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Entry tags:
A Thousand Quivering Pieces, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: A Thousand Quivering Pieces
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A follow on to The Point Of No Return -- Goes AU after "Everybody Loves a Clown" -- Dean is left alive...sort of...
Warnings/Author's Notes: Um...I'm sorry. They won't leave me alone. Remember the VeryDarkWincest!Verse? Yeah...this is darker. Angsty and very, very dark stuff. Non-con, torture, Evil!Sam, child death, blood play (of a sort)...not for the squeamish. I'm serious here. Also, not beta'd...even more so than most of my stuff. It fell out of me in one fell swoop and about 20 minutes.
Spoilers: (Obviously) Through "Everybody Loves a Clown"
The sound of the Impala’s engine reaches him dully, distantly. He stares at the closet door, his body alive with the feeling of cooling blood on his face and hands, cooling come oozing out of him, the cool crinkle of the cotton that isn’t tainted with blood, every bruise, every mark made by tools to numerous to catalogue…his entire body trembles with the sensation and inside his flesh he’s as dead as the child beneath him.
Sam…Sammy…
His eyes drift closed and the darkness is something of a relief, just as it has been since Sam’s eyes went cold and Dean knew…His brother was gone and in his place…in his body there was evil…evil like Dean had never known…evil that wore his brother’s face, lived in his flesh…evil that knew exactly how to break Dean into pieces…into a thousand quivering pieces.
Dean knew about violence, about brutality…he knew about torture and how to hurt someone without killing them…but what Sam had taught him in those dark days…nothing but darkness could make it end…and even then, it was only temporary…there was always more…always something new…
The tenderness was worse…when his voice had failed, and he hung limply in his bonds, when he was sure he would finally bleed out…those hands, huge and familiar, gentle, cleaning his wounds…that voice so much like Sam’s…I got you baby…shh…its okay……worse because it was false…it was unreal and so easy to believe…
In the dark there were no hands, no voice…no illusion…just the hope that it’s all over…that he’d finally pushed far enough that the darkness would swallow…he wondered if this was all the mercy there would be, to die here slowly now that Sam has left him, physically left him…marked him, possessed him…owned him and left him…
There are hands now…rough wool on bare skin, catching on all the raw places where his flesh was open, where he’d bled for his brother. There were words, soft, encouraging, tender, whispered desperation. There was movement, grasping, pulling and strange fumbling down stairs and into the early morning.
He can’t bring himself to open his eyes, to believe…Sammy…but this isn’t his brother…no more than the one who had left him there, on that bed…the hands are too small, the voice too high pitched…then he’s encased in the cloying space of a car, and they leave the scene of the crime…just like Sam…and he wonders if he’ll ever feel his brother’s hands on him again…and it’s sick to realize that he would crawl through blood and glass if he meant Sam would touch him…even if that touch only drew blood…before he lets the darkness pull him all the way under.
Title: A Thousand Quivering Pieces
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A follow on to The Point Of No Return -- Goes AU after "Everybody Loves a Clown" -- Dean is left alive...sort of...
Warnings/Author's Notes: Um...I'm sorry. They won't leave me alone. Remember the VeryDarkWincest!Verse? Yeah...this is darker. Angsty and very, very dark stuff. Non-con, torture, Evil!Sam, child death, blood play (of a sort)...not for the squeamish. I'm serious here. Also, not beta'd...even more so than most of my stuff. It fell out of me in one fell swoop and about 20 minutes.
Spoilers: (Obviously) Through "Everybody Loves a Clown"
The sound of the Impala’s engine reaches him dully, distantly. He stares at the closet door, his body alive with the feeling of cooling blood on his face and hands, cooling come oozing out of him, the cool crinkle of the cotton that isn’t tainted with blood, every bruise, every mark made by tools to numerous to catalogue…his entire body trembles with the sensation and inside his flesh he’s as dead as the child beneath him.
Sam…Sammy…
His eyes drift closed and the darkness is something of a relief, just as it has been since Sam’s eyes went cold and Dean knew…His brother was gone and in his place…in his body there was evil…evil like Dean had never known…evil that wore his brother’s face, lived in his flesh…evil that knew exactly how to break Dean into pieces…into a thousand quivering pieces.
Dean knew about violence, about brutality…he knew about torture and how to hurt someone without killing them…but what Sam had taught him in those dark days…nothing but darkness could make it end…and even then, it was only temporary…there was always more…always something new…
The tenderness was worse…when his voice had failed, and he hung limply in his bonds, when he was sure he would finally bleed out…those hands, huge and familiar, gentle, cleaning his wounds…that voice so much like Sam’s…I got you baby…shh…its okay……worse because it was false…it was unreal and so easy to believe…
In the dark there were no hands, no voice…no illusion…just the hope that it’s all over…that he’d finally pushed far enough that the darkness would swallow…he wondered if this was all the mercy there would be, to die here slowly now that Sam has left him, physically left him…marked him, possessed him…owned him and left him…
There are hands now…rough wool on bare skin, catching on all the raw places where his flesh was open, where he’d bled for his brother. There were words, soft, encouraging, tender, whispered desperation. There was movement, grasping, pulling and strange fumbling down stairs and into the early morning.
He can’t bring himself to open his eyes, to believe…Sammy…but this isn’t his brother…no more than the one who had left him there, on that bed…the hands are too small, the voice too high pitched…then he’s encased in the cloying space of a car, and they leave the scene of the crime…just like Sam…and he wonders if he’ll ever feel his brother’s hands on him again…and it’s sick to realize that he would crawl through blood and glass if he meant Sam would touch him…even if that touch only drew blood…before he lets the darkness pull him all the way under.