Pure and Evil
Banner by: _audrey
Title: Pure and Evil
Author: 9thof9
Pairing: Sam/Dean, OFC
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Very, very dark. Non-con, torture, murder…
Disclaimer: Really, you think?
Word Count: 3,500+
Summary: Your worst freaking nightmare. Well, maybe not.
Prompts: 1) Evil!Sam & Demon!Dean hit the road, painting the town red. 2) Sam and Dean go evil TOGETHER. Basically, the prompt is this awesome manip.
AN: I seriously hope this is what sevenfistshad in mind when she posted the prompts at Evil!Sam prompts.
AN2: This was written as a set of vignettes. Please read AN3 at the end.
Beta’d by 3rd_leg. I like to thank her for the beta and let all of you know the flowery poetic words are hers. Don’t they make it ‘purty’?
&&&
“SAM!” Bob hollered; yellow eyes blazing brighter. “We need him alive.”
Sam growled, dropped the body petulantly. It’d been more than a week since he had killed, felt warm blood run cold, and the gnawing itch was starting to get annoying.
“Why do we need this meat sack anyway?” Dean questioned, sauntering over to his younger brother and wiping a trail of congealing blood off his forehead.
Dean raised a questioning eyebrow and stuck the bloody finger in his mouth. His eyes flashed a sickly yellow when the coppery tang hit his taste buds. Wanting more, he wrapped his hands around his younger brother’s skull and yanked Sam’s head down so he could press his tongue to the gently weeping wound. If his throaty moan was any indication Sam was enjoying this as much as Dean.
“We need him for bait,” Bob knew they weren’t listening. They were too caught up in the blood play for his words to mean anything.
True, it was understandable, nigh envious bliss, but also infuriating. Bob had never been as sorely tested by one of his chosen children as by Sam Winchester. It hadn’t started out that way. In the beginning, Sam was pliant and yielding. Now, the boy had changed in ways that were not Bob’s doing nor his nonexistent conscious, but by the brother’s.
Dean Winchester in all his fucking glory had walked right up to him; stood toe to toe and pointed the Colt at Bob’s temple. The elder Winchester brother had demanded that the “yellow eyed son-of-a-bitch” give his little brother back. An offer weighed carefully by Bob against the price of molten iron imbedded in his temple.
It had taken all the resolve Bob could muster to explain to a rage filled Dean that Sam willingly gave his soul over and there was no going back. Demons aren’t easily frightened unless cornered and even then it’s debatable. Their ability to lie, however, is hailed by all. So when that last magical bullet hadn’t torn through the brain he had so possessing-ly borrowed; he’d nearly shit himself. No click of warning, no words of disbelief--simply resigned trust.
The irony lay in that if Dean had just pulled the trigger, Bob wouldn’t be suffering now. He was no longer sure the battle was worth what he put up with from these two. Sick and twisted was part of the game, deepest lust and sinful desire for shared blood-that was a journey even demons hesitated to tread.
&&&
“Boys, boys, boys,” Bob chided ruefully, shaking his head when his yellow eyes settled on the spectacle spread out before him.
“Bob.” Dean greeted, tilting his head to meet Bob’s gaze above the curved line of a woman’s creamy white thigh his lips so lazily sucked.
“Dean,” Bob stated firmly, circling his fingers around a ladies’ pale wrist checking for a pulse. “How many times have I told you not to kill them where we’re staying?” Sucking his teeth in disappointment,” he dropped the lifeless hand back onto the bed, “Were you this messy when you were a human?”
“He was worse,” Sam said knowingly, emerging from under the torso of an equally pale Asian woman.
“Hey, mine’s not dead,” Dean defended and pushed up onto his elbows, sinking his teeth into the marked flesh until an answering moan drifted from somewhere near the head of the bed.
“Sam?” The accusation was clear.
“She wouldn’t stop yelling,” the younger man offered and with a shrug he tipped the body off his shoulders and carelessly sprawled across her to poke his brother in the side. “You’re the one who told me to make her be quiet.”
“I didn’t say snap her neck like a chicken bone, dumb-ass,” Dean argued, slapping his brother’s hand away before he could get more than a single poke in.
“What else was I supposed to do, bitch?” Trading poking for pinching, Sam reached for his brother’s bare ass.
“Jerk,” Dean corkscrewed his upper body trying to get a look at the bright red spot blooming on his cheek, “That fucking hurt.”
“Boys!” Bob shouted the interruption, having to take a couple deep breaths to regain control. “Would you stop that shit?”
“What?” Dean asked incredulously, looking at the yellow eyed demon in confusion. “We’re just teasing.”
“Brother’s do that,” Sam pushed the lifeless body farther down the bed until he had room to sit with his back against the headboard, “Didn’t you tease your brothers?”
“No,” Bob shook his head, and made his way to a chair by the curtain covered window, “I killed them the moment they were born.”
“Oh,” Dean made an exaggerated face over his shoulder knowing Sam would see it and laugh.
“Killed my sisters too,” Bob ignored the chuckles coming from the Winchesters as he parted the curtains briefly to scan the sidewalk in front of the motel.
“Damn, Bob,” Dean pushed the shell of the woman his brother had used just a little and snickered when gravity pulled it slowly off the bed, “I guess you’ve always been a heartless bastard.”
With a tired sigh Bob stood up and headed for the motel door. “Dean, Sam.” he stopped to make sure they were heeding him, “Clean this up and meet me at the diner down the street.”
“Sure thing,” Dean nodded once before pushing himself up so he was kneeling over the lower half of his woman’s body.
“No problem, Bob,” Sam smiled then reached over behind his brother’s back to fasten one large hand around the throat of the still breathing woman.
The banging of the closing door covered the sound of crunching bone.
&&&
“Do it,” Dean ordered, his body shaking with craving anticipation, an impassioned rush shared only with his brother.
“I will,” Sam stated, adjusting his grip on his cock, “don’t rush me.”
Dean licked his lips, his impatience fueling Sam to take a deep breath and push the blunt head of his dick past the barely prepped hole of their latest victim. Dean was always insistent they prep a little before fucking them. His reasoning, he’d explained, was that their catch wouldn’t pass out from the pain that way and both of them could have a turn with an awake, warm, but not necessarily kicking body. The last was usually said as a mocking, nostalgic joke since Dean had to actually punch a boy in the face once to stop him from said kicking.
The young man currently trapped and entwined between Sam and Dean had ceased his futile attempts at escape the nanosecond Dean had flashed him a wicked yellow eyed grin. His knees had buckled, his body limp, and Sam had ended up carrying him like sack of potatoes into the motel room.
If this Seth kid was lucky he might survive what Sam and Dean had planned this evening. Mercy screamed to kill, however. After all sentencing him to live with the memories of what was to come was just as terrifying as destroying him anyway. And screams, grunts, moans, pain and forceful release were yet to be seen on the nightly bill.
“You’re such a good boy.” Dean whispered, his breath caressing Seth’s waist as words poured with mocking affection and Sam sealed each with pounding thrusts into the thin boy’s ass. The boy offered no response save a weak whimper here and there to Dean’s steady ministrations. “So willing. I like that. Bet you can’t wait for him to come-and me after.”
And there it was again, the pained, frightened, broken sob that went straight to Dean’s cock and appreciation for the hard pleasure expressed in bites and sucks as Dean drew the sound past swollen lips into his wanting body.
“Dean,” Sam moaned, not in pleasure but a tinge of reproach, rhythm not faltering as he locked eyes with his brother. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” Dean questioned softly, fingers stroking the soft blonde hair gracing Seth’s head.
“Toy with them?” Sam replied tight-lipped, his face scrunched up as his orgasm coursed through him and released into the keening, unwilling vessel.
“Because,” Dean drawled, smile going from saccharin to sour as he hauled the trembling body of their victim off his brother’s cock by the neck and shoved him face first onto the mattress, “I can.”
With Sam’s come just starting to seep from the abused hole, Dean drove his straining cock inside; he had no problem with messy seconds. He’d get firsts later.
The force of Dean’s attack brought a groan from Seth’s lips. It was what the older brother had been counting on and relished in, fueled by it to thrust harder, pound faster. What Sam failed to understand, even in their state of wickedness was that a little gentleness made the shock and cry of the pain that much sweeter.
&&&
Dean stood, knife in hand, at one end of the macabre Johnny-pile while Sam’s long, lean legs straddled it. A bright crimson stain spread across the front of the white silk blouse, the makeshift cleaning rag the older brother had acquired. Once satisfied with its shine Dean re-sheathed the knife and tossed the soiled garment over his shoulder.
“We,” Dean leaned over the heads of the stained bodies to put his hands on his brother’s naked shoulders, “should have a nickname.”
“Don’t you mean nicknames?” Sam inquired from his perch on top of the heap of bodies, dick twitching as Dean’s hands moved from shoulder to chest.
“No,” Dean clarified, shaking his head. “We--as in the pair of us.”
“Oh,” Sam’s lips pursed as he momentarily mulled over the suggestion, fingers interlocking with his brother’s. “Like ‘The Gruesome Twosome’?”
“Kind of,” Dean rolled his eyes and climbed up to sit facing his brother, chest flush against Sam’s. “I was thinking more along the lines of something less cliché.”
“How about,” Sam paused thoughtfully, “Pure and Evil?”
“Which one of us,” Dean waggled his hand between their chests before leaning in and nuzzling his stubble-laden jaw against Sam’s neck. “Is supposed to be pure exactly?”
This time it was Sam that rolled his eyes. Explanations would have to wait as he wrapped a hand around the back of his brother’s neck and drew him in for a long, lingering kiss. Purity was overrated and long since forgotten anyways.
&&&
The smell of sex, blood and sulfur, in that order, assaulted Bob’s nostrils as he entered the warehouse a little after sunrise to find a gruesome heap of bodies, all female, young and clearly related.
Twenty-something twin beauties, a younger version of the twins that couldn’t have been more then fourteen and a woman that appeared to be twenty years senior to both compiled the carnage. All four females had similar wavy burnished copper locks, fair skin and light brown eyes once lovely with life, now dull in death.
It didn’t take any of Bob’s supernatural abilities to figure out what had happened here. Nonetheless, he reached out to catch a glimpse.
“Sammy, you in there?” Dean called out as he pushed the heavy warehouse door open with a shove.
“Yeah,” Sam returned, standing up and gesturing for Dean to join him. “Over here.”
Dean made his way around the scattered bits of debris and long forgotten boxes. “Fuck Sammy,” he smiled in appreciation, stepping up behind his brother, “you sure now how to pick ‘em.”
“You’ve always said how much you’ve wanted to bang twins.” Sam boasted and turned to look over his shoulder with a smile of his own.
“Twins yeah,” Dean shook his head in wonder, “but a whole family?”
“Well,” Sam turned to face his brother and slipped his arms around Dean’s waist, “family is everything.”
Dean draped his arms around Sam’s shoulders and peered down at the feast waiting on the floor. They girls had been huddling there in silence but whimpering and sobbing were unleashed when Dean’s yellow eyes flashed in heated desire.
“Dean,” Sam chided playfully, “Don’t get them startled again. I just got them quieted down.”
“What’d you tell them to get them to be so quiet?” Dean leaned away from his brother to study Sam’s face.
“I told them,” Sam chuckled as he stepped away from Dean and turned around, “that if they were quiet and behaved themselves we’d let them go when we’re done.”
“So, in other words,” Dean sidestepped and drew near Sam so the women could see his yellow eyes again. “You lied to them.”
The whimpering and sobbing increased as four sets of eyes flicked from Dean’s to Sam’s and back again; a pitiful spark of hope still burning in them all but tainted by gnawing truth.
“Yes,” Sam responded through a wicked smirk as he let inky blackness cover his own eyes. “Yes, I did.”
Bob blinked his eyes furiously to clear the image of the terrified women and the brothers’ hideous expressions as they advanced on them. He’s seen enough and turned to leave. Pausing at the threshold, the demon shook his head and spoke to the emptiness. “What have I done?”
&&&
“You know, Bob,” Dean took aim with the Colt. “It’s a real shame that it’s come back to this.”
“It doesn’t have to end this way, Dean.” Bob pleaded; the feel of the gun against his head one he thought he’d escaped a long time ago.
“Sure it does.” Dean retorted, and pulled the trigger, firing the last bullet of the Colt right between Bob’s eyes.
“I almost feel sorry for him,” Sam smiled, glancing at the fallen corpse before looking up at his brother from his place on the bed, “almost.”
“Who did he think he was to tell us we couldn’t keep butchering people?” Dean asked rhetorically.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, reaching up and pulling Dean down onto the bed with him. “And did you see the look on his face when I handed you the Colt?”
“Sure did,” Dean said proudly, shaking his head and pressing a kiss to his brother’s forehead. “Priceless.”
“You think I’m priceless?” Sam asked coyly, pulling back so he could look up at Dean.
“No,” Dean smirked, “you’re a cheap whore.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
&&&
Both men knew exactly when the feelings had begun to surface. For Dean, it had been after returning from a six month long hunt to find his little brother not so little any more. Instead of the pudgy kid that still had to look up to meet his eyes, Dean had found himself standing toe to toe with a man.
Where Sam had been full faced and soft around the middle, he now had a chiseled visage and a toned body. That night had been awkward for Dean; his shower before bed had led to his jerking off before bed, but instead of the image of some random waitress or drunken barfly his mind had pictured a tanned, toned Sam looking down at him with a self-satisfied smirk at his brother’s shock of having to look up to him. Remembering that look of confidence had Dean biting his lower lip to keep quiet as his come splattered across the fiberglass wall of the shower.
Sam, on the other hand, had never really pictured anyone besides Dean when he’d jerked off in the shower before bed. Whether it was in the middle of the woods while waiting for the hunt of the week to show itself, or in the backseat of the Impala waiting for his father and brother to get back, or any other time he jerked off, it was always Dean. From the time he could remember, Dean had been what Sam thought of when he contemplated sex.
When you’re ten years old and share not only a room, but a bed with your fourteen year brother you learn things early. Dean might not have started masturbating in the middle of the night until he was fourteen, but learning by example, Sam hadn’t made it past that first night he’d woken up to the sounds his brother had been making without copying his brother’s actions and seeing for himself.
&&&
“It isn’t that simple Dean,” Bob explained hastily, arms raised in surrender. “I can’t just make you a demon.”
“Why not? You did it to Sam.” Dean countered, pushing the Colt’s barrel harder against Bob’s temple.
“NO. I didn’t turn him into a demon,” Bob defended, fighting to stay calm. He knew getting angry just might lead to his demise and wouldn’t that be a tragedy he’d liked to avoid all together.
“The fuck you didn’t.” Dean growled; his finger putting just a little more pressure on the Colt’s trigger. “Look at him.”
Shifting his eyes but keeping his head unmoving, Bob looked at Sam. His outward appearance hadn’t changed in the least but Bob could feel the connection he now had to the young man. It was a niggling thing similar to an itch you couldn’t seem to relieve no matter how much you scratched at it. The realization that the inky blackness that covered Sam’s eyes was making Dean consider his younger brother as possessed dawned on Bob. He was about to explain the unnatural phenomenon when Sam spoke.
“I’m not a demon.”
“Yes, you are,” Dean’s voice trembled as he gazed into the black eyes of his brother, “Y-your eyes are black.”
“That can mean several different things, Dean,” Sam’s voice was soft yet firm as he reasoned with his brother. “Sure it’s a sign you’re possessed by the offspring of a demon, but it also happens when you serve one.”
“So, you--”
Sam nodded. “I chose to serve him.”
“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean declared, his body trembling under the revelation. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true,” Sam stepped closer to Dean who still had the Colt’s barrel pressed against Bob’s temple. “I did it to keep you safe.”
“Listen to him, Dean,” Bob pleaded anxiously, “I was going to kill you to break him. But you’re safe now.”
“Safe?” Dean looked to his brother in disbelief.
“Yes, Dean,” Sam nodded, reassuring. “Safe.”
“You can do whatever you want now.” Bob swallowed, relaxing a little as Sam’s words were making a noticeable change in Dean.
“I want,” Dean hesitated, “to be like my brother.”
“Dean?” Sam pleaded, the single word holding so much more than just a name.
“You said I could do whatever I want!” Dean yelled, his grip on the Colt pulling the hammer back just a little further.
“Fine,” Bob sighed, resigned. “But you’ll never be willing to serve me so we’ll have to do something else.”
“Fine,” Dean agreed without a second thought.
“Dean,” Sam interjected, taking a step closer and sensing what Bob had in mind. “No.”
“It’s what I want.” Dean stated, meeting Sam’s now blue-green eyes. “I want to be with you. You’re all I have left and I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you.”
“He’s talking about making you a demon, Dean.”
“Sam,” Bob chided softly, his attention locked on Dean. “If it’s what he really wants.”
“Okay.” Sam relented, shoulders sagging.
“Okay.” Bob agreed.
“Okay.” Dean said and lowered the Colt.
“This is going to hurt like nothing you’ve ever felt before,” Bob informed, turning to face Dean, “And like everything you’ve ever suffered all rolled into one.”
“I don’t care.” Dean replied and met Bob’s yellow eyes as he let Bob gently take the Colt from his hand.
“Here,” Bob un-cocked the Colt and handed it to Sam, “hold onto this.”
Sam stepped over to stand beside Bob and tucked the Colt in the back of his jeans. He looked into his brother’s eyes briefly before glancing away. He might have chosen to serve Bob, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see his brother suffer.
“Do it,” Dean ordered, closing his eyes.
&&&
Sam wasn’t sure why seeing his brother writhing on the floor in the throws of abject misery was turning him on, but it was. All the whimpering and moaning was going straight to his dick and he loved it. The images of Dean writhing like that beneath him naked flashed in his mind and he found himself unable to resist any longer. He opened his jeans and slid a hand inside to wrap around his aching cock.
He took it slow, timing his strokes to match the moans spilling from Dean’s mouth. When Sam switched his focus to his brother’s mouth, his rhythm sped up and he found himself coming in long milky white ropes onto this knuckles and spilling over to the floor. Sam realized the room had grown silent and that his eyes had slipped closed. He opened them to see not only Bob staring at him, but Dean as well.
“Well fuck, Sammy,” Dean breathed heavily, eyes blazed yellow as he licked his lips. “If I’d known you were into pain, I’d have bought you a whip.”
“Ah,” Sam grinned, tucking himself away and zipping up, “I never knew I was into it until I saw you on the ground like that.”
“Aw, Sammy,” Dean drawled, reaching out for a hand for his brother to help him up, “I gave you a new kink.”
END
cross posted
AN3: The vignettes were posted out of chronological order on purpose.
This story is dedicated in memory of:
The Yellow Eyed Demon (lovingly referred to as Bob in this story)
???? - May 18, 2007.