cado en nasquam (mactatu venia), Supernatural, NC-17

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural
Title: cado en nasquam (mactatu venia) (Part One of this story, other chapters can be found here)
Pairing/Characters: John/Dean, John/Sam, psuedo-Sam/Dean, implied Alistair/Dean, implied Alistair/John, Castiel
Rating: A very serious NC-17
Summary: This picks up at the begining of "Family Remains" and runs through "On the Head of a Pin", where it finally diverges completely from canon. John Winchester never was very good at following someone else's plan when he has other ideas, and his boys are still his boys, even though he's not quite himself.

Warnings: For eboniorchid who is an amazing woman and for varkelton as a belated happy birthday. This is maybe the darkest thing I've ever written, and those of you who have read my work know I don't say these things lightly. This at the very least rivals the "P!Verse"...in some ways it goes darker places than that. There is rape/non-con, dub-con, there is torture, both physical and mental. All three Winchesters go to very dark places in this. This began as a Dean in hell piece, and then followed very loosely through season 4, until it went its own way.




He body surfed a while, looking for a good meat suit to take him into the next part of their plan. He settled on a trucker with big hands and a filthy fantasy life, taking him just as he is finishing fucking some two dollar rest stop whore.

“You done with her?”

John looked up from the girl to find Alistair in the passenger seat. He shrugged and tucked the man’s dick into his jeans, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Hey, you didn’t pay for doubles.”

Alistair waved a hand and her neck snaps. “So how are the boys?”

“Ripe. Dean’s so close to losing it that it won’t take much more.”

“And Sam?”

John cracked the neck of the man he was inhabiting, settling into the body. “Coming along. The bitch you’ve got playing him is really twisting his head around.”

“She is my special girl.” Alistair crowed. “Now, keep an eye on them.”

“Yes, sir.” John waited from him to go, then waited a little longer because he knows Alistair by now. Fifty years on his rack, another seventy five carving up souls before he finally got the chance to get topside again.

Even then he could see what his boys would become. He’d never been prouder, watching them work together to kill the fucking bastard that had taken their mother…the fucking bastard that had played all of them into their places in the end of everything. Dean’s deal to save Sam was a coup that even the yellow-eyed son of a bitch hadn’t predicted.

It had sealed their fates. It sent Dean into the pit where John could help him find his true nature. It had sent Sam running right into the arms of that slutty demon who was leading him by his cock right up to his role in the whole thing.

Only thing was, none of them expected that John had a whole different plan.

Fuck Lucifer and the apocalypse. Fuck Alistair and his grand scheme.

Fuck all of them.

John opened the door of the truck and jumped down. And speaking of fucking, all this thinking about it had him horny. It was nearly 2 am and the rest stop was mostly empty, all but a few trucks and one lonely car near the bathrooms.

He sauntered that way. The young man inside was barely nineteen, asleep among all his worldly possessions. John smashed a hand through the window and dragged him out, throwing him over the hood of the car and ripping his jeans open. The kid screamed as John took him, flailing against the metal as if he could escape if he just tried hard enough.

John fucked him violently and left him bloody and sticky with come. “That’s better. Now then, where have you boys gotten off to?”



"Sam!" Dean crawls forward, gets to his feet, pulling his jeans up and getting between Sam and the demon. "Sam, stop."

Sam's eyes flash at Dean. "Get out of the way!"

Dean shakes his head and takes a step forward. "No, Sam. You can't—"

"He fucking raped you." Sam yells as the man laughs.

"And he liked it, didn't you Dean-o? Go on, tell him." The man steps forward, slapping at Dean's ass. "Cat got your tongue, Son?"

Dean half turns to growl at him, but the demon is done, black smoke roaring out of the biker and dropping him unconscious on the ground. Dean lowers his head and stands…just stands staring at him.

"Dean…" Sam takes a hesitant step, but stops when Dean stiffens. "I could have…"

Dean looks up, tears sparkling in his eyes. "He…that was…"

"You knew him…from…before. In hell?"

Dean moves to a different headstone, leaning against it and crossing his arms. "Yeah…you could say that, Sam. He was there…when Alistair…" Dean wipes away a tear and exhales slowly. "You gotta understand Sam…it was more than just four months…I mean…up here it was four months, but there, time is different. It was…more like forty years."

Sam holds his breath, holds himself still, afraid that Dean will stop…afraid he might just tell him too.

"They…uh…they sliced, and they carved…and tore at me in ways that you…" He shakes his head, the memory filling his eyes, the pain rolling off him almost overwhelming to Sam's heightened senses. "Until there was nothing left." His voice is cold, like he can keep it from tearing him apart if he can just keep it distant enough, but Sam can feel the break coming.

"And then suddenly, I would be whole again. Like magic…so they could start in all over." Dean shifts uncomfortably. "And he was there. He was part of it. He…fucked with my head while they…and he fucked me when they were done…"

Dean shivers, his eyes losing focus as he turns his head. "Alistair, at the end of every day, he came and he made me an offer. Every day. To take me off the rack, if I would…put souls on. If I started the torture. And I told him to stick it where the sun shines. Every time. For thirty years, I told him."

Dean's voice cracks and he stands, rubbing his hands over his arms. "And he would hold me and whisper to me and tell me to let go." Somehow, Sam knows Dean means the demon that had just been there. "Sometimes, he was…almost gentle. Told me I could find pleasure, that he would take care of me."

His shoulders are hunched over, his head bowed. "And I couldn't do it anymore, Sammy…I couldn't…and I got off that rack…God help me, I got right off it…and I started ripping them apart…I lost count of how many souls…the things that I did to them."

Sam moves closer, wanting to offer comfort, but not beginning to know how. "Dean…you…held on…for thirty years…that's…"

Dean shakes his head. "He was there…he was there, Sam and he was right…I felt pleasure. I…let him…"

"Who?" Sam reaches out a hand to touch Dean's shoulder and Dean inhales a deep, shuddering breath.

"Dad."

The word is like a boot to his stomach. Sam stumbles backwards, tripping and landing hard on his ass in the wet grass. "That demon…that…" Sam points at the unconscious biker. "He…and that was…" He shakes his head vehemently, as though denying it could make it not be real. "No, Dean…we saw him. He got out. He…"

"He was there a year Sam…god, that's like 120 years down there…" Dean comes to squat beside him. "I can't blame him…not when I did the things I did." He wipes his face. "And I can't let you…" He sniffs and holds out his hand to help Sam up. "Okay? No more…Ruby has to go."

Sam can understand that and he nods, climbing to his feet. "But what about…him? What do we do about him?"

"Hell if I know, Sammy."



Sam woke with a start, looking around him. The impala was parked in some secluded place and Dean was in the front seat with a flashlight and a newspaper.

“What are you doing?”

Dean spared him a glance. “What's it look like I'm doing?”

Sam sat up with a sigh. “Like you're looking for a job.”

Dean sort of nodded and went back to reading. “Yahtzee.”

Sam leaned on the back of the seat separating them. “We just finished a job like two hours ago.”

Dean shrugged, but wouldn’t look at him. “Adrenaline's still pumping, I guess. So, what do you think...Cedar rapids, Tulsa, or Chi-Town?”

What Sam really thought was that they both need some down time. It had been a almost a month since the incident in the graveyard, since Dean told him about hell. Since Dean kept him from taking out a demon, because that demon used to be their father.

“I am all for working. I really am. But you got us chasing cases nonstop for like a month now. We need sleep.” Sam rubbed at his eyes. They hadn’t said a word about it since. Not a word. Hadn’t told anyone either. There were times Sam wasn’t even sure it had been real.

“Yeah, we can sleep when we're dead.” Dean said.

“You're exhausted, Dean.” Sam argued, though why Dean would see reason this time when he hadn’t all the previous times Sam had voted for down time escaped him.

“I'm good.” Dean disagreed.

“No, you're not. You're running on fumes, and you can't run forever.” And neither could he…though he certainly didn’t want to think about the consequences anymore than Dean did.

Dean, however, could take denial to whole new levels Sam was learning. “And what am I running from?”

“From what you told me.” Sam said softly. “Or are we pretending that never happened?”

Dean poked at the newspaper and completely changed the subject. “Stratton, Nebraska. Farm town. A man gets hacked to death in a locked room inside a locked house. No signs of forced entry.”

Sam let him have it, because honestly, he didn’t know what to say either. “Sounds like a ghost.”

“Yes, it does.” Dean dropped the flashlight and the news paper on the seat beside him and started the engine.

Sam sighed as Dean backed them back onto the road and flopped back down, bending his knees enough that he could put his head on the seat. One of them needed enough sleep to think straight, and clearly, he couldn’t count on Dean for that.



He didn’t sleep because when he did, all he saw was hell. He let Sam think it was nightmares about the torture he suffered, the violation and pain and bloody torment that Alistair subjected him to while he was chained to the rack.

Dean sucked down coffee to keep himself awake, coffee spiked with whiskey to take the edge off.

It wasn’t his own torture that kept invading his dreams. It was the things he’d done. The faces of those he’d ripped to shreds. The screams of the men and women he raped and beat and tore apart to the loving adulation of his demon father and their keeper, Alistair.

He didn’t know how he was holding it together, but the alternative was to fall apart. He couldn’t fall apart. His hands shook as they questioned the housekeeper, but he hid them in his pockets. As they left, he thought he saw his father in the woods along the road, but he blinked and it was gone.

His father was dead. His body burned. The only thing left of John Winchester was a dark stain on the inside of Dean. The demon that used his name was nothing but a demon. Not his father.

That was what he told himself every time the fear bubbled up. Every time he thought he saw him in the rear view mirror or in someone’s eyes. If he just kept moving, hunting, salting and burning, he would be okay.

And right now, that meant protecting this stupid family, even if they wouldn’t listen. “Your family's in danger. You need to get out of the house now.”

As if on cue, the lights went dark.

“What the hell?”

Dean checked in with Sam who nodded, his fists clenching. “Nobody move!”

Outside the family dog was having a freak out and the kid jumped for the door, only to be restrained by his mother. “Buster!”

The sound shifted to something more like pain and the father shoved Dean aside, running out onto the porch. Sam and Dean followed.

“Buster! Buster? Buster! Buster!”

The sound died, and Dean knew from the sickening silence that the dog was dead with it. Blood dripped from the moving van, the words “too late” scrawled out on the side.

Dean looked to Sam who inhaled sharply and nodded. “We are not the bad guys, but you're in danger.” Dean said.

“First thing's first. You got to get your family out of here.” Sam added.

“Head to the motel I was talking about. You'll be safe there.” Dean turned to head for the car. They were going to need supplies.

“What are you two gonna do?” Brian asked.

“Oh, no! Oh, come on! Oh, come on!” The tires on the Impala were slashed, and a quick look at the family’s car and the moving truck show that they were all in the same boat.

Sam pulled the trunk open, then stood and looked at Dean. “Dude, the guns are gone. So is the... Basically, everything is gone.”

“What kind of ghost messes with a man's wheels?” Dean rubbed a hand over his face, trying to think. He needed to focus. The kids were coming out and the girl was suddenly screaming.

“She's there! She's there!”

Dean looked where she was pointing, but he didn’t see any girl. He saw his father, dark eyes staring at him. He swallowed and blinked to make him go away. “What's a ghost doing outside?” he asked aside to Sam.

“You want to stay and find out?”

Dean wanted anything but that. He wanted this to be a simple job. He wanted this family kept safe. He wanted Sam to stop looking at him like that. “Everybody inside.”

“Are you crazy? We need to get the hell out of here!”

Dean turned on the uncle. “In what?! This ghost is hunting us! Everybody back inside now! Move!”

Sam lead the way, disappearing into the kitchen and coming back a few minutes later with a canister of salt. It wasn’t much, but at the moment it was the only defense they had. He tossed the salt to Dean and started making a circuit of the room, checking the doors and windows. Dean drew out a circle. “Whatever's outside, it can't get in this circle. As long as the salt line is unbroken, this is the safest place to be.”

“Safe from ghosts?” the father asked skeptically.

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Dean responded, his patience growing thin.

“Okay. I'm not listening to this anymore. Come on. I got to get my family out of here. Let's go.”

“Nobody's going anywhere until we kill this thing.” Dean growled.

Sam put a hand on Dean’s arm to calm him. “Sir, please. This is what we do. Just...trust us.”

They were wasting time. Sam showed the girl the pictures they’d gotten from the housekeeper. “Her. She was paler and a lot dirtier, but that was her.”

“That's the girl in the walls.” Danny added, pointing at the picture.

Sam pulled him aside and lowered his voice. “So it's the daughter?”

“So, what. The maid got her story wrong? Rebecca wasn't cremated?” His head hurt and he really wanted a drink.

“Unless her spirit's just attached to something inside the house.”

That made some kind of sense. He nodded. “She hung herself in the attic, right?”

Sam was looking at him with that look again. The one that said he was worried, that Dean wasn’t acting like himself, that any minute he was going to demand that they talk about it. Dean exhaled and glanced up the stairs, then back at Sam.

“You want to babysit? I'll check it out.” Sam offered.

Uncle Ted started to push past them to go for the door. “This is just some backwoods hillbilly bitch, and I'm not about to sit around here waiting for her to go all Deliverance on my ass.”

Dean grabbed his arm. “Well, nobody's leaving the house.”

“Stop me.”

Rage filled him and Dean shoved the man into the wall. He wanted to stick a dirty knife into his gut and twist it. He swallowed the image and tried not to feel the imaginary slick of blood on his hands. “Listen, man. I've got a gun. You don't get your ass back in that circle, you're gonna have yourself a third hole.”

Dean shoved him away, running a shaking hand over his face and breathing slowly. Sam touched his back and Dean nodded. “Dude, you don't have a gun.” His voice was low, his hand still on Dean’s back. It was strangely grounding.

“And? I'm not letting that bastard or anyone else die tonight.” He breathed in and let it go slowly.

Sam’s face was pinched, but he nodded. “You cool?”

Dean turned back to the family watching them. “I’m good. Go.”

”You want him.”

Dean closed his eyes and pushed the voice away. Alistair wasn’t there. It was his imagination.

”Take your knife and slice open his belly, play with his innards…fuck his ass while he screams…rip his throat open to listen to him gurgle…

Dean pushed the thought and the images that came with it away.

“What was that?”

Dean turned just in time to see a door open and a freaky ass girl moved into the room, eyeing them all. A knife slid down into her hand.

He stepped back so that he was in the circle and between the girl and the family. “All right, everybody stay calm. She's a ghost. She can't come in the circle.”

The girl kept coming until she was at the edge of the salt line, cocking her head as she looks from it up to Dean. No ghost he’d ever seen had eyes like that. No ghost he’d ever seen could step over a salt line the way she did.

“I thought you said ghosts couldn't cross the circle.”

“They can't. She's not a ghost. Go, go, go! Move!” He shove them toward the door and turned to hold off the blade she tried to shove into his chest. Her skin was cold and dry, but certainly skin and despite her size she was strong and determined.

Her screams echoed off the walls, bounced into him and he was right back in hell in his brain. “Shit.” She had him on the ground, holding her off but only barely when Dean heard Sam.

“Hey!” Sam shined his flashlight into her eyes and she ran, covering her eyes.

“So, it's not a ghost.” Dean was shaking again, his hands trembling. His father’s false concern in hell playing through him. He pulled a flask from his pocket and took a hit off it before looking up at Sam.

“So, it's just a girl?” Sam asks, eyeing him, but not commenting on the whiskey.

“It's not just a girl. It's psycho Nell. I'm telling you, man—humans.” Fucking humans who are dirty and evil and depraved just like all the demons of hell…because the demons of hell all came from humans. “I don't know. Maybe it's the daughter, Rebecca. Maybe she didn't hang herself.”

If Sam noticed the struggle Dean was fighting to function, he said nothing. “Dude, no. She'd have to be like fifty years old by now.”

“Well, I don't know. What'd you find in the attic?”

“Some old junk. I found Rebecca's diary. That's about it.”

“I wish you'd found a howitzer. Listen, we got to get this family safe. I mean, it's just a human, so they can make a run for it. We just got to hold her off.”

Of course it was never that simple. But at least with the kid missing it gave Dean a focus. “We’ll find him.”

The girl had to come from somewhere. She wasn’t a ghost, so she had to have ways to get around. Dean figured that she would take the kid wherever she felt the most comfortable and the kid had said she came from in the walls.

The problem with that was the closeness of the space. He was sweating before he was fully inside. He never used to have this much trouble in close spaces, not before waking up inside his coffin. “Okay, Dean. Focus,” he muttered to himself.

Ted was a nervous wreck behind him as they made their way through the crawl space between the walls, and he didn't improve when Dean found the hole in the floor. Not that Dean could really blame him. He wasn't the poster child for zen himself.

He lowered himself through the hole with Ted standing watch. Dean should have known that separating was a bad idea. He heard the scream and Ted's head fell through the hole. His stomach twisted and his heart pounded erratically as he covered his light and closed his eyes and fought the panic that welled up inside him. It was too dark and the smell of dead things filled his nose and it was too much like the place he was left to wait for them to be ready to torture him some more.

He couldn't move for a long time and when he finally did, there was nothing to be done but haul the dead body out of the house.




Sam knew Dean was strung too tight. Killing the boy had only wound him tighter. Sam watched him lower the impala off the jack and breathed a sigh of relief that they'd gotten through it with minimal losses.

They said their goodbyes and got into the car. "Motel." Sam said as soon as they were on the road.

Dean shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "Lets put some miles behind us first."

"Dean, you're beat, I'm exhausted. We both need to sleep."

"I'm fine."

"Stop." Sam put his hand out and grabbed the steering wheel. Dean slapped his hand away. "I get it, okay? I do."

"You don't get anything." Dean groused, but he did pull them into the motel parking lot. "You don't."

Sam nodded, willing to concede that point. "Okay, maybe I don't. But I know about the dreams, Dean. I know that they terrify you. And I know you see Dad in every stranger's face we pass on the road, because so do I."

Sam turned in his seat to look his brother in the face. "But damn it Dean, if you don't get some sleep soon, you're gonna get both of us killed."

Dean put the car in park and closed his eyes. "Fine. You win. But I'm going to the liquor store. Get us a room."

Sam opened the door and got out. "Bring enough for me too."

He watched Dean pull out, headed for the small town and went to check them in. He texted Dean the room number once he had it and headed for the door, not surprised when his stomach dropped, heralding the presence of a demon nearby. He tensed, not sure which demon to expect.

Ruby's small frame slipped out of shadows and slid in beside him. "You've been sticking awfully close to big brother these days."

"No, Ruby." Sam said, shaking his head and pushing her away. "Get out of here."

"What kind of come on is that?" Ruby asked with a pout. "You know you need what I can give you, if you're ever going to be ready to kill Lilith."

"No. I made a promise."

"Like the one you made before Dean headed downstairs?" Ruby asked, shoving him into the wall and pressing her hand to his cock. "You broke that one in days."

"I'm serious. I'm doing this his way." Sam pushed her away. "I don't want any more."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?"

He opened the door and she followed him in. "What are you doing here Ruby?"

"I should be asking you the same thing." She crossed her arms and looked at him, clearly pissed. "It would almost be funny if thirty-four seals hadn’t been broken already. Thirty-four, Sam! That’s over halfway."

The knot in his stomach twisted even tighter. His desire for what she offers him was burning in his throat. Just a taste. A little taste. It wouldn't hurt. Dean wouldn't have to know. His breathing was speeding up. She closed in on him, backing him toward the bed.

He sat heavily and she straddled his lap, drawing a blade from her belt. "The angels are losing this war." Ruby said, though her voice was sultry, seductive, not at all like she was delivering bad news. "Every day is one day closer and if someone doesn’t do something soon—"

Sam caught her hand before she sliced into her arm, pulling the blade away and standing abruptly. "And that someone is me?" He'd spent so many years of his life being what other people thought he should be that now her insistence rankled him instead of pushed him closer to what she wanted.

"Who else would it be?"

Irrational irritation streams through him and he charges at her, then away again. "I don’t know where these seals are – I don’t know squat! So why don’t you tell me where you’d like me to start?"

"Well, you can quit dickin’ around here for one thing." Ruby growled at him. "Bigger fish, Sam. Yeah, your brother's had it bad and he needs someone to hold his hand and change his diapers, but you both had better fucking get over it." She was furious now too and her voice was lifting. "And if the seals are being broken? Ya might wanna go after the one doin’ the breaking.

That at least was something he understood. "Lilith?"

"Cut the head of the snake. You’re the only one who can stop her, Sam." She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "So step up, and kill the little bitch."

Everything inside him itched to do that. It was Lilith that had made the deal with Dean, dragged him into the pit. Lilith was at the top of his list of demons to kill. "Oh, I’m game, believe me."

Ruby stopped at the door and turned to look at him. Sam's face paled. If she stayed much longer he'd give in. "It’s not the psychic thing I gotta problem with."

"Yeah, I know, what you got a problem with but tough, Sam. It’s the only way."

The room went quiet as she let that burn into him. He exhaled and shook his head tightly. "No."

"You know, this would all be so much easier if you just admit to yourself that you like it." Ruby said, crossing her arms.

Sam snorted and crosses his arms too. He wanted to deny it, but couldn't find the words.

Ruby's voice was back to that seductive tone. "That feeling that it gives you."

Sam swallowed around a sudden tightness. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Oh, I don’t, huh?" She stared at him, then turned for the door. "Fine." Her hand was on the doorknob, the door opening. Her head turned his way but she didn't fully look at him. "It’s simple. Lucifer rises, the apocalypse starts." Sam closed his eyes and turned his face away. "You think you have demons on your hands now? People are gonna die, Sam, oceans of people! So you just let me know when you’re ready."

She was gone when Sam opened his eyes.

He paced the small room, then grabbed the ice bucket and headed out to get ice. He did like it, even though it disgusted him. The way it heated him up from the inside out, the feeling of power that leeched out into his veins and pumped through his heart until he was buzzing with it. The strength it gave him.

He leaned his head against the ice machine and told himself he didn't need it. That he wasn't craving it.

"Oh, she's really got you twisted round, don't she?"

Sam jumped and turned.

The man leaning on the opposite wall had his father's stance, but was not his father. He was tall, nearly as tall as Sam and well built, but not bulky. Sam exhaled and let his vision shift the way Ruby had taught him. He could see him then, squatting inside the man. He wasn't as deformed as some demons he'd seen, which made sense because they'd all been older. His father was still a baby in relative terms.

"I should just yank you out of there and send you back to hell."

The thoughtful expression changed. Sam felt the invisible fingers on his throat and reached out with his power. "You don't have the juice, Sam. Haven't had your booster in a while, have you?" He shoved Sam into the machine and Sam lost the tentative grip he had on the slippery demon. "I could help you out there, Son." He brought his knee up between Sam's legs, grinding it into his cock as he raised his hands. The knife was huge, the blade glinting in the light. He sliced through the meet of his palm and grabbed Sam's chin with the other hand. "Open up."

"No." Sam struggled, but he was held tight and his father slowly forced his mouth open, dripping blood into him. Sam didn't swallow, but then the hand was covering his mouth and the invisible hand holding him was stroking his throat forcing a reflex action. The first flush was a shock, but his body responded, and he found himself sucking at the wound, drinking greedily as his father laughed at him.

"That's my good boy."

Strength flowed through him, his powers roaring to life. Sam shoved and pulled away, wiping his face on his sleeve before reaching out a hand and grabbing at the demon. "Stay away from us, so help me. Stay away from Dean."

He smiled. "See ya' round Sam."

Before Sam could pull him, the man opened his mouth and the demon roared out of him. Sam was still panting, staring at the unconscious body on the ground when Dean pulled up in the impala.

“Sam?”

Sam wiped his face again and again, first with his sleeve, then with his hand.

“Sam?”

He swallowed the burning, the feeling of power and turned. “Dad…he…” Sam gestured at the man and shook his head.

“Did he hurt you?” Dean asked, instantly protective.

“Not…not really.” Sam shook his head, shivering as he remembered the touch. “He just…”

Dean grabbed him and shook him. “You can’t listen to him Sam. He isn’t Dad. Not anymore. He’s a demon and demon’s lie.”

“You’re one to talk.” Sam said before he could stop himself, regretting it instantly. “Dean—“

Dean let go of him and held up his hand. He went back to the car, pulling out a bag of take out and two bottles of whiskey. He thrust one at Sam wordlessly and gestured toward the room. Sam nodded and led the way, opening the door and putting his bottle down on the table.

Dean handed him a burger and went to the bed on the far side of the room. The bed creaked as he sat down. Sam listened to the rustling of the paper bag around the bottle and the turn of the cap as Dean opened it, the sound of Dean swallowing the low burn.

“Dean, I’m sorry.” He said it without turning, without looking. He could feel the demon blood inside him. He wanted more. Like a goddamn junkie and somehow he was afraid that Dean would see, would know.

“Eat your burger, Sammy. Drink your booze.” Dean swallowed more and the bed creaked again. “Sleep. That was your plan, right?”

Sam nodded and lifted his burger, but he wasn’t hungry, and he didn’t want the alcohol. “You sleep. I’m going to shower.” Sam left Dean slamming down whiskey and went to try to get himself clean.



He's lost count of the souls, the endless parade of them, the ways he's hurt them, words and knives, whips, cat o'nine tails made of the bones of sinners and demons, nails and teeth. He's fucked them with his own cock, with his hand, with their own cocks, their own hands. He's perpetually covered in their blood, their gore.

It's grown numbing as his father pulls him to the next. He's tall, this one and something about him reminds him of someone…he's all legs and arms and shaggy brown hair…and he fights as he's dragged to the rack, but he doesn't scream, doesn't yell.

His father holds him back, holds him against a strong body to watch as they strap him down. "He looks like your brother."

Dean makes the connection slowly, surprised he hadn't before. "Sam."

His father nods, stubble scraping over Dean's skin. "Your brother who let you die."

That doesn't seem right, but Dean can't place why. "Your brother who was always jealous of you…hated you…he let you die."

"No…he…" But Dean can't finish the thought…it slips away as anger uncoils low in his gut.

"He left you. Ran away after you gave him everything." John's voice is deep, eating into Dean, slithering around the anger, the vile, disgusting hatred in the words twisting inside him. "He went to her. Wanted nothing to do with you after you spent all those years keeping him safe."

John's hands rake over Dean's skin as they move a little closer to the rack. This isn't Sam, he can see that now…this is someone who looked enough like Sam he has to look close to see the differences.

"He used you…dragged you on his vendetta when all you wanted was to have your family back together…he knew you'd do anything he wanted and he let you…let you save him over and over again…let him use you, put you down…never smart enough, never good enough…never let you in…he held you at arm's length…and when you sold yourself for him…" His hand circles Dean's cock, pulling hard and dry down its length. "He died Dean…he left you again…left you alone because he couldn't embrace who he really is…he was weak, Dean…he was weak and he died and you sold yourself to save him….sacrificed everything you've ever been…"

Dean's lips curl in snarl as they reach the rack, reach the broad expanse of bare skin. The cat o'nine tails in his hand is heavy. "He didn't save you…didn't even try…he let you go…he let you go to hell, Dean."

Dean hears himself growling, anger spilling through his veins, blinding him to anything but this Sam in front of him and he brings the punishing tool down over and over, ripping the back into shreds as the man whimpers, shakes and finally loses the battle to keep from yelling.

Dean switches to a blade, a long handled knife, deepening wounds left by the tongues of the cat o'nine tails, cutting away pieces of skin. He drags the tip of the blade up the man's ass crack, catching on the hole and cutting to let blood flow. "He's the reason you're here….he's the reason you've been beaten and raped…he's the reason, Dean…he's up there cavorting with some girl while you're here…he isn't trying to get you back…he put you in a box and forgot you."

John's hand is on his cock, guiding him to the bloody ass. "Fuck him Dean…fuck your brother for what he's done to you. Show him your hatred. Take pleasure in hurting him, Dean."

Dean screams as he shoves himself into the man, as John shoves himself into Dean…screams and screams and screams, drowning out the man's own whimpering cries for mercy with something that might have been his brother's name, fury and despair roaring out of him, pleasure rushing in as he comes.


“Dean.”

Sam’s hand on his arm is like a hook dragging him up out of hell and Dean sits up, wild eyed and panting.

“You were screaming.” Sam said, offering him a cup of coffee.

A glance at the clock said that it was almost nine thirty, which means he’d actually slept before the dreams became too intense. Dean took the coffee with one hand, rubbing at his face with the other. “Nightmare.” Dean replied with a voice that sounded like he’d been screaming for hours.

Sam sat on the bed opposite and watched him. “Really? Because not all of it sounded exactly like a nightmare.”

Dean closed his eyes and put the coffee on the nightstand. He didn’t want to be having this conversation. He was tired of talking about something he couldn’t change. Tired of being terrified of every single shadow. “Sam…” He sighed and reached for the bottle of whiskey. It was almost half gone. He opened it and poured some into his coffee.

“You okay?” Sam asked, watching him pour.

He wanted to ask what the fuck Sam thought the answer was. He wasn’t okay. He hadn’t been okay since Lilith and her hell hounds had dragged him to the pit. He took a big swallow of his coffee and considered that maybe he hadn’t been okay for a long time before that. “You know, I felt for those sons of bitches back there.” He looked up at Sam, hooks his thumb in the general direction of the farmhouse and the family that already seemed like it was days behind them. “Lifelong torture turns you into something like that.”

He didn’t say what he was thinking, but somehow he knew Sam caught on. He had changed. All those years of torment and he was nearly as twisted as their father.

“You were in hell, Dean. Look, maybe you did what you did there, but you're not them. They were barely human.”

Dean nodded. He sipped at his coffee and looked up to meet Sam’s eyes. He had to make Sam understand. “Yeah, you're right. I wasn't like them. I was worse. They were animals, Sam, defending territory. Me? I did it for the sheer pleasure.”

Horror crossed Sam’s face, though he tried to hide it. “You…What?”

He looked away, no longer able to keep looking at him. “I enjoyed it, Sam. They took me off the rack, and I tortured souls, and I liked it. All those years, all that pain. Finally getting to deal some out yourself. I didn't care who they put in front of me. Because that pain I felt, it just slipped away. No matter how many people I save, I can't change that. I can't fill this hole. Not ever.” He wiped at the single tear that fell and stood.

Sam was staring at him now, but he had to know, had to understand what was at stake. “No matter what I do now, Sam, there’s no going back. I’m never going to make it right.” He gulped down the whiskey heavy coffee. “That’s what Lilith wanted. To make me like her. That’s what Ruby is going to do to you.”

He rubbed at his face. “Hell, maybe that’s what Dad was warning me about in the first place.”

Sam stood and came toward Dean, but obviously wasn’t sure what to do. “I told you, no more Ruby. I sent her away.”

Dean sighed, tired down to his bones despite the sleep. “I could smell her Sam. She was here.”

“She was, and I sent her away, okay? I told her we’re doing this your way.”

“And Dad?” Dean asked, looking up at him. “What did you tell him?”

Sam licked his lips, his eyes skipping away. “I told him no too.”

“Funny, he never did take no for an answer.” Dean said. There was a flair of jealousy in his stomach, which made no sense. He didn’t want his father touching either of them. Didn’t want to think about the things they’d done, about the way his father seemed to be able to force him to it even now.

“He left, Dean. I said no and he left.” Sam assured him.

“Maybe, but he’ll be back, you know that, right?”

Sam nodded tightly. “I know.” He sighed and pointed at the table. “In the meantime, I think I found us a case.”

“Yeah, okay. I need a shower.”



Sam watched Dean sleep after he’d drugged his food. The sedatives would give him a better sleep and hopefully hold the dreams at bay. At least, that’s what Sam told himself.

He was riding an edge and he knew it.

He stepped out of the room, closing the door as quietly as he could. It was becoming more and more obvious that Dean was not going to pull his shit together and that left it to Sam to do whatever was necessary.

He checked the knife at his belt, Ruby’s knife before he pulled the flask from his back pocket. Ruby had left it for him, under his pillow with a note telling him to come to his senses.

His hands shook. He hadn’t taken any. He’d been concentrating on the job, on Dean and getting through the hunt, but now…now he could feel it call to him. He wanted it.

More than that. He needed it.

To save Dean. To save the world. Stop the apocalypse.

It was too much to ask any normal person.

But Sam? He hadn’t been normal since a yellow eyed demon had fed him his first drops of demon blood when he was six months old. He opened the flask and tilted it back, closing his eyes as the dark blood flowed into his mouth.

A shiver ran through him as the blood burned down the back of his throat, spreading fingers through him. The rush of power that came with it was stronger than usual and suddenly he could feel the streets around him, the heartbeats of the people, the heat of the pavement, for miles. He could feel two demons as well, circling closer to him, drawn by his presence.

One of them was Ruby. Sam knew her scent like he knew Dean’s. He headed toward her, catching her by surprise and spinning her into the alley. He shoved her into the wall, nipping at her lips as she gasped in surprise.

“Shit, Sam.” She kissed him eagerly enough though, clutching him closer. She pulled back and looked at him suddenly. “Who juiced you up?”

He bit down on her neck, drawing blood and licking at it greedily until she melted against him. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m glad you’re doing the right thing.”

“Shut up, Ruby.” Sam growled, his hands opening her jeans. She was eager enough for that too, helping him pull them down and stepping out on one side. She opened his jeans, kissing him as she pulled his mostly hard cock out and stroked it to full hardness.

He lifted her and pressed her into the wall, sliding into her easily and fucking her hard, his mouth moving back to the wound he’d already made in her neck.

“Not that I’m not grateful, but what changed your mind?” Ruby asked breathlessly.

“That would be me,” a deep voice said behind them.

Sam froze, Ruby impaled on his cock and pressed into the wall as he came, and Ruby’s eyes went wide. “You!”

The knife was out of its sheath and buried in Ruby’s stomach before Sam could react. “No!” He started to pull away, but a hand shoved him tight against the dead body as another yanked his jeans down.

“Oh, yes, Sammy. Been waiting for this a long time.”

He struggled, fighting to get a grip on the demon and pull it out, but behind him his father laughed. “You can keep trying…but it won’t work.”

A big body was pressed into him, fingers between them, shoving into him. “Stop.” Sam pushed back as hard as he could.

His father only chuckled in return. “You know how many times your brother said that before he stopped? Just relax, Sam. The more you fight it, the more it hurts. So keep fighting. I like it when it hurts.”

Sam’s world focused down to the cooling body that had been Ruby and the feeling of invasion as a cock penetrated him. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. His father was swift and brutal and when his come flooding Sam’s ass, the smell of blood lifted in the air, a bloody hand pressed to Sam’s mouth.

The blood filled his mouth and he swallowed, closing his eyes and hating himself for wanting it as much as he did.

When his father finally stepped back, Sam sank to his knees, catching Ruby’s borrowed body and easing it to the ground. The man his father was wearing was in a suit and tie and trench coat, which made Sam think of Castiel briefly. He tucked himself in and zipped up his pants before squatting next to Sam.

He eased a hand over Ruby’s face. “No one touches my boys, Sam. No one.” He leaned in and kissed Sam’s forehead. “Now I really have to go. Alistair is working on something and I really should go help…before he sends me downstairs for disobedience.” He dropped the knife and walked away.

Sam sat for a long time, holding the lifeless body. When he did move, it was stiff and slow and gingerly. His violated ass burned as he eased his pants up over it. He had to get them out of town. Whatever plan Alistair was hatching, they didn’t need to be anywhere near it, and he needed to figure out why his powers weren’t working right. He should have been able to pull a low level demon like his father.

He eased the door open and slipped inside, hoping Dean would stay asleep. He wanted to shower and burn his clothes. Dean could never know. Never. Only, before he could get to the bathroom, Dean’s voice stopped him.

“Sam.”

He turned, but didn’t look at his brother.

“You promised.”

Sam nodded, pulled the knife and held it up, reaching and putting it on the dresser. “She’s dead, Dean. Ruby won’t be bothering us anymore.”

It wasn’t a lie, but somehow it felt like one. Dean would think he’d done it, that he’d killed Ruby and the old fashioned way, not using his powers. Sam turned on the hot water and stripped out of his clothes, his hands shaking. The demon blood flowed inside him, made him itchy and restless.

It was stronger somehow, though maybe it was just that there was more of it…He stepped in under the weak flow of water and willed it to wash away the pain and disgust.

He’d drank from the flask first. He’d assumed it had come from Ruby, but maybe he was wrong. It tasted different.

Sam turned his face up into the spray, opening his mouth and letting the water fill it, wash away the taste. Maybe he was losing his mind.

Ruby was gone. His connection to whatever the demons were planning severed.

They were on their own.



It had been weeks since Ruby.

Sam hardly spoke, but then neither did Dean. They hunted through a ghost possession, both of them on edge, staring down a past that seemed worlds away from where they were now.

For what it was worth, they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Alistair or their father or the angels either. It had been almost quiet.

Almost normal.

Almost.

Except for nothing was ever normal for them anymore. They pretend. They drove and checked into motels and ate crappy food and scoured newspapers. When it had been a few days since Dean had actually slept, Sam slipped him sedatives and they both pretended he didn’t.

Thing was, these days, Sam wasn’t sleeping much either. Dean would watch him pretend to, same way he did. And when Dean was the more convincing of the two, he’d watch through mostly closed eyes as Sam got up and paced, or slipped out of the room and come back hours later looking worse than when he left.

Dean woke to the horn of diesel truck on the highway outside the hotel and starts up, looking instinctively to Sam’s bed. It had been another night Sam drugged him and he can still feel the heavy feeling. Sam’s bed is rumpled, but Sam isn’t in it.

“Yeah.” Sam’s voice is low and it rumbles through the bathroom door, pulling Dean’s attention. “Yeah, no, no, that’s what I’m telling you. No storm. No bad crops. Nothing. Yeah. Yeah, ok...we’ll keep looking. You keep looking, too, ok? Alright; talk soon.”

Dean is suspicious, because Sam has been hiding more and more all the time. He laid back on the bed and closed his eyes, not wanting Sam to know he’d been listening. Sam smacked his leg with his shaving kit.

“Hey! Up and a’tem, kiddo.”

Dean rolled onto his side and squinted up at him. “You’re up early. What are you doin’?”

Sam looked away, tossing his bag into his duffle and shrugging. “I was in the can.”

“Yeah?”

Sam snorted and smirked at him. “Yeah, want me to draw you a picture?”

“Naw, I’ll pass.” He sat up rubbing his eyes. Sam had been up long enough that he was fully dressed and there was a cup of crappy hotel coffee on the table.

“Found a job. Bedford, Iowa. Guy beat his wife’s brains out with a meat tenderizer.” Sam said, holding out his hand with a newspaper in it.

“Yikes.” Dean took the paper and started to scan the article.

“Yeah, get this; third local inside two months to gank his wife for no reason. No priors on any of ‘em; all happily married.”

“Sounds like Ozzy and Harriet.”

“More like The Shining.” Sam countered.

Dean nodded and stood, tossing the paper on the bed. “Alright, then I guess we better have a look.”

They were both on edge as they drove into Bedford. Sam’s phone rang twice and he ignored it after glancing at the screen, then set it to vibrate and tucked it into his pocket.

“Something you need to tell me?” Dean asked as they checked into yet another motel.

Sam shook his head. “No. Wrong numbers. I’ve been getting them a lot.”

He chucked his duffle onto the bed. “So how you want to play this?”

Dean looked at him for a long minute, then looked away. He could focus on the job too. Hell, it was the only thing keeping him from losing his shit.

“We should talk to this latest wife killer, see if there were any signs of possession to start with.”

“Yeah, okay. Suits it is. I’ll get them out of the car.” He dropped his jacket on the bed and grabbed the keys from Dean’s hand.

When the door closed, Dean fished Sam’s phone out of his pocket and thumbed the buttons to pull up the call log. Most of the numbers are his and Bobby’s, but there are a few Dean doesn’t recognize and there are no names attached.

While he’s holding it, a call came in from one of those numbers. He jumped, glancing around him before pressing the button.

“I know you liked it Sam. I know you want more. I have what you need Son. Meet me tonight. I need to see you. I need to tell you about—“

Dean hung up, closing his eyes. The voice was his father’s. He dropped the phone back into Sam’s jacket.

The door opened and Dean turned to look at Sam, making his face looked pissed instead of freaked out.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Fine. Lets do this.”

This turned into a waste of time, at least until Dean figured out that he got to go investigate in a stripper joint. All three of the guys who’d offed someone had spent a lot of time and a lot of money at a club downtown.

Only that wasn’t leading him much of anywhere either and while the owner of the club walked away, Dean got the distinct feeling he was being watched. Hell, it was the perfect place for demons. His father or Alistair could be there, squatting in any of these skeevy business men.

He turned, seeing Sam and crossing over to him, only a little distracted by the naked flesh on the stage. Sam cleared his throat as Dean stopped, pulling his attention.

“Any luck?” Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. “No, you?”

“A little. Ah, I just talked to Bobby. We officially have a theory.” He put both hands in his pockets and made a face.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Siren.” Sam replied.

“Like Greek myth Siren? The odyssey?” Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s apparent shock. “Hey, I read.”

“Yeah, actually, but the Siren isn’t actually a myth, it’s more of a beautiful creature that preys on men. Entice them with their Siren Song.” Sam supplied, his eyes straying to the dancer nearby, then back to Dean.

“So they do their thing and the guys zombie out.” Dean nodded. Damn fucking creatures and their damn creepy shit.

“Basically, yeah. Sirens lived on islands, sailors would chase them completely, ignoring the rocky shores and dash themselves to pieces.”

“Sounds like Adam and his buddies.” Dean looked around them as Sam did the same.

“Yeah. If you’re a Siren in ’09 looking to ruin a bunch of morons where would you set up shop?”

Right. There wasn’t a better place actually. Every guy in the joint is looking for his dream girl, someone to help him forget his pissy little life and offer him some kind of fantasy. “So whatever floats the guys boat, that’s what they look like?”

“Yeah, they can read minds. They see what you want most and then they can kinda, like, cloak themselves, you know, like an illusion.”

Which meant that at least they were just looking for one person. But that one person could be anyone in the room. Just fucking fantastic. “How do we kill it?”

“Bobby’s workin’ on it. But even if we figure that out-“

Dean nodded understanding. “How the hell are we gonna find her. Could be anybody.”

They left the club and headed out into the late afternoon. “So, I’m thinking I should try to talk to the other men.” Sam said.

Dean nodded in agreement. “I’ll stay here for a little while, see if I can get an idea for who our siren might be.”

“Just…don’t get distracted, Dean.” Sam said, sounding kind of annoyed.

“Dude, I’m working a case.”

“In a strip joint.” Sam shook his head. “I’m going to swing by the motel. Bobby was sending me some information I might need.”

“I’ll meet you back there.”

Dean watched him go, then grinned and headed back inside. In an hour he’d seen plenty of fake boobs, but was no closer to a clue to the identity of the siren. He left as the sun was setting and headed back to the motel. Sam wasn’t back yet, but he had books from the car all over the room.

The computer was open and on the books next to the computer was Sam’s phone. Dean crossed to it and stared at it. With a shaking hand, he picked it up, glancing around to make sure Sam really wasn’t there. He checked the call log. There were at least four more calls from random numbers.

And one outgoing call to one of those numbers. Dean’s thumb hesitated over the talk button…but then he pushed it and held his breath.

“Sam…miss me already?” It was a woman’s voice. “Sam?” Dean ended the call and put the phone down. Some woman. Whose name wasn’t in the phone.

The door opened and Dean stepped away from the table.

“Lenny Bristol was definitely another Siren vic.”

Dean swallowed and crossed his arms, trying not to look like he’d just been reading his brother’s diary…or eavesdropping on his love life. “Got in to see him?”

Sam pulled his jacket off and closed the door. “Yeah, said he brought a stripper home named Belle, couple of hours later he offed his mother. Belle, of course, when MIA.”

Dean started for the bathroom, then stopped. “Wait, he killed his mom?”

Sam shrugged and nodded. “Woman he was closet to.”

The phone on the table started to ring and Dean and Sam both looked at it. “Oh, yeah, you, ah, forgot your cell phone.”

Dean went into the bathroom, running the water and splashing it onto his face before reaching for a towel.

“Ah, no. And it doesn’t seem that she’s slowin’ down any. What about you? Got anything?” Sam mouthed Bobby’s name and Dean nodded.

Sam listened for a moment. “Hold on a sec, I’m gonna put you on speaker.”

He pressed a button on the phone and set it down.

“It says you need a bronze dagger covered in the blood of a sailor under the spell of the song.” Bobby said.

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean asked.

“You got me.” Bobby replied. “We’re dealing with three thousand years of the telephone game here.”

“Best guess?” Sam asked.

“Well, the Siren’s spell ain’t got nothin’ to do with any song. It’s most likely some kinda toxin or venom. Something she gets in the vic’s blood.” Bobby supplied.

“And that makes them go all Manchurian Candidate.” Sam chewed on his lip for a second. “What do you think, she infects the men during sex?”

“Maybe.” Bobby agreed.

“Supernatural STD.” Dean shivered. He didn’t like this case so much anymore.

“Well, however it happens, once it’s done, the Siren’s gotta watch her back. She gets a dose of her own medicine- “

“And it kills her.” Sam said.

“I haven’t got any clue where you’re gonna get the blood you need.” Bobby sounded worried.

“I think I might have an idea.” He looked at Dean, his eyes bright.

“Be careful. These things are tricky bitches. Wrap ya up in knots before you know what hit ya.”

“We will, Bobby. Thanks.” Sam pressed the button to end the call. “Lets go. I know where we can get the blood we need.”

Dean was skeptical when they pulled up in front of the hospital, and there was a moment of panic when the other fed showed up, but it was pretty clear the lady doctor was not into him and Sam would have a better chance, so he took the fed and headed back to stripperville.



He was never far away anymore, not with everything so close. Nothing could get in the way of the plan, and that included some low rent siren getting its jollies making his boys kill each other.

He can hear them through the door, all their dirty little secrets pouring out all over the place.

“Well, I dunno when it happened. Maybe when I was in Hell. Maybe when I was starin’ right at you. But the Sam I knew; he’s gone.” Dean said.

Sam’s voice is cold as he responds. “That so?”

“And it’s not the demon blood or the psychic crap...it’s the little stuff. The lies. The secrets.” Dean continues.

John can taste his anger, the violence boiling in his blood. It reminds him of the way Dean was when they worked together, side by side, making souls scream for mercy.

“Oh yeah, what secrets?”

“Your secret phone calls, the late night demon booty calls.”

“I told you, Ruby’s dead.”

“Don’t mean you haven’t found another hell-bitch, Sam. And what about the fucking calls from Dad?”

“Dad’s dead, Dean. I don’t answer.”

“But you’re hiding things from me. What else aren’t you telling me?”

“None of your business.”

John wished he could be in the room to watch the way this was going to play out, but he needed a body to take out the siren.

“See what I mean? We used to be in this together. We used to have each other’s backs!”

Sam’s anger reverberated off the walls. He was close to exploding. “Ok, fine, you wanna know why I didn’t tell you about Ruby? Why I don’t tell you about hunting down Lilith? Because you’re too weak to go after her, Dean. You’re holding me back. I’m a better hunter than you are. Stronger, smarter; I can take out demons you’re too scared to go near.”

“That’s crap.” Dean yelled.

Sam wasn’t about to stop though. “You’re too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself, whining about all the souls you tortured in Hell, boo-hoo and how you got fucked…and you’re forgetting something Dean. You aren’t the only one.”

John needed a body because this was going to go to a place where one of them actually killed the other if someone didn’t intervene, and they needed both of them warm and functional.

He backed away from the door and raced the halls, stopping when a familiar face came off an elevator. Bobby’s footsteps hesitated for a moment, but the sound of a door crashing open spurred him to move faster.

Sam was on his back on top of the broken door, struggling to get to his feet, but Dean was already up and breaking the glass to get to a fire axe.

The fucking siren was in the door, grinning wildly. “Do it. Do it for me, Dean.”

“Tell me again how weak I am, Sam. How I hold you back!” Dean growled, the axe coming up for the first blow.

Bobby grabbed at the axe, stopping him, and plunging a knife into Dean’s shoulder before throwing it and nailing the fleeing siren in the back.

Sam and Dean were both bruised and looking more than a little shell shocked. Bobby stood up after examining the body, looked around as if he could feel John there. Sam stood shakily and John knew that he knew.

”No one touches my boys, Sammy.”

Sam shivered, then reached to help Dean up.

Closer. Every day he was pushing them closer to the edge. And one day soon, he was going to take them both over the brink.