Fic: The Distraction (SPN, Mature)
Title: The Distraction
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Horror
Pairing: Sam/Ruby
Content warning: bestiality, oviposition, non-con, betrayal
Word count:1207
A/n: written for a prompt @ SPN Kink Meme.
Summary: All Sam wants is a night without feeling like Dean's breathing down his neck. This...this wasn't what he wanted to happen.
3am
They go out to the bar. It’s not a thing Sam does, really, but Ruby has a good point. How often do they get a night alone? Dean’s going to be gone a while, and Sam frets again until she reminds him this is all on his big brother. If Dean would just back the hell off, give him some space, then Sam wouldn’t have had to do it.
Anyway, like Ruby said, the worst that’ll happen is Dean’ll get a little roughed up. These things are the size of basketballs and he’s pretty sure his brother will end up just stomping it to death.
Dean’ll be fine.
He doesn’t think on him after that, especially not while he’s fucking Ruby out back of the bar, her blood still hot and sticky in his mouth, the roar of it deafening in his veins.
He doesn’t think on Dean again until he stumbles back into their motel room and sees Dean naked and writhing on the bed and Cas, coatless and with shirt sleeves rolled up, kneeling between his legs and urging Dean to hold on.
10.15pm
It bit right through his jeans.
Dean gets maybe three feet before his leg goes dead and pitches him to the ground. The gravel pricks and grazes his cheek but the numbness moves faster than he can - within seconds his whole body feels like it belongs to somebody else.
All he can do is watch as it - whatever the fuck it is, he can’t remember what Sam called it, this thing he was too ass-lazy to come help him hunt - undulates its way towards him, using those long skinny tentacles to reach for him.
And he knows, somehow, what’s coming next.
That’s when he starts to pray.
1.15am
The first contraction - he might as well call it what it is - feels like someone’s stabbing him in the gut. He groans, doubles up, only to have Cas push him back to lie flat.
“It’ll hurt worse like that,” the angel says.
“It wouldn’t hurt at fucking all if you’d just -argh!” He bites into his fist to muffle the scream but he can’t stop it entirely, not when something the size of a fist is trying to push its way out of him.
“You don’t have to try and keep quiet. I’ll keep anyone nearby from hearing you. I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean knows he is. He looks guilty, distraught. “Any attempt at excision could likely kill you. They have to exit you naturally.”
“Naturally,” Dean hisses, as he feels something shift deep in his abdomen and tries to ignore the sicky feeling that follows. “There’s nothing natural about this.”
“To humans,” Cas corrects. “For the Ikzengechnezt, this is nat-“
Dean ignores the pain enough to reach up and grab a fistful of Cas’s shirt. “I will shoot you. Fuck, I think it’s coming.”
9.20pm
“You’ve got a headache,” Dean says.
Sam makes a face as he swallows a couple of Tylenol and washes them down with a glass of water. “It started this afternoon,” he says. “Thought it’d clear up by now. I’m sorry, Dean.”
“Right.” Dean doesn’t make any effort to look convinced. Sam can see he’s pissed, and that Dean thinks he’s lying, and he should care. He should.
But he’s tired of replying scenes from his relationship with John Winchester and if Dean’s going to keep that up - well, as far as Sam’s concerned he can fuck off right now and not come back.
He doesn’t mean that, not exactly, but he’s done with avoiding Dean’s disapproval being the blueprint for his life.
“Anyway, you can handle this solo,” Sam says. And that at least isn’t a lie. “If you really need me, just call and I’ll come.”
Which he won’t, because as soon as Dean’s clear of the motel room he’s going to meet Ruby and he’s going to have his phone on silent and his GPS turned off.
“Right,” Dean says again. He grabs his duffle bag and then he’s gone, door slamming behind him.
Sam tells himself he doesn’t feel like shit. He gives it ten minutes and then grabs his phone to let Ruby know the coast is clear.
4am
The last of them passes in a slick mess of blood and slime and Cas snatches them up in the sheet and backs away from Dean as quickly as he can without jarring the bed.
“Help him,” he demands, when Sam’s still standing there pretty much in shock. “Sam!”
Help him how, he thinks. What the actual fuck is he supposed to do to make Dean better after he’s just popped out who knows how many…
He can’t say it. Dean’s lying there panting, and Cas dumps the sheet on the floor and there’s a bright flare of energy and the sheet catches fire.
Cas extinguishes it with a wave of his hand, and then he’s shoving Sam aside.
He presses two fingers to Dean’s head, and just like that it’s over. Dean’s face loses the greyness, the sheen of sweat vanishes and his eyes open. He’s still naked but Sam can’t blame him for not really giving a shit.
That’s when Dean realises he’s pretty much lying in among smears of what was inside him not such a long time ago and he jumps off the bed and staggers right into the angel.
“Cas,” he says, tone caught between annoyance and a plea.
A moment later he’s clean, and dressed, and the bed looks normal, like this was all just some kind of bad dream.
But Dean’s still holding onto the angel. Like if he lets go it might turn out not to have been a bad dream after all.
Sam… Sam knows better.
Two days later
Ruby gives up running just north of Vancouver. There’s no fucking point, and she figures it doesn’t matter whether Hell gets her or that bastard angel. They’re both so close she can smell them, and after what she did she doubts she can expect Heaven’s warrior to be any kinder or make her death any quicker than what she can expect from the hounds.
All the same, when she feels something catch hold of her and pull - the pain is indescribable.
She’s surprised not to die immediately, but shock is more of an apt description when she finds herself firmly trapped in the middle of a summoning circle, with Sam Winchester standing there waiting on her.
“Sam,” she says, because maybe this will turn out after all. If he’s summoned her, it’s probably to keep her one step ahead of Heaven and Hell. So either he doesn’t know - unlikely - or he’s more hers than Dean’s now. Even if not, she’s sure she can talk him around. As hungry as he is all the time, it probably won’t take much for him to buy her spin on things.
I did it for you, Sam. So you could be free. Yeah. He’ll pretty much persuade himself.
She has maybe a moment to keep thinking that until Sam raises his hand and his eyes black over.
“That’s my brother,” he says. “And nobody hurts my family.”
At least she won’t have to worry about the rack.
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Horror
Pairing: Sam/Ruby
Content warning: bestiality, oviposition, non-con, betrayal
Word count:1207
A/n: written for a prompt @ SPN Kink Meme.
Summary: All Sam wants is a night without feeling like Dean's breathing down his neck. This...this wasn't what he wanted to happen.
3am
They go out to the bar. It’s not a thing Sam does, really, but Ruby has a good point. How often do they get a night alone? Dean’s going to be gone a while, and Sam frets again until she reminds him this is all on his big brother. If Dean would just back the hell off, give him some space, then Sam wouldn’t have had to do it.
Anyway, like Ruby said, the worst that’ll happen is Dean’ll get a little roughed up. These things are the size of basketballs and he’s pretty sure his brother will end up just stomping it to death.
Dean’ll be fine.
He doesn’t think on him after that, especially not while he’s fucking Ruby out back of the bar, her blood still hot and sticky in his mouth, the roar of it deafening in his veins.
He doesn’t think on Dean again until he stumbles back into their motel room and sees Dean naked and writhing on the bed and Cas, coatless and with shirt sleeves rolled up, kneeling between his legs and urging Dean to hold on.
10.15pm
It bit right through his jeans.
Dean gets maybe three feet before his leg goes dead and pitches him to the ground. The gravel pricks and grazes his cheek but the numbness moves faster than he can - within seconds his whole body feels like it belongs to somebody else.
All he can do is watch as it - whatever the fuck it is, he can’t remember what Sam called it, this thing he was too ass-lazy to come help him hunt - undulates its way towards him, using those long skinny tentacles to reach for him.
And he knows, somehow, what’s coming next.
That’s when he starts to pray.
1.15am
The first contraction - he might as well call it what it is - feels like someone’s stabbing him in the gut. He groans, doubles up, only to have Cas push him back to lie flat.
“It’ll hurt worse like that,” the angel says.
“It wouldn’t hurt at fucking all if you’d just -argh!” He bites into his fist to muffle the scream but he can’t stop it entirely, not when something the size of a fist is trying to push its way out of him.
“You don’t have to try and keep quiet. I’ll keep anyone nearby from hearing you. I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean knows he is. He looks guilty, distraught. “Any attempt at excision could likely kill you. They have to exit you naturally.”
“Naturally,” Dean hisses, as he feels something shift deep in his abdomen and tries to ignore the sicky feeling that follows. “There’s nothing natural about this.”
“To humans,” Cas corrects. “For the Ikzengechnezt, this is nat-“
Dean ignores the pain enough to reach up and grab a fistful of Cas’s shirt. “I will shoot you. Fuck, I think it’s coming.”
9.20pm
“You’ve got a headache,” Dean says.
Sam makes a face as he swallows a couple of Tylenol and washes them down with a glass of water. “It started this afternoon,” he says. “Thought it’d clear up by now. I’m sorry, Dean.”
“Right.” Dean doesn’t make any effort to look convinced. Sam can see he’s pissed, and that Dean thinks he’s lying, and he should care. He should.
But he’s tired of replying scenes from his relationship with John Winchester and if Dean’s going to keep that up - well, as far as Sam’s concerned he can fuck off right now and not come back.
He doesn’t mean that, not exactly, but he’s done with avoiding Dean’s disapproval being the blueprint for his life.
“Anyway, you can handle this solo,” Sam says. And that at least isn’t a lie. “If you really need me, just call and I’ll come.”
Which he won’t, because as soon as Dean’s clear of the motel room he’s going to meet Ruby and he’s going to have his phone on silent and his GPS turned off.
“Right,” Dean says again. He grabs his duffle bag and then he’s gone, door slamming behind him.
Sam tells himself he doesn’t feel like shit. He gives it ten minutes and then grabs his phone to let Ruby know the coast is clear.
4am
The last of them passes in a slick mess of blood and slime and Cas snatches them up in the sheet and backs away from Dean as quickly as he can without jarring the bed.
“Help him,” he demands, when Sam’s still standing there pretty much in shock. “Sam!”
Help him how, he thinks. What the actual fuck is he supposed to do to make Dean better after he’s just popped out who knows how many…
He can’t say it. Dean’s lying there panting, and Cas dumps the sheet on the floor and there’s a bright flare of energy and the sheet catches fire.
Cas extinguishes it with a wave of his hand, and then he’s shoving Sam aside.
He presses two fingers to Dean’s head, and just like that it’s over. Dean’s face loses the greyness, the sheen of sweat vanishes and his eyes open. He’s still naked but Sam can’t blame him for not really giving a shit.
That’s when Dean realises he’s pretty much lying in among smears of what was inside him not such a long time ago and he jumps off the bed and staggers right into the angel.
“Cas,” he says, tone caught between annoyance and a plea.
A moment later he’s clean, and dressed, and the bed looks normal, like this was all just some kind of bad dream.
But Dean’s still holding onto the angel. Like if he lets go it might turn out not to have been a bad dream after all.
Sam… Sam knows better.
Two days later
Ruby gives up running just north of Vancouver. There’s no fucking point, and she figures it doesn’t matter whether Hell gets her or that bastard angel. They’re both so close she can smell them, and after what she did she doubts she can expect Heaven’s warrior to be any kinder or make her death any quicker than what she can expect from the hounds.
All the same, when she feels something catch hold of her and pull - the pain is indescribable.
She’s surprised not to die immediately, but shock is more of an apt description when she finds herself firmly trapped in the middle of a summoning circle, with Sam Winchester standing there waiting on her.
“Sam,” she says, because maybe this will turn out after all. If he’s summoned her, it’s probably to keep her one step ahead of Heaven and Hell. So either he doesn’t know - unlikely - or he’s more hers than Dean’s now. Even if not, she’s sure she can talk him around. As hungry as he is all the time, it probably won’t take much for him to buy her spin on things.
I did it for you, Sam. So you could be free. Yeah. He’ll pretty much persuade himself.
She has maybe a moment to keep thinking that until Sam raises his hand and his eyes black over.
“That’s my brother,” he says. “And nobody hurts my family.”
At least she won’t have to worry about the rack.