seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
it’s very important to me how all of mack’s teammates, especially the older ones, are so affectionate of him. hugging him, keeping him their captain, looking like the want to smuggle him in a suitcase back to their team, etc etc. I think it says a lot about his talent and character. I’ve never related to the average nhl player more.
On being the 1OA
(Hanif Abdurraqib’s There’s Always This Year: On Basketball and Ascension)
The Boyking-Chapter 17
Masterlist here.
Word Count: 3.9k
Beta’d by @impala-dreamer 💜
A/N: Hi everyone! After a small hiatus, during which I moved and got married (!), we’re back with the next chapter. It’s a little longer than usual, hopefully to make up for the lack of content these past few months. Hope you enjoy!
Read here.
The Boyking—Chapter 18
Here’s the next chapter! You can also read on AO3 if you want.
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings: death, grief, blood
Beta’d by yours truly, all mistakes are my own :)
Sam remained standing in front of her, eyes locked together in the fierce but unsettling agreement that they would both avenge this cruel, pointless death. Then, Dallas watched as Sam pocketed his grief somewhere inside himself—pushed it down and sealed it up with a steely countenance while emotions lingered, swimming in his eyes. She could understand this because she, too, had done this countless times herself. Any hunter did. But perhaps she, and Sam, knew better than most.
She also, strangely, found herself understanding that Sam needed to take care of business, but he would be warring with the other part of himself that lost a friend. He would be filled with anger and the desire to avenge Bela’s death, and he would be trying to make sense of what happened while wrestling with an intangible but ever-present guilt. He would need to grieve, all while bearing the responsibility to give her a proper burial and attend to his kingdom.
As king, he would need to keep the whole thing a secret. She knew that the full details of what had occurred could not get out to his subjects. They might feel betrayed that a human connection had put their King and kingdom in jeopardy, and from what Dallas had gathered, some of the demons’ loyalties were already questionable. Sam would also need to determine what this meant for his fight against the apocalypse. How much would the angels, and not only Lilith, get in his way?
Dallas was filled with a sudden sense of disgust. Her thoughts were not that of an enemy gaining information. Right now, she looked at Sam and saw something familiar. Right now, she understood him. And that whole idea turned her off completely.
Sam turned away and left the room, unaware of the thoughts Dallas just had in the last few seconds. She looked around as he left, unsure of what to do next. She could hear him—he didn’t go far—as he stood outside the door, talking to someone, all traces of anger and despair impressively gone from his voice as he asked them to summon someone named “Meg.” Dallas had never heard Sam or anyone else utter the name Meg until now, and as tired as she was, her curiosity was piqued.
Sam returned without a word and collapsed unceremoniously into one of the two plush, black chairs at the fireplace on the far end of the room, his long limbs hanging uncomfortably from the seat. Dallas followed his lead, sitting stiffly in the remaining seat next to his. She kept her focus on the floor and the inky, discolored ornate rugs that covered the coolness of the dark gray stone. She refused to look at Bela or the bloody mattress that would send familiar waves of grief through her heavy heart.
Thankfully, they were not left in silence for long as the door to the room opened and a petite young woman with short, blonde hair and grungey eyeliner entered. Sam rose as she came into the room and Dallas mimicked him, staying near the chairs as the two greeted one another. Meg took one look at Bela lying on the bed, and hugged Sam, and the two embraced like old friends.
“Who do I need to torture and kill?” Meg responded, her tone intimate but casual, like the rest of her, from her dress to the way she stood. Dallas couldn’t help but notice that she was a direct contrast to Ruby.
Sam gave a sad, grateful expression. “I—we—will take care of it.”
At the word “we,” Meg finally looked over at the huntress.
Meg looked back to Sam. “We as in you and her? Or we as in you and the head bi—.” She paused, stopping herself from saying whatever it was that had come to her mind first. Dallas guessed she was referring to Ruby by the displeasure on Meg’s face, which she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—hide.
“Me and Dallas,” Sam responded in a tone that suggested he knew what Meg had been about to say.
Meg turned back to the huntress and looked her up and down. Dallas did not feel threatened but she did feel uncomfortable and awkward standing there, being scrutinized and out of the conversation.
“I wasn’t sure if we’d ever meet, but I had hoped it would be under… better circumstances,” Meg said apologetically.
Dallas had no idea how to respond, as she hadn’t been hoping to meet any other demons, and what Meg said and the way she said it was almost… nice. Meg looked as if she could read this on Dallas’ face but said nothing. Sparing Dallas from explaining herself, she turned back to Sam.
“I can take her from here, Sam. You don’t need to do anything else,” Meg said.
Sam only nodded. Meg briefly placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, then she moved to the bed. Sam went completely still, but he did not stop Meg. Dallas watched, even though it pained her, as Meg gently picked Bela up and cradled her in her arms. Dallas fought to keep her own bad memories locked up as she watched. If it weren’t for the hole in Bela’s chest and blood on her clothes, she looked like she was peacefully sleeping. Dallas half expected her to wake up and ask why she was being moved around, but she did not. Meg took care with the body as they walked out.
At the shut of the door, Sam turned around as if he remembered someone else was in the room, his heavy gaze landing on Dallas. The tumultuous grief in his eyes struck her and she stilled at the sight. His stoic facade weakened. Sam’s eyes, she was learning, revealed much about him. But as soon the revelation was there, it was gone, replaced by a carefully controlled countenance.
“I’m sorry I put you in danger,” Sam said, his voice straining against a dry throat.
Dallas caught a glimpse of the blood stain on the bed behind Sam. She swallowed hard, thinking of the words she had said earlier, when it had been so easy to throw her shame and anger at Sam to build a barrier between them mere minutes ago. Now, she couldn’t find that wall, and she didn’t know what to say.
“I’ll understand if you want to go home,” Sam continued, filling the silence, “Just tell me where, and when, if this is too much.”
Dallas would most definitely like to go home—if she knew where that was. She wanted to run away, out of this death-soaked room, away from Sam’s stifling emotions, far, far away. But she wanted revenge for Bela’s death more, for Nadia’s death, really. No creature, holy or otherwise, would get away with killing an innocent person.
“Not today,” she responded.
She could’ve sworn relief flickered across his eyes, that his shoulders fell slightly, that he took a deeper breath. And then the feelings were gone again, replaced by Sam the King, the man who got things done when they needed to be done.
“I’ll show you to your new room,” he finally responded.
————————————————-
Leaving the chamber, Dallas instantly knew she was in a different part of Hell. The halls were well-lit with more frequent iron torches, and the stone archways spaced every so often were carved with columns on either side and depictions of symbols and creatures above the arch. Sounds of life echoed in distant halls—chattering voices, doors opening and closing, yelling and laughing. It was not unlike the halls of a school, Dallas thought to herself.
“Is this the part of Hell you wanted to show me?” Dallas felt the strange need to fill the silence between them as they walked.
Sam looked over to her as if he’d been snapped back to reality. “Mhm,” he muttered, “I can show you around in a day or two, I’m sorry—“
“No rush,” she assured him, the phrase coming out nicer than she intended.
He smiled faintly at her, and she quickly looked away.
“This is it,” he said next as they stopped in front of a thick, arched wooden door with an iron handle and detailings.
Dallas scowled. They had not walked far from the room they were in before, the room Dallas had assumed was Sam’s.
Sam either didn’t notice or chose to ignore her reaction as he opened the door. Dallas assumed the former as Sam looked distracted, his eyes telling her he was somewhere deep in his mind, only visiting reality for seconds at a time.
Dallas stepped inside and paused. This room was similar to the one she had been staying in except grander. Everything seemed bigger—the bed, the room itself, and windows.
She couldn’t help the pleasant surprise that flooded her body. She walked over to the ledge of one of the arched panes, looking out at an early sunrise, the pastel colors of dawn just peeking through a smattering of clouds.
“It’s enchanted,” Sam said from behind. “It shows the time of day it would be to the person in the room, so wherever you’re from, it shows that.”
Where the magic had decided she was from, she had no idea, but she realized now, looking through the enchanted glass, that she had missed the ability to see the outside world whenever she wanted these past couple of weeks.
She turned around. “How?” She spoke breathlessly, unable to contain her reaction.
Sam’s eyes held the light of the present, he no longer floated off to somewhere else, and his mouth was in a sad, soft smile as he responded to her. “Complicated magic. You can draw the curtains shut if you need to.”
He referred to the velvet curtains so dark green they were almost black. “And I’ll have someone bring all of your things over later. I imagine you’d like to rest.”
Rest. Right. She’d been up all night and now it was morning in the human world.
“Sure, that’d be nice,” she replied.
Sam nodded and turned to leave, but as he reached the door, his hand on the knob, he turned his head back to her. “Thank you, Dallas, for helping with Bela.”
The words held more weight than she could handle. All she could manage in reply was a politely-toned, “You’re welcome.”
Sam walked through the door, shutting it quietly behind himself, leaving Dallas alone for the first time in hours.
She was exhausted, she realized, as she let out a deep exhale. She wanted to explore the room, and the area, but that could wait, she decided.
Instead, she took one more look at the outside world before pulling the curtains shut on both windows, and then she slipped the angel blade and her gun from their hiding places, setting them on the dark oak sidetable. She then peeled off her dirty clothes, undergarments included, and slipped underneath the silky, black sheets and duvet, and she quickly fell asleep.
———————————
Dallas awoke later that day—or night—she couldn’t tell, by the entrance of someone into her bedroom. She startled awake at the sound of the door shutting, and she clutched the sheets to her bare chest as she sat up and reached for her nearby blade.
“Relax.” It was Meg who entered, carrying a small pile of clothing. “No Sam around.”
Dallas had forgotten to lock the door last night. She was getting sloppy.
“What are you doing here?” Dallas said breathless, hand still on the hilt of the dagger.
Meg stood at the foot of the bed, looked down at the clothes in her hand, then looked back at Dallas with a raised brow.
“Oh.” Dallas relaxed—only a little—taking her hand off the blade but keeping a tight grip on the one thing sparing her dignity.
“Sam thought you might want some fresh clothes. We can get the rest later.” Meg dropped the pile on the end of the bed. “And I can bring some food if you want.”
Several questions ran through Dallas’ mind, like why was Meg continuing to be nice, why was she barging in, what time was it, but what stumbled out was, “Where’s Sam?”
Meg grinned. “Doing boring king stuff. I can have him bring some food if you—”
“No,” Dallas cut her off, “It’s fine.”
“Alright, if you say so. I’ll give you an hour or so, then I’ll come back.” Meg began to walk out of the room. She turned back briefly with her nose slightly upturned. “You may want to shower.” And then she walked out the door.
Dallas quickly got up and ran to the door, securing the latch lock tightly. Then, feeling the embarrassment of her nakedness despite being alone, she took a blanket that lay across the end of the bed and wrapped it around herself.
She walked to one of the windows and drew back the thick curtains. She was met with a blinding afternoon sun which still sat high in the clear, blue sky. So she had slept about eight hours, give or take, yet she did not feel fully rested. She studied the horizon, trying to place the landscape in her mind, but she came up blank.
She turned away from the window and instead turned her attention to herself. The feel of day-old sweat lingered on her skin, and as she pulled at the ends of her hair, dry blood crumbled off. Not knowing who’s blood she was touching, she immediately headed for what she assumed was the bathroom through a door next to a fireplace.
Again, the room was grander than the previous bathroom, bigger in size and with a marble double sink and a claw foot tub, shower, and another marble fireplace. She stared at herself in the ornate silver mirror. How many times had she thought to herself that she looked tired lately? When was the last time she looked at herself and saw something good?
She turned away from the mirror, dropping the blanket to the floor and turning on the shower to scalding hot.
When she had finished, she dressed herself in the clothes Meg had brought, another set of dark jeans, black t-shirt, and undergarments, and towel-dried her hair. Meg must have had a good sense of time because Dallas heard a knock on the door as she stepped out of the bathroom.
“It’s just me,” Meg sang out, the sound of her voice muffled through the door.
Dallas braced herself for additional company as she unlocked and opened the door, but it was only Meg, and Dallas felt the slight tinge of disappointment.
“You look much better,” Meg quipped as she walked into the room.
“Thanks?” Dallas responded, closing the door behind her.
“Sam’s been in meetings all day, but he wants to show you around.”
Dallas let surprise flicker across her face. “Today? Doesn’t he need… time?”
“He needs distraction. He’ll get through it in his own way, probably after the wake.”
“Which is?”
Meg shrugged. “He’ll let us know when he’s got it figured out.”
Dallas stood there stupidly with a blank look across her face.
“Cat got your tongue?” Meg cooed.
“No, I,” Dallas stuttered, then regained her composure. “I’m fine.”
Meg laughed annoyingly, then walked a couple steps closer to Dallas, who tensed, taking a step back, not knowing the demon’s motives.
“Relax,” Meg said, “I’m not like other demons you may have met here, other bitchier ones. I’m a friend.”
Now it was Dallas’ turn to laugh. As much as she appreciated Meg’s dislike for Ruby, there was no way she really thought they’d be friends.
“Ouch,” Meg said with fake hurt. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just reject the friendship of the only demon here who doesn’t want to slit your throat. At all. Not even a little.”
“Sam doesn’t seem to want to kill me,” Dallas shot back.
“Sam’s not a demon,” Meg replied.
That’s the second time someone had told her that, she thought to herself. “Well, anyone who wants my blood will have to get in line,” Dallas replied tensely.
Meg smiled as if that response had satisfied some private qualification Dallas was unaware of, then she responded, “Let’s go, you don’t want to keep the king waiting.”
The Boyking-Chapter 15
Masterpost and series summary here.
Word Count: 3.2k
Chapter Warnings: Blood, show-typical injuries
A/N: Beta’d by @impala-dreamer :)
Dean groaned. “I’m fine.” He tried to sit up, but the movement caused the blood to flow faster. Dallas pushed him back down and watched as more blood spilled out onto the hunter’s shirt and slid to the floor. It was so red. And there was so much.
She remained there with her hands partially covering the wound, mind blank, body frozen. The hot liquid soaked her hands as they pressed into Dean’s chest.
The pressure wasn’t working. The last time she had needed to save someone, it hadn’t worked either. Her mind slipped dangerously into the past as she tried to think of what to do.
“Call… Sam…” Dean said roughly.
Dallas moved at his words. Quickly, she looked for his phone. There were so many pockets in his damn jacket. Her hands shook badly. She wasn’t fast enough, she was going to lose someone again—
“Dallas? Dean?” A strong but worried voice spoke.
Dallas looked up and then wished she hadn’t. Sam stood in the doorway, looking down at the pair. She read his expression as a mix of fear and anger.
She didn’t think, she just spoke. “He- he’s hurt- I-“ Dallas stammered.
Sam moved inhumanly fast. He suddenly knelt opposite Dallas on the other side of Dean, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Dallas returned her hands to Dean’s wounds but lowered her gaze away from Sam’s judgment.
“It’s just a scratch,” Dean quietly moaned. He was beginning to lose consciousness.
“It’s more than a scratch. I’m taking you to the hospital,” Sam said sternly.
Dean groaned, and Sam ignored him. “Dallas,” Sam said firmly.
She reluctantly looked up from Dean with wide eyes, finding Sam’s gaze too intense and most likely filled with gruesome images of what he would do to Dallas for neglecting his brother.
He waited until her eyes met his and continued. “I’m taking him to the hospital and I’ll be back for you. Wait here.”
Dallas swallowed hard but did not remove her hands from Dean’s wounds.
“Dallas.” Sam softened his voice, not breaking eye contact. “I’ve got him.” He placed his hands on hers, and she flinched. “You can stop,” he gently assured her, “It’s ok.”
He took her hands in his, and she decided not to fight it. He slowly lifted them off of Dean, and she let them float down to her thighs. Her fingers felt immediately cold with the absence of the hunter’s injured body underneath them.
She watched as Sam effortlessly picked up Dean, cradling him across his arms, and they disappeared in a cloud of black vapor.
The few minutes Sam was gone passed inhumanely slow, and yet when he returned it was not long enough.
Dallas had not moved. She remained on her knees, bloody hands resting on her thighs. She stared at the spot where Dean lay, where some of his blood had pooled on the ground.
Sam moved softly and deftly, but she still recoiled as he knelt in front of her. “He’s ok,” he said. “He lost a lot of blood, but not too much.”
Dallas let out a heavy breath. She clenched and relaxed her palms, the drying blood cracking in her palms.
“I can take you to the hospital,” Sam continued, “If you want to wait for him.”
That was not what she had expected Sam to say to her. She looked down at her hands, at the blood staining them and her pants.
“I can take you… back,” Sam offered, as if he knew what she was thinking, “Back to the room. So you can change.” The way he said ‘room’ made it seem like he knew Dallas would not respond well to the idea of returning to Hell right now.
“No, my bag, it’s in his car,” she stated, beginning to feel confused at Sam’s behavior. It was almost… kind.
“Ok,” Sam continued, “I can get it for you and–”
“No,” she said firmly, suddenly standing. Her legs wobbled and shook and with the abrupt change in position, but she did not want any more of Sam Winchester’s help. She hated that she even needed it in the first place, and she hated that he was offering help rather than reprimands. She would rather him be angry than whatever this was.
Sam stood with her. He reached out a hand to steady her but quickly dropped it back to his side when she stepped away from him.
“Just tell me the name of the hospital. I’ll figure it out,” she said, looking somewhere to the side of Sam, avoiding his gaze.
“I—,” Sam started to say something, but didn’t finish the thought. “He’s at St. Mary’s,” he said instead.
She took another step away from him, legs regaining some strength. He remained in the same position. She looked him over, still avoiding his eyes, and noticed the dirt on Sam’s knees and the blood on his own hands, his brother’s blood. A tangy, foreign feeling rose up inside her as she thought about what had just occurred between the siblings.
“I’ll-” she stuttered, “I’ll use Dean’s phone and, uh, I’ll call you when—when they—“ She didn’t know what was compelling her to offer this courtesy.
“Thank you,” Sam said, saving Dallas from finishing her broken sentence. He reached into the pockets of his pants and pulled out the Impala’s keys, extending them to her.
She took them from his palm, careful to not let her skin make contact with his, and turned away, walking out the same garage door she and Dean had entered earlier. Outside, it was now fully night.
She walked across the street, to where Dean had parked his car, and unlocked his door. Before sitting inside, she turned her head back. Sam was gone, and she felt relief. She opened the door, got in, and slammed it shut behind her.
She remained calm, numb almost, as she started the engine and drove away. As she found a gas station with a bathroom on the back side of the building, the numbness remained. She got her bag out of the car and went inside to clean up and change. She pumped the harsh gas station soap into her hands, scrubbed, pumped more soap, and scrubbed again, repeating until the skin on her hands felt dry. Only then did she look at herself in the mirror. Some color had drained from her face. Her hair was tousled, sticking out around her ears and forehead. She noticed some smears of blood on her cheek and jawline, and quickly washed them off with water from her hands. She hated how blood got everywhere in a hunt without her ever noticing it.
She checked again to make sure all the blood was gone and noticed the wariness in her eyes and the dark circles beginning to form underneath them. She gripped the sides of the dirty porcelain sink. Why was she so stupid. She hunted with someone one damn time in years and almost killed them.
This is why she worked alone.
She stepped away from the sink and began peeling her clothes off. She made sure they were inside out, folding them into a ball to contain the stains. She pulled her other set of clothes out of her bag, another pair of dark jeans, a deep, maroon t-shirt, and clean undergarments. She changed, slipping her boots on again and then packing the blood-stained clothes into her bag.
She picked up the duffel, swung it over her shoulder, and left the bathroom. As she stepped out, an older man dressed in slacks and a sweater waited outside. In the dimly lit backside of the building, Dallas was startled but said, “Sorry, I didn’t hear a knock” as she continued to the Impala.
“No worries.” The man smiled.
Something about the man’s tone of voice sent Dallas’ alarm bells off but she didn’t stop. She glanced back again as she walked but the man was gone and the bathroom door remained ajar as she had left it. Normally, she’d take a second look but she was too tired to deal with anything else tonight. Instead, she got back into the Impala, drove to the hospital in silence, and then gathered herself together in the parking lot for a few moments.
She then grabbed one of Dean’s fake ID’s from the glove-box and went inside. She approached the front desk nervously, still shaken from the night’s events. Luckily for her, the nurses would expect someone looking for a hospitalized loved one to act the way Dallas was feeling.
“Excuse me,” she started, “Is there a John Doe here? I’m looking for my brother.”
The secretary looked up from her computer screen. “Yes, one was brought almost an hour ago. Describe your brother to me.”
“Um,” Dallas began, having to think hard about Dean’s distinguishing facial features. “He’s got short, light-brown hair. Freckles. Green eyes. Probably a few scars. Here.” Dallas reached into her pocket, pulling out the card, noting the name before showing it to the nurse. She covered the fake police logo as she held up the ID. “Is it him? Do you have Mike?”
The nurse thankfully did not take the ID from Dallas’ hand but only looked at the picture. “I think we might have him. Someone will have to take you to his room to verify he’s who you’re looking for.”
“Thank you,” Dallas said breathlessly. She was not faking her relief. Dean was okay.
“A man brought him in,” the secretary continued. “Didn’t give us a name but they found your brother, if that is him. Wish we knew so you could thank him.”
Dallas nodded. “I’m glad whoever it was found him.” And in a way, she was glad that Sam had been there to save Dean. She didn’t need another hunter’s death on her conscience.
Moments later, a night shift nurse came to take her to Dean. They turned a couple corners in the emergency room department before finding Dean’s door. Dallas entered the room quietly following the nurse.
The click of the latch alerted Dean to their presence. Dallas looked at him on the hospital bed, noting his tired eyes and the fresh scrapes on his face.
“Don’t say a word,” Dean grunted. “This is embarrassing enough as it is.”
Dean was being so… casual. Dallas froze. Was she supposed to laugh? Apologize?
“How are you feeling?” She winced as the words left her mouth. They were so cliche, of course he felt awful. Thanks to her.
“Peachy,” Dean sighed.
“So,” the nurse said, “This is your brother?”
Dean’s brows raised, then he spoke first. “Yeah, this is my pain in the ass sister.”
“Great.” And the nurse did sound truly happy to hear that Dallas and Dean had found each other. She grabbed his chart and relayed to Dallas what had happened. “Looks like your brother had a blood transfusion and heavy stitching. We’ll monitor him for a couple days to make sure the wounds are healing properly. Sir, do you remember what happened? Were you attacked by an… animal?”
Dean squinted. “No, it’s all a little fuzzy. I think I hit my head? I dunno, I’d really like to get some sleep, though. I’ll try to remember tomorrow, okay?” He ended with a flirty grin.
“Of course.” The nurse seemed to understand. She smiled sweetly and placed the chart back in its folder, before leaving the room.
With just the two of them in the room now, Dallas slowly approached the bed and stopped a few inches from Dena’s side. She didn’t know what to say, or do, next.
Dean looked at her. “Thanks for everything back there. For calling Sam and taking care of me.”
Dallas’ eyes went wide. “I— I didn’t call Sam.” I didn’t do anything useful, she thought. “He just appeared.”
Dean’s brows furrowed.
“He’s never done that before?” Dallas asked, suddenly more nervous.
Dean shook his head. “But it doesn’t matter. Who knows what Jedi tricks he has that I’ve never seen. But still, thank you. You, uh, held me together back there.”
Dallas honestly had no idea how to respond, and Dean seemed to notice.
“I’m betting you don’t have to watch a man bleed out very often do you?” He had a light tone to his voice that seemed out of place to Dallas.
“I usually work by myself,” she said hollowly but thought of Nadia.
Recognition flickered across Dean’s features. She had told him just earlier that day—so many, long hours ago—that there had been someone once. But he didn’t mention whatever had connected in his mind.
“They said I have to stay here for three days? Hell to that,” he laughed. “You’re busting me out in the morning.”
“I don’t think you need to be working a job—“
“Nah, I’ll just stay somewhere, lay low until I’m sure the stitches won’t tear. You can work one while I’m out of commission. I’m sure Sam will have something on his list.”
Dallas didn’t respond to that. She had worked this job with Dean to get out of Hell and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to go back. Dean seemed to pick up on her hesitancy.
“That’s if you want to,” he added. Then waited before asking, “What do you do all day in Hell anyway? Can’t be all that exciting.”
Dallas cracked a half-smile at Dean’s jab. “It’s not,” she agreed. “I wasn’t doing anything at first, he wouldn’t let me leave the room. Then I worked a job with him before—“ she paused, uncertain of what she wanted to divulge, but continued, figuring Dean was safe enough to share with. “Before I had him call you. The job, with him, was a little much to be honest.” It was such a small piece of information, a tiny view into her thoughts and feelings, but she felt like she was holding herself wide open for Dean.
“I imagine so,” Dean said. “It’s a lot for me at times, and I’m his brother.”
Dallas only nodded silently.
“Has he asked you to let him take you on a tour yet?” Dean asked.
Dallas’ eyes widened. “How did you—“
“Sam’s been asking me for years to go on a damn tour and see what he’s done with the place. I bet he’s asked you, too, bet he would ask any sad hunter who found themselves at his doorstep.” Dean sighed, then thought for a moment. “This might be bad advice, but I say do it. I’ve never been able to stay down there for too long but you—you’re already there. Maybe it will help you sort out what the right thing to do in this situation is.” He recalled their conversation about Sam in the motel earlier that day.
“How do you know I’m doubting the right thing?” Dallas pressed defensively, concerned she’d shared too much.
“You have to be,” Dean said plainly. “I know I always am when it comes to Sam.”
Dallas chewed on her bottom lip. That was a lot to think about.
“You know what, I’m gonna get us some food,” she announced. “I don’t like to think on an empty stomach.”
Dean smiled. “Sounds great.”
Dallas left the room, waving to the secretary as she exited for the parking lot, and then she drove down the street to a fast food joint and ordered a couple of burgers. She returned not fifteen minutes later, walking the halls of the hospital back to Dean’s room when her phone began to ring in her pocket. She stopped just down the hall from his room and pulled the phone out.
“Shit,” she mumbled to herself. It was Gordon. She’d rather not answer but then he’d know her phone was now on because it wouldn’t go straight to voicemail. She had about two seconds to decide what to do before he became more suspicious than he probably already was. As much as he was used to her avoiding him, he wouldn’t be patient forever.
She put the phone up to her ear. “Did ya miss me?”
“Is another shot of whiskey in order?” Gordon said flatly.
“I’d love a round or two,” Dallas cooed.
“What have you found out? Have you made any progress?”
“Yes,” Dallas bit back, every bit of fake niceness draining from her instantly. She took a breath and then said more calmly. “I have a weapon. I’m getting information on Sam. It’s a process.”
“Have you learned anything useful at least?”
Dallas began pacing in the hall. Sure, she’d learned a few useful things, none of which she was sure she was ready to share just yet, except maybe to keep Gordon off her ass.
“Sam’s got healing abilities. He heals really fast except something kept him from doing so the other night. Something Lilith’s side did when we were stopping a seal. I’m working out the specifics.”
Gordon hummed in approval. “Those are the things we need to know. Nice work. Let me know when you find out what exactly weakens him.”
“Uh huh. Look,” Dallas began, “You can’t be calling me whenever you want now. You’re gonna blow my cover with the Winchesters. Especially with Sam. So from here on out, I call you when I decide it’s safe for me to do so.”
“So you have been to see Sam?”
“Goodbye, Gordon.” She hung up and stood in the quiet hall. A gnawing, queasy feeling began to swirl in her stomach as she walked to Dean’s room. It felt something like guilt, but it couldn’t be, so she shoved it aside as she walked through the doorway, back to the bed, and handed Dean his food.
They ate in silence together, Dean in his hospital bed and Dallas in a spare chair. She allowed a couple minutes of no conversation before asking something that had been on her mind since the events of the night.
“You know,” Dallas started, “I, uh, probably need your phone number. And I guess,” she paused before continuing, “Sam’s number, too. For emergencies.”
“Yeah, of course,” Dean said without missing a beat. He put his burger down and grabbed his phone off the table.
“Shit,” Dallas said, only now remembering what she’d told Sam earlier. “I told Sam I'd use your phone to call him to let him know you’re ok.”
Dean’s brows rose but he quickly shelved his reaction. “I’ll text him, spare you the conversation.”
He typed quickly then handed her his phone. She took it, then texted herself a quick message from his cell. Then she went to Dean’s contacts and found Sam’s number under his name, the only Sam in the phone, and typed the number in her phone.
“Wait,” she started, realizing her phone didn’t work when she wasn’t topside and then feeling stupid for asking for Sam’s number. “I don’t get any service in Hell.” She handed Dean back his phone.
“Right,” Dean said, “Just tell Sam. He has to do some mojo on it for it to work down there.”
Dallas furrowed her brows but didn’t dare ask Dean how that worked. “I guess I’ll have to ask him myself.”
“You going back?” Dean asked, obviously intrigued but attempting to hide it by focusing on his fries.
Although it was the last thing she wanted to do, she would have to. She had a job to do. “I guess I am.”
The Boyking-Chapter 16
Series Summary and Masterpost Here.
Word Count: 3k
Chapter Warnings: None
A/N: Tensions are building between our two protagonists... @impala-dreamer loved this chapter and it was a fun one to write!
At sunrise the next morning Dallas snuck Dean out of the hospital as promised. Although, after seeing how well he navigated the ordeal, she doubted he truly needed her help. Dean had done this a few times before. Once they cleared the hospital parking lot, Dallas stowed Dean safely in a nearby motel with food, water, first aid supplies, and, of course, a whole strawberry pie. When they had both eaten a meal of gas station breakfast sandwiches and hot coffees with a little sugar and vanilla cream, Dallas had him contact Sam. She wasn’t ready for Sam to have her number just yet.
She awaited her demonic escorts in Dean’s room while he flipped through the local channels on the television. She paid little attention to what popped up on the screen as she mentally rehearsed how she would respond to Sam, determining that she would not let him get under her skin as he had before.
Hell should have been an easy pill to swallow; there was no need for restless nerves and stuttering breaths when she was no stranger to the horrors of life, hunting and otherwise. But, as she sat on the edge of a creaky mattress, waiting, she realized it hadn’t really been Hell that was difficult to deal with. She didn’t get shaky knees and a fast heartbeat from the monotonous stone halls and lowly errand-demons running around. She didn’t feel that way when Ruby was near, or even at the idea of seeing the punishment of tortured souls who probably deserved it anyway. The only time she felt rattled or irritated was around Sam.
She had little time to dwell on that thought. A pair of suited demons appeared outside the door shortly after, knocking and allowing Dallas to let them in. They assessed Dean quickly, most likely to report back to Sam on his brother’s condition. Dallas then said her goodbyes, and the demons transported her as usual, making their bloody mess on the linoleum section of the motel kitchenette. It was becoming easier to travel this way. Dallas no longer questioned if she’d end up somewhere unsavory, but she wondered if she could get accustomed to teleportation as Sam had said was possible. It did seem like an easier way to travel without the blood and the incantations.
With a demon on either side of her, she was deposited in front of the throne room doors, feet landing softly as if she had been hovering just an inch above the stone. Before she could ask if she was expected to go in, the demons at either side of her walked away, leaving her completely alone. Dallas had never been one to care for etiquette, and she loved the idea of ruffling Sam’s feathers by entering without asking, so she pushed the double doors open wide and waltzed in.
Immediately, Dallas scowled as she watched Sam sit on his precious throne, talking with more demons in monkey suits. He looked up as the door shut behind her, and much to Dallas’ disappointment, the corners of his mouth turned upwards and his face shifted from bored to awakened. He looked happy to see her, she thought with disgust. He waved off his subordinates without so much as a word more, and they exited with a slight bow, walking past Dallas and out the doors she had come through.
Dallas stopped about halfway through the room as Sam stood and stepped down from the dais. He took a few, careful steps toward her but stopped a healthy, respectable distance away.
The pleasure Sam had displayed was now replaced with poorly concealed concern. “You look… well,” he said carefully.
Unable to help herself, Dallas scoffed at Sam who stood so annoyingly calm and interested. “Was that a compliment?”
The right corner of Sam’s mouth twitched upward again, amused, for a brief second before falling. “I mean, you were… You seemed upset before.” He had hung on upset for a moment, as if it didn’t accurately describe what he had seen Dallas going through on that garage floor.
“I’m fine.” Dallas crossed her arms, pushing the thoughts of Dean’s blood, and Sam’s hands gently holding hers, far away from her mind as she scolded herself for letting Sam start to get under her skin again. “How did you… how did you know?” she asked.
“A premonition,” Sam said without elaboration.
“About Dean. Like before,” Dallas replied. It made sense, the previous time Dean had been in danger, and this time his brother had been dying.
“No, about you.” Again, Sam did not explain, but instead watched Dallas closely.
She squirmed, uneasy and uncomfortable. “Is this like the… the touch thing?” Neither of them had mentioned it since it happened.
“No, maybe,” Sam said, “I get premonitions sometimes, that’s not unusual. But I don’t know what happened the first time we met.”
“Did you… see anything when you touched me,” Dallas asked, remembering the surprised and confused look on Sam’s face that day.
Dallas hadn’t dared to ask yet although it’d been on her mind every time she was too close to Sam. She knew what she had been thinking about when she was locked in that room, something that she was reminded of very rarely these days—her father. She needed to know if Sam knew anything, anything that he might use against her, because it had felt like he was inside her mind. It’s why she had scrambled to get away and yelled at him not to touch her. If he had seen that–what she remembered–he would have seen her in her most vulnerable state.
“No,” he said too quickly, “Nothing concrete anyway, don’t worry about it.”
Dallas did not believe him, but she didn’t push it. She’d rather not dwell on the old memories any more than she had to. “Do you normally get stuff from your psychic powers when you touch people?”
“No,” Sam said again. He seemed not to want to dwell on the subject the same as she. “That’s never happened to me before, at least not uncontrolled like that.”
Did that mean he could sometimes take information from others on purpose, if he intended to, just by touching them? A small shudder ran through Dallas, although she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or fascination.
Sam watched her for a moment as she pondered his powers, then all traces of warmth disappeared as Sam shifted on his feet, standing a little taller.
“I assume you have business, or you want another job. That’s why you’ve returned?” Sam asked. There was an edge to his tone as if he hoped for a different answer.
“I–” Dallas began but the words lodged in her throat. She couldn’t meet Sam’s eyes as she finished her sentence. Damnit, what was wrong with her? “I’m taking you up on your offer from before. To get a tour, or whatever.”
“What changed your mind?” he asked, poorly concealing his surprise. He had not expected her answer, but he sounded happy about it.
Dallas narrowed her eyes at him. “I said some other time, not that I wouldn’t.”
“Ah,” Sam said, a teasing light in his eyes. “Of course, I misunderstood.”
Was he… bantering? Well, she could do that, too. Screw not letting him get to her. She was going to get under his skin, one way or another.
“I would expect a king to have better comprehension skills, or did daddy not send you to school?” she shot back.
Sam’s eyes widened slightly but he didn’t lose the pleased look in his eyes, nor did he appear annoyed. He held Dallas’ gaze for a second longer before regaining seriousness.
“So, you’ll let me show you around?” Sam asked.
“That’s what I said, no?” Dallas replied, losing patience.
“You didn’t seem thrilled when I brought it up before. I’m just making sure you’re sure.”
“When I make a decision, I don’t make it lightly.”
Sam’s eyes twinkled again at her response, and she wondered what thoughts danced behind that look. “There’s just one thing I need before the tour,” Sam said.
Dallas’ brow rose. “Strings attached? I thought you were above that.”
The sparkle in Sam’s eyes didn’t dim. “It’s less of ‘strings attached’ and more of an opportunistic situation. I have something I need–or would like– your help with and I think it would be better to do it first.”
“Why?”
Sam’s eyes darkened slightly, the light and playfulness of his features becoming lost in what he was about to say. Seeing the sudden shift in his demeanor, Dallas prepared herself for the worst.
“There are… two parts to Hell,” Sam began, “Three if you count the part that you’ve seen and are currently standing in. One part is… well, it’s my creation. The other is something I don’t necessarily enjoy doing–most of the time–but that’s necessary.”
“And what part is this then,” Dallas asked, suddenly very, very intrigued. She had not seen Hell, the real Hell, at all since she’d been here. And Sam was offering to show it to her as long as she helped him with a little task. He wanted her trust. She couldn’t believe her luck.
“A holding space of sorts. Neutral ground,” Sam replied.
“So that’s why it's so boring,” Dallas teased.
The twinkle returned to Sam’s eyes, and Dallas felt annoyance rising. Every insult she threw at him he seemed to enjoy, in some sick and twisted way. She’d have to find where and how to hit harder because she did not enjoy lifting his mood.
“It’s that way intentionally. But before I can show you the rest, I just–” Sam struggled with his words, his confidence faltering, as if he were afraid of what Dallas would think, “I think you will trust what I show you more if we do this first.”
“What’s the job?”
Sam’s shoulders lowered and his gaze turned distant again. “Bela Talbot.”
Dallas felt the bite of anxiety immediately but hid her reaction, quickly reminding herself that while she had stolen the angel blade from Bela, the woman had not been present when Dallas had been there. Bela would not recognize her. “You know where she is?”
“I believe with a fair amount of confidence that I do. Ever since Dean told me what happened, I’ve had a team getting information.”
“What’s Bela so important for? You want whatever was stolen from her?” Dallas tested.
“Bela is a friend.”
Dallas’ brows rose in surprise as she laughed and didn’t try to hide it. “How?”
“Ouch,” Sam pretended to be hurt, holding his hand over his heart. Some of the distance disappeared, replaced again by playfulness.
Dallas froze and recoiled inwardly from the gesture of alliance, of… friendship that Sam was inviting her to return. Instead, she did not allow emotion to change her features. “How do you know her then?”
Sam dropped his hand and became thoughtful once again. “That’s her story to tell. But we need to find her first.”
“Will it be just us? Or is your pet coming along too?”
Sam smirked. “Ruby has other business, she’s following up on the werewolf thing. It will be just us. Where we’re going, my presence alone will be enough to tip off Bela’s captors. Which is another reason I need you.”
“So, when do we go?”
“As soon as you’re ready. We can go tomorrow morning if you need more time after… yesterday.”
There he was—tiptoeing around her feelings again. She didn’t need his concern—real or fake. “I’m ready. What do we need?”
Sam nodded. “Better weapons. Come with me.” He waved a hand to follow as he walked past Dallas.
She followed Sam out of the throne room. They walked, side by side, through the quiet and dimly lit halls, towards his bedroom. Dallas wondered as they walked, that if this was not the true Hell, if the room she’d seen the other night was truly where Sam slept and lived. Upon going inside, she noticed that the bedroom was unusually bare. Her last visit hadn’t allowed her to pay attention to the details, and now she wondered why there was nothing in the room except for furniture.
Sam brought her attention to a slender box sitting atop his mattress. He opened the black, wooden container, and Dallas held her breath. It was an angel blade, similar to the one she had stolen, but simpler.
“Angels?” she whispered.
“You know what this is then.”
“Dean’s friend, Castiel, is he—“
“No,” Sam said quickly. “He’s not a part of this. Angels are… complicated. They don’t all agree on what to do and how to do it.”
Dallas nodded. “He and Dean ran into an angel when they went to Bela’s.”
“Right. I’ve had my people watching them, but it’s not easy to get close enough to get much information, but I think they wanted the archangel blade for safekeeping, to keep it away from our side.”
Your side, Dallas mentally corrected Sam. “And what would you do with an archangel blade?”
“Nothing,” Sam stated, “But they believe I would use it to take down Michael, the archangel, to win against them during the apocalypse.”
Dallas thought about what Sam said before responding. If Sam wasn’t trying to get the upper hand over the angels, and the angels were trying to stop Sam from winning a fight he wasn’t participating in... “So, you're both on the same team but only one of you realizes it?”
“The angels are playing their own game,” Sam stated with aggression behind his tone.
Dallas stared at the silver blade lying in the dark, velvet lining, wondering where it had come from. “The angels play dirty, who would’ve thought.”
“You don’t seem all that surprised.”
She looked back at Sam. “I don’t care much for the holier-than-thou type. Just because you’re supposed to be good, doesn’t mean you are.”
That damn twinkle returned to Sam’s eyes as he responded, “And those that are supposed to be evil, aren’t always evil.”
Dallas ignored that frustratingly manipulative comment. “So, does any of this have to do with the things you haven’t explained to me yet?” she asked, remembering what Sam had promised before fighting with the Hell Hounds.
“Yes, and I wish we had time to sit down again and talk, but I think everything will make better sense after I show you around. Can you trust me until then?”
“Bela needs help, and that’s good enough for me.” Trust was not, and would not ever be, something she felt with Sam.
As a sign of agreement, Sam took the weapon from the box and held the angel blade out to Dallas. She looked up to meet his gaze, and as her eyes met his, her breath quickened. She was reminded that he was a good few inches taller than her—she was more uncomfortably conscious of the height difference than she’d been after the Hell Hounds. He stood close, only a foot or so away, something buzzing in the space between them. The green and gold of his eyes, which she had also not truly noticed until now, seemed to almost glow with anticipation. But that was the only sign that Sam was feeling anything, unlike Dallas, in this moment. There was no hint of fear as he held out a weapon for her, nor did he seem to be studying her as she was studying him. He was, simply, handing a tool to a fellow hunter.
She took it, wrapping her hand around the cool metal, careful again not to touch Sam’s skin. Grateful for the distraction, she then took a moment to feel the weight and balance of the blade in her hands. She twirled it a couple times in her left hand, then her right, then drew her arm backwards to stab the air beside Sam with a quick, strong upward thrust. It was lighter than the archangel blade but heavier than the one Sam had let her use with the Hell Hounds, which she sadly had returned. She had liked the way that one felt in her hands, but this one felt good enough.
“I like it. Any chance I can keep it when we’re done?” Dallas looked up to find Sam watching her closely and intently, his hazel eyes alight with amusement.
“When you took care of Lilith’s demons the other night, I have to say I was impressed. I can’t wait to see what you do with a couple of holier-than-thou angels.”
Sam’s low voice felt dangerously like silk against her ears. She pushed back against the sudden, sickening reaction that her mind and body were having. Sam was getting under skin in more ways than one. Dallas dropped her arms at her sides and swallowed hard. “So, was that a yes or a no?” she asked, avoiding Sam’s attention and straining to keep her voice level.
“Let’s see if you still like using it after we’re done. If you still like it that much, you can keep it.”
Dallas nodded, knowing she would need a good blade to protect herself against both angels and demons alike as she continued living in Hell. She could admit that she was surprised that Sam agreed to let her keep the blade, but she was certain that the only reason he was giving her a weapon capable of killing most other supernatural beings was that both she and him knew this blade would not be able to kill him.
“I have one more question before we go–” Dallas said, thinking of what happened outside the gas station last night. She would need to know how closely she was being watched. “Are you having demons following me? There was a strange man before I got to the hospital. He made all my spidey senses tingle, but I didn’t stop to ask questions.”
Sam looked puzzled, but said, “No. Aside from Ruby, I have not, and will not, send my demons to spy on you.”
Dallas remained uncomfortable underneath Sam’s intense gaze, her body beginning to have that same excited, revolting reaction again. But even as she fought against it, there was something in the way he spoke that made her want to believe him.
The Boyking-Chapter 9
Masterpost and series summary here.
Word Count: 2.3k
Chapter Warnings: Just a bit of fighting, nothing too crazy ;)
A/N: Thank you to @impala-dreamer for being my beta. You’re the best!
The meeting in the charting room had been brief. Ruby hadn’t put up a fight when Sam announced that Dallas was tagging along, but Dallas could see the protest in her fiery eyes. Dallas was thankful for the presence of the other demons that held Ruby’s obstinance at bay, but she still felt a mix of unease and excitement for the task ahead. It involved some creature of Hell. Ruby wanted to move quickly, so Dallas had little time to hear the details.
She was still excited to do something, anything. She had an itch for some action that Hell had not been able to scratch so far. But having Sam and Ruby as her backup… well, that was less than ideal.
The group was already topside when Dallas’ mind began to conjure up bad scenarios. She began to wonder if this would be an easy way for them to get rid of her without too many questions asked. A fragile human fighting amongst demons and the king of hell, she died too quickly for them to do anything, is what she imagined them saying to Dean after they returned without her. She felt sick to her stomach and maybe she was pale too, because Sam glanced back at her as they were approaching the target building, and concern immediately lit up his eyes.
“You ok?” he asked.
Dallas quickly gathered herself. “Of course,” she replied, staring straight ahead.
It was evening. The sun had just set, so it wasn’t quite dark out yet, but it would be soon. With the remaining light, Dallas could see the building up ahead, just across the street. A multi-level office building that could use some renovations. They were situated in a quiet part of… some town. Dallas hadn’t asked where, though now she wished she had. But there didn’t seem to be any on-lookers. This part of the town seemed to be the old business district, with plenty of for sale and abandoned buildings around.
The remaining daylight also allowed Dallas to see when Ruby and the other five demons smoked out and flew towards the building in their vaporous forms. Sam and Dallas remained behind, approaching on foot.
Sam stopped on the other side of the street behind an overgrown tree whose roots had lifted the concrete underneath and whose branches had grown long and wide. He looked at Dallas with stern eyes.
“Stay close to me. Do not go off alone.”
“Do you mind telling me exactly what we’re up against?” Dallas asked, annoyed and worried. Had Sam brought her along on this dangerous mission to have her killed?
“A small faction of Lilth’s followers who would gladly kill you while opening this seal.”
Sounds promising, she thought. “I keep hearing this ‘Lilith’s’ name. Who is she?” she asked out loud.
Sam furrowed his brow, suddenly realizing something.
“I’ve neglected to tell you some things,” he said, concern laced through his words, “But that will have to wait until after we’re done here. It shouldn‘t take long, but regardless, it’s still dangerous. They somehow stole three of my hellhounds and are going to use the blood in a ritual.”
Dallas’ mouth went dry. “Hellhounds?” She had heard them talk about “beasts” back in Hell, but there had been no name mentioned.
“Again, another time. I’m sorry for not explaining more. But we need to go now. Here, take this.” Sam pulled a slim, silver blade with ornate markings on the hilt and presented it to Dallas. “It will kill a Hellhound if needed. Normally you can’t see them, but I have the power to make them visible. But all humans will be able to see them so it's imperative that we keep them in the building. I have a feeling they will be under Lilith’s command. But you only need to worry about the demons. I’ve got the hounds. Think you can handle that?”
She took the blade, scoffing in return. “Obviously.”
“OK, the hellhounds are large. They’re loud. But stay close to me and you’ll be ok.”
Dallas held back the urge to roll her eyes. “This ain't my first rodeo.”
Sam gave a pained smile. “We’re out of time. Let’s go.”
Sam walked with a quick pace across the street. Dallas followed right behind him, sticking close-by like he said, for now. She’d assess how dangerous the situation was once she got inside, and what she would do from there.
Inside the dusty building, Sam found the staircase and they started climbing flights. A cloud of black smoke appeared on the third floor landing and a demon gradually formed. It was one of Sam’s. “Sixth floor,” he said, and then smoked out again.
“Why aren’t you teleporting us?” Dallas said as they continued to climb.
“You would be too queasy to fight. It takes some getting used to for a human.”
For a human. The poor, weak human was making them climb the stairs. Dallas was annoyed but shook it off.
Once they reached the sixth floor, Sam carefully opened the door into a dark hallway. He looked both ways before signaling for Dallas to follow him through. Dallas gripped her blade tightly, knuckles white, eager for something to jump out so she could have some fun.
But all was quiet for a time. She only heard their own soft footsteps, and the crunch of dirt and dust on the broken laminate flooring. A piece of paper crinkled as Sam took a step ahead of her.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood and she stopped, turning around. Sam said nothing, but she felt him move, standing very close behind her.
Dallas squinted, straining to see through the darkness of the hallway. Something had tipped her senses off, she just wasn’t sure yet.
She got her answer when Sam suddenly grunted behind her. She whipped around. It all happened quickly, she barely registered it. A demon had appeared–one of Lilith’s for sure–attempting to catch the king of hell off guard. It had stuck a blade into Sam’s shoulder from behind him. But Sam spun around fast–too fast–pinning this demon against the wall and plunging his own blade into the demon’s heart. Lights flickered in the demon’s eyes before going out. Sam let the body go and slump to the ground.
Dallas watched wide-eyed as Sam took the other blade out of his shoulder without so much as a wince. There was some blood, a small stain where the blade had been, but it didn’t seem to bother Sam. He studied the blade for a moment before sheathing it inside his jacket.
“Let’s go,” he said, and continued walking.
Lots of thoughts were bubbling in Dallas’ mind. Sam was quick and powerful. If she had turned around a second later, she would’ve missed his response altogether. But he did bleed. She swallowed hard, thinking about how his power was impressive and terrifying already, and how inconsequential the bleeding had been. She only hoped the archangel blade would do more damage—when she could get her hands on it again.
They hadn't walked much further when another cloud of smoke appeared, this time Ruby was the one who took shape.
“We found the room they’re in.” She stopped, eyeing his shoulder. She had a puzzled look on her face. “You’re bleeding?”
Was it unusual for Sam to bleed?
“It’s nothing, let’s go,” he replied. Sam turned around once last time, focus and worry contained in his eyes, as he repeated his command for Dallas to stay close.
At the door, Sam and Ruby silently communicated. Looking at each other, he nodded, and Ruby broke open the door with her shoulder.
Dallas stayed behind Sam as they hurried into the room.
As Sam and Ruby stopped moving, Dallas stopped and looked around. Sam’s other demons had smoked in through the walls at the same time, quickly turning into solid beings. But what held Dallas’ attention was the three, large creatures chained to the floor in the center of the room. Dallas now understood Sam’s solemn warnings before. Asleep, the creatures heaved giant breaths. Collars with spikes would warn anyone not to get too close— if they could see the creatures. Laying on the floor, Dallas knew they were at least twice her size lengthwise. She shook at the thought of how tall they would be once they stood.
Dallas had little time to contemplate this, however, because in the second that it took them to enter the room and the other demons to smoke in, Lilith’s demons had begun to attack. There were only four in the room. Sam’s demons easily kept the opposing side at bay while Sam quickly moved towards the sleeping dogs. Dallas stayed a good length behind, alternating her attention between the beasts and the fighting demons.
“Ruby, destroy the altar!” Sam yelled.
Ruby nodded, but as she turned around, two more demons appeared in front of her, preventing her from making it to the makeshift altar that had been constructed on an abandoned, wooden desk. Dallas could see it easily, and with everyone else busy, she took the initiative to take care of the job herself. King of hell or not, Dallas would help to stop a demon’s plans.
She ran towards the old desk, but just as had happened to Ruby, a demon appeared in front of her.
Dallas skid to a stop, twirled the blade in her hand, and smiled at the demon as she lifted the small sword and lunged forward. The demon dodged the attack, quickly circling back, taking a swing at Dallas. She turned just in time, lifting her arm to block the demon’s blade. She went to plunge her own into the demon’s open chest, but something hit her legs, knocking her off her feet. She hit the ground with a thud.
Quickly opening her eyes, she noticed the other demon that had appeared. She jumped up. Now facing the opposite way, she could see how the others were faring in their fight. Sam’s demons were intact, Ruby was fighting, Sam was fighting, and Lilith’s demons continued to appear.
She turned her attention back to the two demons in front of her. She lifted her hand to swing, then faked them out by running left towards the altar. All she had to do was knock the things off and the demons’ plan would be over. But she wasn’t quick enough. One of the demons grabbed the back of her shirt, pulling her against him into a bear hug.
She swung her leg behind his, using all her weight and strength to knock his feet out from under him, both of them falling to the ground. The demon's body softened Dallas’ landing. She sat up, turned, and stabbed her blade into the demon’s heart.
As she was on the ground, the other demon lunged forward. She rolled, dodging the attack and standing quickly to her feet.
Looking up, she could see how close she was to the altar. Just a couple more feet to the desk, she could get there if the demons would stop spawning.
A harrowing, deep growl made both Dallas and the demon pause. She turned towards the center of the room to see the creatures–the Hellhounds–awakening. One had already stood and its height alone made Dallas’ blood go cold. It bared its teeth, the length of which could easily go through anyone’s chest.
It attempted to move but was stopped by the chains attached to its collar. The metal seemed thin and frail compared to the size and strength of the beast, but for some reason it was holding the creature back. It growled once more, angry at its captivity. It tried a little harder to pull at the chains, but with no luck.
Dallas was going to turn back and face her demon since the creatures would be kept at bay, but a small movement towards the beast made her pause again. One of Lilth’s demons held a hatchet in the air. Dallas looked for Sam but his back was turned, and she watched in horror as the demon brought the hatchet down, breaking the chain with a chilling snap.
Sam heard the chain break. He quickly looked around, eyes first landing on the broken leash. Then his eyes found Dallas and went wide with fear.
She ignored him. Dallas had no choice but to take care of the demon in front of her and then get the hell out of dodge. She heard the growl of the best, and the frenzied shouts of Sam and his demons as she lunged at the one in front of her again.
Dallas heard screams from behind her and another thunderous growl followed by the sound of bodies hitting the floor. She dared not look behind her. But the demon she was fighting was distracted enough to let her guard down, which was more than enough time for Dallas to attack successfully. She lunged forward, shoving the demon against the nearby wall. The demon swiped at Dallas, giving her a cut on her arm. Dallas swiped back, landing a blow into the demon’s chest.
Dallas pulled her knife out and beelined for the desk. She began knocking off the books, random parchments, and other items, making sure the bowl of suspicious liquid was dumped and all candles blown out.
When she was done, she looked up. Sam was yelling something at Ruby. The Hellhound was being held at bay by Sam, somehow. It didn’t make sense. Ruby looked around the room, her eyes landing on Dallas. Sam turned in her direction, too.
“Get out!” he yelled as the beast thrashed, wanting so badly to break free from whatever hold Sam had on it. Sam stood, hand outstretched, muscles in his back and arms straining.
Ruby ran towards Dallas, the two demons that were left following close behind. She grabbed Dallas’ arm, dragging her to the door. Dallas kept her eyes on the center of the room, watching as the beast lunged at Sam. And then the door slammed shut as Ruby pulled her down the dark hall.
The Boyking-Chapter 10
Masterpost and series summary here.
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: blood, injuries
A/N: Thank you again to @impala-dreamer for being my faithful beta!
Dallas wasn’t worried about Sam. Worried wasn’t the right word. She didn’t understand what happened, how he could be left alone with three of those creatures.
The image of the hounds’ sharp, pointed fangs, the sound of their vicious snarls, burned in her mind.
If they finished him off, well, it would be an unsatisfying, gruesome end, but an end nonetheless.
Dallas waited across the street behind the same tree from before. Ruby and the other demons were gone. Ruby tried to take Dallas back to Hell, but she refused. If Sam were dead, Dallas was not going to get stuck in Hell with Ruby in charge. Ruby had seemed annoyed that Dallas refused to go, and had mumbled something about it not being her fault if Sam were upset, and then they left. Dallas stayed, needing to know what would happen next.
Alone, waiting, she began to think about what it would mean for Sam to be dead. Who would rule Hell next? Would the apocalypse still happen? Was Sam the only one strong enough to stop this “Lilith”?
She shook the pointless questions out of her head. Sam was a hunter turned dark-side, a relentless killer who enjoyed punishing those in Hell, no longer a human, he deserved—
He was walking out the front door of the building.
Dallas squinted in the darkness through the tree limbs. He was limping out the front door. He stopped, putting his hand on the wall for support, his other arm hugging his side.
Dallas moved from behind the trunk, taking a few steps to the edge of the sidewalk. When he didn’t notice, she moved closer.
Dallas was halfway across the street when Sam looked up and then suddenly stood straight.
Dallas froze. She still had the knife he’d given her, Sam was in a weakened state but–would it work? And if it didn’t, would he kill her on the spot for attacking him?
She needed to be sure. There was no room for error and frankly, she wasn’t prepared. All those questions she had just a moment ago needed answering. She could do nothing–yet.
“What are you still doing here?” Sam growled. “Didn’t Ruby tell you to go with her?”
Dallas continued walking towards him, seeing more blood stains on his gray t-shirt, on his tan canvas jacket, and through the tears in his black pants–unusually casual clothes for such a renowned being.
As she got closer she stated, “You look like shit.”
“You should’ve gone with them. And I’m fine,” Sam said through gritted teeth that showed he was in pain and very much not fine.
As Dallas stepped onto the sidewalk and approached Sam, she could see the damage those creatures had done. Sam’s pants were ripped open on one thigh and on the other calf, blood leaking from the claw marks. He had some sort of gash in his side that he was poorly attempting to hide and that she could partially see through the tear in his shirt. There were probably other injuries she couldn’t see.
She could leave him here. Maybe someone or something else would take care of him.
Guilt panged in her chest at the thought. Sam had technically saved her life. And she needed to get close enough to him for him to trust her so that her plan had more chance of success.
Dammit, she muttered under her breath.
“What’s that?” he asked, now breathy and shaky.
“Nothing. Let’s get you out of here.” Dallas offered her arm for Sam to use.
He stared at her, expression suspicious, surprised even.
“Are we going to go or not?” Dallas urged.
“You’re hurt,” he pointed out.
Dallas remembered the demon grazing her arm. She looked down. There was blood and a minor cut that could be covered with a couple of cartoon bandages. She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, you’re not. Let’s go.”
Sam grunted with reluctant acceptance, pushing himself off the building and putting his arm around Dallas’ shoulder. Dallas tensed at the contact, remembering that strange spark, whatever it was, the first time they met. This time, there was nothing as his heavy arm draped across her shoulders. She could feel his body heat all along the side of her, an odd sensation as she had expected his touch to be cold.
Dallas was just tall enough to support Sam, but his weight quickly bore down on Dallas’ already tired muscles. He also smelled of blood, dog, and sweat. He smelled very human.
She silently wondered to herself why she was allowing this to happen.
“Why isn’t Ruby here to carry you back to safety?” Dallas grunted as she shifted the weight of his arm on her shoulders and began to walk.
“She was following orders. As you should’ve. And I could’ve made it back on my own.”
“Yeah, I don’t follow orders. And I don’t like Ruby.”
Sam huffed. “Right, of course,” he said sarcastically.
“You know, I could leave your ass here,” Dallas snapped back.
“Then why aren’t you?”
Dallas scoffed. “Because I’m not like you. I wouldn’t leave someone behind.”
Sam abruptly stopped walking, causing Dallas to stumble. His arm fell off her shoulder.
“What the hell?” she said.
“It’s fine. I can make it back on my own.”
“What is your deal?” Dallas asked, angry and surprised.
“I’m sparing you the necessity of helping someone you hate so much.”
Dallas stammered. Had he found her out so quickly? “What? I don’t-”
“I see the way you look at me. I understand when you’re insulting me. No one’s keeping you here. So you can go. You can help Dean on your own and you won’t have to interact with me.”
Sam sounded angry but when Dallas looked at his face, she saw something else. Sadness. Rejection. More unwanted guilt caused an unusual pain in her chest, making her wonder if she was being too harsh.
No. She had to remember her mission. She had to remember who was under this mask she was now seeing. Able to bleed or not, stopping the apocalypse or not, Sam Winchester was still a very dangerous threat. The taste of his power she had witnessed earlier tonight proved that to be true. She could relax the outward expression of her disgust towards him, but no, she was not being too soft. She just needed to be strategic.
“Look, I’m- sorry,” she struggled to say. “Let’s get you back to Hell so someone can patch you up. I’ll shut up.”
Sam continued to stand there, jaw clenched, a steely look falling over his features.
“I mean it,” she added. “I’m- I’m just on edge.” Saying those apologetic words truly made her want to vomit.
“Fine,” Sam agreed, begrudgingly putting his arm back onto Dallas’ shoulder. “You can leave once I’m back.”
Dallas did not respond, and they continued down the street.
“Go in there.” Sam pointed to another abandoned building, one that was a shell of cinder block decorated with graffiti. “We need to be out of sight.”
The inside was dark now that the sun had set fully and the night sky was moonless. Faint, orange light from a streetlight barely shone through the open doorway they came in from. The pair moved slowly, careful not to trip on any debris that might be on the floor. They made it a few paces inside when Sam stopped and took his arm off of Dallas.
“I’m going to teleport us back to Hell,” he said.
Dallas raised a brow. “You have enough juice for that?”
Never mind him saying it would make her nauseous. She was more worried about being ripped in two by botched demon magic.
“I have enough,” is all he said. Then he waited. Dallas did not reply. “I can go by myself. Like I said, you can stay here.” He paused again, then tentatively added, “Or I can have someone get you.”
Dallas considered her options. She did not trust any demons that would transport her, at least not without Dean. She didn’t trust Sam either. She could also not afford to be stranded here without a cell phone, without any way of knowing when someone would be there to take her back to Hell or when another group of Lilith’s demons would be back to assess their failure.
Dallas crossed her arms. “If I lose an arm or a leg, I will hurt you.” And she meant it, glaring at Sam to convey her seriousness.
Sam laughed. Dallas couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness to see if he was amused or maybe mocking her. Then Sam was suddenly close and she couldn’t think. She felt him near at her side, heard his breath, and a feeling like terror ran through her body.
“This time I’ll have to put my arm around you. It will be quick,” he said.
“Ok.” Dallas’ voice came out weaker than she expected.
It was over before she realized it would begin. He placed his arm around her shoulders and everything turned a smoky black around her. She felt a tight squeeze all over her body and movement like being on waves. Then her feet were on solid ground again.
She opened her eyes, and the world spun beneath her and around her. She stuck her arms out to balance herself but found empty space. She took a step forward to find something, anything, and stumbled. She then felt a hand—Sam’s hand—steadying her by her shoulder.
She felt like she was going to vomit. She was going to vomit.
She quickly turned, covering her mouth.
“The bathroom is straight ahead,” Sam said.
She took off, hoping she wouldn’t fall. Somehow, by a miracle, she made it through a doorway and saw the toilet through the swimming, spinning room.
She emptied the contents of her stomach out, which was thankfully little as she hadn’t eaten in hours, and then she dropped to the floor, her arm resting on the side of the toilet. She waited until the world stopped spinning to look up again.
Sam stood in the doorway, still clutching his side, watching her.
Dallas groaned. She looked away, not meeting his fake concerned gaze as she stood. Her knees still shook.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Sam said, “Dean was the same the first time.”
Dallas found the sink, turning on the water. She rinsed her mouth a few times until the taste of stomach acid was faint.
When she turned around again, Sam was no longer at the door. She walked out of the bathroom into a bedroom, this one much larger than her own, but decorated in a similar fashion. The walls were made of black stone, the wood of the furniture–the bed, dresser, and desk–were a dark, not quite black wood. The fireplace opposite the enormous bed was black marble. The light in the room came from several torches on the walls placed inside iron sconces.
Sam sat atop his dark, forest green bedding, on the edge of the bed, waiting. He looked paler than before, injured, bleeding, in front of a stranger.
“Who should I get?” Dallas asked.
“Don’t,” Sam said, “Don’t get anyone.”
Dallas raised a brow. “You don’t want anyone to know you’re hurt.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m trusting you to keep that to yourself.”
“What about Ruby?”
“I will tell her.”
“I can get her to fix you up-”
“No.” Sam tensed. “She’s busy, you’ll have to do it.”
Dallas sighed. “Ok, but I’m not exactly an expert. Don’t hold it against me if something goes wrong.”
“Everything you need is in the cabinet. In the bathroom.” Sam paused in between his words, no doubt from the pain. “And grab the small, green bottle, too. Please,” he added.
Dallas did as Sam instructed, finding the cabinet in question on the wall next to his marble sink. The cabinet's contents were surprisingly well-stocked with typical bathroom items. The attention to detail in keeping up with Sam’s act was impressive, Dallas had to admit.
The green bottle in question was easy enough to spot out against the other items Dallas could have picked out in a drug store. It was small and made of deep emerald green glass. A dark liquid sloshed around inside as she picked it up. She grabbed a couple towels, dampening one at the sink.
When she returned to the room, Sam remained in the same position. She walked over, placing the supplies onto the bedside table.
She picked up the damp towel and took in a deep, steadying breath. “I have to, uh, clean these up first.”
Sam removed his arm from his side. Dallas sucked in a breath. The gash was… considerable. If anyone else, any human, had received this injury, they would not have been walking. Sam winced when the damp towel made contact with the wound. Dallas was careful to stay on the outer edges, cleaning up the blood so that she could see where the wound truly ended and began. She was very careful not to touch any other part of him, steadying herself with one hand on the bed. She held her breath while she worked, fear and vulnerability coursing through her veins.
If Sam had any intentions of harming Dallas, he made no discernable movements to do so while she cleaned the wounds the best she could without making him take off any clothes.
She would not, under any circumstances, ever put herself in that position.
When she finished, she laid the towel aside, wondering how she was going to bandage anything.
Sam spoke again as if he had read her mind. “Take that bottle and put some of the liquid on my wounds.”
Dallas didn’t ask any questions about what the contents were, wanting to get this over with. She picked up the glass bottle and pulled out the stopper. She took the other towel and poured on some of the contents before dabbing it on his wounds.
He winced harder than before, sucking in a breath as if straight alcohol were touching his cuts. Either he truly was in a world of pain or he was a phenomenal actor.
As Dallas was nearing the end of applying the potion on Sam’s leg, she had to stop. Her eyes went wide. The wounds–they began shrinking. She couldn’t hold back her surprise and audibly gasped as she looked back at the gash that had covered his side. It looked remarkably better.
“That elixir quickens my healing abilities. I haven’t had to use it in a long time.”
Dallas had many questions about what Sam had just said but asked none of them.
The opening of Sam’s bedroom door saved her from having to respond at all.
“What is she doing here?” an angry, impatient voice barked.
Dallas did not need to turn around to know who had burst through the door.
Sam sighed. “Ruby, calm down–”
“No,” she said, more hate than usual in her tone, “No. Get her out.”
Dallas stayed calm. She sat the bottle and the towel back down on the table. She turned around to face Ruby who was more angry than Dallas had ever seen her.
“I was just leaving,” Dallas said coolly.
She said nothing else as she walked past Ruby, through the door, shutting it completely behind her. She did not wait outside to try and hear what would be said next.
She made it to her room before the weight of what just occurred hit her.
