serial killer au where sam wakes up with a hand wrapped tight around his throat, still slick with blood, just the wrong side of warm. dean’s body is heavy on his thighs, and something is uncurling sam’s fingers and sliding the sticky handle of a knife into his sleep-slow hand. dean curls their fingers together, the handle of the knife pressed between their open palms. sam sighs, inhaling deeply, smelling sickly iron and dean’s sweat and—as dean’s hand around his throat tightens until sam tastes sparks on his tongue—the high burnt ozone of a dead stranger’s adrenaline. dean’s cock is already heavy and filling quickly against sam’s naked pelvis. sam always sleeps naked on nights like these.
“what was her name?” sam gasps. dean’s grin is glinting.
Characters: Sam, Reader, John, Bobby, Ellen, unnamed doctor, mentions of: Dean, Claire and Jo
Pairings: Sam x Reader, implied Dean x Claire, implied Reader x Claire, implied Sam x Reader x Dean
Summary: Y/N recovers from Sam and Dean's assault.
Warnings: soft!dark Sam, gaslighting, past rape/sexual assault**, recovery from assualt, stockholm syndrome, medical inaccuracies, mentions of past miscarriage, fluff?
Word Count: 1700+
**TW: past rape/sexual assault is mentioned throughout this chapter in non-explicit detail.
a/n: once again, i'd like to thank @negans-lucille-tblr for letting me bounce ideas off of her in the middle of the night (well, my time) thanks, Bee!
beta'd by the wonderful, lovely, @writethelifeyouwant
This is a dark!fic that includes potentially triggering content and is intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please, read the warnings and if you feel that you may be triggered and/or offended please move along. If you have any questions about the warnings/tags please feel free to DM me.
My Full Masterlist
Don't Speak Masterlist
Part 10
You’re tucked warmly in your bed and every inch of your body aches, so much so that even the slightest movement makes you want to cry. After Dean had finished with Claire, he and Sam focused all of their rage on you, showing you a level of brutality you’d not seen in months. The brothers invent a story about your injuries for Mrs. Harvelle and Joanna: that you and Claire had snuck out of the manor and were attacked by a stranger. They’re either too scared or too loyal to the Winchesters to question otherwise; but you know they don’t completely believe them. Joanna had told you on more than one occasion that most people who lived in town feared the Winchesters; none of them were brave enough to step on their property without permission. The look on Mrs. Harvelle’s face tells you that she doesn’t trust their story, and at one point, you think she may ask you what really happened, but she’s interrupted by John entering the room to check on you.
There’s a fleeting smirk on John’s face as he looks you over; no doubt the brothers had already given him every sordid detail. The smirk quickly turns into a look of concern when Mrs. Harvelle notes your unusual injuries, and suggests that they call for the doctor and possibly a midwife, so that you can receive proper care. John frowns at her suggestion, you’re sure he wants to keep your interactions with anyone outside of the manor to a minimum, but as she lifts your nightgown to show him the extent of Sam and Dean’s assault, he reluctantly agrees.
The doctor is a young man, he doesn’t look to be much older than you. You don't quite catch his name; you're too focused on the pain radiating throughout your body. He almost resembles Dean; dark blonde hair and chiseled features, but in place of Dean’s green eyes, blue ones shine back at you. Mrs. Harvelle holds your hand as he speaks to you warmly, examining your injuries gingerly, before declaring you have a broken wrist, cracked ribs, and a fractured cheekbone. He raises an eyebrow when Sam feeds him the stranger story, but you know he wouldn’t dare question a husband about what may or may not have happened in his marital bed. No one would be able to do anything even if they believed you. You were Sam’s wife, his property for all intents and purposes, and he could do with you whatever he pleased.
The doctor sets your wrist, and wraps a bandage around your chest, ordering that you stay on bed rest for the next two weeks. He not-so-subtly suggests to Sam that you keep ‘nighttime activities’ to a minimum. The idea of Sam sharing your bed at all sends you into near-hysterics, and you hope that the midwife will also give him the same order. the doctor gives Sam a little brown bottle full of a clear liquid, and you can make out the word morphine written in large block letters. For a moment you think you might have a way to help yourself and Claire. If the doctor comes to the manor every day, then maybe he'll see what's happening to you both. But your hopes are shattered when he begins to instruct Mrs. Harvelle on how to administer the dosage, at John and Sam's insistence, providing her with a needle and taking her through the steps. Once Mrs. Harvelle feels comfortable enough the doctor makes sure that she is watching your intake very closely.
As the doctor leaves your chambers, you hear hushed words between him and John. You want to speak up, to thank him for being so kind, but it hurts to open your mouth. the doctor nods and offers a warm smile when his eyes land on you, seeming to know what you wanted to say. John’s eyes narrow, and he grabs the doctor roughly by the arm and escorts him out of the room.
The same midwife who had given you a clean bill of health not two months ago is examining you again. She asks Mrs. Harvelle about the damage between your legs, and Mrs. Harvelle repeats Sam’s story about a stranger assaulting you. You wince as she looks you over, and when Sam asks if it could affect you becoming pregnant again, she answers with a sigh. She advises, just as the doctor did, that he refrain from lying with you until you are fully healed, and tells you both that you should have no problem conceiving again.
Mrs. Harvelle and Joanna seem to be splitting their time between you and Claire, but you’ve yet to learn what kind of state she is in. The brother’s may not have beaten her as badly as they did you, but the way they used her body will be seared into your memory forever. As it was before, the only men you can even tolerate being around are Bobby and John, and only then when you were in a morphine-filled haze.
“No man is stupid ‘nuff to come on this property,” you can barely make out Bobby’s voice through your still fogged brain. He didn’t seem to fear the Winchesters, unlike some of the other servants, but you weren’t sure with whom his loyalty truly lay. “Those girls barely do anything without the boys. Why would they sneak out in the middle of the night?”
“They’re young, not much older than Joanna,” John excuses.
“Yeah, but–”
“What exactly are you gettin’ at Bobby? You think Sam or Dean hurt them?”
“All’s I’m sayin’ is… I love those boys as if they were my own, John, you know that,” you’d never heard any of the servants at Winchester Manor call John by his first name, and to hear Bobby say it was almost unnerving. “But you know as well as me that there’s something off about them. Ellen and me have turned the other way for a long time now, we don’t say nothin’ ‘cause they weren’t hurtin’ nobody. But I saw Dean bring Claire back to their room–”
“What my sons do with their wives is none of your business, Robert, and I’ll thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself. Don’t forget your place, you and Ellen.”
You drift off to John and Bobby still talking, both making what seemed to be thinly-veiled threats and accusations. Thanks to the morphine, you spend a majority of every day sleeping, only waking for short bursts to be fed or bathed.
You wake one morning to see Sam sitting in a chair next to your bed. His focus isn’t on you, but a book in his hand, Frankenstein. Your body still aches but nothing like it did before. How long had it been– a few days, a week, more? Your wrist was still wrapped, and the bruises that you could see were no longer a deep purple but a light yellow-green.
You whimper as you move onto your side, unintentionally gathering Sam’s attention.
“Hey there, princess,” he smiles warmly, closing the book and putting it onto the table next to your bed. “How ya feelin’?”
You don’t know if you can speak, so you shrug your shoulders, and your hair falls in front of your face. Sam reaches out and you recoil, unsure of what he wants.
“S’okay, baby girl, I just wanna see those pretty eyes,” he soothes as he pushes your hair behind your ears. “There we go, now I can see my beautiful wife.” An uncontrollable warmth fills your body at Sam’s praise. “I’m gonna have Mrs. Harvelle draw us a bath, how does that sound, hmm? Let you soak up, s'been a while since you had a proper one,” Sam laughs slightly.
“‘Kay,” you mumble, fighting the soreness in your throat.
“Good,” he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead, “how ‘bout some tea as well? Warm you right up.”
You nod, sitting up slightly as Sam leaves your room. It’s late in the day, supper time at least, oranges and reds coloring the sky outside your window. The leaves of an oak tree are an orangish-brown, at least the ones still attached to the branches, and you realize that all your memories since the loss of your baby are hazy at best.
Ten minutes later Sam is gathering you out of your bed, and carrying you into the bathroom. Mrs. Harvelle is there, offering to help you undress but Sam politely shoos her away, saying that he will do it himself. There is a moment between them that you don’t quite understand, and her eyes briefly flicker to you, as if she’s waiting for you to give her a reason to stay.
Part of you wants to ask her to, but you dare not go against Sam’s wishes; he’s being unusually kind, and you don’t want to sour his mood. The large, clawfoot tub is filled with steaming water, and you can’t deny that it looks very appealing. Sam sets you down on a small chair, and reaches for the hem of your nightgown. Your breath hitches, and Sam stops before looking back up to you. You take a moment before nodding your head, answering his unasked question, and he removes the dress, gently caressing up your body as he does so.
“I’d like to get in with you,” Sam asks, almost innocently, like a naive young boy, not the brute you know him to be. “If that’s okay?” you nod meekly and he slowly strips himself of his own clothes.
Sam picks you up gingerly, carrying you as you had always imagined a husband would carry his wife. He sinks down slowly, and you gasp as he places you in the water. It’s almost uncomfortably hot, but after a moment or two your body adjusts and you let yourself be overtaken by its warmth. Sam climbs in behind you, wrapping his arms around your stomach, and encourages you to lean back against him and settle between his legs.
Sam hums as you relax into him, and you find a source of comfort in the steady beat of his heart. There’s silence between you, for once, and you don’t feel the need or pressure to do anything but be with your husband. Water ripples as Sam’s usual rough touches are replaced by soft and meaningful caresses over your healing body.
“You know I love you, Y/N,” Sam murmurs in your ear, breaking the silence. It's the first time he’s ever said that to you, and you feel your heart swell.
“You do?” You ask as you turn around to face him.
“Of course I do. That’s why I had to teach you a lesson, because I love you,” Sam caresses your face. “I know you want to be a good girl, a good wife for me, and you try so hard. The baby–” he stops as you retreat back. “–it wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you.”
“You don’t?” You’d been blaming yourself for the better part of two months, but now knowing Sam doesn’t, you find relief from the guilt you’d been feeling.
“No, baby girl,” he pulls you towards him, letting your chest rest against his. “It'll happen when it's supposed to, ‘kay?” You nod, too overcome by his confession to do anything else. He loves you. “I need you to promise me one thing, Y/N,” you perk up, staring deep into his eyes. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again.” You don’t need him to be specific, you know exactly what he’s referring to. “We took it easy on you, and you don’t want to see what happens when I get mad, do you sweetheart?”
Wincest Headcanon #107 "Do anything for you." Sam mummered, kissing Dean.
"Anything?"
Sam nodded.
Dean's mouth widened into a grin, as he looked at the crying, woman tied up on the bed. "I wanna watch you gut her." Sam nodded, picking up Dean's favorite knife. "As you wish."
*Do not Repost, Alter, or Use without permission. This work was made for @ashtraythief, who is now the owner of this art. I was given permission from them to make an artpost.*
In early Oct 2019, a section of the creator community held/organized a fandom charity auction to help out a fellow creator who had fallen on hard times (for more info on the past auction click here).
I offered three commissions towards the auction. Ashtraythief was gracious enough to bid for and win my 3rd. During the after auction discussion between me and the bidder, we agreed to change the listed offer from one illustration into a comic.
♥Thank you again, @ashtraythief, for bidding for my work and giving to a charitable cause.♥
Enjoy, if you can.
For more art from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr.
👇(Bonuses/Artist Notes for the story under the cut:)👇
Artist Notes:
The auction was back around the beginning of October. I wasn’t able to really start on this project until late Nov. due to prior commitments. I ended up getting caught up in finals and drawing skulls...
Tons of skulls. Many skulls, lots of skulls. Skulls, skulls, skulls. It wasn’t a requirement. That was my artist machoism coming through. I hand-painted (well digitally hand-painted) one side and copied, pasted, flipped for the other side. Thank god, or else I’d have been working on the cover page for another month.
The title page was finished late December.... but I had signed up for the Sam Winchester Bang and put the comic on the back burner, thinking I had enough time to work on both. I technically did, but I didn’t anticipate the artist block and cold I ran into, which was a big roadblock to both projects. I wasn’t able to do all I wanted for the Sam BB and I ended up finishing later than I wanted for this project.
This was supposed to be Valentine Day’s comic. I told Ash that I’d finish sometime in February, which I did. Because it’s still Feb. But, my personal goal was to finish before Valentine’s Day. Which means that I’m a week and three days late, give or take. But, I’ll take what I can get. It’s still Feb. It’s not too late. :D T^T
Originally I wanted the title to be My Bloody Valentine, but I couldn’t get it to fit around what I drew. You’re supposed to plan that stuff ahead of time, but I do what I want and reap the consequences of my actions like a hobbyist.
I had to take a bunch of screenshots of 10x03 for this project. Finding references can be tedious. Thank god, for Netflix. It’d be hell without you within my grasp. I look at different pics for hearts, but it was mostly of the full organ. So.... I kind of went with a reference pic of a realistic chocolate heart the most. So ignore any anatomically incorrect forms, please and thank you.
I was inspired by Ash’s ideas and the reoccuring fanon troupes of Demon!dean and blood addict!Sam to get the story. The only art inspiration I had was a batman the animated series poster (the one with a batman outline and a pink cityscape in the background, that says I AM THE NIGHT as the title), which I heavily drew from for the cover page. Oddly enough, I totally forgot about the scene where Dean goes through the bunker with the emergency lights on. So, there is only an accidental relation to that.
There are mistakes, but it has its good spots. I give it a pass. My bidder was happy with it, which means I’m happy with it.
Bonus:
A Bloody (clean-shaven) Valentine Kiss for those who made it to the end.
When Dean opened his eyes after his mortal death and was returned as the demon, he could see things more clearly than ever before. Step one: find his Sammy, step two: turn him into the king that he was always meant to be.
Read on AO3/ Livejournal
tagging @hellhoundsprey for the AMAZING artwork, like holy goodgod thanks, @anon1adult for the title, @wetsammywinchester, @thep0rnfairy, @exaggeratedspecificity. Please, please heed the warnings on the story. It is not for everyone and there’s some dark stuff happening here kiddos.
Characters: Sam, Dean, Reader, Claire, (mentions of) John
Pairings: Dean x Claire, Sam x Reader, implied Reader x Claire, implied John x Reader x Claire
Summary: Y/N and Claire continue to bond until Dean finds out about what happened between them.
Word Count: 2000+
Warnings: Rape/Sexual Assault**, angst, non-con touching, violence, forced breeding, non-con voyeurism, mentions of past miscarriage
**TW: This part contains graphic rape and sexual assault.
a/n: I'd like to give a special shout out to @negans-lucille-tblr, for letting me bounce ideas off of her
beta'd by the lovely @writethelifeyouwant
This is a dark!fic containing triggering content, and is intended for mature audiences only. Please, read the warnings, and if you feel that something may trigger and/or offend you, please, move along. Your media consumption is your responsibility, tags and warnings are there for a reason. If you have any questions about the warnings, feel free to DM me.
My Full Masterlist
Don't Speak Masterlist
Part 9
“Y/N?” Claire asks as she looks over your healing wounds. It’s been almost a week since John visited you and Claire, and while the welts on your back were gone, scars remained in their place. “Is he always like that? John?"
You feel a cold cloth placed on your back, and while it stings for a moment, the relief it brings is welcoming. You'd taken the majority of John's brutality when he'd caught you and Claire, but his punishment was for both of you; making her watch as you took lashing after lashing.
“No,” you turn your face to the side, allowing Claire to hear you. “I haven’t seen him like that since– He’s usually gentle. If you do what he says, he won’t hurt you, not on purpose.”
“You don’t think it’s… wrong?” She murmurs. “Sam’s your husband, his father and brother shouldn’t be sharing your bed. Sam and Dean– they shouldn’t– they’re two men– they’re brothers.”
You’re surprised it’s taken this long for Claire to say anything, considering how religious and sheltered her life was aboard The Perdition. But, you figure she was also told by her father that she is never to question anything her husband tells her.
“Claire,” you sigh, you know she’s right, but questioning the relationship between the brothers won’t do anything but cause you both problems in the long run. “Sam and Dean… they chose us. Out of all the eligible ladies in London, Sam chose me. Dean fell in love with you on our journey, he could’ve easily found a wife in London, or anywhere, but he chose you. They want us to be the ones to carry their children. But, you have to accept that they love each other more.”
“But–”
“No ‘buts,’ Claire. We have to stick together,” you lift yourself up and turn around to face her properly. “Dean won’t hurt you physically as long as you do what he says, he likes to play, so if he tells you to fight, fight, if he tells you cum, you cum.” You grab Claire gently, “Let him get you ready, don’t fight it when he pushes in. You have to try harder, Claire. I’ve lost too much already, I can’t– I can’t lose you too.”
You wipe the tears from her eyes, and pull her in for a hug. Claire is the closest thing you’ve ever had to a sister, and while you wish your circumstances were different, you two had to be able to count on each other.
“So, he wasn’t lying,” Dean’s gravelly voice fills the room. You and Claire immediately break apart. Dean’s eyebrows are furrowed and his nostrils are flaring as he closes the distance between the three of you. Everything about his body language tells you he’s angry. His jaw is clenched and limbs are stiff, heat is practically radiating off of him. “I should’ve known something was going on."
“What do you mean?” you question innocently, not wanting to accidentally give him more information than he already has. “We were just talking.”
“Were you ‘just talking’ when father caught you?” He accuses, closing the distance, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach.
"We weren't–" Your eyes fall on Claire when she speaks. All color has drained from her face as more tears well up, not from your words, but from being disloyal to Dean. You can feel her body begin to tremble as she tries to stammer out an explanation. “Whatever he told you…”
“He told me,” Dean lowers his voice, and wraps his hand around your neck, ignoring Claire’s fumbled emplanations. “That he walked in on you the two of you fucking, and that you were going to use my gift on Claire.” As you struggle for air, you curse yourself for believing that lying would somehow save you from the brother’s wrath.
Dean’s hand squeezes your neck even more tightly, cutting off your air completely now. Your vision starts to go blurry as Dean continues to speak, but you can’t make out the words. You can only hear your heart thumping in your ears. Everything is going dark when you can suddenly breathe easily again, and you fall to the floor, your limbs numb beneath you. Dean stands over you while your breathing levels out and you fight the tears back; he’s shown time and time again that tears only annoy him.
"That’s not–" you're cut off by Dean's hand connecting with your face, and the taste of iron fills your mouth. You should know better than to be dishonest. Of course, John would have said something. At first he seemed to get a kick out of Claire and you being together, until you unwittingly revealed that Dean was yet to fuck her.
"You wanna try that again, princess?"
“Claire wanted me to help,” you offer. “She wants to please you.”
"Oh?" Dean’s eyes narrow, but his anger doesn’t dissipate. "So fucking Sammy and you will make her ready for me?" Dean gruffs, sarcasm laced in his words, "let's see how much she learned."
"No, Dean, she's not–" you attempt to stop him, but Dean only hits you again, this time sending you to the ground. "Pl– please," you beg, "don't hurt her."
Dean ignores you, quickly removing his clothes, and when Claire makes the unwise decision to try to escape the room. Dean catches her before she can reach the secret passage, roughly gripping her wrist and taking his backhand to her face. Immediately, a cut begins to bleed, and you can see a bruise start to form. Claire attempts to fight back, and you want to tell her to stop, that it’ll only make things worse for her in the end.
“When did you become so disobedient?” Dean growls, gripping her long locks. “I’m done being patient, honey. Especially now that you’ve fucked my brother and Y/N. I’m gonna put a son in you tonight. Gonna stretch out that pussy.”
You hadn’t noticed Sam enter the room, but as Dean forces Claire onto the bed, you can feel his body rub against yours. You try to look away when Dean throws Claire down and cages her body with his, but Sam’s hand grabs you roughly by the chin and forces you to face them. You close your eyes; you can’t watch as Dean removes his belt and binds Claire’s hands to the bed.
“Don’t look away,” Sam orders in your ear, and you feel a hardness against your back. “You and Claire thought you could have fun without Dean or me?” He groans as he gropes at your body. “You should’ve known better, sweetheart, now you’re both going to have to face the consequences.”
Claire’s screams fill your room as Dean pushes her legs open, stroking himself to hardness before thrusting in. Claire lets out a blood-curdling scream, taking the very breath out of your own lungs. You want to help, to do something, but you can't. Flashes of the night the Winchesters claimed you as theirs, the fear you felt, screaming, begging for them to stop, fill your head.
“How’s she feel, De?” Sam moans as he reaches under your dress and begins to rub through your folds. Finding you dry, he lets out an annoyed grunt, but he doesn’t stop, knowing that eventually your body will give in to him.
“So good, Sammy,” Dean hums, and Sam starts to rub your clit, “so tight.”
“Yeah? Maybe we should let Y/N take a peek, see that cunt stretched out.”
“Come ‘ere, Y/N,” Dean demands, and Sam removes his hand from underneath your dress.
You don’t move for a moment, Dean doesn’t notice, preoccupied with Claire’s flailing legs as she attempts to push him off of her. She’s fighting harder than you ever did, somehow even getting her arms loose and clawing against Dean’s chest. Dean seems to be enjoying it, that is until Claire manages to punch him. The small bit of enjoyment he was getting out of her fighting against him is gone in a heartbeat, and he’s now more angry than you’ve ever seen him before. His thrusts become faster, and he spreads Claire apart until she’s screaming.
Don't fight, do what he says, you want to tell her again, but the words don't form in your mouth. Your every instinct is telling her to fight back, much like yours used to, before you learned that it was better to do as you were told.
Your vision clouds as you helplessly watch Dean assault Claire, the sound of his hips slapping against hers taunts you – this is your fault. You should've known not to help Claire without the Winchesters’ permission, and now you're both paying the price for your foolish behavior.
“Come. Here. Y/N.” Dean says again, this time more forcefully, punctuating each word with a thrust into Claire. Sam grabs you by the shoulders and guides you toward the bed, giving you the view that Dean wanted you to see: his cock covered in blood.
Bile rises in your throat, and you turn away to find your chamber pot, emptying the contents of your stomach. Sam lets out a bemused chuckle, “I thought we were past this, Y/N.”
As Sam drags you back onto your feet and strips you of your clothes, before holding your head to keep your gaze fixed on Dean and Claire. The sight before you has your heart breaking, Claire’s gone limp under Dean; bruises are littered over her petite body as Dean takes what he wants from her over and over again. You thought it couldn’t get any worse; Sam making you watch as the Dean mercilessly abuses Claire, but he decided that it wasn’t punishment enough. He pulls you onto the bed and makes you touch yourself as he slips his cock into Claire’s slack mouth.
You don’t hesitate, knowing the more you comply the faster the brothers will leave you and Claire alone. Claire gags around Sam’s cock, desperately fighting for air as he fucks her mouth with no regard to anything but his own pleasure. You watch as Dean grabs Sam and pulls him close, pressing a hard and passionate kiss on his brother’s lips.
“Breed ‘er,” Sam whispers as Dean pulls away.
“Yeah?” Dean groans, hips moving faster. “That what you want, little brother? Me to fill her full, then Y/N?” Dean stills as the words leave his mouth, and when he pulls away, you can see his cum dripping out of Claire’s abused pussy.
“Y/N’s mine,” Sam growls, eyeing you, “did I tell you to stop?” he grunts, and you bring your fingers back to your folds. Sam smirks, seeing the sheen growing between your legs. “See?” He pulls out of Claire, and directs her face towards your pussy, “Y/N likes to pretend that she doesn’t enjoy every single thing that Dean and I do, but she’s a proper whore, aren’t you, Y/N? Look how wet she is.”
“Tell us how much you love it, how much you want Sammy to put another son in you.”
“I love it,” you whimper as Sam replaces your fingers with his own, dipping into your slick and pushing two fingers into your pussy. You close your eyes, bile rising as you spit the words out. “I want you to put a son in me.”
“I think you can do better than that,” Dean tsks, his cock beginning to harden once again.
You repeat the words again, with more sincerity, and Sam moves you above him, sliding into you easily.
“Ride,” Sam commands, and you begin bouncing in his lap, his hands gripping your waist, undoubtedly leaving bruises there. Tears are falling from Claire’s eyes, but she doesn’t make any sounds, her gaze fixed on where Sam is sinking into your body, but you're unsure if she can really see what's happening in front of her.
Rough fingers gather your slick, and rub against your tightest hole. You feel Dean’s cock notch against you, and he orders Sam to stop moving as he pushes in. You scream out, you’ve never felt so full, and you’ll do anything to make them stop.
“How ‘bout you get her gift, and we’ll see how much she can take.”
look behind the hell fire (holy fire?) burning in them -
can you see to the bottom of the pit?
*
it’s too easy to forget the horrors they’ve done,
the monsters they’ve become
[can you really say you’re not afraid of them?]
in favour of the merry fire dancing on their surface.
*
but the moment you turn away,
or the moment they stop caring, whichever comes first,
the ashen ice of their true look shows,
*
and it’s freezing, even in the middle of the summer,
it’s terrifying in its lethal beauty.
When Dean wanted to show Sam how deep his love went, he reveled in making an extravagant, macabre display.
So after a night of drinking and hustling pool while his brother teased and distracted the local crowd with flashing dimples and glimpses of bared skin under a too short and tight shirt, he shoved Sammy into the alley out behind the bar.
Sam gasped when he saw the bloodied bodies, beautiful and grisly, each one twisted into the shape of a letter. S-A-M.
Dean grinned when he watched Sam's mouth fall open, the flush on his cheeks rising, his breath coming quicker. Yeah, he loved his boy, and he'd never stop trying to show him how much. And he knew what spoke to Sam's heart, the same call he heard in his own.
"Check their ID's little brother. Their first initials even spell out your name."
Sam glanced at Dean with an incredulous look, bright eyes shining full of love and worship, the darkness in him racing hot under his skin.
The devastation the Winchesters always left in their wake, it was brutal and gruesome. Yet all they could see was a trail of devotion, promises carved in bone, written in blood.
