Fic: The Way Things Were 6/?
Title: The Way Things Were 6/?
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I'm not making any money off this. Don't sue.
Summary: The war is over, and the Demons have won. Sammy's in hiding, and Dean's determined to find him, and bring him back where he belongs. On their side... and in his bed...
Previous parts here
Chapter 6
January, 2011
It hadn’t been a hard decision to make. Hell, in the beginning, it had even been true. But as time went on, his memory began to return.
They called him John at first and it hadn’t felt right. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why it didn’t feel right. It just didn’t. But they had nothing else to go by so John stuck. About a week after he woke up, someone behind him called out to another person and he turned automatically to answer, only hearing his name.
“Hey, Sam!”
***
November, 2010
They started with the children, using propaganda to sway them, to make them believe that all the demons had brought was good. It was better than before, no more fighting between countries with all people under one set of laws, one set of values. It was, to use one of the terms thrown around, an image of Utopia. Only the people who were bad and broke the rules were taken away to be killed, to become slaves. Those who followed the rules were safe.
The older ones, adults and teenagers, were similarly kept in line. Threats to friends and family, public punishments - these were frequent in the early days of the Toushin’s rule. Most of them were too scared to say anything. It wasn’t backing down, taking the coward’s way out, they told themselves.
It was learning to choose your battles.
***
Sam looked up as Dean walked into the room. John stood behind his eldest son, slightly to the left. To the right was a demon.
"Dean. Dad," Sam said, ignoring the demon completely. "What's going on?"
“Never question the Toushin,” the demon immediately said. “He is so far above you-”
Sam had a feeling the demon would continue on in that vein if he didn’t stop him. “I’m taller than he is. Doesn’t that make me above him?”
The demon growled, approaching Sam with his arm raised to hit the youngest Winchester. “You forget your place, human. Let me beat it back into you.”
Dean was there first, moving between the demon and Sam, facing the demon. He gave a low growl and the demon backed away. Satisfied, Dean turned to his brother who backed away at the heated look Dean gave him.
Dean pinned Sam to the wall, lust clear in his gaze. "I don't think you fully understand your position here, Sammy," he said softly. "I'm in charge here. These demons all around us? When I say 'jump', they ask 'how high?’ When I want something, I take it. And right now I want you."
Sam held his ground, defiantly meeting Dean's eyes. "What do you want from me then?" he asked.
Dean smirked, running a hand across Sam's cheek. He lent in, his lips just centimetres away from Sam's, until Sam flinched and looked away, no doubt remembering the marking.
Chuckling, Dean pulled back. "Everything, little brother. I want everything you can think of. And some things I'm sure you've never even heard of. And trust me, I'll get them. I promise."
Dean smiled as Sam gaped. The action brought Dean's attention to Sam's lips.
He hadn't kissed them yet.
Something he really should change.
Right now.
He leaned forward again, this time not stopping till their lips touched. When Sam tried to deny him entry to his mouth, Dean forced his way in. Sam tasted as sweet as he'd imagined. Then Dean managed to pull a moan from Sam and suddenly he was addicted to the sound too. He needed more of it, of Sam.
Now.
Dean leaned in and kissed Sam again, and this time, he was pleased to note that Sam didn't try to deny him access.
"You want this, don't you Sammy?" Dean pulled back slightly to whisper. He released Sam's hands from where he'd pinned them against the wall, smirking when those hands automatically grabbed his arms, holding on tight. He leaned back in for another kiss, one which Sam returned.
He was so very glad he'd decided to wear that charm which trapped a succubus' power inside, purely for his use.
Sam whimpered. “Dean, please stop.”
Ruthlessly, Dean pushed Sam harder into the wall, yanked his pants down and began stroking his half hard cock.
“This is a lot harder than it needs to be, Sammy. All you have to do is behave and obey me. You’re mine, Sammy, and I’m going to prove it to you. Come for me.”
Resolutely, Sam held on. He wasn’t going to give into his brother. He wouldn’t, couldn’t give into him, not when their father was standing there, staring passively at them, with the other demon staring at them in what could only be lust. Sam shivered, his concentration broken, and suddenly he couldn’t do anything but follow Dean’s words, Dean who was still telling Sam in a heated whisper to come.
With a cry, Sam came, slumping against the wall. Dean let go of his hands, the only thing that had been holding the youngest Winchester up, and Sam slid to the floor. Dean stepped away as Sam looked up at him, eyes glazed.
“Dad, take Sammy to get cleaned up and dress him appropriately,” Dean ordered, looking at his father. John tensed but nodded. Dean continued, “Get him some food and then take him to my quarters. Get him settled there. The handcuffs should still be attached to the bed.” Dean’s smirk grew as Sam’s eyes widened in shock.
With a last look at Sam, still huddled on the floor with his pants around his ankles and covered in his own come, Dean left the room, the demon following.
John crouched down next to his youngest son once they were alone. “Hey Sammy,” he said softly, carding his fingers through Sam’s hair. He flinched when Sam recoiled and backed away slightly then pulled on Sam’s arms. “Come on, kid, let’s get you cleaned up.”
It was difficult, especially since Sam was so big and he wasn’t in any fit state to help, but John managed to get Sam dressed again. He led him out of the cell, shielding him from questing eyes and hands. Sam followed him in a daze, as if he wasn’t even aware what was happening.
Dean had told John to get Sammy cleaned up but he didn’t say where he had to do it. Mind made up, John led Sam to his own rooms, where he knew they’d have relative privacy. They passed a kid on the way, a household servant, and John sent him to the tailor’s for a set of 693’s - the tailor would know what the code meant.
The child, a boy around 12, stared at Sam in awe - apparently, he knew what the code meant too - before running off to do John’s bidding, promising to bring the clothes back to John’s rooms as soon as they were ready.
John’s rooms were in the west wing of the house, one of the larger bedrooms. It had a huge ensuite with a massive bath, big enough for 2 people. Best of all, it was long enough so Sam would be able to fit comfortably.
Closing the door behind them, John was pleased to note that Sam seemed to be getting some life back into him as he looked around in wonder.
“Where are we?” Sam asked.
“My room,” John said, walking up to Sam. He tugged on Sam’s jacket, pulling it off. “Come on, let’s get you undressed.”
Sam was still for a moment, then he burst into energy, struggling wildly in John’s arms as the older man tried to restrain him.
“Sam! Sammy, what is it, what’s wrong?” he shouted.
“NO!” Sam shouted, though John didn’t know who Sam was talking to. “No, I don’t want it. Stop it, don’t, no, please, don’t touch me, please…”
“Sam! It’s me, it’s Dad!” John tried to get through to Sam, trying to work out just what he was seeing. It couldn’t be what Dean had done earlier, could it? John didn’t think what he’d done was bad enough to warrant this sort of reaction even if it had amounted to rape, though a mild form.
“No, please, stop it,” Sam cried out, still fighting. “Dean, please, help me… Dean…”
It hit John like a punch to the stomach. This wasn’t Dean. This was something else. He slid down to the floor, Sam still in his arms. He soothed his son, whispering calming words, saying that he was safe, that daddy was here. Slowly Sam calmed down. John held him until the shakes subsided fully and Sam turned in his arms.
“Are you alright?” he asked. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Sam said shortly, pulling away and standing up. “Can I have a shower now?”
John frowned but let Sam up. “A bath would probably be better,” he said. “Do you think you can manage yourself?” Sam was still looking unsteady on his legs.
“I should be alright,” Sam said. He turned and forced himself to walk steadily towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
John was pleased to note he didn’t lock it.
Sam’s muffled voice came though the door. “Wow!”
John chuckled.
***
Sam hid in the bathroom for nearly half an hour. He couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to use that to try to escape. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He was sure his dad would back away, far enough for him to try to run.
But then John had held him, comforted him, and Sam’s body betrayed him. He wanted the comfort. Needed it. He’d needed it then when it had first happened but he’d been unable to tell anyone. Like anyone would have believed him.
Besides, he was trying to hide, and doing anything like that would have been like painting a huge target above his head. ‘Sam Winchester here. Come and get him!’
No, it was safer for him to just keep quiet.
Sam slept in the bathroom that night.
***
The next morning, Sam discovered that the early morning light made the bathroom disgustingly bright. Also, Dean had somehow turned into a morning person.
John hadn’t tried to force him out of the bathroom though he had brought in a pillow and blanket before quietly leaving again, placing the bedding by the door. He hadn’t tried to approach or talk to Sam at all beyond wishing him a good night.
Dean, however, had no qualms about intruding into Sam’s self-imposed cell. He entered with a jovial ‘Good Morning, Sammy!’ that had Sam blinking and wondering who this shapeshifter was and if he couldn’t come back in a couple of hours when it was time for normal, sane people to be awake.
“What’s going on?” he asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes with the back of a fist. He was a little surprised at himself for sleeping as well as he did. He hadn’t slept that well in years, probably since before Jess, save the odd occasion. Even knowing his father was evil now hadn’t been able to dampen the feeling of safety that surrounded him from knowing John was in the next room.
“Come on, Sammy. There’s a performance this morning that they need me at. I need you with me and I’m sure Dad wants to use the bathroom. Hurry up and get dressed and we can go!”
Sam just looked at Dean, confusion written all over his face. It was too early for Dean to be acting all happy. And a performance of what?
“What is it?” he asked. He made no move to get out of the cocoon of blankets he’d made.
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Sam, when I give you an order, I expect it to be followed.” He reached over, grabbed the linen, and pulled. Sam yelped as his warmth disappeared and he tried ineffectually to get it back but Dean held the blankets out of reach.
Sam warily climbed to his feet and suddenly Dean was all smiles again. “Your clothes are on Dad’s bed, Sammy,” Dean said, leaving the room. “Dad, you’ll bring him down to the courtyard, right?”
John nodded and then Dean was gone.
“That wasn’t Dean,” Sam said immediately. “It can’t have been. Dean isn’t fucking cheery at God knows what the time is right now!”
“Your brother’s changed a lot over the last couple of years, Sammy,” John said. “The performance,” he spat the word, distaste clear in his tone, “is set to start in about 20 minutes. We need to get you ready.”
***
Getting ready apparently involved putting on clothes that were so close to indecent he might well have been naked. All that lay waiting on the bed was a pair of billowy pants that sat low on the hips and were tight around the ankles, made of a gauzy silver material, netted so it was practicably see-through. It was slit down the sides, from mid thigh to his calf. The material was a little denser at the top which Sam was extremely grateful for. The outfit didn’t allow for him to wear his underwear and there were none supplied with the rest of the clothes. The thicker material allowed him a little modesty.
There was a thin choker band with a pendant that hung just under his Adam’s apple. It was a golden disc with the Toushin’s brand imprinted into the metal - the same brand that was tattooed on Sam’s shoulder. Lastly, a thick band of silver encased each wrist, made of the same shiny material as his waistband.
Sam finished putting the clothes on, then looked at John, confused. “Where’s the rest?” he asked, a knot of dread forming in his stomach when John shook his head.
“Sorry Sammy, that’s it.”
Sam sighed then squared his shoulders. “Let’s get this over with then.”
John led him to the courtyard where Dean was waiting. Sam felt like a lamb being led to a slaughter.
***
It was a beautiful day, Sam noted absently, eyes taking in the courtyard. It was a large, pentagonal shaped space, surrounded by buildings on three sides. And crowded, very crowded. There were people everywhere. In the very centre, a stage had been built, stairs leading up from the back. John took him around the back and deposited him into the hands of a demon that inhabited the body of a young Asian man, not even out of his teenage years, who he introduced as Shin. He watched Sam with hungry eyes but didn’t try to touch him. In fact, aside from the obvious lust the young man held for him, he seemed almost afraid of Sam. As Dean came up behind the teen, placing a hand on his shoulder and smirking at Sam as the kid jumped, Sam realized it wasn’t him the kid was afraid of. It was Dean.
“Hey Sammy, glad you could make it,” Dean said, grinning in excitement. His eyes trailed up and down Sam’s figure and Sam blushed, using his arms to try and cover himself. “God, this is going to be good.”
Sam kept his face blank. He was getting a very, very bad feeling about this. Dean didn’t do happy and cheerful unless he had the opportunity for destruction of some sort.
“What’s going on, Dean?” Sam asked.
Dean grinned. “It’s a party!”
As he said it, a door opened and a stream of people - humans - walked out, chained to each other.
Prisoners.
With a laugh, Dean jumped back onto the stage, a move that should have been impossible. Sam stared at him, horror in his face at the realization.
“Shin?” he asked, hoping he was wrong, “What is this?”
Shin looked at him, dark eyes sparking with something, mischief, malice, lust. “It’s an execution.”
TBC
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I'm not making any money off this. Don't sue.
Summary: The war is over, and the Demons have won. Sammy's in hiding, and Dean's determined to find him, and bring him back where he belongs. On their side... and in his bed...
Previous parts here
Chapter 6
January, 2011
It hadn’t been a hard decision to make. Hell, in the beginning, it had even been true. But as time went on, his memory began to return.
They called him John at first and it hadn’t felt right. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why it didn’t feel right. It just didn’t. But they had nothing else to go by so John stuck. About a week after he woke up, someone behind him called out to another person and he turned automatically to answer, only hearing his name.
“Hey, Sam!”
***
November, 2010
They started with the children, using propaganda to sway them, to make them believe that all the demons had brought was good. It was better than before, no more fighting between countries with all people under one set of laws, one set of values. It was, to use one of the terms thrown around, an image of Utopia. Only the people who were bad and broke the rules were taken away to be killed, to become slaves. Those who followed the rules were safe.
The older ones, adults and teenagers, were similarly kept in line. Threats to friends and family, public punishments - these were frequent in the early days of the Toushin’s rule. Most of them were too scared to say anything. It wasn’t backing down, taking the coward’s way out, they told themselves.
It was learning to choose your battles.
***
Sam looked up as Dean walked into the room. John stood behind his eldest son, slightly to the left. To the right was a demon.
"Dean. Dad," Sam said, ignoring the demon completely. "What's going on?"
“Never question the Toushin,” the demon immediately said. “He is so far above you-”
Sam had a feeling the demon would continue on in that vein if he didn’t stop him. “I’m taller than he is. Doesn’t that make me above him?”
The demon growled, approaching Sam with his arm raised to hit the youngest Winchester. “You forget your place, human. Let me beat it back into you.”
Dean was there first, moving between the demon and Sam, facing the demon. He gave a low growl and the demon backed away. Satisfied, Dean turned to his brother who backed away at the heated look Dean gave him.
Dean pinned Sam to the wall, lust clear in his gaze. "I don't think you fully understand your position here, Sammy," he said softly. "I'm in charge here. These demons all around us? When I say 'jump', they ask 'how high?’ When I want something, I take it. And right now I want you."
Sam held his ground, defiantly meeting Dean's eyes. "What do you want from me then?" he asked.
Dean smirked, running a hand across Sam's cheek. He lent in, his lips just centimetres away from Sam's, until Sam flinched and looked away, no doubt remembering the marking.
Chuckling, Dean pulled back. "Everything, little brother. I want everything you can think of. And some things I'm sure you've never even heard of. And trust me, I'll get them. I promise."
Dean smiled as Sam gaped. The action brought Dean's attention to Sam's lips.
He hadn't kissed them yet.
Something he really should change.
Right now.
He leaned forward again, this time not stopping till their lips touched. When Sam tried to deny him entry to his mouth, Dean forced his way in. Sam tasted as sweet as he'd imagined. Then Dean managed to pull a moan from Sam and suddenly he was addicted to the sound too. He needed more of it, of Sam.
Now.
Dean leaned in and kissed Sam again, and this time, he was pleased to note that Sam didn't try to deny him access.
"You want this, don't you Sammy?" Dean pulled back slightly to whisper. He released Sam's hands from where he'd pinned them against the wall, smirking when those hands automatically grabbed his arms, holding on tight. He leaned back in for another kiss, one which Sam returned.
He was so very glad he'd decided to wear that charm which trapped a succubus' power inside, purely for his use.
Sam whimpered. “Dean, please stop.”
Ruthlessly, Dean pushed Sam harder into the wall, yanked his pants down and began stroking his half hard cock.
“This is a lot harder than it needs to be, Sammy. All you have to do is behave and obey me. You’re mine, Sammy, and I’m going to prove it to you. Come for me.”
Resolutely, Sam held on. He wasn’t going to give into his brother. He wouldn’t, couldn’t give into him, not when their father was standing there, staring passively at them, with the other demon staring at them in what could only be lust. Sam shivered, his concentration broken, and suddenly he couldn’t do anything but follow Dean’s words, Dean who was still telling Sam in a heated whisper to come.
With a cry, Sam came, slumping against the wall. Dean let go of his hands, the only thing that had been holding the youngest Winchester up, and Sam slid to the floor. Dean stepped away as Sam looked up at him, eyes glazed.
“Dad, take Sammy to get cleaned up and dress him appropriately,” Dean ordered, looking at his father. John tensed but nodded. Dean continued, “Get him some food and then take him to my quarters. Get him settled there. The handcuffs should still be attached to the bed.” Dean’s smirk grew as Sam’s eyes widened in shock.
With a last look at Sam, still huddled on the floor with his pants around his ankles and covered in his own come, Dean left the room, the demon following.
John crouched down next to his youngest son once they were alone. “Hey Sammy,” he said softly, carding his fingers through Sam’s hair. He flinched when Sam recoiled and backed away slightly then pulled on Sam’s arms. “Come on, kid, let’s get you cleaned up.”
It was difficult, especially since Sam was so big and he wasn’t in any fit state to help, but John managed to get Sam dressed again. He led him out of the cell, shielding him from questing eyes and hands. Sam followed him in a daze, as if he wasn’t even aware what was happening.
Dean had told John to get Sammy cleaned up but he didn’t say where he had to do it. Mind made up, John led Sam to his own rooms, where he knew they’d have relative privacy. They passed a kid on the way, a household servant, and John sent him to the tailor’s for a set of 693’s - the tailor would know what the code meant.
The child, a boy around 12, stared at Sam in awe - apparently, he knew what the code meant too - before running off to do John’s bidding, promising to bring the clothes back to John’s rooms as soon as they were ready.
John’s rooms were in the west wing of the house, one of the larger bedrooms. It had a huge ensuite with a massive bath, big enough for 2 people. Best of all, it was long enough so Sam would be able to fit comfortably.
Closing the door behind them, John was pleased to note that Sam seemed to be getting some life back into him as he looked around in wonder.
“Where are we?” Sam asked.
“My room,” John said, walking up to Sam. He tugged on Sam’s jacket, pulling it off. “Come on, let’s get you undressed.”
Sam was still for a moment, then he burst into energy, struggling wildly in John’s arms as the older man tried to restrain him.
“Sam! Sammy, what is it, what’s wrong?” he shouted.
“NO!” Sam shouted, though John didn’t know who Sam was talking to. “No, I don’t want it. Stop it, don’t, no, please, don’t touch me, please…”
“Sam! It’s me, it’s Dad!” John tried to get through to Sam, trying to work out just what he was seeing. It couldn’t be what Dean had done earlier, could it? John didn’t think what he’d done was bad enough to warrant this sort of reaction even if it had amounted to rape, though a mild form.
“No, please, stop it,” Sam cried out, still fighting. “Dean, please, help me… Dean…”
It hit John like a punch to the stomach. This wasn’t Dean. This was something else. He slid down to the floor, Sam still in his arms. He soothed his son, whispering calming words, saying that he was safe, that daddy was here. Slowly Sam calmed down. John held him until the shakes subsided fully and Sam turned in his arms.
“Are you alright?” he asked. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Sam said shortly, pulling away and standing up. “Can I have a shower now?”
John frowned but let Sam up. “A bath would probably be better,” he said. “Do you think you can manage yourself?” Sam was still looking unsteady on his legs.
“I should be alright,” Sam said. He turned and forced himself to walk steadily towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
John was pleased to note he didn’t lock it.
Sam’s muffled voice came though the door. “Wow!”
John chuckled.
***
Sam hid in the bathroom for nearly half an hour. He couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to use that to try to escape. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He was sure his dad would back away, far enough for him to try to run.
But then John had held him, comforted him, and Sam’s body betrayed him. He wanted the comfort. Needed it. He’d needed it then when it had first happened but he’d been unable to tell anyone. Like anyone would have believed him.
Besides, he was trying to hide, and doing anything like that would have been like painting a huge target above his head. ‘Sam Winchester here. Come and get him!’
No, it was safer for him to just keep quiet.
Sam slept in the bathroom that night.
***
The next morning, Sam discovered that the early morning light made the bathroom disgustingly bright. Also, Dean had somehow turned into a morning person.
John hadn’t tried to force him out of the bathroom though he had brought in a pillow and blanket before quietly leaving again, placing the bedding by the door. He hadn’t tried to approach or talk to Sam at all beyond wishing him a good night.
Dean, however, had no qualms about intruding into Sam’s self-imposed cell. He entered with a jovial ‘Good Morning, Sammy!’ that had Sam blinking and wondering who this shapeshifter was and if he couldn’t come back in a couple of hours when it was time for normal, sane people to be awake.
“What’s going on?” he asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes with the back of a fist. He was a little surprised at himself for sleeping as well as he did. He hadn’t slept that well in years, probably since before Jess, save the odd occasion. Even knowing his father was evil now hadn’t been able to dampen the feeling of safety that surrounded him from knowing John was in the next room.
“Come on, Sammy. There’s a performance this morning that they need me at. I need you with me and I’m sure Dad wants to use the bathroom. Hurry up and get dressed and we can go!”
Sam just looked at Dean, confusion written all over his face. It was too early for Dean to be acting all happy. And a performance of what?
“What is it?” he asked. He made no move to get out of the cocoon of blankets he’d made.
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Sam, when I give you an order, I expect it to be followed.” He reached over, grabbed the linen, and pulled. Sam yelped as his warmth disappeared and he tried ineffectually to get it back but Dean held the blankets out of reach.
Sam warily climbed to his feet and suddenly Dean was all smiles again. “Your clothes are on Dad’s bed, Sammy,” Dean said, leaving the room. “Dad, you’ll bring him down to the courtyard, right?”
John nodded and then Dean was gone.
“That wasn’t Dean,” Sam said immediately. “It can’t have been. Dean isn’t fucking cheery at God knows what the time is right now!”
“Your brother’s changed a lot over the last couple of years, Sammy,” John said. “The performance,” he spat the word, distaste clear in his tone, “is set to start in about 20 minutes. We need to get you ready.”
***
Getting ready apparently involved putting on clothes that were so close to indecent he might well have been naked. All that lay waiting on the bed was a pair of billowy pants that sat low on the hips and were tight around the ankles, made of a gauzy silver material, netted so it was practicably see-through. It was slit down the sides, from mid thigh to his calf. The material was a little denser at the top which Sam was extremely grateful for. The outfit didn’t allow for him to wear his underwear and there were none supplied with the rest of the clothes. The thicker material allowed him a little modesty.
There was a thin choker band with a pendant that hung just under his Adam’s apple. It was a golden disc with the Toushin’s brand imprinted into the metal - the same brand that was tattooed on Sam’s shoulder. Lastly, a thick band of silver encased each wrist, made of the same shiny material as his waistband.
Sam finished putting the clothes on, then looked at John, confused. “Where’s the rest?” he asked, a knot of dread forming in his stomach when John shook his head.
“Sorry Sammy, that’s it.”
Sam sighed then squared his shoulders. “Let’s get this over with then.”
John led him to the courtyard where Dean was waiting. Sam felt like a lamb being led to a slaughter.
***
It was a beautiful day, Sam noted absently, eyes taking in the courtyard. It was a large, pentagonal shaped space, surrounded by buildings on three sides. And crowded, very crowded. There were people everywhere. In the very centre, a stage had been built, stairs leading up from the back. John took him around the back and deposited him into the hands of a demon that inhabited the body of a young Asian man, not even out of his teenage years, who he introduced as Shin. He watched Sam with hungry eyes but didn’t try to touch him. In fact, aside from the obvious lust the young man held for him, he seemed almost afraid of Sam. As Dean came up behind the teen, placing a hand on his shoulder and smirking at Sam as the kid jumped, Sam realized it wasn’t him the kid was afraid of. It was Dean.
“Hey Sammy, glad you could make it,” Dean said, grinning in excitement. His eyes trailed up and down Sam’s figure and Sam blushed, using his arms to try and cover himself. “God, this is going to be good.”
Sam kept his face blank. He was getting a very, very bad feeling about this. Dean didn’t do happy and cheerful unless he had the opportunity for destruction of some sort.
“What’s going on, Dean?” Sam asked.
Dean grinned. “It’s a party!”
As he said it, a door opened and a stream of people - humans - walked out, chained to each other.
Prisoners.
With a laugh, Dean jumped back onto the stage, a move that should have been impossible. Sam stared at him, horror in his face at the realization.
“Shin?” he asked, hoping he was wrong, “What is this?”
Shin looked at him, dark eyes sparking with something, mischief, malice, lust. “It’s an execution.”
TBC