind, one body. Sam grinned. His hand slipped under the blankets, down to his cock. He stroked it slowly, coaxing it to life.
“Hey!” He felt Dean start and pulled his hand away. “What was that?”
“A side affect.” Sam said.
“Why’d you stop?”
Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean. “Dad’s coming.”
The door opened and John re-entered the room, a bottle of water in one hand. He set the bottle and pills on the table between the bed. “Think you’re up to some food?”
“Starving.” Dean said and Sam’s stomach rumbled.
“Apparently I am too,” he said dryly.
“Amos is cooking. I’ll bring up a tray when it’s ready.”
Dean waited until the door was closed before turning to Sam again, propping himself up so that he could see clearly. “Side affect?”
Sam smirked as he stroked himself again and Dean moaned. “Relax and enjoy it.”
“Last time you said that to me you were getting ready to fuck me.” Dean said flippantly, laying back, but Sam had stopped and was sitting up, despite the pain. His face had paled, his heart fluttered. Sam pushed himself to his feet and moved the two steps to Dean’s bed.
Dean. Sam’s eyes were frantic, seeking out Dean’s even as his mind was busy sorting through images and feelings and Dean started when he realized he could see what Sam was thinking.
I am sorry, Dean. I needed to be able to touch you to reach you…to…I needed your strength, I couldn’t do it alone.
It babbled into Dean’s mind almost incoherently, accompanied by distressed sounds that might have been words from Sam’s mouth and Dean sat up, gathering Sam into his arms, pressing his forehead to Sam’s.
It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay.
Sam shook as their skin connected and the memory lay open between them. Sam’s plan, the touch, the fight…Garrett. Dean shuddered at the sight of what Sam had done to him with no weapon but his mind and the strength he stole from Dean and their father.
It’s over, Sammy…all over…and I’m still right here.
Slowly Sam sat up, breathing deeply to regain some composure. Dean kicked himself for his stupidity and Sam stroked a hand over his cheek. “Not your fault.” Sam whispered.
“This is going to get old fast.” Dean muttered, though he softened it with the brush of his lips against Sam’s.
Dean’s hand rose to mimic Sam’s movements and his smile was wicked. “Though, I can see some clear advantages.
Sam smiled back, until it was lost in a yawn. Dean stifled his own yawn under his hand, not sure whether it was his own yawn, or just an echo of Sam’s. “Take your pills, Sammy. Your headache is killing me.”
Sam shuffled back to his bed and downed the pills before settling back into the soft cocoon. It was quiet as they lay there together, despite the separation. I love you Dean.
“I love you too Sammy.”
John stood on the porch, looking out over the fields that surrounded the farm house. The sun had set, but was still painting the sky with fire. He allowed himself the luxury of relaxing, something he hadn’t had since Mary died. Not like this. Behind him, he could hear Sam and Dean bickering over the rules of some board game.
Sam still wasn’t strong enough to move on, but Dean was recovering quickly. The bond between them was new and strange and he could tell it was different between Sam and Dean than it was between Sam and him, but he was okay with that. Being jealous of Dean was silly anyway.
John tuned out the sounds from the house and stepped down off the porch. Sam had sacrificed a lot that night. He had saved Dean. John could still see it when he closed his eyes. That moment when the three of them had been one whole, when Garrett’s mind was open under Sam’s attack. The way his skin had burst open, his body ripping itself to shreds.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
John closed his eyes and turned into the wind.
“Time to move on?”
John turned to Sam’s voice, surprised. His face must have betrayed it and Sam smiled. “I’m figuring out how to…block it some. You guys deserve some privacy.” He ducked his head, that shy, familiar look as he scuffed his feet on the dirt.
John could see the changes though. Some of the innocence was gone from his face, the creases in his forehead were deeper. He hesitated unexpectedly sometimes. John turned back to the feeling of the wind on his face. “Maybe.” He said, then realized how far they’d just come from Sam’s question. “Moving on that is.”
“Duty calls.”
John nodded.
“I wanted…I know there’s a lot I don’t need to say, since you saw so much.” Sam came closer, his eyes narrowing as he tracked something in the distance. “But I saw a lot too.”
“Sam—“
“No, let me finish, Dad. This…Garrett…me…none of this is your fault.”
Their eyes met and everything that had passed between them flared in them. Sam had taken more from Dean, rendering him unconscious, and largely unaware of what Sam was doing. John on the other hand had seen it all, felt it all. Sam had seen his share of John and his actions as well. Maybe that accounted for the differences in them both. The pieces of each other they had taken away from the exchange.
“I feel like I could have done something differently.” John offered, his hands in his jacket pockets.
Sam shrugged. “Maybe…but Garrett played us, right from the start. We can’t waste time on blame.”
They were quiet for a while. John’s hand lifted to Sam’s shoulder. “I like this feeling,” he said softly. Sam let a part of him reach across the ever-present connection.
Me too.
John looked over his shoulder, feeling Dean’s questioning look. “He’s going to need you.”
Sam nodded. “You too.”
“I’ll be around.”
“I know.”
“Sam.” Dean’s voice was breathy, unsteady against Sam’s collarbone.
Tell me
“More.”
Sam’s hands played down Dean’s back. His fingers moved with a delicacy that drove Dean crazy. His breath was hot and moist against Dean’s neck. His lips never really touched, just glazed as Sam breathed.
The night air was warm, the grass deep enough to hide them from casual view.
Touch me, please Sam couldn’t keep the need from the thought and he arched his neck back as Dean’s lips connected with his throat. Dean’s hands sought out Sam’s ass, pressing forward until Sam was on his back.
“God, Sammy.” Dean’s tongue traced over his jaw, down to his throat. Sam’s cock was hard and pressed between them. Dean could feel his own cock as if it to was pressed between Sam’s belly and his own. His nipples hardened as he licked Sam’s.
Dean pulled his hands over Sam’s skin, still warm from the run through the meadow earlier…or maybe from desire. He wrapped his hands around Sam’s hips and pushed his groin closer, rubbing their cocks together. Want
Dean shook his head, turning his attention back to Sam’s lips. Sensations moved through him, Sam’s desire, Sam’s need. His desire, his need. Echoing back and forth until Dean thought he could come without ever touching himself. Please Dean…want you so much
His skin burned with his own want for it, and he swallowed hard. His eyes sought out Sam’s, seeking confirmation. Sam nodded, his eyes rolling closed as he moved his hips against Dean, dropping the head of Dean’s cock right against his opening.
Dean held himself still, debating, thinking…too soon, too much…Sam’s desire filled him as his hands grabbed Dean’s hips and pulled him closer. Dean’s cock moved, opening Sam. Want
Words failed him as Sam’s heat enveloped him and Sam flexed his hips, angling himself for Dean. “Fuck me, Dean.” His spoken voice was husky with lust and Dean melted against him, his movements slow, small. “Yes.”
He tilted his hips, pressing himself against Sam’s prostrate, and feeling the echo in his own. “Sammy.”
Tiny strokes. Sam moaned and Dean felt it in his stomach. Dean opened his eyes as Sam’s back arched under him. “Here, Sammy…right here.”
Dean groaned, his face flush as he felt the echo of his hands palming over Sam’s nipples. Sam whimpered as Dean moved a little more, still taking small strokes, pressing skin to skin. Sammy
Sam lifted his chin, inviting Dean’s mouth over his neck. Lips and tongue and teeth and Dean was close…so close. Dean. Hands grabbing, pulling, then Sam’s hand closed over his, guided it to his thigh, sliding it down, over that spot. Yours. Always.
The skin was rough under his hand, warming under his touch and it was everything in a single moment. Sam
Dean
Sam
Dean
SamDean
SamDeanSamDean
Dean collapsed on top of Sam, tears streaming from his face as his cock exploded and his hand burned against the physical mark on his leg. “Shh. Dean. I’m right here.” Sam stroked a hand down his brother’s back as he cried against Sam’s shoulder. Tell me where it hurts
Dean leveraged himself up, meeting Sam’s eyes. He tried to smile, his whole body shaking. Right here Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s and they melted into one, mind, body, pain, joy…a second orgasm…the night sky faded and nothing in the world existed but this…SamDeanSamDean
In the quiet that followed, laying entangled together, tears dried, Dean imagined that just maybe it didn’t hurt quite as much as it did before.
Author's Notes: Well...wow...this has been an intense ride. Thank you to everyone who stuck with it this long. I really started this just wanting to explore evil in the world of Supernatural that was human in nature...Where it went from there took me by surprise and in a lot of ways I felt like I was just channeling it from somewhere.
I'm going to have to write some soft, cuddly SamandDean now, just to recover. Enjoy!
Um...yeah...Story continues in "Dreaming in Stereo"
