We Were All Human Once

And just because I want you dead, doesn't mean that I can't feel anything at all.

[rory-wanders-blog]

Drop a Coin For Humanity || Rory & Will

[rory-wanders-blog]

She nodded when he talked about the hunters. “That’s reasonable,” she murmured. She flipped through the book so more, hungrily taking in the words on the page. “Yeah - I…thank you, Will. These are amazing.” Harness the power of the earth within yourself to raise you to a higher level. Control your enemies. 

She snorted. “I’m not a fountain of endless patience. I can give him time. But I’m not going to wait around forever.” She turned to the next page, examining one of the diagram’s carefully. “But yeah, thank you, I’ll be sure to let you know what comes out of them.”

She closed the book she was reading, regretfully. “Thank you, Will. I…if you do see Sam, tell him I was looking for him, alright?” She asked. She didn’t want Sam to think she was waiting around like some damsel in distress, and she hated for that message to come out sounding like she was, but she also wanted Sam to know that she’d been around, just in case.

She stood up, and picked up the books, tucking them under her arm. “Thanks for the books, and the tea. I’ll see you around, I guess?” She asked, tilting her head towards him, pausing on her way to the door.

[william-elliott]

Hearing Rory repeatedly thank him for the books had him beaming. It was an almost childish look on his host's face, but he was glad that Roar had the books in her hands. It was like he kept pushing everything forward in little to no time at all. The ships were sailing smoothly and the dogs weren't barking up a storm. The demon flashed a couple thumbs up and wondered what would come out of the new power Rory would be amassing- if she could even use the books in the first place. 

"And I wouldn't wait either, but if he just wanted to fuck... then I'd be willing to wait a little while. I don't think relationships are my things, ya' know?" Laughing briefly, Will walked his cup over to the counter with his usual lethargic pace. He wondered how he looked outside of his body. Did the steps look mechanical or maybe forced? Or did everything just seem natural? It was something he'd need to ask a stranger, because Sam surely wouldn't answer honestly, and Rory would just reassure him. 

"But sure, Roar- when and if I see the little shit again, I'll let him know you're on the prowl." With a wink, the demon walked over to the door that Rory was approaching. Their little meeting had come to an end, and he prayed to Lucifer that she didn't ask on how to remove demons. It was his most feared lesson to do. 

Rory was clearly a bit temperamental, and if anything, unstable. She could use the information in a fit of anger and he'd be sent back to Hell without this lovely host. His plans would be thwarted, but for now, he was safe. Nothing to worry about. "Anytime, Roar. And I'm sure we'll see each other soon." With a smile, Will led Rory out of the office and wondered how he'd finish the day. It didn't take long before thinking of Sammy. He'd need to pay him a visit. 

[rory-wanders-blog]

Drop a Coin For Humanity || Rory & Will

[rory-wanders-blog]

Rory blinked as his words registered, tilting her head curiously, almost kitten-like. “Demands? What demands?” She asked, her voice only questioning, not hostile or accusing. She played with the bottom of her shorts, tugging on the ripped threads absently, her mind still on Sam.

In her distraction she didn’t notice will had moved until he had drawn her into a hug. She stiffened, in surprise, before relaxing into his embrace, sighing against his shoulder and nodding. It was weird, she didn’t think he was the type to be touchy at all, but it wasn’t bad or anything. His fingers were relaxing on her arms, and she felt calmer. 

"That’s true, I guess. I’m just…paranoid, I suppose. You haven’t left at least." It was nice, hugging him like this. It was nice having someone to trust like that, and it was nice being hugged in a comforting way. Her mother didn’t hug her anymore, and no one else ever did either.

She nodded again, face still pressed against his shoulder. “Yeah…I can’t pretend like I actually know anything. He probably has something going on. I just - I was expecting a text or something at the very least. Even assholes text.” She let out a quiet, irritated noise. She thought their night had been fun and she didn’t understand why he wouldn’t even bother letting her know that he couldn’t come. She thought they’d had a connection but she’d clearly misread the situation.

She released Will when he drew back, and wrapped her arms around herself instead, watching him move around his office. Was there something wrong with her? Maybe she had some sort of superpower. The ability to repel everyone in her life with exceptional accuracy. Maybe people were allergic to her? Was that a thing? She shrugged at Will’s words. “Maybe,” she murmured, not really believing the sentiment.

She laughed at Will’s words, taking the books that he dropped into her lap. “Thank you,” she said, genuinely, a smile spreading across her face as she flipped one of the books opened, eagerly reading the table of contents, before flipping to the first page. “This is incredible. Where’d you get these?”

[william-elliott]

Will was nearly hesitant to answer, but considering their new friendship, he couldn't think to harm it over something so trivial as this. "I wanted to know who the hunters were in town. Ya' know, make sure that I know to look out for and prevent any kinda knife in my host's chest." 

Under his embrace, Rory stiffened, but almost immediately relaxed under his touch. The demon was glad she didn't flinch away, and show any kind of displeasure because he was honestly trying to be friendly. It wasn't his best quality, but he was working on it. Instead of screaming at Sam, he tried to form kind of peace between them, and holding Rory was the other example of it all. 

"Those books were a bit hard to find, but with a staff full of demons, it wasn't that hard in the end. I can't recall where they found them, but let's just be glad that you have them now, yeah?" The monster smiled down at Rory, and nudged her shoulder with his elbow. 

"Anyway, don't get too distraught on all of it. Sam's probably just a bit stuck in his ways." Feet paced around the desk and Will fell back into his chair unceremoniously. "He's used to being hidden, lying, and not getting close to people." Picking up his mug, Will drained the rest of it contents before silently putting the ugly ceramic back on the desk. "Just give the little asshole some time if you're determined to get on that."

Letting his head loll back into the chair, Will let his eyes lazily look around the room. Everything was looking up again. Sam was his toy, and Rory was trusting him. Isaac wasn't causing trouble, and Allison would soon find herself facing the wrath of karma. Nothing could really go wrong at this point. 

If Rory did see the scar on Sam's chest, Will would just tell her as it is. She'd probably understand, and if not, he'd make it up to her. More spell books, more lessons, or maybe some herbs and ingredients. The monster was in the clear, and with that in mind, he felt perfectly at ease. "I hope those books work out for you- they're supposed to be the real deal. I'm not really sure what they can teach you, but if you have any questions, I'd be happy to help if I can." 

[rory-wanders-blog]

Drop a Coin For Humanity || Rory & Will

[rory-wanders-blog]

She smirked at him. “Yeah that’s what I though too. I know I looked hot. But like I said, he missed out on that so his loss. I can have whoever I want to screw him.”

She giggled at his words. “You’re sweet. Don’t ruin his pretty face if you do slap him around. He looks like he was sculpted by god or something.”

She took a deep sip of her tea, fingers tightening around the mug at his request. “Well, you said so yourself…those muscles. I would do disgustingly filthy things to that body if I was given half the chance.” She probably should’ve felt awkward telling these things to him, but she was so comfortable with him now that she couldn’t stop.

"And he’s just….he’s sweet you know? When he’s not doing his stupid hot and cold thing where he’s cold and distant and clearly lying and then warm and friendly and absolutely honest the next. I don’t know what to expect ever with him."

She frowned pushing her now empty mug aside. “It’s just frustrating. I…I like being around him? He makes me happy but - I don’t like feelings. They’re useless. They make you weak and vulnerable and that’s exactly what’s happening and I don’t - trusting people never gets you anywhere good. They always leave.”

She bit her lip hard enough to break the skin. “Everyone always leaves,” she whispered, looking down. She hated it. Hated being soft and open and emotional. She shook her head , taking in a deep breath and straightening her spine. “So I’m not going to let it go too far. This just proves I was right. I’m not going to fall for it.”

[william-elliott]

"Now that you mention it, he is temperamental. Like, one second he'd be complying with my demands, and the next, he's being a total douche." The demon shook his head at the memories, and let his hands raise just to let them fall back into his lap. Will was sure Sam would always turn from hot to cold, at least internally, but with their recent encounters, the demon was nearly convinced that Sam would behave. They made a deal. A sense of peace should fall between them, and the hostility should die off.

Bringing his attention back to Rory. She actually liked him. Rory really wanted to be closer with Sam, but unfortunately, the little hunter was being the little shit he's known to be. With that thought, an epiphany struck him. Will could play matchmaker. He'd just tell Sam to be straight with her, and Rory wouldn't be so upset. It was the perfect thing to do for a... a friend.

Standing up, Will walked behind Rory's chair. Arms fell to give her a half hug that was supposed to let her know everything was going to be okay. No more emotional pain. No more shifting attitudes from the hunter, and an eternal friendship between a demon and a human. "Well, everyone so far has left- you can't say that for the people to come." Thumbs rubbed along her arms and his head nuzzled against her neck. 

"I dunno, Roar." The demon started, thinking of all the things that could go wrong with that potential relationship. Sammy was, and still is a hunter. They lie, and some move around with the seasons. One minute they're here, and the next they've vanished quicker than one could snuff a candle. "Maybe he has a lot on his plate?" He offered, with a tone that despite containing question, it left no room for her to doubt it. It was the kind of voice a mother made when explaining something to a child that didn't fully grasp a concept, minus the condescending nature of it. Sam did have a lot on his plate, but Rory didn't know that. 

"I'm not defending him, oh god no, but maybe he'll turn around." With one last reassuring squeeze, the demon picked up a few books he found of magic. It wasn't easy, but having a demonic staff made the search much simpler. "And if you still have doubts on him, just know I have no plans on leaving." He gave her a wink, and slid the book into her lap. He could feel the connection growing stronger, and with it, a stronger sensation of his lost humanity was returning. 

[rory-wanders-blog]

Drop a Coin For Humanity || Rory & Will

[rory-wanders-blog]

She laughed. “You have a point there. I’m sure they garner quite the reaction.” She nodded her thanks when he placed her tea in front of her and poured a spoon of sugar in, stirring it in slowly. “Sounds pretty boring.”

She watched him walk around the room, tilting her head curiously while he spoke.  ”Yeah, sounds like him. Dickhead.” She frowned, her lips twisting into a venomous expression. She shrugged. “Nothing major, I suppose, we um, we kind of had a moment on Halloween, and he asked me to meet him again the day after and then didn’t show. Like I said, dickhead.”

She snorted. “Very sweet. Contemplating dismemberment. Maybe. If he keeps this up. Or uses the line “it’s not you, it’s me”. I don’t know, we’ll see,” she murmured.

She lifted her mug up and took a deep sip, sighing contently as the liquid warmed her. 

"It’s just annoying, whatever, I don’t care. He should’ve seen me. I looked fucking flawless. I brought everyone in that club to their knees. When I say it’s his loss, it’s really his loss.” She pushed her hair out of her face, and set her mug down.

"Decapitation would definitely be lazy though. Hardly hurts at all. What would the point of it even be?" She asked, before taking another sip of tea.

[william-elliott]

Will shrugged in response and let the cup press against his lips before taking a sip of the unsweetened tea. He always thought about ways to ensure his new body was fit, and free of any kind of impurities. Honestly, if Will were to put in all the sugar he wanted in his cup, he'd have diabetes by the end of the month. With that in mind, he put in the effort to reduce his intake, and for a while, he even tried to cut back on excess sugar entirely. Though, today was special.

Putting in two spoonfuls of the white crystals, the demon stirred up the liquid, and felt himself relax under the effects of sugar. The monster listened to Rory with great interest. He'd surely have to have a talk with Sammy later about this relationship he might be pursuing. If she saw the mark Will left, he's definitely have some explaining to do.

"Sounds like a dick move, really. I mean, if I was on a date with someone as hot as you, I'd be early." Will shrugged, and considered printing out a picture of Sam for Rory to throw darts at. The demon knew he felt better when his game was over, and by the looks of it, the girl just might feel a bit relieved too. 

"Ya' know, when I see him next, I'll be sure to tell him off for you. It's not nice to great dressed up just to have random strangers gawk at me when you have a target in mind." Will sighed, plopping into his chair unceremoniously and leaning his head back in thought. "I could slap him around a little. Show him not to ditch you like that." Lips curled upward before they were met by a mug, and Will let his fingers drum against the arm of his chair.

After hearing her thoughts on decapitation, the demon was sure that Rory was just as unstable as him. She wanted Sam to hurt. Thoughts raced to all his tools and gadgets in storage in the basement, and he could already here Sam shouting profanities left and right. Blood would spill, a healing process would follow, and then scabbed wounds would find themselves being torn back open.

"So, not to get into your business, but since we're gossiping, care to share about what your feelings are on little Sammy?" Fingers interlocked and his chin rested against the digits as he waited. He needed to know how far to go- how far he should go. "'Cause I can understand the infatuation. Those muscles on that man are to die for."  

[rory-wanders-blog]

Drop a Coin For Humanity || Rory & Will

[rory-wanders-blog]

Rory smiled when the door opened, and she entered Will’s office, and she watched with interest when Will sent the knives flying into the wall. “That’s so cool,” she murmured, before taking a seat. She shrugged at his next words. “You’re kind of insane, but I missed you for some reason. Also those are the ugliest mugs I have ever seen what the hell, Will.” She grinned to let him know she was teasing.

"I’m flattered, really, but I mean, I’m pretty okay, if I do say so myself, so I can’t blame you." She sighed and relaxed into the chair."How’ve you been, Will? Anything new? Anything interesting?" She stretched her legs out, and one of the rips in her tights widened at the movement. 

She bit her lip, wondering how to bring up that she’d really only come to rant about Sam. She exhaled playing with a pen that was on the next, and fiddled with the sleeve of her jacket. She didn’t think he’d have a problem with it. In fact he’d probably relish in the opportunity to bitch about Sam with her, so she decided to just go for it.

"Will? You…I know you guys aren’t exactly the best of friends but have you seen Sam around anywhere? I kind of want to knee him in the balls," she asked, tugging at her bracelet, her fingers running over the blades, imagining them puncturing skin, blood dripping down the steel.

She shrugged off her jacket, folding it onto her lap while she waited for her tea, fingers tapping out idle beats onto the fabric.

[william-elliott]

"Insane?" Will asked, head cocked and an almost bemused look on his face. If anything, he found her to be the least sane out of them both. She came back after finding out he was a demon of all things. Sure, if he was some kind of fairy or angel he'd imagine her returning, but a monster? He nearly scoffed at the thought. She was the mad one here. Shaking his head, he thumbed over to the mugs with a look of disgust. 

"They really are - which is why I had to get them. How could a person pass up the opportunity?" He smirked, fingers absently playing with the fabric of his shirt. "And not really, just the usual. Smoking here, and smoking there. Drinking tea, and having my staff fill out forms that I don't want to." He waved his hand at the mundane routine that was his existence, and purposefully left out more than one detail of it all. 

Letting out a short bark of a laugh, Will got up from his perch and walked over to his desk. "Not the best of friends?" The demon playfully rolled his eyes and opened up a drawer to reveal a picture of Sam with several scalpel marks along the page. He slipped it back into the wooden compartment and looked back at the girl. He did know where Sam was, but if he danced around the truth, he wouldn't be lying. 

"I saw him on Halloween night. He was being a real jackass telling me to move out of his way or whatever. He looked a bit out of it, so I let it slide for the most part. Personally, I wanted his head mounted on my wall, but in a state like that, it wouldn't have been a fair fight." With the pot screaming and steam erupting from it's spout, Will poured the water into either cup and passed one along to Roar. A bowl of sugar and a single spoon emerged from a cabinet, and he set it out for her to dress her tea. 

"Anyway, enough about me-" He started, interested as to what the hunter did to Rory. If she wanted to destroy his balls, he'd want to know why, and maybe help her eventually. "- what did our favorite hunter do to you?" A brow rose, and for theatrics, the monster squared his jaw to show he meant business. "Do I need to kick his ass or something? Or maybe skin him... Decapitate? Dismember? Amputate?" 

[rory-wanders-blog]

Drop a Coin For Humanity || Rory & Will

Rory eyed herself up and down, smirking. She looked fierce and badass and Sam didn’t know what he was missing and fuck Sam, and fuck boys entirely but also fuck boys and wow Rory was really losing her trail of thought. Sometimes how much of a typical teenager she was entertained her and sometimes it annoyed her but at the moment she was somewhere in the middle.

She shook her head, and grabbed her bag. She’d decided to pop in and visit Will. She hadn’t see him in a while and she missed him and was also a little curious to see what she was up to, and to be honest she needed to vent to someone about how fucking stupid boys were. And well, Will and Sam weren’t exactly besties so he was the perfect person to go complain to.

Stupid fucking Sam and his stupid fucking perfect hair and his big hands and goofy smile and rumble-y voice and chapped lips and fuck boys. She didn’t need him. Or anyone really. She’d thought maybe things were getting better and she was reconciling with everyone but fuck them.

Okay, so it was entirely possible she wasn’t thinking clearly but she’d been in a perpetual state of rage for days and it was time someone suffered the consequence and Will always made her feel better when she was angry. Maybe he fuelled the fire a bit but she couldn’t blame him. Her anger made her feel powerful, and she could understand why he’d want to take advantage of that aspect of her personality.

And with all those thoughts swirling in her mind she walked to his clinic and slipped inside, ignoring the receptionist entirely, only sending her an eyeroll before walking to his office and knocking on the door.

"Will? It’s me," she called, shifting her weight from one leg to another as she waited for him to let her in.

[william-elliott]

Will had finished his session with Sam for the day, and after a particular comment made by him, the hunter found his mouth gagged with a rag soaked in milk. It would sour overnight and Will only laughed at the idea of Sammy waking up to the foul odor and taste in his mouth. It would serve him right, and hopefully, he'd learn to properly behave. Even if he didn't, the demon wasn't phased by the disrespectful tones and remarks, but he'd whip Sam into shape before the hunter found he was able to get away with those snide comments. 

Spinning in his chair with blades dancing in the air, Will had them swaying left and right in a rhythmic pattern that could almost be smoothing if one didn't realize that these scalpels could cut. The metal gleamed in the lighting that reflected from their bodies, and with that, a knocking sounded on his office door. A familiar voice called out and a smile pressed onto the demon's lips.

With a wave of a hand, the door opened up, and he greeted her with a rare, and genuine smile. "Nice to see you again, Roar." He waved at her before sending each blade to the wall adjacent of him, and each knife sunk into the walls with an audible thud. Slipping off his coat to reveal a stripped t-shirt, the monster walked over to the kettle and put some tea on. By now, everyone he knew was probably sick of the stuff, but to him, it was more necessary than cigarettes and alcohol. 

"I'm glad you came in, Roar." He started, opening a cabinet and peering through his mug selection. Halloween was over and Thanksgiving was on it's way, so he picked out two mugs that were crafted into the ugliest, festive turkeys he could find. Browns and oranges mixed, and the tail feathers that curved into a handle were horrendous in their own way. Tossing two tea bags into either cup, the smell of lavender permeated from the bags and had the demon wishing the water could heat up faster. 

Sitting onto the counter the kettle sat on, his legs swayed childishly as he waited. "I've been rather bored, and to be quite blunt, you're the only person I really like in this town." His head leaned back against the cabinet with an audible sigh, and noted her tense posture. Something was clearly bothering her, and the demon wished he could help. Him helping would strengthen their bond that had been previously destroyed, but now, he had another chance. Will wouldn't fuck it up again. 

[william-elliott]

Mowgli's Road || Sam & Will

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

Sam realised he’d made a mistake immediately, when he saw Elliott’s face twist into a mask of uncontrollable rage and mindless violence. He’d seen the demon lose his chilling control in his office, asking him and Allison to leave, and then again on Halloween, when Sam had been dizzy with withdrawal. But never before had he been strapped helplessly to a bed when Elliott had lost it. He closed his eyes as the demon ripped the rest of the gown away, staring into the undefinable colour behind his eyelids. The feeling of nails dragging down the skin of his chest made his hairs stand up on end, and it tickled in an irritating way, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

But it was nothing compared to the horrific feeling of Elliott stroking him in small circular movements, so similar to how he’d touched Rory, and the hot wetness of his tongue as the demon licked him like a dog. This was none of the refined doctor whom Sam had met as Agent Waters, or even the lucidly insane killer who he’d been confronted with on the street. This was the demon at his most primal: instinct and anger and hunger.

As the scalpel sliced through his skin, Sam cried out. He wished Elliott had given him something to bite down on, because he thought, for a terrifying moment, that he would bite his own tongue in his frenzy. Unlike before, when his tattoo had been broken, the pain didn’t take a few seconds to set in. Elliott didn’t give it time. Every wave of agony was crashing down without a moment’s pause. His nerves were on fire with each new cut, and it was a ripping sensation that went right through to his core. The blade was going deep - he could feel it sliding through his skin and muscles like butter, leaving scars, making blood well up thickly as what shouldn’t be opened was opened.

Just as the feeling of the edge of the scalpel slipping through his skin stopped, it was replaced by the demon’s warm tongue, rough and coarse against the fresh wounds. It was damp with saliva, and the spit and the sensation of something on the newly-made cuts, which were fresh and still seeping with every heartbeat, stung awfully. It was more bearable than the cutting, and Sam gritted his teeth and skinned his lips back against his gums. He wouldn’t give Elliott the twisted satisfaction of screaming again.

His eyes were screwed up so tightly that he could see multi-coloured blobs floating in front of the endless endlessness of nothing. He felt Elliott’s spit land on his face as the demon laughed callously, mocking his pleas in a high-pitched keening scoff. The blood which had bubbled up from the wounds was smeared across his chest in a haphazard way, thick and lukewarm against his prickling skin. 

Sam didn’t even try to struggle away as Elliott grabbed his hair, tugging it painfully at the roots and making him wince. He remembered running his fingers through Rory’s hair, so soft and calming. The demon’s tongue tracing down his jugular was so violating and sickening that all Sam could do was swallow and bear it. His mouth was dry from the screams, and the thin trickle of saliva that he gulped down wasn’t enough to parch his aching throat. It was a filthy feeling - his neck being sucked in a macabre mockery of a love-bite - and he felt dirty to his soul, like he’d been used. And when Elliott said he couldn’t plead, he couldn’t beg, Sam just lay still.

He felt like he’d been torn open and claimed. He had wanted to give himself to Rory, to kiss her until she passed out and lay beside her while she slept. Not to have sex. Just to lay with her and watch how peaceful she looked, how slowly her chest rose and fell. And even before that, he’d given himself wholly to Jess - trailing kisses down her neck as he murmured that he loved her, while running his fingertips down her arms in a caress. With Ruby it had been more passionate: he’d pushed her backwards onto the bed and pressed his lips against hers with a kind of carnal ferocity, because he’d needed her like he had needed air. She had taken away the pain of the loss of Dean and filled his world with demon blood, mixed in with making love so that he couldn’t even tell the difference anymore.

But this? Elliott had stripped away all of that, replacing hours of gentle and careful exploration with a few moments of lustful violence, the slow memory of lips trailing down Sam’s throat in the way that made him exhale sharply with the nauseating sensation of being licked forcefully, just so that the demon could taste his blood. 

He didn’t say anything to Elliott as the demon sat back to admire his handiwork - what could he say? His chest was stinging as the cuts bled freely into the cool air, and everywhere felt dirty and touched, like he’d been stroked all over by greasy hands. He squared his jaw and looked up at the demon with hooded eyes, knowing that his skin was shining and his hair was slick with sweat. He could feel his nostrils flaring as he breathed erratically from the excursion of the assault.

"I hate you," he whispered in a croaking voice. But there was no fire behind it, and none of the strength that had previously been there.Sam just sounded weary, beaten down and defeated, as if hating Elliott was physically tiring. Then he sighed and let the tension flow out of his body, painfully aware of the demon’s hands on his sides, knowing that he would feel the fight go out of Sam like air out of a balloon. He was just so, so, tired.

[william-elliott]

Seeing his handiwork sent a sense of pride but was also washed down with a distasteful realization. His prized possession was scarred up and bleeding, and despite the new tattoo being one that matched Sam so well, it was still disfiguring the one perfect thing Will had ever seen. Every curve and hardened muscle was something to be admired and looked at with an artist's aesthetic eye. The car his arms tensed under the restraints to have veins press against the skin's surface, and the way his erratic breathing made his chest and abdomen rise and fall in a way that was more captivating than disemboweling that stranger.

Will looked down with a look that was almost dissatisfied, and with a swift movement, the peroxide was in his hand and he poured as little substance as possible to clean out the wound. Will wasn't sure the last time his favorite bundle of scalpels had been sterilized, but he didn't want to take any chances with this statue nearly made of pure gold. After the bubbling stopped, Will left for some large bandages and carefully pressed them onto the wound that would surely scar. He was happy with his work for the most part, but all left was ensuring it stayed clean.

"That's fine, Sam." Will said in a sigh as the bit of tape kept the bandage in place. His thumb carefully slid along it's edge so it would stick, and once he was finished, he looked back at the hunter. Eyes reverted back from their blackened form, and he spoke with the animal out of his system. The demon guessed Sam had had enough torture for the moment. Sure, he'd probably need some kind of lesson to behave, but Will didn't want Sam further injured. So for now, this visit would be nothing more than a recuperation session. 

Nimble fingers undid the leather straps in a swift motion so Sam could sit up. He reached for the cooler and retrieved the small carton of blood from the obnoxious neon colored box and let it slide back against the wall. The demon offered it over to Sam and wondered what he should even do at this point. Sam couldn't be hurt more than he already was, but he clearly needed to learn his lesson; that's when Will had an epiphany. Just... be nice? With his eyes gazing towards the ceiling as if it held all the answers he was looking for, he thought about letting Sam have one last chance. 

"It doesn't really matter if you do at this point." He looked over briefly and leg a leg drape over the other. He wanted to dig in his pocket for another cigarette, but Will didn't think that would calm his speeding thoughts. "But, I have another deal for you." Letting his eyes look into Sam's, Will continued in what was a persona calmer than what he usually carried. He was a bit drained after the excitement from today and the night before. With a desire for things to just run smoothly from this point on, Will continued with that different air. "If you can just chill out and keep yourself in check for now on, you won't undergo any more traumatic experiences for the rest of the week. Deal?" 

[william-elliott]

Mowgli's Road || Sam & Will

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

Sam glared hatefully up at Elliott as he lit up and began smoking - the smell making him feel queasy and the smoke floating in swirls around the room. If the demon kept doing that, the room would stink of cigarettes and the walls would be stained grey. Smoking reminded him of being soulless and sharing a pack of fags with his grandfather as they watched the newest alpha being dragged into the van. Normally, Sam would’ve never smoked, but when he didn’t have a soul all he seemed to do was light up. He hated it.

But, of course, he didn’t say anything. Elliott was obviously agitated and more than a little annoyed - the pacing was akin to a caged animal, and it was very disconcerting. His constant twitching of his fingers made Sam unsettled, because it was as if the demon was pondering on what exactly to do with his hands. In some ways, it was worse than if Elliott had just gotten furious and lashed out, because the rant was bordering insane rambling: outright calling him his bitch and saying this was some kind of game. Sam swallowed when the demon smiled, and wanted so badly to hit something. The childish mockery made him furious, and it was all he could do to curl his hands into fists and tense his jaw. He frowned as Elliott sat down and the implications of what he’d said sunk in slowly.

It was pointless to argue with him, to say that he would listen and not fight back, for two reasons: the first being, obviously, that it was clearly a lie. Sam’s track record showed that he’d gotten into a vicious circle. He got mad and yelled at Elliott, and then backed down when the demon threatened him. And then the threat made him angry again, and he yelled, and so it went on.

And the second reason was that Elliott had actually him out on it - he’d gotten so irked with how Sam responded to him that he wanted to sort it out. He wasn’t happy with false praise and sarcastic groveling. Sam wasn’t entirely sure what the demon wanted - honest terror? Tears? Did he want Sam to seriously stroke his ego? He clearly didn’t want insubordination. So Sam would toe the line at reckless anger and incivility instead.

"I’m not gonna lie to you, Elliott," he said, his voice hard with contained rage. "You’re right. I’ll fight you every step of the way. I hate you." He was proud at how his voice wasn’t shaking at all, but remained coldly furious. "And whatever you’re gonna do? Won’t change that. I will always hate you." He paused for a moment, allowing himself time to realise how true that was: he could happily imagine ripping the demon’s head off.

"I won’t call you sir and fake like I’m your bitch, if it’s not what you want. But I’m bound by your contract - I have to do what you tell me, right?" He despised that fact so much that it was difficult to say, but he carried on. "So just do it, you son of a bitch. Whatever you wanna do to claim me. Do it. Because all this talking? All your show? It’s kinda pointless.”

[william-elliott]

Hearing the challenge was more than welcomed and Will let his animalistic form break through the human facade he carried around with such ease. The demon had the blade fly into his hand, and with a graceful leap, Will was straddling Sam once again. The metal was placed beside the monster's thigh as his hands gripped the remaining fabric and tire until the tears filled the air along with his audible breathing. 

Flesh was on flesh as Will raked fingers along Sam's skin. Finally picking a spot, Will inspected the naked pectoral and rubbed circles into the skin. A tongue dragged along the exposed cells before he blade began digging into the layers and blood was spilling out where the marks were crudely made. 

This was the other side of Will. The other half with the primal animal instincts to claw and rake his prey and inseminate his mate for mating season. Desires to tear skin was there but the human part of him kept the demon in check. He wouldn't risk destroying something so beautifully sculpted as if God personally had an angel mold Sam's body into what it was. 

Wiping the excess blood out of his way, the Demon could read his name carved into his chest with crudely drawn lines that were jagged and far from professional. Will sat there dripping blood from the hunter's body and the beast couldn't help but lower himself and lap up the metallic substance as if Sam's addiction to blood somehow transferred over to him. "This isn't pointless, Sam. This is me letting you know, how much of a person you are. You're the slave having your masters name etched into your very skin." 

Sick laughter echoed throughout the room and escaped into the halls. "You want to fight me?" Will asked, spit flying from his mouth as he let all that pent up rage flow out of his system. "Don't hurt you?" A disgusted scoff came forth as fingers rubbed in the blood like a child would finger paint on thin and cheap paper. 

"Not to mention that you hate me." Laughter erupted from the monsters throat before his hand fisted into Sam's hair and jerked his head to the side. A slick tongue slid down the pulsing neck before lips sucked onto the skin to leave a bruise once the blood left the area and was shipped back to where it was needed. 

"Oh no! Sammy hates me, mommy!" Hips pressed against hips and they rolled into one another. "Let me go in the corner with my scalpel and travel down the fucking road." Hand reached out and pressed against Sam's sides to feel the tension flow beneath them. "Oh, and speaking of that contract? I don't want any kind of pleading for me to stop. You asked for it, and just so you know, we're not even close to the warm-up."

[william-elliott]

Mowgli's Road || Sam & Will

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

Sam stared up at Elliott as the demon’s eyes dyed black, and realised what a terrible mistake he’d made when Elliott’s usually handsome face contorted into an expression of unbridled rage. Where Sam had seen the demon lose control before, and seen him hardly veil his anger with a polite smile, he’d never seen his eyes go black with carnal fury.

As Elliott tore at the gown, Sam didn’t close his eyes against the horror of the assault. Even as he shuddered in revulsion as he felt the demon’s fingertips run down his chest and stomach, tracing all the way down to his waistline, Sam kept his gaze fixed on Elliott’s onyx eyes. He stared at them and thought about his brother, Rory, Ruby, Jess, mum, dad. Anyone but the monster that was straddling him, violating him, claiming him. He was anywhere, anywhere, but here.

He tried to pull away when Elliott leaned down to whisper into his ear, his entire body stiffening defensively at their closeness. The demon’s breath was hot on his earlobe. Despite trying to keep a stoic face, Sam couldn’t help but whimper quietly when Elliott grabbed his crotch, and his legs jerked a little.

The demon’s tongue was sticky and wet when he licked Sam’s skin. Sam swallowed thickly, and it was as if he was swallowing his anger. He couldn’t afford to retaliate - he knew that. He felt more violated than he ever had before, and everywhere that Elliott had touched burned with the filth of it. It felt like he’d been covered with grease.

When Elliott pulled away and grinned down at him, Sam forced himself to stop shaking. He squared his jaw and ground his teeth, steeling himself to speak in a calm tone to Elliott.

"I’m sorry, sir. I forgot my place." He was speaking coldly civilly, but his voice was similar to the demon’s in that he was barely masking his rage. "It won’t happen again. I realise that you were trying to make this… better. For me. And I appreciate that.” He paused, wondering if he was laying it on too thick, but reasoning that it would be better to suck up to the psychopath than risk setting him off again. “I do want you to be nice. Please. I didn’t mean what I said about… you being patronizing. Forgive me.”

His tone wasn’t imploring - he was too angry to sink to the level of begging - but his words were. “Just don’t… don’t hurt me, okay? If I’m gonna stay here, we need to get along, right? So, so, let’s be… friends.”

[william-elliott]

Hearing Sam quickly apologize was simultaneously infuriating and somewhat annoying. Will didn't want him to be kissing his ass right after stepping out of line. The demon didn't thrive on quick sorry's, but instead, the unforced respect. All he wanted was Sam to keep his cool and not lash out only to cower like the little bitch he was.

"Oh, shut the fuck up with all this sir bullshit."  Will rolled his eyes sitting upright and cracking his knuckles. "You're not actually sorry. You're just shitting your pants." Pulling out his pack of Marlboros, the demon lit up and tossed the pack carelessly to the side. The gray stream floated towards the ceiling and continued to stain the walls with the scent of burning nicotine. 

"This little game you keep playing of act like a tough guy and reverting to a cowering dog is really getting on my nerves, kid." The demon stood and paced lazily across the room. He didn't need to think, but instead just wanted to move around. His fingers were constantly moving and the cigarette sat loosely in his mouth, fear of falling, but it never did. 

"Just don't get a mouth on you and we won't have a problem. Don't act tough enough to tell me what to do and be a good little bitch." At this point, Will was sighing because he knew Sam needed to be taught a lesson. He'd never understand since it had happened so many times before. "Don't call me sir, and don't even think about telling me what to do with you. Ya' know why?" Will cocked his head to side with a small grin forming on his host's perfect lips.

"Because you belong to me." Sitting back onto the bed's edge, Will looked back at Sam with his host's eyes. "Now, I know what you're going to say. Oh no, I'll listen! I'll be a good boy, Elliott!" Will's impersonation voice was one matching a schoolgirl and he knew Sam would at least scowl at it. "But no. You won't. I have a feeling about you, Sammy. I know you won't listen. No, you'll fight against it. Tell me something and then do the other. So, how about I just give you a small taste of what I can do?" 

[william-elliott]

Mowgli's Road || Sam & Will

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

When Elliott laughed, Sam knew it was over. The demon wouldn’t listen, and now he was going to be sliced open and susceptible to possessions. Sam felt himself begin to pant as Elliott leaned over him, pressing the weight of his arm lightly down on Sam’s stomach. His mouth was open as he breathed loudly, quickly, and his nostrils flared like a horse that had been spooked.

The scalpel lowered and, though Sam wanted to look away, he couldn’t. He watched as the blade swiftly cut through the material of his gown, and Elliott opened it like a surgeon opens a ribcage - his gown was torn apart to reveal his chest, and the tattoo. He’d never really appreciated it before, but the pentagram had probably saved his life more times than he could count. It had been Dean’s idea to get tattoos, after Sam had been possessed by Meg. He stared down at the blue-black ink, rising and falling in time with his skin as he breathed.

The blade tickled slightly as he stroked down his chest, Elliott’s finger dragging lightly behind it to pinpoint where he needed to cut. Just like a real surgeon. The tip of the scalpel stopped at the outer ring of the symbol, and Sam gritted his teeth against what was going to be inevitable pain. The angle at which he was keeping his head made his neck ache, so he lay his head back against the pillow, just as the cut was made.

He didn’t want to scream. He really didn’t. But the suddenness of the injury, and the precision of it, made him cry out in pain. It took a few seconds - as is the way with cuts from incredibly sharp objects. It was as if his body allowed him one more moment of peace, before the agony of the cut shot through his nervous system and Sam arched his shoulders upwards, managing at least to keep his teeth closed so that he was screaming through his jaw.

His eyes were screwed tightly shut as the hydro peroxide was poured onto the cut, and there was too much of it so it stung and he made a groaning noise in the back of his throat, not opening his eyes yet. They were damp, but not out of pain - he’d suffered far worse than that. This was humiliation. He’d been robbed of his only defense, and it had hurt, hurt, hurt. He took a few shuddering breaths through his nose, his whole body shaking with each inhale, before at last opening his eyes and staring up at Elliott.

The pat on his chest made Sam tense again, and he felt his muscles tighten against the touch. He felt violated, even though he knew this wasn’t the worst of it. His chest was bare, his tattoo was obsolete, and here the demon was apologizing. Sam knew that his fury was clear in his gaze.

"You don’t touch me,” he hissed, shaking this time from anger. The withdrawal symptoms and the terror had momentarily taken a backseat to the wave of utter injustice at the situation. “You keep your filthy hands off me. I’ll do what you ask, you bastard. I signed the damn contract. But don’t talk to me about decorating and food, alright? Leave me here - send me out to gank a few hunters. I don’t give a fuck. But patronizing me? Treating me like a kid?” He snorted derisively up at Elliott. “Don’t, okay? Just don’t.”

[william-elliott]

Hearing Sam retaliate in such a manner was enough to screw his carefully planned face into one of a wife finding out her wife had been cheating. The sad smile wilted into a scowl and his brows furrowed. The demon's eyes turned to slits before the blackness engulfed them so suddenly and he didn't fight back his shouting.

"I don't touch you?" A sick string of laughter spilled from his mouth that was still contorted in a frown. "Sam, you don't call the shots." Will's hands tore the rest of the gown to reveal the remaining bits of Sam's torso that lay hidden behind it's thin veil. His shrouded eyes soaked in every muscle as if to commit every curve into his memory. 

Fingers roamed against the skin and dared to reach from his tensing throat down just below his navel. A toothy grin spread from ear to ear and his face leaned in towards Sam before talking into the hunter's ear. "I'm not sure if you remember, Sam, but your name is signed. You do whatever I want, and if I want to run my hands along your body or maybe fuck your ass until your bleeding, then so fucking be it." 

Sharp laughter escaped his mouth like a sudden bark before his hand reached for the hunter's crotch and grasped onto his suddenly. "Now, before you say anything else, just know the more you talk'll make it a lot harder throughout the week." A slick tongue grazed the outer shell of the hunter's ear before continuing. 

"And would you rather me be nice, or just be a dick?" The demon brought his head back to face the hunter's. "And patronizing? I wasn't trying to be an asshole, Sam. Just trying to keep you comfortable, but since you clearly don't want that, I'll just let himself be free to do whatever I want. Ya' know, because I can." 

[william-elliott]

Mowgli's Road || Sam & Will

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

Sam hissed when the scalpel cut his fingertip, hardly a scratch, and winced as the blood welled up and was dabbed onto the paper. With difficulty, he took the pen in his hand. This was it - legal and binding in every sense of the world. He assumed that the terms of the contract were similar, if not exactly the same, to the ones which Elliott had stated on Halloween: he was going to serve the demon until he died, he was going to be imprisoned on the ward for a week, his tattoo was going to be removed. His only protection would be taken away and then… well, God only knew what then.

The true horror of what was happening to him sank in slowly, almost distantly, as Sam lowered the pen to the paper and scrawled his signature with a shaking hand. Because Elliott leaned back, giving him some space, Sam should have felt it easier to breathe. But his lungs felt like they were full of stones, and his whole chest was weighing him down. He glared up at Elliott as the demon winked, hating him and hating him, and considered spitting. Of course, he knew he couldn’t. He despised how cheery Elliott was, but remembered all too clearly how furious he’d been on Halloween, when the scalpels had moved with such practiced precision.

Instead of overreacting, Sam only looked up at Elliott and spoke in a quietly angry voice: “Just get it over with, you jerk.” He knew what was coming, what the demon had been waiting for, and his heart was thudding in his ears. The removal of his tattoo. He was terrified, but he kept his gaze on Elliott’s steadfastly. And whatever the demon planned to do to him - however he planned to play this out - Sam told himself that this would all be over. In just one short week, he could be free again.

But when he looked away from Elliott and saw the thin blade of the scalpel, he realised just how sharp the thing was. It was a razor’s edge. It would slice through his skin as if he were paper and slide through his muscles like butter. He started the shake, and couldn’t take his eyes off of the hovering scalpel. He knew it was just an inanimate object, and it wasn’t looking at him, but the tip of the blade seemed to be staring right at him. With wide eyes, Sam watched it watching him. 

"Elliott," he whispered, his voice quivering. He didn’t - couldn’t - tear his eyes away from the scalpel. "Please… don’t do this. Let me keep the tattoo. I sort of need it, y’know?" He smiled sickly, and laughed once. "Anything else. How about you give me that blood now, huh? And we can… talk about the room colours. You said blue? Or maybe yellow?"

His voice was quickening now, and getting higher with every word. “Or how about you take this gown off, yeah? I know you wanted to see me… I’d be okay with that.” He realised too late that Elliott would be taking the gown off anyway, to get to the tattoo, but went on nonetheless. Now his voice had hardened to a furious note of indignation: “Don’t. Just, for fuck’s sake, don’t.”

[william-elliott]

Will smiled down at the contract and felt the power over Sam surge through his body. The signature was done and Sam was legally under his control- blood and all. He'd be out getting information left and right and killing senselessly. Heads would line Sammy's walls like they were medals to be displayed with pride.

"You need it, huh?" Will laughed, head lolling to the side and let the blade float down into his hand. Resting an arm across Sam's abdomen and leaning forward. The scalpel lowering to the folded gown and then began tearing at the fabric until Sam's chest was glistening under the light. 

The demon let his finger trail down the hunter's chest and felt the skin under his host's finger pads. The scalpel pressed against the outer ring of the tattoo and let the blade slip down it's center. He knew that the tattoo would still be broken, and the thought of a hole was foul. 

Will tried to keep it as painless as possible, but pain was inevitable. Daisy walked in and took the contract to put into his office before grinning down at the broken man before them. After the black bottle was put down, and the wound began fizzing, the demon slipped on a face of apology.

"It's supposed to keep it clean. Sorry, but it had to be done." The demon shrugged and and assessed the damage. It wasn't too bad, and he was glad his trophy wasn't scarred. Grinning, he patted the chest and cocked his head to the side. "So, how about those walls?"

[william-elliott]

Mowgli's Road || Sam & Will

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

When Elliott called him Sammy again, Sam couldn’t help but grit his teeth to refrain from saying anything. The silly nickname was hardly the worst of his concerns, and yet every time the demon used it it set his nerves on edge: it was Dean’s name for him. The fact that Elliott was using it in such a patronizing way was awful, and Sam knew he couldn’t dwell on it or he’d end up crossing the unspoken line. So he just lay as still as possible as Elliott smiled what seemed to be a genuinely happy smile.

He flinched when Elliott poked him - the natural response of revulsion to being touched by someone so sickening - and made no comment in reply to the pointless statement about him losing his muscles. The idea that the demon found him remotely attractive made his skin crawl, and gave the whole situation an air of ridiculous awkwardness on top of the mind-numbing fear. 

Sam swallowed when Elliott mentioned the agenda, and held up the scalpel and the contract. It was written in red ink, which explained the stench of demon blood. His eyes widened involuntarily as he looked at the blade. It, coupled with the demon’s grin, was enough to make Sam’s breathing pick up a pace. He stared at the silver edge of the scalpel as Elliott ranted on about decorating the room, and the patronizing nature of the inane chatter was making him angrier and angrier. He could feel the anger showing on his face - his eyes thinned and his jaw tensed.

"Shut up, would you?" He whispered, not taking his eyes off the scalpel. It wasn’t a forceful request, more a quiet plea. He looked furious, but knew that there was no way to vent that anger, so kept his voice soft and submissive. "I need to think."

His gaze flickered from the scalpel to the contract, and back again. The demon blood was calling to him from where Elliott had it chilling, and Sam reasoned that the faster he got this done, the faster he could drown everything that had happened in the redness. He’d been hurt before - of course he had - but he couldn’t begin to imagine the world of agony that he would be introduced to when the demon cut away his tattoo. It would be doubled, because he’d know that he would be open to possession once it was gone. And Elliott would no doubt tease him for his screams. He reasoned that it was best if he hung onto his only defense for as long as possible, and the fact that Elliott had given him a choice in the matter meant that Sam might be able to have some leeway with the time-frame in which he kept the tattoo.

"The contract," he said, letting his eyes finally settle on Elliott’s smiling face. "Seeing as you wrote it all nice in blood, I figured I might as well officially get into whatever the hell kind of freak show you’re running here.” His mockery was just bravado, because, in truth, Sam was terrified. Demon deals were serious business, and once he signed the dotted line, whatever he’d agreed to would be concrete.

He wanted to throw up, and the tension had slipped from his muscles from a mixture of weariness and fear. Sam strained to read Elliott’s handwriting, but it was too small from his vantage point, so he just kept his gaze on Elliott’s, throwing all of his loathing into his eyes.

[william-elliott]

Hearing Sam opt for the contract was good enough, because he was just saving the best for last, and Will he was willing to comply. Cracking his neck, he moved the scalpel to the stand and brought out the pen. Taking Sam's hand, he nicked his finger pad and let his blood soak into it. The contract was placed under his hand and Will waited for Sam to write his name. 

The demon waited for Sam to scribble his name onto the paper so they could proceed. Will was itching to rip the tattoo from his chest and lap up the blood with his tongue. While he was at it, he'd let himself smother the body and relish in it all. His mind thought of the v on the space between his navel and the beginning of his crotch. The demon was falling under the sins of lust and he was ready to give into them. 

Will waited for the signature and had the scalpel and had it write Sam's name above the the small, poor excuse of a window inside the room. The handwriting, despite being written by telekinesis, was almost as beautiful as his actual writing. 

"We could make the walls blue, ya' know, the psychological meaning behind colors. It'll give you some kind of calming sensation, or we could make is a bright yellow. Make you smile a bit more often." Will winked, and leaned back to give the hunter a bit of space. "Anyway, if you think of something you'd like, tell em and someone can pick it up for you." 

Being kind was a means to get to comply now, because once he started, Sam wouldn't want anything to do with him. Sam was now his toy, and he'd treat him nicely, but he just wanted to get everyone across afterwards. Sam would never betray him for fear of what he could do. 

[william-elliott]

Mowgli's Road || Sam & Will

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

When Sam came to there was no momentary confusion, no slow waking up with bleary eyes and a quiet murmur - he knew exactly where he was. The sickly white lights weren’t so bright that he couldn’t open his eyes fully to look around. This room was the mirror image of the last one, and the sparse monochrome decor was so depressingly homogenized that it made his eyes water for a second.

It was so stupid that this was what set him off, of all things, but the simple fact that every single room was exactly the same and every single patient was exactly the same, and ever day he would wake up to the sight of Elliott smiling at him, made his eyes sting sharply. White, white, white. Everything was virginal white. It would drive him crazy. Sam blinked quickly to clear his eyes and gathered himself. He wouldn’t cry - he wouldn’t. Of all of the satisfactions which he would inevitably give Elliott, his tears wouldn’t be one of them.

The air was greyed with fading smoke, and the whole place stunk of cigarettes. Sam stared at Elliott, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking casually. The casualness of the pose must have been practiced, because it was almost ridiculous in its nonchalance: one arm hanging off of his knee as he leaned slightly forward and took a long drag. It would have been laughable had it not been so terrifying. Fear. That was what came next. For all aching sameness of the room and the stench of cigarettes, nothing could possibly be worse than the fact that he was strapped to a bed with a madman sitting beside him, utterly defenseless. 

He watched the demon warily, feeling so awkwardly exposed in the too-thin gown. Then he breathed in through his nose and, underneath the smell of smoke, there was another smell: demon blood. Unmistakable in its sharpness and metallic scent. His mouth started to water, and Sam couldn’t help but tense against the bonds, knowing that the gown would offer Elliott a view of his taut muscles. He wasn’t shaking yet, but the close proximity of the blood made his heartbeat increase, and his wrists pressed tightly against the straps.

"Alright, you got me here, you bastard." He said, coldly, glaring at the demon. If he was going to be completely helpless, he reasoned that verbal fury was his only defense. "I’ll bet you’re really pleased with yourself right now, huh?"

[william-elliott]

Seeing Sam come to without the panic coursing through him was a little disappointing. The demon wanted to see the fear in his eyes, but instead, he only had the usual rage. Tossing the cigarette onto the floor and stepping on it's smoking end, Will curled up his legs and sat cross legged as the hunter spoke to him. "I'm more than please, Sammy." Will smiled something genuine aside from his usual snark of an expression.

"You must be hungry. I could get you some hot bread and maybe some meat." The demon poked at Sam's bicep and noted how hard they were, and suspected they would be equally strong if he wasn't tense. "Can't let these guns turn flabby while you're here." Will sighed in relief in knowing Sam was back home where he belonged. He'd been gone for so long and it was nothing short of a holiday inside the ward. 

"Well, we have a small agenda to get through before anything'll really begin. I'll let you pick. The contract or the tattoo. You pick which one to start with. And afterwards, you can have some of the blood I have chilling right here for you." Beaming, Will held up the scalpel and the contract in either hand and was eager to do either first. 

Straddling the hunter, Will held either option out before him like a child asking his parents which movie to watch first. "You know, I could get this place decorated if you'd like. You'll be spending most of your time here so we could paint the walls or maybe get you a potted plant. Ya' know, get some fresh oxygen up in this stuffy room." 

The demon shrugged and waited for a response. Sam clearly wouldn't be quick to do either option, but Will could easily take over if Sam wanted to be difficult. Personally, Will wanted the tattoo gone so his last line of defense was gone and stripped of him. Nonetheless, the demon gave him the option and he'd let the meat choose. 

[william-elliott]

Mowgli's Road || Sam& Will

Having Sam back in his ward was like an early Christmas present. Like a child, Will was more than eager to start unwrapping it as the mass of muscle was sprawled out before him in a different ward this time. The demon had a staff member torch Sam’s name into the door with crude handwriting and there wasn’t anything more satisfying than knowing Sam had a permanent home inside his clinic. His eyes stared as Kevin and Michael were strapping Sam back into bed. At some point Will knocked him out and dragged the hunter back to his ward for the simple fact that his hands could press against Sam’s chiseled body. Call him a pervert, but at least Sam wasn’t a minor.

Both demons left as Sam was securely strapped into bed and Will lit a cigarette and pocketed the lighter into his pocket. He sucked in and inhaled again so the smoke went to his lungs before letting it blow out in a straight stream. He sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed Sam’s new attire between his fingers. The one piece resembled a hospital gown that he had more than enough of. The flimsy fabric was nearly thin enough to see through and Will couldn’t help but appreciate the carefully constructed frame. Sam was actually a piece of art to be admired when he wasn’t awake and causing the demon hell.

Thinking about what to do first, Will decided that he might as well give Sam a little something when he woke up. Half a cup of blood was being chilled in a small ice chest and Will was scribbling on a piece of paper with his blood as ink. Call him melodramatic, but the effect was a lot more interesting to read than your basic black ink. The details of the contract read something along the lines of what he told Sam on Halloween night: To obey every command given without hesitation. He’ll serve under Will’s command until he dies, even if Will is somehow sent back to Hell. He will not conspire against him and will follow every order as the guidelines say. And that his tattoo shall be removed and he shall not harm Will in any way.

Harming his vessel was something he never wanted to do, but he wanted everything to be in blood. Besides, it was only a small scratch that would heal in three days time. As he finished, he put some hydrogen peroxide onto the nightstand along with a scalpel. He might be rushing things, but Will was tired of dealing with all of this bullshit. It was time to set things straight. Sam was back home and it was time to start the game again, but this time, his piece wouldn’t be retrieved in he turned against his king. For now, Will sat at the edge of Sam’s bed chain smoking until the hunter woke up. He’d let him rest because he had a lot in store.

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

Forget The Things I've Done | Will & Sam

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

  Sam hardly heard the salt bottle smash - he barely registered the fact that Elliott had thrown them across the street. It dimly occurred to him that he was now totally unarmed and at the mercy of the demon, but he couldn’t focus on that either. He followed the rotation of the scalpels with his eyes, not looking away from them even when Elliott bent before him and gasped. He could hear Elliott’s mockery and feel his hot breath on his face, and it was enough to send his head reeling.

As the blades hovered closer, Sam winced and closed his eyes. He’d always wanted to die facing whatever was killing him, but now the time had come he couldn’t do it. The silver was too bright for his aching eyes, and the sight of Elliott so close to him was making him feel sick. His whole body ached and, right then, he would have done anything Elliott asked. His throat was clawing its way out of his mouth and his stomach was hollow. He felt every breath rattling through his chest and every nerve felt like it was on fire.

"Anything you want…" he murmured, his lips hardly moving. His eyes were still tightly shut and his head turned slightly to the side to escape the feeling of Elliott’s breath on his face, rolling the back of his skull on the wall for support. "Anything, Elliott. Just… give it to me."

He could feel himself shaking violently and, even though he couldn’t see the demon, he knew that he was smiling wickedly. This must be the best thing for Elliott - to have Sam there, so helpless and dependent. He knew that the vague notion of “anything” wouldn’t be enough, however, and his fevered mind scrambled for something which he could offer Elliott in exchange for his life and, maybe, eventually, blood.

His eyes opened slowly and he looked at the demon, blurring the edges of his vision so that he couldn’t see just how terrifyingly close the scalpels were to impaling him. “Please… what do you want?” It was a stupid thing to ask, and Sam knew he was an idiot for asking it. But the need was burning and the scalpels were so close and the hunger was so great it was going to swallow him whole and he was so afraid and ashamed. He had to ask. “Whatever it is… I’ll do it. I’ll get it.”

[william-elliott]

Seeing Sam wincing before he even stabbed him was like seeing a dog cower because it knew it had done something wrong. There weren't many more things that Will wanted from Sam. If anything, Will was completely done with the hunter but everyone deserved a second chance right? ...Maybe.

"Anything, huh?" Will rolled his eyes at the idea and was happy Sam finally found the strength to open his eyes. Scalpels began to line and pointed at his vital areas. One was a few inches from either hand, one pointed at his crotch, another at his heart, the last one at the spot between Sam's eyes and finally the one in his hand was pressed against the hollow of Sam's throat. 

Sam was moments away from death. He deserved to die after what he did to Will. Though, Will thought of Sam as a seemingly vital piece in his game. Sam was still smart enough to get him information, and after this, he doubted the hunter would ever think twice about betraying him. Will would have spared him and if Sam even staggered, Will would have him executed. 

"I want you back in my ward for a week. Let you regain some strength and know who you're dealing with. After making sure you're able to walk, I want your tattoo removed and burned. Then, I want you to make a contract with me. One that you'll do anything I say until your death."

Will's next string of low laughter was dark, and promising of a painful death if Sam even tried to negotiate. This was his last chance at survival. There wouldn't be any trying of the demon's patience. Sam would be monitored at all times and would obey every command Will told him to no matter how inhuman or humiliating.  

"Tell me, Sam. What do you say?" Will let the tip press a bit harder to his throat, but not damaging him. His breath fanned against Sam and he knew he had won. He always won. "I won't stand for any negations. Take it or die here and now."  

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

Forget The Things I've Done | Will & Sam

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

Sam wanted to snap back at Elliott - mock him for whining about his life after everything he’d done, and shout because his complaints about losing his humanity made him sound like a petulant child who hadn’t gotten his way. The man was a maniac, a murderer, and he was complaining because he had it hard? Sam wanted to laugh in response, but right then was having an issue with standing, let alone speaking.

The withdrawal had hit him suddenly, like a tonne of bricks, and the fact that Elliott was shouting made his head feel like it was being drilled open. Sam saw the scalpels fly through the air and hover in front of him with terrifying precision, their blades glinting in the dim streetlights, and he stumbled backwards drunkenly, hitting the wall. He was too disorientated to really comprehend the magnitude of what was happening - the demon had been pushed beyond his limit, and the polite mask was gone completely. Something that Sam had said had ripped away the facade, and now all that remained was the insane bloodthirsty monster.

Sam was breathing erratically, his fingertips pressed against the wall. He’d dropped the salt and holy water when he’d stepped backwards, tripping over his own feet slightly, and now was standing completely vulnerable to the attack. All it would take would one Carrie stare, and the scalpels would stab him and pin him to the wall. Would that kill him right away? If Elliott had been in the right state of mind, Sam would’ve guessed that the scalpels had been positioned in such a way that they would pin him to the wall like a butterfly on a cork-board, but wouldn’t kill him. But now? The demon was so clearly unhinged that it was impossible to know if he was aiming to kill outright, or torture first.

He felt himself slipping slightly down the bricks, his legs giving out, and he was now leaning entirely on the wall for support. His veins were aching with the adrenaline rush and his whole body felt like it was buzzing inside. His head was on fire and his skin was too tight and itched all over. He was panting like he’d just run a race, in such a way that his chest and shoulders rose and fell in time with each deep breath. Occasionally, his breaths would be intercepted with thick swallows as he tried to cool his burning throat. It demanded blood where none was coming.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice croaking. He didn’t care anymore - he didn’t care that he’d completely broken down in front of Elliott. He didn’t care that he was so weak he thought he might faint. He didn’t care that the demon could have killed him right then and there. He didn’t care that Elliott knew how his threats had been bravado, and he wasn’t a danger to the demon at all. "I didn’t mean… I won’t try anything… I just need…" He coughed violently, his tongue sticking out like a lizard’s, and took another shuddering breath.

He raised his gaze from the scalpels and stared right the demon. Though it ripped his throat apart, he shouted: “Elliott, for God’ sake! I need blood, alright?” The admission was defeat, and with it Sam accepted what he’d already known: he was weak. And though he’d tried to escape the hold the blood had had over him, it had been no use. He flared his nostrils and fixed his eyes on Elliott. “I need it. Now.”

[william-elliott]

"Sammy, Sammy, leaned on the wall. Sammy, Sammy is about to have a great fall." The demon sang as Sam staggered to the brick wall and was about to crash to the concrete. Will's eyes glances at the flask and salt and sent them flying at a breakneck speed to the other side of the street. The faint sound of glass shattering echoed in the near silence. Nobody was here to save the hunter- he belonged to Will. His pitiful excuse of a life was in the hands on the monster and he planned to exercise his authority appropriately. 

The blades began dancing in the air in a mesmerizing formation that circled the hunter like vultures signaling that their prey had been found. Will wasn't sure what he wanted to do with Sam. He could drag him back to his ward and have his way with him, or kill him here. The thought of having his fingertips running along every muscle on his frame was erotic enough that his mind matched one of a teenager's that needed release. 

Sam was screaming that he needed blood, and why should Will give him any? Sam destroyed his plans. He tore Rory from his fingers and wanted to play the tough guy when he was clearly the runt of the litter. His erratic breathing were clear signs of withdrawal and once again, the demon had the upper hand. With a sneer Will slouched to be face to face with Sam, and wondered how to let this chapter go on. 

"You need blood?" Will faux gasped, his free hand hovering over his mouth. "Now tell me, Sammy. Why should I even bother to feed your nasty little addiction? You've been so mean to me lately. Taking away Rory and telling her how evil I am. Let alone trying to act like you're better than the vomit and shit stains smearing my clinic." With a laugh, Will lets the blades come a little bit closer so they were a few feet away from piercing Sam's skin and ending his life once and for all. 

"Tell me Sammy. Tell me why i should let you live. What are you going to do for me?" His head cocked to side and thought about how much he didn't need the hunter wandering around anymore. Sam already screwed him over and he needed the appropriate compensation. An eye for an eye. "Better hurry! I think my mind is about to slip! We don't need another body showing up on the news do we?"

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

Forget The Things I've Done | Will & Sam

[samuel-winchster-deactivated201]

When Elliott laughed, Sam took the smallest of steps towards him. It was the laughter of someone completely unhinged and, for just a moment, Sam caught a glimpse of the insanity that the demon kept inside. Oh, he’d known it was there all along, but never before had Elliott revealed it completely. Every threat had been delivered with Wildean civility, and even when Elliott had furiously shouted in his office, he’d been angry but in control. This slip of the crocodile smile and crude language was the first sight Sam had gotten of the true nature of the monster that faced him.

Sam took a shuddering breath and collected himself as the demon did likewise - the shaking had now spread over his entire body, and he was quivering ever so slightly now, the way a small animal does in the cold. All he could do to keep his front up was force his voice to stay lucidly furious. “But you would, wouldn’t you? Cut her up and drag her to your ward?” He spat the words as an insult, and let his anger rush through him, making him righteously defendant of Rory in her absence.

"You think I’m afraid of you?” Sam laughed once, and it was hollow. He shouldn’t have latched onto that part of Elliott’s speech, because his reply was so obviously a lie that it was humiliating. His emphasis on you had only added to how much he was trying to seem scathing; and failing.

His pathetic quiver wasn’t helping him any either, and he tried to still it but found it was impossible - his heart was speeding and his skin was burning. He felt like he was going to throw up. For one terrifying moment, everything spun and there were two Elliott’s, both smiling expectantly at him. And then the world righted itself again and Sam found that he’d stumbled a couple of steps to the side in his confusion. His stomach was heaving uncomfortably. He had to get out of there - he was far too weak and disorientated to face Elliott, and the withdrawal was so bad that he was having trouble staying standing. As it was, he swayed when he looked at the demon.

Suddenly, he realised the ridiculousness of the situation: he was going to run from the jerk who’d made him like this. Who’d opened the dam to his addiction and let the blood pour through. No. He was a hunter, for God’s sake. He should have been exorcising Elliott - throwing salt at him and yelling in Latin until the bastard was back in Hell where he belonged. Of course, it was more than obvious that Sam was far too weak to use his demonic powers, but he reached up to his neck and yanked the necklace of salt off around his head, holding it out like a peace offering with a shaking hand.

"You did it because you can?” He echoed in a wavering voice that matched his posture. “You killed that guy because you can?” He shook his head in disbelief, though it wasn’t a shock in the slightest - Elliott was a demon, after all. “You’re sick, Elliott. You’re evil. And yeah, maybe I kill things I’m afraid of. Because things I’m afraid of? Things like you? Don’t deserve to exist.” He realised too late that he’d admitted to being afraid of the demon, but knew it was too late to take it back. “So you better let me past, you son of a bitch, or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

The threat was delivered in the same weak voice with which he’d started the speech, and Sam could feel himself sweating and shaking. His breath was coming in short bursts, each inhale hurting his lungs as they screamed for demon blood. If Elliott didn’t let him past then, there wasn’t much he’d be able to do to defend himself.

[william-elliott]

Hearing the accusation of murdering Rory was ridiculous, but Sam didn't know the human-like emotions boiling inside his body. Sam didn't know of how much of a human he could be at times and he excused his ignorance. "Honestly? No." Will's manic grin turned to something more serious, but he'd never let Sam know how weak he was on the inside. He had a reputation to keep. 

"Do you know how useful it is to have a human out there on the field? Nobody would suspect her, Sam. She could be my eyes and ears when I'm busy and bring me back every ounce of the information gathered and wouldn't ever betray me. Well, unlike you." A slightly amused looks graced his hosts face but there wasn't any genuine emotion built behind it. If anything, Will was still peeved that Sam burned his plans right in front of him with nothing more than his cocky smile. Will wanted- deserved  his revenge. 

Watching Sam stagger a couple of steps was enough to make the demon give a questioning glance before he figured out what was happening. Sam wasn't himself- he was weak, just as Will suspected. Not just emotionally this time, but physically too. Maybe he was facing some kind of withdrawals from demon blood, but Will was just too elated to give it much of a thought.

Sam was breaking before him, and now knowing that he was afraid of the demon let the demonic ego grow like a balloon on a helium pump until it popped with a fierce explosion. Sam was scared. Sam admitted he was frightened of the big bad demon. He was crumbling. Eyeing the salt necklace, Will wasn't sure what the hunter was doing with it. Was he saying how defeated he was? Was he offering his weapons as a sign of a momentary truce? He would've accepted it had Sam kept his mouth shut.

"I don't deserve to exist? Me? You have no idea what I've been through. The Hell I've endured. Do you honestly think I enjoyed watching my humanity slip from my fingertips? Because it sucks, Sammy. It's worse than being human." Will's tone was on the edge of seething and hearing Sam having the audacity to tell him to step aside was infuriating. His left hand gripped the bundle of scalpels  and he tossed them in the air. The five blades stopped their mid-fall and directed their sharp tips towards the hunter. 

"You're going to kill me? Sam, you can't even stand properly. You're the most pathetic piece of shit I've come across in this entire town, and I'm including my patients. Little Alice has more of my respect than you do because she didn't pretend to be stronger than me. She didn't make empty threats she knew she couldn't keep." The demon spat onto the concrete in disgust as a scowl formed. "You're nothing but some tool to use. Now, would you like to rephrase that last statement, or let it linger in the air?" Gripping the handle until his knuckles were turning white, Will waited as he let what might be the last lungful of air into his system before trying to murder this piece of shit.