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apocalypsosTitle: i hate people when they’re not polite
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Spoilers: “Hunted”
Summary: Dean knows he‘s evil now, but he sure as hell wasn‘t expecting him to be nice.
Written for:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
picfor1000, for this picture:
** i hate people when they’re not polite **
Dried blood coats Sam’s hands when he reaches into the trunk, dark brown with age and caked onto his skin like he’d soaked them in it. Any other time and Dean would be wondering whose it was, how many people had to die to satisfy the demon.
Sam’s holding a sandwich, and even the threat of blood marring the bread doesn’t stop Dean’s stomach from rumbling.
“I’m finished,” Sam says as Dean wolfs it down. “We can go.”
Dean nods, rips off another bite of roast beef and mayo.
Sam sighs. “You can get out now, Dean.”
Dean almost sags with gratitude, as much as he can crammed into the Impala’s trunk.
*
Sam commandeers a little white farmhouse in Oklahoma, has Dean lock the family in the pantry while he slaughters the entire herd. Fifty head of milking cows torn to pieces while Dean watches through the window, the confused farmer consoling his sobbing wife as his soundtrack.
Sam comes out of the barn looking like a bad slasher movie. When he comes in through the front door he leaves puddles instead of footprints.
“Anything?” Dean asks.
Sam shakes his head.
“Give me that,” he says, taking the shotgun from Dean and opening the door to the pantry. “And go get back in the trunk.”
*
“What does he tell you?” Dean asks once.
The family restaurant they’ve stopped at was the only place open for miles. The wait staff have already sung “Happy Birthday” to two different kids wearing pointy hats. Sam’s given the extra kids placemat and the golf tee game on their table to some little blonde girl with big sad eyes who look at him funny. The waving mechanical clown in the corner short-circuited right after Sam saw it.
Sam’s bony knees bang against his under the table. It’s a Sunday. The place is too crowded for him to push his chair back.
“You don’t care,” Sam says.
Dean suddenly becomes incredibly interested in the sway of the waitress’s hips, and Sam smiles as another round of “Happy Birthday” starts up.
*
It all started when Andy showed up at their motel room door.
He’d grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets, and instead of a real greeting he’d said, “You want to sit in that chair over there so I can tie you up?”
“Sure,” Dean had said, because when Andy suggested it, it sounded like a great idea.
The ropes had scratched his skin red by the time Sam came back to the room, walking in with a bagful of groceries and this satisfied look on his face when he saw Dean tied up in the chair. Oh, great, it looked like, that’s one more thing off my to-do list.
Dean choked on his gag, made growling sounds of protest that made Sam smile. It threw Dean off so much the sounds dwindled away to nothing, and by the time Andy said, “Man, he’s got to be a pain in the ass to carry around,” and, “I don’t know why you don’t just kill him and get him out of the way,” something about the raging storm behind Sam’s eyes wasn’t quite as surprising as it should be.
When they left town, what’s left of Andy coated the motel room walls.
“He’s not going to be happy I did that,” Sam had said.
Dean wanted to argue, but Sam told him to sit in the passenger seat and shut up and it sounded like a great idea.
*
Sam kills a family in New York City and they stay in their apartment. Sam cleans up and cuts the phone lines and gets rid of the computer. Dean keeps silent and stays in the bedroom most of the time.
At night Sam lights candles around the bedroom and runs his hands down Dean’s back, sheds his clothes and curves behind Dean on the bed and speaks in his normal voice, asks for Dean, begs for this.
They fuck on the couch, on the floor, in the shower.
They leave on the fourth day when the smell of decay starts to get to them.
*
Dean only has to stay in the trunk when Sam has a job.
Once Dean tried to stop him, called the cops and carried a milk jug of holy water into the holding cell. He’d gotten there just in time for the others to arrive as well. That bitch with the impossible strength held him down while the telekinetic bent the door away from the wall.
Somewhere in the distance, Dean heard screaming and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. That pyrokinetic kid with the limp was off killing cops.
“Let me kill him,” the bitch said. She leaned down on his back with her knee digging into his spine, her breath thick and pungent like sulfur and rotten meat. “He’s worth nothing to us.”
The weight vanished from Dean’s back in a heartbeat, and he coughed as he rose. The bitch seethed against the wall, breathing hard like a madwoman.
“Try that again,” Sam said, “and there won’t be enough of you left to torture.”
He hauled Dean to his feet and shoved him towards the back door. Something slammed into the floor behind them, sounding heavy and meaty and sick, and Dean moved faster.
*
It’s the little things. Sam’s fingers through his hair, Sam’s mouth on his cock, Sam fucking him until he falls apart at the seams. Extra mayo on his sandwich, the occasional beer, letting him win at darts. Sending Dean from the room when Sam’s urge to kill grows strong, not letting him see the worst of it, only giving him glimpses painted in blood and screams.
It’s the little things. Dean just keeps telling himself that.
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Spoilers: “Hunted”
Summary: Dean knows he‘s evil now, but he sure as hell wasn‘t expecting him to be nice.
Written for:
picfor1000, for this picture:Dried blood coats Sam’s hands when he reaches into the trunk, dark brown with age and caked onto his skin like he’d soaked them in it. Any other time and Dean would be wondering whose it was, how many people had to die to satisfy the demon.
Sam’s holding a sandwich, and even the threat of blood marring the bread doesn’t stop Dean’s stomach from rumbling.
“I’m finished,” Sam says as Dean wolfs it down. “We can go.”
Dean nods, rips off another bite of roast beef and mayo.
Sam sighs. “You can get out now, Dean.”
Dean almost sags with gratitude, as much as he can crammed into the Impala’s trunk.
Sam commandeers a little white farmhouse in Oklahoma, has Dean lock the family in the pantry while he slaughters the entire herd. Fifty head of milking cows torn to pieces while Dean watches through the window, the confused farmer consoling his sobbing wife as his soundtrack.
Sam comes out of the barn looking like a bad slasher movie. When he comes in through the front door he leaves puddles instead of footprints.
“Anything?” Dean asks.
Sam shakes his head.
“Give me that,” he says, taking the shotgun from Dean and opening the door to the pantry. “And go get back in the trunk.”
“What does he tell you?” Dean asks once.
The family restaurant they’ve stopped at was the only place open for miles. The wait staff have already sung “Happy Birthday” to two different kids wearing pointy hats. Sam’s given the extra kids placemat and the golf tee game on their table to some little blonde girl with big sad eyes who look at him funny. The waving mechanical clown in the corner short-circuited right after Sam saw it.
Sam’s bony knees bang against his under the table. It’s a Sunday. The place is too crowded for him to push his chair back.
“You don’t care,” Sam says.
Dean suddenly becomes incredibly interested in the sway of the waitress’s hips, and Sam smiles as another round of “Happy Birthday” starts up.
It all started when Andy showed up at their motel room door.
He’d grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets, and instead of a real greeting he’d said, “You want to sit in that chair over there so I can tie you up?”
“Sure,” Dean had said, because when Andy suggested it, it sounded like a great idea.
The ropes had scratched his skin red by the time Sam came back to the room, walking in with a bagful of groceries and this satisfied look on his face when he saw Dean tied up in the chair. Oh, great, it looked like, that’s one more thing off my to-do list.
Dean choked on his gag, made growling sounds of protest that made Sam smile. It threw Dean off so much the sounds dwindled away to nothing, and by the time Andy said, “Man, he’s got to be a pain in the ass to carry around,” and, “I don’t know why you don’t just kill him and get him out of the way,” something about the raging storm behind Sam’s eyes wasn’t quite as surprising as it should be.
When they left town, what’s left of Andy coated the motel room walls.
“He’s not going to be happy I did that,” Sam had said.
Dean wanted to argue, but Sam told him to sit in the passenger seat and shut up and it sounded like a great idea.
Sam kills a family in New York City and they stay in their apartment. Sam cleans up and cuts the phone lines and gets rid of the computer. Dean keeps silent and stays in the bedroom most of the time.
At night Sam lights candles around the bedroom and runs his hands down Dean’s back, sheds his clothes and curves behind Dean on the bed and speaks in his normal voice, asks for Dean, begs for this.
They fuck on the couch, on the floor, in the shower.
They leave on the fourth day when the smell of decay starts to get to them.
Dean only has to stay in the trunk when Sam has a job.
Once Dean tried to stop him, called the cops and carried a milk jug of holy water into the holding cell. He’d gotten there just in time for the others to arrive as well. That bitch with the impossible strength held him down while the telekinetic bent the door away from the wall.
Somewhere in the distance, Dean heard screaming and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. That pyrokinetic kid with the limp was off killing cops.
“Let me kill him,” the bitch said. She leaned down on his back with her knee digging into his spine, her breath thick and pungent like sulfur and rotten meat. “He’s worth nothing to us.”
The weight vanished from Dean’s back in a heartbeat, and he coughed as he rose. The bitch seethed against the wall, breathing hard like a madwoman.
“Try that again,” Sam said, “and there won’t be enough of you left to torture.”
He hauled Dean to his feet and shoved him towards the back door. Something slammed into the floor behind them, sounding heavy and meaty and sick, and Dean moved faster.
It’s the little things. Sam’s fingers through his hair, Sam’s mouth on his cock, Sam fucking him until he falls apart at the seams. Extra mayo on his sandwich, the occasional beer, letting him win at darts. Sending Dean from the room when Sam’s urge to kill grows strong, not letting him see the worst of it, only giving him glimpses painted in blood and screams.
It’s the little things. Dean just keeps telling himself that.
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no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:09 pm (UTC)Don't DO that to me woman! Good god >.<
(So freaking good. And OW. Jesus.)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:19 pm (UTC)Even evil, Sam loves his brother enough to kill for him... but I wonder how long Dean will be able to deal?
(Denial... not just a river in Egypt)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 10:08 pm (UTC)Just my interpretation after having read this amazing piece of work.
Love,
Julie-Rae
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:34 pm (UTC)Jesus fucking CHRIST, woman. You tryin' to kill me?
This, this is SCARY, because I can SEE this all in my head.
♥
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:48 pm (UTC)In other words, pretty awesome. :)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 09:58 pm (UTC)*runs and hides from the scary!Sammy*
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 10:03 pm (UTC)Love,
Julie-Rae
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 10:09 pm (UTC)my favorite thing about your writing is how short and snappy the sentences are. have you read any margaret atwood?
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 10:17 pm (UTC)And completely believable. God. So dark and intense without having to show us everything. Brilliant.
*adds to memories*
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 10:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 10:30 pm (UTC)-C-
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 10:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 10:57 pm (UTC)I think I'm starting to love the evil!Sam... heh
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 10:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 11:10 pm (UTC)Also: T_____________T
And: I hope that doesn't really happen in the series!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 11:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 11:17 pm (UTC)That was AMAZING.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-13 11:24 pm (UTC)I love this kind of horror.