cado en nasquam (mactatu venia) Part 2, Supernatural, NC-17

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural
Title: cado en nasquam (mactatu venia) (Part Two 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.




Sam was unsettled. It was more than the funeral, or the words Pam had whispered to him as she died. It was more than being on a first name basis with a reaper or the icy silence between him and Dean.

He drove them back toward the motel, looking for some way to reach through the wall that had built up between them since the thing with the siren. "So, I've been thinking."

Dean sighed, but said nothing.

"Ruby had been tracking some leads." Sam glanced aside, but Dean just looked out the window. "Up in Cheyenne. I know you didn't like—"

"Hey, man, I don't really give a rat's ass." Dean said

"What's your problem?" Sam asked, his voice harsher than he means it to be.

Dean sighed and shifted in his seat. "Pamela didn't want anything to do with this and we dragged her back into it, Sam."

Sam glanced at him, not liking the defeat in his eyes. "She knew what was at stake."

"Oh yeah. Saving the world. And we're doing such a damn good job of it."

He made the turn off the highway and into the parking lot. "Dean—"

"I'm tired of burying friends, Sam."

That he understood. He was too. "Look, we catch a fresh trail—"

Dean cut him off. "And we follow it, I know. Like I said, I'm just getting tired."

Sam knew tired. He did, but he needed Dean. He needed Dean to get in the game. "Well, get angry." Sam said, turning off the engine.

Dean led him to the door. "Ah, home crappy home."

Sam reached around him to turn on the lights.
"Winchester and Winchester." Sam froze, but Dean just cursed under his breath as they realized both Uriel and Castiel are there, clearly waiting for them.

"Oh come on." Dean groused, crossing to the counter where he'd left his bottle of whiskey.

"You are needed." Uriel replied.

"Needed? We just got back from needed." Dean growled, pouring a shot into the motel glass.

"Mind your tone with me." Uriel warned, moving closer.

"No, you mind your damn tone with us." Dean countered, his own voice growing dark and dangerous.

Sam stepped in between them, trying to placate the both of them. "We just got back from Pamela's funeral."

That only seemed to bug Dean more. "Pamela. You know, psychic Pamela? You remember her. Cas, you remember her. You burned her eyes out. Remember that? Good times. Yeah, then she died saving one of your precious seals. So maybe you can stop pushing us around like chess pieces for five freaking minutes!" He downed the whiskey and turned away.

"We raised you out of hell for our purposes." Uriel was clearly no more placated than Dean was.

"Yeah, what were those again? What exactly did you want from me?"

Uriel moved closer, bristling. "Start with gratitude."

"Dean, we know this is difficult to understand." Castiel offered, a hand on Uriel's arm. Uriel gave him a withering look and Castiel backed off.

"And we don't care. Now, seven angels have been murdered, all of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight."

At least that was something more than posturing. Dean turned to look at him. "Demons? How they doing it?"

"We don't know." Uriel admitted.

Sam was the one irritated now. "I'm sorry, but what do you want us to do about it? I mean, a demon with the juice to ice angels has to be out of our league, right?"

Uriel straightened his back and looked at Sam like he was dirt. "We can handle the demons, thank you very much."

"Once we find whoever it is." Castiel said.

Dean shook his head. "So…what? You need our help hunting a demon?"

Castiel glanced at Uriel, then Dean. "Not quite. We have Alastair."

Sam didn't like how that sounded. Something wasn't right with this visit. Something was very wrong. Uriel was glaring at Sam now. Dean poured another drink. "Great. He should be able to name your trigger man."
There was sympathy in Castiel's eyes when he looked at Dean. "But he won't talk. Alastair's will is very strong. We've arrived at an impasse."

Dean rolled his eyes and lifted his glass, but didn't drink. "Yeah, well, he's like a black belt in torture. I mean, you guys are out of your league."

Uriel took the glass from Dean and put it on the counter. "That's why we've come to his student. You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got."

Dean looked down, away from the angels, away from Sam. He shook his head. Sam could almost feel the way he cracked in half inside.
"Dean, you are our best hope." Castiel doesn't sound completely convinced, but he is resigned to the need.

"No. No way." Dean pushed his way through the two of them, still shaking his head. His whole body is tense, tight, ready to break apart. "You can't ask me to do this, Cas. Not this."

Uriel was snarling as he whirled on Dean. "Who said anything about asking?"

And just like that, they were gone. All three of them. Sam was alone. "Fuck." He turned around, panic flaring inside him. Dean couldn't do what they wanted. Not and keep any sense of himself. "Damn it."

He pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at it. He had no one to call for something like this. Bobby couldn't help. Time was he'd have called Ruby.

He flipped the phone open and paged through the recent calls.

No.

He wasn't considering that. Not for a minute.

He paced the room, opened the door twice to leave, but he didn't know where to go. The third time he opened the door, a man was standing there. Sam blinked and realized it was his father.

"Hello Sam."

"I told you to stay away." Sam responded, though his voice lacked the conviction of his words. "I don't want you here."

"Is that any way to talk to your father, Sammy? After I saved your life?" He shoved Sam back into the room.

"Dean told me you belong to Alistair. If you've come to get me to tell you where he is, you're in the wrong place. I don't know where he is."

"No, that's not why I'm here. I know where he is." John said, closing the door. "Who do you think made sure he was trapped until the angels got there to snatch him?"

Sam narrowed his eyes. "What?"

John pinned him with a look, a leer. "I told you. No one touches my boys."

Sam backed away as his father turned to look at him. He'd chosen a host that resembled the man he used to be, dark hair, scruffy facial hair that was well beyond five o'clock shadow, but fully a beard, at least as tall as Sam and broad at the shoulders. He smiled.

"You want to get Dean back, I want Alistair dead. I help you, you help me."

Sam stepped back again, his legs hitting the bed and he sat to keep from falling. "How…I mean…" He rubbed a hand over his face. What did he mean? He wasn't even sure.

"I know where the big boys are keeping the bastard, I know what they want Dean to do. You know once he does, he won't ever come back from it." John came closer. "I know how to kill him. I just can't do it myself."

Sam swallowed and dared a look up at him. "Tell me where he is, I'll kill him."

John laughed and shook his head. "You will, huh? With what, Sam? You're almost out of juice. It's eating you up how much you want more."

Sam stood abruptly, exhaling. "Well, maybe if you hadn't killed Ruby I'd be in better shape."

"Bitch needed killing." John said with a shrug. "She ain't the only demon that can bleed for you Sam." John held up his arm.

Sam shook his head. "No. There has to be another way."

John conceded the point and put his arm down. "To kill Alistair? Even my blood ain't enough for that, Son. You need to drink deep of something far older and far more 'round the bend than me for that. He's high level, king of the world kind of bastard…bends a knee to no one in hell but that bitch Lilith and her puppet master."

Sam shivered. "Lucifer? He's locked up tight."

John smiled and it was a frightening sight. "So's Lilith."

Sam's heart stopped for a second as he looked at his father. Not the flesh holding him, but the demon inside him, the black inky essence that had once been John Winchester. "What did you say?"

"I have Lilith right where I want her. Waiting for us. I can take you to her, keep her bound while you take what you need, and then we can go together to free your brother."

It was a trap. It had to be a trap. Sam shook his head and paced. "Tell me how to find her. I'll do it myself."

"Oh no, my plan, my way." John replied.

Sam didn't trust him. He knew better. "What's the catch?"

John shook his head. "No catch. Simple deal. You give me what I want, I give you what you want. We both walk away."

"Dean alive for Alistair dead?" Sam clarified.

His father smiled. "Yes."

"Okay, tell me about this plan." His heart hammered in his chest. This was wrong, but the angels hadn't left him any choices here. Dean wasn't strong enough to do what needed doing, and if his father was taking him to Lilith, Sam would kill her too, and the rest of the seals would stay intact and Lucifer would stay buried.

"Well, it starts with you getting naked." John said, raising an eyebrow.

"Not gonna happen." Sam crossed his arms.

"You need the blood, I need to have sex. Simple math really."

"Just take me to Lilith."

John snorted. "Like you'd even make it past the perimeter in your condition."

"Perimeter?"

"You think we're just gonna stroll on up and let ourselves in the back door? You're gonna have to work some of that mojo on the guards."

"I thought you said you had her locked up."

He shrugged again. "Locked up, hidden…whatever. She's someplace we can get to her. Are you in, or do you really want to watch the world tear itself to pieces?"

"Give me a minute." Sam said, stalling while he tried to find another way, any way.

"Time's a wasting, Sam."

He was going to regret this. No matter what he did. But he would regret it more if he sat here and did nothing while the world burned and Dean lost himself. It was just sex. It was some stranger and sex. He could live with that.

"What…" He cleared his throat. "How…"

Hands were on his belt before the sound died and he struggled for a minute in panic. "Go on and fight, Boy. I don't mind. Just makes it take longer and hurt more."

Sam closed his eyes and pulled his hands away, letting his father strip him like he was a child. John shoved him back onto the bed then, following as soon as he'd shed his pants. His cock was hard and full and big and Sam started to hyperventilate when John set a long bladed knife and a packet of lube on the bed beside him.

"Want you on your back so I can watch you drink."

Sam's body was rigid, but he was no match for his father's yanking and pulling him into place, spreading his legs open and shoving a pillow up under his ass tilting his hips. "Did I hurt you the last time?" John asked.

Sam turned his face away. "What do you think?" He tensed as a finger invaded him and closed his eyes. "Just get it over with."

"I want to enjoy this, Sammy. Savor it, like I did with Dean…all that time in hell. He was so pliable, so giving." He shoved a second finger inside him and Sam hissed.

"I thought you fucking brought lube." Sam growled through clenched teeth.

John stopped and looked down at him. "Oh, you wanted me to use it?"

"Get off me." Sam shoved at him and tried to get away, but he was pinned. Fucking demons.

"Now, now." He lifted the little packet of lube and popped it open. "Lets not forget why we're here."

Sam fought the panic as his father spilled lube over his borrowed fingers, then shoved three of them inside Sam's ass. "Better?"

He laid back, covered his face with his hands. His father's fingers moved inside him, then pulled out. Sam held his breath was he felt the first touch of the cock. Tears burned at the corner of his eyes. Dean. This was for Dean. Sam exhaled. "Shit." It was too much, too slow…too something and he was starting to panic when John started to withdraw finally.

"Just getting started, Boy." He shoved in again and Sam grunted. He made a few quick thrusts, then buried himself in deep and held himself there, reaching for Sam's flaccid cock. "What's the matter, Sammy…don't I get you hot?"

Sam growled through his hands that still covered his face.

"I bet I know something that will." He felt the shift as John reached for the knife, then warm drops of blood hit his hands. Sam's hands moved almost without thinking about it, the blood dripping over Sam's lips. He licked at them, then looked up to the arm bleeding a steady stream down at him.

The arm lowered until Sam could open his mouth and cover it, sucking the heat into him. Only then did John continue his fucking, Sam's cock hardening as the power flowed into him. "That's my boy."

Sam ignored him, falling back to the pillows, panting as John's cock filled him and John's hand pulled up his cock until Sam was fighting not to come. John didn't have that problem and his come was hot like liquid fire inside him.

Once he was done though, he seemed to stop worrying about Sam, climbing off the bed and back into his pants. “You might want to clean up. You stink like a used whore.”

Sam got up, trembling from head to toe as he moved around John and into the bathroom. He couldn’t look in the mirror as he started the shower. Come dripped out of him as he stepped into the small tub and blood reddened the water flowing over him as he turned his face into the water.

His cock was hard still and his body was alive with the energy that came with the blood. It made him itchy to use it. If he didn’t need his father…He shook his head. Not his father. Not any more.

Except for the mannerisms and the way he spoke. That was so John Winchester Sam could almost see the man.

Sam forced himself to put it aside. It was no different than working with Ruby. It was a means to and end. Kill Lilith, find Dean. Then it would all be over.



Dean held himself very tight and very still as he looked through the door at Alistair chained inside an elaborate devil’s trap. The two angels are behind him and Dean’s stomach is filled with a cold fury.

“This devil's trap is old Enochian. He's bound completely.” Castiel offered, as if that somehow made this any better.

“Fascinating.” Dean responded dryly. He turned away from Alistair and scanned the building. “Where's the door?”

“Where are you going?” Castiel asked, his face passive.

Dean exhaled and pushed past Uriel. “Hitch back to Cheyenne, thank you very much.” He stopped when Uriel was blocking his path again, just like that.

“Angels are dying, boy.”

“Everybody's dying these days. And hey, I get it. You're all-powerful. You can make me do whatever you want. But you can't make me do this.” I won’t do this, Dean told himself, though there’s a growing part of himself that actually does want to. He closed his eyes, pushing away the memory of hot blood on his hands, on his face, intestines spilling over his skin.

“This is too much to ask, I know. But we have to ask it.” Castiel’s voice was soft, but it intruded on the images and pulled Dean back to the moment. Dean looked at the angel, trying to decide if he means it or if it is just another attempt to pull his chain. He scratched at his head and looked at Uriel. “I want to talk to Cas alone.”

Uriel crossed his arms. “Really.”

His control of the rage inside him was slipping. “If you want a snowball's chance of me going in there, then you're gonna shag ass and let us talk.”

Uriel looked pointedly at Castiel, then inclined his head. “I think I'll go seek revelation. We might have some further orders.”

“Well, get some donuts while you're out.” Dean turned away, shaking his head. His eyes are drawn back to the door that leads to Alistair. He didn’t look at Castiel as he asked the question. “What's going on, Cas? Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?”

Castiel came to stand at his side. “My superiors have begun to question my sympathies.”

“Your sympathies?” Dean wanted to laugh because from his place on the sidelines he wasn’t seeing sympathies, just road blocks and interference.

“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You.” Dean could feel those eyes on him, but didn’t look at the angel. “Even to your brother. They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment.”

Dean sighed. So they knock you down the ladder and put Uriel in charge?”

“He is a proud and able instrument of God.”

Dean looked away from the demon in the next room again, twisting and pushing the anger inside down. “Well, tell Uriel, or whoever...you do not want me doing this, trust me.”

Castiel touched his shoulder, his hand naturally covering the mark he left when he pulled Dean out of the pit. “Want it, no. But I have been told we need it.”

Dean didn’t want to open that door. Didn’t want to become the thing he’d been down there, in his father’s hands, carving and ripping souls to shreds. He’d lost himself in the pleasure of it, and he would again if he let himself think that way again, if he let himself remember the dreams of exactly how he would hurt his tormentors.

“Cas, the things that I did, what I became...” Dean closed his eyes and breathed in deep, letting it out slowly to try to keep it closed up just a little longer. “You ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out.”

“You know what we're all fighting for. And dying for. What Pamela lost her life for.” Castiel’s voice was not its usual commanding self. Dean looked up, into a face close to his, eyes filled with sympathy and concern. It was too much. “You know what will happen if we fail. For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this.”

"You know he won't tell me anything real." Dean tried.

Castiel just looked at him with that mix of compassion and desperation. "But we must try."

Dean closed his eyes again, that expression more than he could manage. “I'll need a few things.”

“I will get you anything you need.” Castiel responded sincerely.

Dean let go of the doors that kept him from falling into the dark abyss at the center of who he had become and turned his eyes on Alistair through the small window in the door. “This is going to get messy.”



John was frustrated by the stalling Sam was doing. He’d figured that once he’d gotten the boy past the fucking it would all go his way. But he had underestimated the kid. Not the first time for that.

“She’s in there.” He gestured at the house where Lilith was hiding out, waiting for her next needed appearance to keep things rolling. Getting in wasn’t going to be a problem. She knew him, knew he worked for Alistair, and since they knew Alistair was being held by angels, she’d be expecting him to come to her for instruction.

Sam eyed the house. “I figure five on the outside. More inside.” Sam said.

“Can you take them all at once?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe. If I’m close enough.”

“Give me the knife.” John held out his hand.

“What?” There was suspicion in his eyes as his hand fell on the knife.

“I need it to get her pinned. Won’t kill her, but with the right mojo behind it I can trap her with it.”

Sam didn’t trust him, that was easy to see, but he slowly pulled the knife from his belt. “I get it back when we’re done.”

John grinned. “When we’re done, you won’t need it.”

“But you’re giving it back to me anyway.” Sam growled.

“Fine, have it your way.” John replied. He looked his son over. “You ready?”

Sam closed his eyes. “Can we just get it over with?”

“I’m going to go in with the knife, distract her, get close. Give me five minutes, then blast away.” John started to move but Sam stopped him.

“What about you? If I just pull, you’ll get yanked too?”

The kid really hadn’t caught on yet. “You worry about them. I’ll take care of myself.”

Truth was, he’d ensured the kid couldn’t pull him, the same way old yellow eyes had, the same way Ruby had. The boy belonged to him now and had since the first time his blood had passed his lips.

The demons guarding the door let him in without question and even Lilith’s inner circle parted for him.

The floor around her was littered with dead bodies and the smile on her face was lazy when he stopped beside her. “Well, well, the littlest demon comes running to mommy when Daddy goes missing?”

John hid his disgust. “Just following orders.”

Her smiled faded some and she waved everyone else out of the room. She reclined back on the lounge, her fingers trailing into the blood of the man nearest her. "Tell me."

He moved closer. Any moment now Sam would strike and he needed to be close enough to keep her in place. "Sam's almost ready for you." John said.

She grinned and closed her eyes. Perfect.

The blast came and John took the last step, slamming the knife into her stomach and into the lounge under her, pinning her.

Lilith screamed and he back handed her across the jaw as he spoke the words that would temporarily bind her to the body. He was nearly finished when Sam burst through the door. "Took you long enough."

Sam was wobbly, his nose bleeding.

John shook his head. "Get over here." He pushed Sam to his knees next to Lilith. He pulled a second knife from his boot and sliced her arms open.

"You filthy fuck. I'm going to gut you."

John grinned down at her. "Not before he drinks you to within an inch of your miserable life, bitch." Sam looked up at him, his eyes dark.

"I'm going to kill her." Sam growled.

John smiled. "Not just yet, Sam. We need her. Don't worry. You can kill her later, I promise."

Of course, he was lying, but the kid would figure that out eventually. Lilith was fighting the spell, but she was losing strength as Sam drank. John dipped his fingers into the blood oozing out around the knife and drew the rune on her forehead.

"Keep drinking." John shoved Sam's head back toward the bloody arm in his hands as he dipped his fingers again, ripping her shirt open to draw the next rune on her stomach.

Lilith's eyes closed, her arms slack. John let Sam continue drinking another moment or two before he grabbed a fist full of hair and dragged him away. "Enough."

Sam's eyes were black, his face bloody. He hissed and tried to pull away. "I want her dead."

"You do your part first." John insisted. "I'm going to put her on ice, then we go kill Alistair."

Sam was breathing heavy, his chest heaving. The next part was going to piss him off even more. John had to catch him by surprise too, while the fury was still burning and leaving him susceptible. John dragged Sam to him, covering his mouth, kissing him obscenely, and slowly, almost gently at first, John started the process of leaving one body for another.

By the time Sam caught on, John was more than half way in, and he grabbed tight and slammed through the opening even as Sam yanked away from the other body and fought him. John laughed as he filled him up, as Sam screamed, "No!" and fought like a demon to force John out.

It took him a few minutes to shove Sam down and stretch out inside his body, but once he had, the strength and power at his disposal was amazing. He made quick work of the rest of the power signs, and pulled the knife. In seconds, Lilith was bound and sucked into a dark void where she would eventually regain enough strength to start getting loose, but by then he would have accumulated the power he needed and she would be nothing but a nuisance.





Dean looked at the amassed tools with a tight nod. "It's a start." He had no delusions that this would be easy, that anything he could do the fucking bastard in the next room was going to be half what he deserves, or anywhere near what they needed to get the truth.

He covered the whole collection and gathered his nerve. "Don't come in there once I start."

He blew out and pushed the cart holding his holy water and salt and an assortment of knives and other sharp objects toward the door. He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge the demon, even though he could feel him with every ounce of his being.

"Heaven, I'm in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak, and I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek..."

He didn't react, just stopped the cart outside of the devil's trap and pulled the cover off of it. It was a cheesy, dramatic move, but Alistair had pulled it on him his first day in the pit, and Dean couldn't resist the symmetry.

Alistair laughed and still Dean ignored him, his face set as he went about making himself ready. He lifted a knife, turning it so the light hit it, then set it down. This part was mostly show. A chance for him to get the feel for the tools and for how his victim would respond, decide how to begin.

"I'm sorry. This is a very serious, very emotional situation for you. I shouldn't laugh, it's just that—I mean, are they serious? They sent you to torture me?"

Dean put both hands on the cart and still didn't look at him. "You got one chance. One. Tell me who's killing the angels. I want a name."

"You think I'll see all your scary toys and spill my guts?"

Dean was pretty sure he wouldn't, but he swallowed down the fear and lifted a knife before turning to finally look at him. "Oh, you'll spill your guts, one way or another. I just didn't wanna ruin my shoes."

Alistair just grinned at him. "Oh, yeah. There's that Winchester wit. I missed it."

"Answer the question."

"Or what? You'll work me over?" He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "But then, maybe you don't want to. Maybe you're, ah, scared to."

Dean swallowed and stepped a little closer. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"No, not entirely." Alistair responds. "You left part of yourself back in the Pit. I think it was in the bed your daddy fucked you on…or maybe in the bloody bits I cut off of you everyday. Let's see if we can get the two of you back together again, shall we?" Alistair rattled his chains.

There was just enough bravado in the words that Dean could tell himself it was okay, that he could actually break the bastard. He turned away. "You're gonna be disappointed."

He headed for the cart and looked everything over, trying to decide where to start.

"You have not disappointed me so far." His voice was seductive now, like when he'd be all filled with false concern in the pit. "Come on, Dean. Hurt me? You gotta want a little payback for everything I did to you. All the times I fucked you."

Dean didn't react, his eyes on the nearest bottle of holy water.

"No? Um...how about for all the times I made your daddy fuck you?"

Dean inhaled and lifted his head, ready now to give Alistair's mouth something better to do than talk.

"Oh, your daddy, Boy. He was something else. First time I got up inside of him, he screamed until I had to rip his tongue out."

"You can't stall forever." Dean said.

"John Winchester. I figured him for more, you know? His reputation, all righteous and shit. He didn't even last as long as you, you know that? No?"

"Just give me the demon's name, Alistair." Dean said.

"But he moaned like a two dollar whore when he sucked my cock. Liked it best when one of my minions was fucking his ass with some pour soul's rippled off arm."

Dean took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

"I thought I'd found the best little protégé the pit had ever seen. And once he started the cutting…" He whistled. "Such artistry with a blade, Dean. Beauty."

Dean opened the bottle of whiskey he'd brought with him and took a deep drink.

"Oh but then Lilith brought me daddy's little girl. So pretty, so broken already. Daddy'd already fucked up before you ever even got to hell, didn't he?"

Dean put down the bottle and decided on the first course.

"It took me a while, didn't it? But I found the trigger. I found the right combination of pain, and agony and despair…I knew that once I brought your Daddy in, you'd fold…and here you are now."

Dean set a cup on the cart and opened the bottle of holy water, pouring out enough to fill the cup.

"Now we're getting somewhere. Holy water? Come on. Grasshopper, you're gonna have to get creative to impress me."

Dean looked up then, a slow smile on his face. "You took a lot away from me down there…but you know something, Alistair? I could still dream. Even in hell. And over and over and over, you know what I dreamt? I dreamt of this moment."

He picked up a needle. "And believe me, I got a few ideas." He set the tip of the needle in the holy water and filled the needle. "I've been thinking about this for forty years. I learned from all the best teachers. All my years watching evil shit here on earth. All the shit my father put me through. All the things you did to me, said to me. Oh, yeah. I've got ideas." He smiled as he crossed the room, the syringe in hand. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Dean used his free hand to open the pants Alistair was wearing and pulled out his cock. Alistair's grin faded as Dean brought the needle down, inserting it in the small hole. He looked Alistair in the eye as he pressed the plunger.

Alistair fought to keep from screaming, but Dean won that fight pretty quickly. A shiver of pleasure ran up his spine. He liked the sound, the feeling. He crossed back to the cart and put the needle down. "You let me know if you want some more. There's plenty left."





The angels didn't seem to be too concerned about hiding where they were. He found them without hardly trying, just following the scent of Dean and Alistair.

Sam's body was a tight fit, especially with the kid fighting to get loose, and John was still running hot with the juice from Lilith.

He could taste Dean's rage, Alistair's pain and pride all at the same time.

"Not yet." John said as he huddled in the shadows and waited. Dean wasn't ready just yet. He would wait, and keep an eye on those meddling angels, make sure they didn't interfere. Everything had to be right for his plan to work.




Dean pulled a knife out from under a black cloth. He held it up, examining its edge, testing it with his thumb. Alistair laughed.

"There's that little pig-poker. I wondered where it went."

Dean grinned and put the point in a bowl of holy water. "This isn't the knife you think it is." He focused his intent on the blade, whispered words that made the blade glow. He held it up again, then turned to Alistair. "This one is my own design."

He stepped up to Alistair, looking over his handy work. The sizzling had stopped and the flesh had gone purple-black where he could see it around the beads of the rosary wound around Alistair's dick. His chest was a mess of burns and salt-encrusted wounds, his clothes hanging shredded from his body.

"Do you really think this is gonna fix you? Give you closure? That is sad. That's really sad. Sad, sad."

Dean didn't respond, just stuck the blade into Alistair's stomach. He groaned and Dean twisted the knife. He watched as Alistair understood what the knife was doing, and while it might not kill a demon the way Ruby's knife would, this one did far more than cut flesh. It actually cut into the demon inside.

Alistair panted for a second, then lifted his head. "I carved you into a new animal, Dean. There is no going back."

Dean yanked the knife out and held it up, all bloody, with a line of inky black running through the red. "Maybe you're right. But now it's my turn to carve."

He shoved it in again, this time into his thigh, opening the flesh.

Alistair dropped his head back and screamed, shaking in the chains that held him. Dean pulled the knife out and shoved it in again. "Like that, you fucking son of a bitch?"

He yanked the knife out again and fisted his hand in Alistair's hair, pulling his head up. Blood dripped from his mouth, but Alistair was laughing.

"Now it's your professionalism that I respect."

Dean turned away, going back to his tools. The sound of spitting, and a splat told him that Alistair was starting to hurt. Dean put the knife down and tried to decide what came next.

He lifted a jug of holy water, the rosary still inside it and crossed back. He splashed some of it onto Alistair's face, watching it sizzle. Alistair tilted his head back and gargled as if to make light of it, but he started choking seconds later, his face showing distress before he hid it.

"Who's murdering the angels?" Dean asked, suddenly remembering he wasn't just here to take revenge on the bastard.

Alistair opened his mouth as if to say something, but choked instead. Dean threw more of the holy water at him. The flesh on his face sizzled and Dean moved closer. "Who?"


Alistair spit out holy water and blood, then licked his lips. "You're just not getting deep enough. Well, you lack the resources. Reality is just, I don't know, too concrete up here. Honestly, Dean..." He shook his head. "This would be so much easier back in hell."

Dean nodded and walked back to the cart. He lifted an iron meat hook and dunked it into a pitcher of holy water, then rolled it in a mix of salt and various herbs so it was all crusty and dangerous looking.

"Oh, if I remember right, this was one of your favorites, right?" He came back to Alistair. "You like to jam the point into the navel, like this." He swung and the point dug into his soft stomach. "And then you pulled sideways like this?" He yanked it to the right, ripping a good six inch gash into his stomach.

Alistair gasped and fell silent.

Dean leaned in. "Deep enough for you, fucker?" He stood up straight and brought the hook in again, resting the point on Alistair's shoulder. "How about this?" Dean hit the back of the hook, driving it into the joint, listening to it crack and Alistair howl. He left it there and went back to the cart, reaching for a container of salt and pouring some of it into a bowl.

"You have to know this was your fault Dean."

Dean glared at him. "Gimme a name or shut up."

"The whole bloody thing…all the way back to Daddy leaving to hunt Azazel. You know why he left you."

"Well, then I'll just make you shut up." Dean grabbed Alistair's chin and forced his mouth open, then slowly poured the salt into it. When half the container was gone, Dean shoved his mouth closed and held it closed, even as Alistair shook his head and tried to free himself.

Dean picked up the holy water at his feet and forced Alistair's mouth open again. "Here, lets wash it down." He poured as Alistair screamed and it came out more like a gurgle. When he let go, Alistair spit out blood and gasped.

"Something caught in my throat. I think it's my throat."

Dean grinned. "Well, strap in, 'cause I'm just starting to have fun." His adrenaline was pumping and his cock was hard. He wanted to fuck the bastard, want to find the biggest fucking stick of something and coat it in holy water and salt and shove it the fuck up the demon's ass until it came out his throat.

"Your Daddy left you because you were too weak."

Dean ignored him and went back to his tools.

"He died because you were too weak. Went to hell because you were too weak. And when he broke on my rack, Dean, my Boy. That was all you too." Alistair spit out more blood. "Oh, yeah…he wanted to fuck you up something awful, Dean. I told him he'd get the chance, that I'd let him carve you up and fuck your empty soul, let him do all the things he'd want to do to your whiny, dependent, little shit-self but couldn't because he was a good man…Azazel knew what he was doing when he brought me John Winchester, Dean."

Dean picked up his knife, wetting and salting the blade again. "He knew John was the one…the one to start this, the beginning of the end. And he did it for you."

"Did what for me?" Dean turned to face him.

"He said yes. He got off the rack and picked up my blade and used it to carve some screaming bitch a new hole so he could fuck it. He broke and became our weapon for breaking you."

Dean kept his face neutral to slightly pissed and moved closer. "My father is dead. That demon is just some twisted parody that doesn't even come close to the righteous man he was."

Alistair laughed until he choked and spit blood out. "Your father was no righteous man. If he was, we wouldn't have needed you."

"For what?" Dean asked, taking another drink from the bottle of whiskey.

"To break the first seal." Alistair replied, his voice dripping with delight. "Anything to please Daddy, right Dean?"

Dean shoved the blade up into his rib cage and twisted it. "You're lying."

"And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds innocent blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break." Alistair shook and had to force the words out.

Dean pulled the knife free and turned away.

"We had to break the first seal before any others. Had her brought in special, just for you. Only way to get the dominoes to fall, right? Topple the one at the front of the line."

Dean's hands were shaking and when he looked down at them they were covered in blood. He looked up, through the window. He couldn't see Castiel, but he was out there…somewhere. He'd never told Dean it was his fault…that he'd been the one.

"When we win, when we bring on the apocalypse and burn this earth down, we'll owe it all to you, Dean Winchester."

Dean closed his eyes, his stomach twisting in knots inside him. He couldn't react, couldn't let Alistair know he'd gotten to him. It felt like the truth though, different somehow than the rest of the head games Alistair was playing.

"Believe me, son, I wouldn't lie about this. It's kind of a religious sort of thing with me."

"No. I don't think you are lying." Dean said, lifting the hand with the knife, ready to shut the bastard up. "But even if the demons do win...You won't be there to see it."

He turned, shocked to find Alistair free and outside the lines of the devil's trap. "You should talk to your plumber about the pipes." His fist landed on Dean's jaw and Dean stumbled backward, losing the knife as he fell into the cart and slid to the floor.

"My turn." Alistair said, grinning down at Dean as he cracked his neck.

Dean scrambled backward and tried to climb to his feet, only to be grabbed by Alistair and yanked back into reach. "Where do you think you're going?"

Fists curled in his shirt and lifted Dean to his feet, then off his feet. Alistair threw him down again, then straddled over him, throwing punches. Dean did his best to cover up, but he was too fast. If Dean covered his stomach, Alistair hit his face, if he protected his face, Alistair hit kidneys.

Dean rolled to his side, then got a knee under him. Alistair responded by kicking him in the gut, then the side of the head. Dean sprawled out on the floor. Darkness was moving in, his field of vision narrowing as Alistair grabbed his shirt again. "You remember how this goes, right? First I hurt you." Alistair hit him hard in the face. "Then I hurt you more." He slammed his fist into him again. "Then maybe I fuck you."

Dean was dripping blood as Alistair lifted him off the floor, grabbing Dean's throat and shoving him into the iron hex he'd been chained to. "You got a lot to learn, boy. So I'll see you back in class bright and early Monday morning."

There was a blur of motion and Alistair turned. Dean fell to the ground, the last thing he saw was Castiel stabbing Alistair.


John could feel it fall apart. The angel stopped his worrying and pacing and dashed into the torture room. John followed far enough behind that he wouldn't be seen right away. He needed to make sure this went his way.

"Well, almost. Looks like God is on my side today." Alistair purrs.

The angel lifted his hand and the knife protruding from Alistair's chest twisted. John can tell it hurt, but wasn't enough. Alistair pulled the knife out and threw it away before charging at the angel.

Punches were thrown and they crashed through some old machinery. John looked to Dean, broken and unconscious on the floor, rage spilled through him, rage echoed by Sam until it was a fire burning through him.

"Well, like roaches, you celestials. Now, I really wish I knew how to kill you. But all I can do is send you back to heaven."

Alistair had the angel shoved into a wall, looking like he was going to pass out anyway as he started to chant.

John growled and lifted his hand. Alistair's words stopped and he let go of the angel, stumbling backward.

"Stupid pet tricks." Alistair grumbled, pushing himself away from the wall.

John grinned and squeezed his hand, making Alistair choke. "I'm all done being the pet." John growled.

Alistair looked at him, his eyes narrowing. "John? Is that you?"

John twisted Sam's hand and Alistair's eyes became white as he choked. "I've had about enough of you touching what belongs to me, Alistair."

Alistair roared and tried to charge at him. John just gave it more juice. "Oh, I'm liking this…all this power…too bad your little bitch won't be around to finish your game."

"No…" Alistair thrashed and fought. "Lilith will not be caged for long, not by the likes of you."

John stopped, dropping his hand for the moment. "Maybe not…but long enough for the seals to be closed again. Long enough for the clock to reset. Long enough that my boys won't be pawns in your apocalyptic game."

Alistair laughed. "Oh, is that what this is about? Daddy misses his boys?" John lifted his hand again. Alistair held up both of his. "Oh, go ahead. Send me back, if you can. I'll only find her and set her free again."

John shook his head. "Sam's stronger than that now. He's been snacking on some upper level demons. Now he can kill."

He let the power rip through him, watching as Alistair lit up from the inside out and then finally slumped to the floor. John panted as he turned to the angel who was glaring at him from the floor where he'd fallen when Alistair had let go of him. "Pass along a message for me. No one touches my boys. No one. They belong to me."

The angel opened his mouth to say something and John backhanded him hard enough to end a mortal life. Then he crossed to Dean's limp body and he picked him up gently, carrying him out into the night.