SPN: It's in Your Eyes, Where the Shadows Lie
Title: It's in Your Eyes, Where the Shadows Lie
Beta: verucasalt123
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Genre: It's a Terrible Life AU verse, Horror, Drama, Dark themes, Angst
Pairings: Jimmy/Dean, Castiel/Dean, mentions of Dean/'Dr.Sexy' and Dean/OMCs
Spoilers: For the AU verse in episode 4.17; none for canon
Warnings: PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE READING! Language, stalking, gore, sex, d/s themes, sex between minors (under 13, not descriptive), major character death Dean, cannibalism, necrophilia, twincest, incest, pedophilia, patricide, non-con, dub-con, suicide, mental illness (Dissociative Identity Disorder), hallucinations
Word Count: 17 000 (in total)
Summary: Jimmy Novak has been working as Dean Smith's secretary for the last two years. After two years of crushing on his employer, Jimmy and Dean finally go out on a date. However, unknown to Dean, Castiel has also taken an interest in him and Dean's stalker will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.
A/N: Written as part of the dc-dystopia Challenge. All submissions have dark themes so I strongly suggest that you READ THE WARNINGS before reading my fic. The appearances of pedophilia and sex between minors has been intentionally kept non-descriptive in adherence to LiveJournal's Terms of Service. If even one of the warning themes disturbs you, I highly recommend you don't read this.
Lots of love and thanks to my artist, cedarcliffe, for creating beautiful artwork for my fic. It was a pleasure working with you and I am so thrilled you chose me! Not only are you incredibly talented but you were also incredibly patient with me while I struggled to finish my first draft. Thanks for being so awesome!
Also, thank you so much verucasalt123 for beta reading at the last minute! I really appreciated all your remarks and I don't think I can ever thank you enough for helping me out on such short notice.
This was my first Big Bang and it was a thrill to work with all of you!
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Epilogue | Art Masterpost
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The hollow echo of the blood trickling off the table filled every corner of the room. Each drop splattered heavily against finely polished Italian leather shoes, its taint barely noticeable against shiny black.
From somewhere behind him, Castiel could feel His presence.
“He looks like him.”
A pause. Contemplative.
Three steps forward and then silence. The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he swore he felt cool breath trickle against his skin.
“Freckles, broad shoulders, green eyes…your MO is getting predictable, little Cherub.”
Castiel’s fists clenched, blood-stained nails digging into the cuffs of his tan-colored trench coat. From somewhere above him, the lights of the cheap Super 8 motel room flickered and then He was before him, pristine white, carefully tailored suit seeming out of place against the blood spatters that stained the walls and table. At least, that’s what Castiel may have thought at a time when he was younger, when he didn’t know better.
No, it wasn’t the way the Man in White leaned against the table, challenging the puddle of blood that threatened to tarnish his outfit, which made Castiel tense: it was His tone. For while that tone held underlying affection, He always dished it out in condescending doses, a condescension that came with years of being his guiding light in the darkness.
“I…I’m becoming impatient,” Castiel offered lamely, blue eyes dropping to study the blood patterns on the floor. From where the half naked body bled out at his feet, he could see those blue-green eyes glossed over with the haze of death, lifelessly staring into a beyond Castiel could only imagine. This made him frown. “And his eyes are not green. They are wrong.”
Because if they were right, they would have been deeper, like dark moss speckled with the hint of morning dew, its temptation one that often made Castiel feel as if he could wander into that maze of a forest and be lost there forever. If he closed his eyes, he could picture them now, only as beautiful as the man who wears them.
“All in good time, brother.”
The Man in White stood up to his full height, towering noticeably above Castiel. He regarded the body on the floor with some interest, face remaining expressionless except for the tiniest twitch of his lips. To anyone else, His face would have appeared impassive but Castiel knew his older brother, knew him better than the back of his hand: He was amused.
“You had him again.”
Castiel tilted his head, a bit confused. But a look into his brother’s hazel eyes and a slight indication towards the gaping wound in the victim’s abdomen and Castiel knew.
Castiel’s cheeks colored ever slightly. “It was difficult to resist. The similarities…it made me think of Dean.”
And mention of his name, of that green-eyed temptation with a body moulded from the very legends spoken of by the gods in myth, brought on a full-scale blush.
His brother chuckled coldly. “Castiel, this is, what? The fifth time? Do you enjoy burying yourself deep in warm flesh?”
Castiel looked again to that wound, trails of the hitchhiker’s intestines jutting out. The air was pungent with the smell of death and sex, copper on salt, that if Castiel inhaled deeply, he feared the welcoming twitch of his cock that was locked away in the confines of his pants, impatiently waiting the opportunity to bury itself again in that wound. Even now, the sight of the trickles of semen staining the corpse awakened his arousal.
“I do find it…exhiliarating,” Castiel said, his deep, gravel like voice hitching.
“I advise you to watch and pray so that you may not fall into temptation,” his brother said, stepping around the body. It was any miracle His appearance remained immaculate with the mess. “At least you put your pants back on this time.”
When He fixed his hazel eyes on Castiel, Castiel looked down guiltily. The number of times his brother had walked in on the middle of the act, cool voice startling Castiel as he thrust against the lifeless body of his victims, had been…embarrassing, to say the least.
“I am still not beyond temptations of the flesh,” Castiel admitted. “And he was…beautiful.”
Maybe not in the same way Dean was beautiful. But when this hitchhiker, a kid who could have been no older than 20, had offered to fuck Castiel for free if he brought him at least halfway to his destination, Castiel had taken one look at that face, saw the glint of green in blue and the splay of freckles across his…Aaron…?...Adam?...’s nose, and he knew what he had to do. So long he had waited for Dean to come around, for Dean to realize that he needed him, that Castiel was willing to take any consolation along the way.
“Oh, Castiel…so naïve, so human.”
The insult made Castiel cringe inwardly. But when he looked back again at his older brother, he found the traces of warmth in eyes that almost shone a deep, liquid bronze, a dark brown lock falling out of place on His forehead. His brother’s vessel was beautiful; as unchanged and un-aged as the day he first appeared to Castiel, with a voice that made the legends of his fallen light a truth that will outlive the myth.
“Your work here is not done,” Lucifer pointed out, tilting his head towards the body. “You still haven’t consumed his soul.”
With a nod of understanding, Castiel bent down towards the body, pulling up the blood-stained sleeve on his right arm. Pushing his arm into the open wound, he moved aside the organs in the quickly cooling body, reaching underneath the ribcage for his victim’s heart. The coppery scent of blood was but an aphrodisiac that assaulted his senses, the feel of the squishy organs bringing his cock back to life. But once he grasped the victim’s heart, ripping it through its trap within the complexity of the human anatomy, he willed his body to hold back the burning desire to spit his essence back into the corpse.
Holding the dripping heart before his lips, he glanced up once more and waited for Lucifer’s nod of approval. A slight inclination of Lucifer’s jaw was all he needed.
Castiel opened his mouth and sunk his teeth into no longer beating heart.
Chapter 1
Beta: verucasalt123
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Genre: It's a Terrible Life AU verse, Horror, Drama, Dark themes, Angst
Pairings: Jimmy/Dean, Castiel/Dean, mentions of Dean/'Dr.Sexy' and Dean/OMCs
Spoilers: For the AU verse in episode 4.17; none for canon
Warnings: PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE READING! Language, stalking, gore, sex, d/s themes, sex between minors (under 13, not descriptive), major character death Dean, cannibalism, necrophilia, twincest, incest, pedophilia, patricide, non-con, dub-con, suicide, mental illness (Dissociative Identity Disorder), hallucinations
Word Count: 17 000 (in total)
Summary: Jimmy Novak has been working as Dean Smith's secretary for the last two years. After two years of crushing on his employer, Jimmy and Dean finally go out on a date. However, unknown to Dean, Castiel has also taken an interest in him and Dean's stalker will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.
A/N: Written as part of the dc-dystopia Challenge. All submissions have dark themes so I strongly suggest that you READ THE WARNINGS before reading my fic. The appearances of pedophilia and sex between minors has been intentionally kept non-descriptive in adherence to LiveJournal's Terms of Service. If even one of the warning themes disturbs you, I highly recommend you don't read this.
Lots of love and thanks to my artist, cedarcliffe, for creating beautiful artwork for my fic. It was a pleasure working with you and I am so thrilled you chose me! Not only are you incredibly talented but you were also incredibly patient with me while I struggled to finish my first draft. Thanks for being so awesome!
Also, thank you so much verucasalt123 for beta reading at the last minute! I really appreciated all your remarks and I don't think I can ever thank you enough for helping me out on such short notice.
This was my first Big Bang and it was a thrill to work with all of you!
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Epilogue | Art Masterpost
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The hollow echo of the blood trickling off the table filled every corner of the room. Each drop splattered heavily against finely polished Italian leather shoes, its taint barely noticeable against shiny black.
From somewhere behind him, Castiel could feel His presence.
“He looks like him.”
A pause. Contemplative.
Three steps forward and then silence. The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he swore he felt cool breath trickle against his skin.
“Freckles, broad shoulders, green eyes…your MO is getting predictable, little Cherub.”
Castiel’s fists clenched, blood-stained nails digging into the cuffs of his tan-colored trench coat. From somewhere above him, the lights of the cheap Super 8 motel room flickered and then He was before him, pristine white, carefully tailored suit seeming out of place against the blood spatters that stained the walls and table. At least, that’s what Castiel may have thought at a time when he was younger, when he didn’t know better.
No, it wasn’t the way the Man in White leaned against the table, challenging the puddle of blood that threatened to tarnish his outfit, which made Castiel tense: it was His tone. For while that tone held underlying affection, He always dished it out in condescending doses, a condescension that came with years of being his guiding light in the darkness.
“I…I’m becoming impatient,” Castiel offered lamely, blue eyes dropping to study the blood patterns on the floor. From where the half naked body bled out at his feet, he could see those blue-green eyes glossed over with the haze of death, lifelessly staring into a beyond Castiel could only imagine. This made him frown. “And his eyes are not green. They are wrong.”
Because if they were right, they would have been deeper, like dark moss speckled with the hint of morning dew, its temptation one that often made Castiel feel as if he could wander into that maze of a forest and be lost there forever. If he closed his eyes, he could picture them now, only as beautiful as the man who wears them.
“All in good time, brother.”
The Man in White stood up to his full height, towering noticeably above Castiel. He regarded the body on the floor with some interest, face remaining expressionless except for the tiniest twitch of his lips. To anyone else, His face would have appeared impassive but Castiel knew his older brother, knew him better than the back of his hand: He was amused.
“You had him again.”
Castiel tilted his head, a bit confused. But a look into his brother’s hazel eyes and a slight indication towards the gaping wound in the victim’s abdomen and Castiel knew.
Castiel’s cheeks colored ever slightly. “It was difficult to resist. The similarities…it made me think of Dean.”
And mention of his name, of that green-eyed temptation with a body moulded from the very legends spoken of by the gods in myth, brought on a full-scale blush.
His brother chuckled coldly. “Castiel, this is, what? The fifth time? Do you enjoy burying yourself deep in warm flesh?”
Castiel looked again to that wound, trails of the hitchhiker’s intestines jutting out. The air was pungent with the smell of death and sex, copper on salt, that if Castiel inhaled deeply, he feared the welcoming twitch of his cock that was locked away in the confines of his pants, impatiently waiting the opportunity to bury itself again in that wound. Even now, the sight of the trickles of semen staining the corpse awakened his arousal.
“I do find it…exhiliarating,” Castiel said, his deep, gravel like voice hitching.
“I advise you to watch and pray so that you may not fall into temptation,” his brother said, stepping around the body. It was any miracle His appearance remained immaculate with the mess. “At least you put your pants back on this time.”
When He fixed his hazel eyes on Castiel, Castiel looked down guiltily. The number of times his brother had walked in on the middle of the act, cool voice startling Castiel as he thrust against the lifeless body of his victims, had been…embarrassing, to say the least.
“I am still not beyond temptations of the flesh,” Castiel admitted. “And he was…beautiful.”
Maybe not in the same way Dean was beautiful. But when this hitchhiker, a kid who could have been no older than 20, had offered to fuck Castiel for free if he brought him at least halfway to his destination, Castiel had taken one look at that face, saw the glint of green in blue and the splay of freckles across his…Aaron…?...Adam?...’s nose, and he knew what he had to do. So long he had waited for Dean to come around, for Dean to realize that he needed him, that Castiel was willing to take any consolation along the way.
“Oh, Castiel…so naïve, so human.”
The insult made Castiel cringe inwardly. But when he looked back again at his older brother, he found the traces of warmth in eyes that almost shone a deep, liquid bronze, a dark brown lock falling out of place on His forehead. His brother’s vessel was beautiful; as unchanged and un-aged as the day he first appeared to Castiel, with a voice that made the legends of his fallen light a truth that will outlive the myth.
“Your work here is not done,” Lucifer pointed out, tilting his head towards the body. “You still haven’t consumed his soul.”
With a nod of understanding, Castiel bent down towards the body, pulling up the blood-stained sleeve on his right arm. Pushing his arm into the open wound, he moved aside the organs in the quickly cooling body, reaching underneath the ribcage for his victim’s heart. The coppery scent of blood was but an aphrodisiac that assaulted his senses, the feel of the squishy organs bringing his cock back to life. But once he grasped the victim’s heart, ripping it through its trap within the complexity of the human anatomy, he willed his body to hold back the burning desire to spit his essence back into the corpse.
Holding the dripping heart before his lips, he glanced up once more and waited for Lucifer’s nod of approval. A slight inclination of Lucifer’s jaw was all he needed.
Castiel opened his mouth and sunk his teeth into no longer beating heart.
Chapter 1