The Point of No Return, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: The Point of No Return
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A follow on to The Balancing Point, The Breaking Point, The Turning Point, The Point of Offering, The Melting Point, The Shattering Point and The Vanishing Point. "The Balancing Point" was my tag to the end of episode 2x02, "Everybody Loves A Clown"...this one is from Sam's POV.
Warnings/Author's Notes: Angsty and very, very dark stuff. Non-con, torture (though not graphic), 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 30 minutes.
Spoilers: (Obviously) Through "Everybody Loves a Clown"
He isn’t gone, not yet, not so far that he’s willing to walk away. It’s Dean’s turn to sit dully beside him as he drives them from yet another bloody motel room. Dean hasn’t moved since Sam put him in the car, hasn’t spoken in far longer.
He wouldn’t now, even if he still had a voice. There isn’t anything left for Dean to say…not much of anything left for Dean at all. Sam runs a finger over bruised flesh, over a purpled bicep, up over the bite marks on his shoulder to the thumb print on his throat. Scream for me he’d whispered because Dean couldn’t refuse him anything…even now.
He slips his hand around the back of Dean’s neck and pulls him closer. Dean comes easily, the fight gone, left in pools of blood and come and bile on a filthy grey carpet two states ago. Sam smiles and rests Dean’s head against his shoulder. “Close your eyes, baby. Sleep.”
Sam doesn’t have to look to know he obeys, there is nothing Dean can hide from him now, nothing that separates him from the things he wants from Dean, what he’s already taken and all that remains.
Sam’s body hums with the energy of it, with the heat of it inside him. All of Dean’s ice did nothing to cool him, to slake the fever. Even now Dean’s skin is still warm to the touch…Sam tried to save him, send him away. He knew Dean would never leave, though he wonders now, if he’d told his brother what would come, if he’d whispered all the ways Sam would use him, the way he would rape his mind and body, if maybe then Dean might have gone…but looking down at his brother he knew the answer.
No, Sam will have to be the one to leave, once Dean was broken…once he’s taken the last bit of Dean that remained. Sam smiles as they cross another state line, idly driving, feeling his way to the place he wanted…he turns up the volume and taps his fingers to the music of some 80’s hair band.
When they arrive, Sam’s hands are gentle on Dean’s face. “We’re here Dean.”
The house looks no different than it has the last two times he’s seen it, and he can sense the family inside, the toddler in a crib in the first bedroom, the girl in her bed in the old nursery, the mother…They don’t even scream as he closes the car door and takes their lives. He doesn’t need the Hellhound this time, doesn’t need a lackey demon or anything. He just cuts them and leaves them to bleed with little more than the idea in his head before he leads Dean inside.
“It isn’t their house, Dean. It’s ours. They have no right.”
He can feel Dean’s revolt at the blood…splattered against walls and pooled in bed sheets. Sam’s hand clamps down on his brother’s neck and steers him up the stairs, shows him the boy. Sam’s hand strokes over Dean’s naked body as they watch blood drip from the ceiling. There’s a spark in Dean’s eye that wasn’t there before, something of defiance, something of a challenge. “Sam?” His voice sounds like someone dragged daggers through his throat, bloody and raw. “Please Sam don’t do this.”
“It’s already done.” Sam says in return, his hand stroking over Dean’s cock. Dean rolls his eyes and the defiance fades a little.
“You can fight this.”
He’s said that before. Every time, something inside Sam twitches, recoils, pushes to be let out. Every time, it quiets when he makes Dean scream. Sam digs his nails into tender skin and feels Dean buckle against him.
“This isn’t who you are.”
Sam pulls, pushes, drags and they’re in the girl’s room. Her body looks peaceful, but for the stark red against the dainty pink of her nightgown. Dean gags, retches, though there’s little left in him to come out. “This is what I was made to be Dean. Right here in this room. You were there. You know.”
Dean shakes his head and Sam presses him into the bloody sheets, his face stuck in the still warm stickiness of a child’s life. Sam is inside him before either of them really register the action, his cock up Dean’s ass, his mind tearing through Dean’s until he finds the last bit…the point of no return.
Sam slows, circles that knot of…devotion, that love that holds Dean to him, the last unbroken piece. Even after three days of torment…and Sam knows…he sees himself through Dean’s eyes, sees the boy he had been and the man he had become…before…before the visions had done their job, had eroded away the walls that held the beast. His fucking falters and Dean quivers, unable now to do more.
It spills from him, and he can’t call it back…doesn’t know if he wants to…all the truth…the bloody, awful truth…for Dean to finally understand…so that he can see Sam not as the boy or the man he knew, not as the brother, or lover…but as the beast he truly is…how each vision showed, not some distant demonic plan…but what he is truly capable of…each one bringing him closer and closer to who he is now…
Sam’s hands leave long, bloody trails down Dean’s back as he screams and surrenders himself, thrusting wildly into Dean as he comes.
Dean doesn’t move, his eyes stare blankly at the wall, his naked body bent over the girl’s bed and body. He was never meant to save anybody, least of all Dean. “You don’t mind if I take your car, do you, Big Brother?” There’s a breeze in the room and Sam looks up before Dean’s moan draws him back to squat beside the bed. “I’ll take real good care of her for you.”
Sam’s kiss on Dean’s forehead is soft, gentle. Dean’s eyes flutter, empty, hollow. “I’ll see you, Dean.”
Sam stops at the door, an odd feeling, a lump in his throat, Love you…he turns, but Dean hasn’t moved, hasn’t blinked. He jingles the keys in his hand and walks away…because past this point, love really hasn’t got anything to do with this at all.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, there'd be a lot more sex.
Title: The Point of No Return
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A follow on to The Balancing Point, The Breaking Point, The Turning Point, The Point of Offering, The Melting Point, The Shattering Point and The Vanishing Point. "The Balancing Point" was my tag to the end of episode 2x02, "Everybody Loves A Clown"...this one is from Sam's POV.
Warnings/Author's Notes: Angsty and very, very dark stuff. Non-con, torture (though not graphic), 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 30 minutes.
Spoilers: (Obviously) Through "Everybody Loves a Clown"
He isn’t gone, not yet, not so far that he’s willing to walk away. It’s Dean’s turn to sit dully beside him as he drives them from yet another bloody motel room. Dean hasn’t moved since Sam put him in the car, hasn’t spoken in far longer.
He wouldn’t now, even if he still had a voice. There isn’t anything left for Dean to say…not much of anything left for Dean at all. Sam runs a finger over bruised flesh, over a purpled bicep, up over the bite marks on his shoulder to the thumb print on his throat. Scream for me he’d whispered because Dean couldn’t refuse him anything…even now.
He slips his hand around the back of Dean’s neck and pulls him closer. Dean comes easily, the fight gone, left in pools of blood and come and bile on a filthy grey carpet two states ago. Sam smiles and rests Dean’s head against his shoulder. “Close your eyes, baby. Sleep.”
Sam doesn’t have to look to know he obeys, there is nothing Dean can hide from him now, nothing that separates him from the things he wants from Dean, what he’s already taken and all that remains.
Sam’s body hums with the energy of it, with the heat of it inside him. All of Dean’s ice did nothing to cool him, to slake the fever. Even now Dean’s skin is still warm to the touch…Sam tried to save him, send him away. He knew Dean would never leave, though he wonders now, if he’d told his brother what would come, if he’d whispered all the ways Sam would use him, the way he would rape his mind and body, if maybe then Dean might have gone…but looking down at his brother he knew the answer.
No, Sam will have to be the one to leave, once Dean was broken…once he’s taken the last bit of Dean that remained. Sam smiles as they cross another state line, idly driving, feeling his way to the place he wanted…he turns up the volume and taps his fingers to the music of some 80’s hair band.
When they arrive, Sam’s hands are gentle on Dean’s face. “We’re here Dean.”
The house looks no different than it has the last two times he’s seen it, and he can sense the family inside, the toddler in a crib in the first bedroom, the girl in her bed in the old nursery, the mother…They don’t even scream as he closes the car door and takes their lives. He doesn’t need the Hellhound this time, doesn’t need a lackey demon or anything. He just cuts them and leaves them to bleed with little more than the idea in his head before he leads Dean inside.
“It isn’t their house, Dean. It’s ours. They have no right.”
He can feel Dean’s revolt at the blood…splattered against walls and pooled in bed sheets. Sam’s hand clamps down on his brother’s neck and steers him up the stairs, shows him the boy. Sam’s hand strokes over Dean’s naked body as they watch blood drip from the ceiling. There’s a spark in Dean’s eye that wasn’t there before, something of defiance, something of a challenge. “Sam?” His voice sounds like someone dragged daggers through his throat, bloody and raw. “Please Sam don’t do this.”
“It’s already done.” Sam says in return, his hand stroking over Dean’s cock. Dean rolls his eyes and the defiance fades a little.
“You can fight this.”
He’s said that before. Every time, something inside Sam twitches, recoils, pushes to be let out. Every time, it quiets when he makes Dean scream. Sam digs his nails into tender skin and feels Dean buckle against him.
“This isn’t who you are.”
Sam pulls, pushes, drags and they’re in the girl’s room. Her body looks peaceful, but for the stark red against the dainty pink of her nightgown. Dean gags, retches, though there’s little left in him to come out. “This is what I was made to be Dean. Right here in this room. You were there. You know.”
Dean shakes his head and Sam presses him into the bloody sheets, his face stuck in the still warm stickiness of a child’s life. Sam is inside him before either of them really register the action, his cock up Dean’s ass, his mind tearing through Dean’s until he finds the last bit…the point of no return.
Sam slows, circles that knot of…devotion, that love that holds Dean to him, the last unbroken piece. Even after three days of torment…and Sam knows…he sees himself through Dean’s eyes, sees the boy he had been and the man he had become…before…before the visions had done their job, had eroded away the walls that held the beast. His fucking falters and Dean quivers, unable now to do more.
It spills from him, and he can’t call it back…doesn’t know if he wants to…all the truth…the bloody, awful truth…for Dean to finally understand…so that he can see Sam not as the boy or the man he knew, not as the brother, or lover…but as the beast he truly is…how each vision showed, not some distant demonic plan…but what he is truly capable of…each one bringing him closer and closer to who he is now…
Sam’s hands leave long, bloody trails down Dean’s back as he screams and surrenders himself, thrusting wildly into Dean as he comes.
Dean doesn’t move, his eyes stare blankly at the wall, his naked body bent over the girl’s bed and body. He was never meant to save anybody, least of all Dean. “You don’t mind if I take your car, do you, Big Brother?” There’s a breeze in the room and Sam looks up before Dean’s moan draws him back to squat beside the bed. “I’ll take real good care of her for you.”
Sam’s kiss on Dean’s forehead is soft, gentle. Dean’s eyes flutter, empty, hollow. “I’ll see you, Dean.”
Sam stops at the door, an odd feeling, a lump in his throat, Love you…he turns, but Dean hasn’t moved, hasn’t blinked. He jingles the keys in his hand and walks away…because past this point, love really hasn’t got anything to do with this at all.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, there'd be a lot more sex.