He Who Fights Monsters - Chapter Five
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CHAPTER FIVE
The first one falls so easily, Sam almost laughs. He's giddy with power, looks at the husk of the Level Five being dragged away and then up at the audience - still frenzied, reveling in his triumph. The first four rows are empty now, demons far too wary of his power to sit so close to the cage. They'd all seen what happened to the referee during the last fight - snuffed out by nothing more than a stray hit of Sam's power - and they don't want to be next. That doesn't make them any less eager to see Sam though. From what Ruby's told him, there are hundreds more watching a floor away in the bar on giant monitors. If he closes his eyes, he thinks he can hear their voices mix with those of the ones here.
Ruby comes by to offer him a kiss and a drink from his water bottle. He knows she’s spiked it with crossroad-demon's blood, can smell it through the plastic, but he doesn't need any more. Not yet.
Sam scans the audience, brow furrowing,"None of these demons have humans in them."
"Of course not," Ruby says, pushing him away. "That'd be against the rules."
"So what happened to all their souls?"
"Price of admission," she shrugs.
Sam makes a disgusted noise and turns away from her. His pragmatic brain argues that despite the loss of life, it's better that the humans aren't still trapped in their own bodies, bearing witness to all of this. He of all people should know.
The new ref comes in flanked by two other demons wheeling in a large Plexiglas box covered in warding sigils. Sam guffaws at the sight, and the audience titters behind him. The ref looks at him warily and opens the door to the box, stepping in gingerly as the two other demons leave the cage, just as Sam's next challenge enters.
The second Level Five opponent is wearing a giant of a man, and literally growls when the buzzer sounds, in what Sam supposes is supposed to be an intimidating fashion. He stalks towards Sam, and holds up his ham-like fists, delivering a punch that's way too slow, and staggering forward when he hits nothing but air.
Sam watches him stumble around for a few more minutes before he gets bored, and then grabs him by the shoulder and rams his knee into the demon's face. He staggers back, dazed, blood pouring from his vessel’s nose and Sam flicks his fingers, sending his opponent hurtling against the fence. The demon’s eyes bleed black in shock and he struggles to free himself, increasingly frustrated at his inability to do so. This one's not used to losing.
Sam lets him fall and recover, waits for him to charge and then closes his fingers into a fist, bringing the demon to his knees as he squeezes its soul. The large man screams horrifically as the demon inside of him burns out of existence. The empty meat suit falls face first onto the mat and Sam raises his arms to the air before the Ref even announces his win. The audience is already chanting his name, and their eyes are full of more than bloodlust. He sees adoration there, the beginnings of worship. And it's intoxicating.
This time Ruby won't take no for an answer, and shoves the bottle into his hand. "They save the hardest for last, Sam, trust me. She's got something to prove."
"She?" Sam says, wondering if Bela’d somehow crawled back out from whatever corner of Hell he’d sent her and got an upgrade in the process. "Who?"
"Somebody who's seen inside you," Ruby says before dropping back off the ledge that surrounds the perimeter of the cage. She takes her seat in the fifth row, and Sam doesn't miss the way the demons she passes eye her with open jealousy. Maybe he'll tell her to invite some others to the afterparty tonight.
The cage door opens, and his third opponent walks in. She's small and dark-haired, dressed in tight black spandex pants and a tank top and the second she winks at him, he knows her.
"Meg."
He's going to look forward to this.
"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" she says, keeping her distance.
Sam can feel the charge in the air as she coils her power in tight. She's winding up for something big, but he's not worried. Whatever it is, he can handle it. With the extra boost from the bottle and all the power still left from before he feels like he could go through ten more opponents without tiring.
He flicks his fingers towards Meg, willing her towards the fence, and she flinches, but doesn't budge.
"I'm not your average bear, Sammy." She smirks and pushes both of her arms straight out, opening her hands.
Sam slams straight back against the fence, the air knocked out of him. She takes a few steps closer and smiles at him, teeth white against her dark lipstick. Sam tries to regroup, focusing his energy inward and measures how much effort it will take to break free. She's a lot stronger than he thought.
"Mmm-hm. I'm right on the border of Five and Six. If you do, by some miracle, make it through this…" She laughs before continuing, "…they've got such a great pick for your Level Six fight already, I'm not even insulted." She folds her hands into fists and Sam can feel his lungs begin to compress, but he fights back, focusing on blocking her. It works; he can breathe again and her hold on him falters then fails completely. He falls to the mat, catches himself with his hands and rises to his feet, staring her down.
"Damn, you did get buff," she says. "Tell you what. I'll give you one hit for free, just because I want to see what you can do." She stretches her arms out wide and tilts her head back, closing her eyes.
Sam can feel his ears flush at the taunt and he resists the urge to hit her with all his power, because that's what she wants. She's goading him. Instead, he focuses on a spot on the cage floor right in front of Meg and begins opening a portal to Hell meant just for her soul.
Usually that's the last thing he does after pulling a demon. It barely requires any effort once the soul is out, because demons' souls are naturally pulled towards hell when they're not in a host. He'd figured that part out early on. Creating the portal before he's pulled Meg is significantly harder, but it's worth the effort. The audience jeers, thinking he's going to send her back without a kill, but he raises his arm up, silencing them somewhat.
Meg backs away from the portal, eyeing it warily. "Not playing fair, Winchester. You send me back; you lose this round. You have to start all over. You know that, right?"
"I know. I just want you to remember what your options are."
She scoffs. "Is that supposed to scare me?" She steps around the portal carefully and positions herself a few feet away. "You know how many centuries I spent down there? What I did down there?" Her eyes brighten and she adds. "I had the same teacher as Dean. We were classmates. Want to know what Dean's learning?"
"No." Sam says, and it's the truth. Whatever they say about his brother, it won't matter soon, because soon Dean will be free and then he can forget whatever happened in Hell. Sam just has to do what he set out to do. He has to win.
The pull of Hell takes its toll on Meg and Sam can see her hold on her borrowed skin start to weaken. Sam reaches his hand out, ready to burn her to ash with his power.
Meg brings her fingers to her lips and whistles loudly. There's a flicker-flash by the portal and then a deep growling noise, joined by a second, both of them coming from near Meg. "Doors go both ways Sam." She reaches a hand down, patting the air by her right hip.
But Sam recognizes that sound. He heard it the night Hell took Dean from him. "Hellhounds." His voice comes out strangled.
"Yup. And these two pups are special." Meg's grin widens. "These boys dragged your brother downstairs." She steps forward. "Lilith told me all about it. About how she made you watch - how you screamed. Cried like a baby. You watched them tear Dean apart. Couldn't do a damn thing to save your brother then, what makes you think you can save him now?"
Sam's anger is ever-present, but in that moment it doubles - again and again and again - becoming monstrous in size until it's an ocean and he can barely see or hear anything past Meg and the two distorted patches of space next to her. He grabs a hold of her with his mind, and drags her forward, shoving her head down towards the portal.
She screams and the hounds growl in warning. The air around Sam shifts and he feels heavy, invisible weight crashes into him. It's hard to think through his rage, but there's a flicker of concern for his own life as Sam feels the sheer strength of the hounds topple him onto his back.
He lets go of Meg, and pushes his hands into the hounds' invisible flesh. It feels like it's charred and flaking off where he touches it, and he imagines what they look like, thinks he can almost see them - big as bears, sharp yellow teeth and eyes as red as a crossroads demon.
Then he remembers whose blood he's been drinking along with Ruby's.
He closes his eyes, digs his fingers into their throats, his mind into their souls, and hears them start to whimper. "Heel," he says, his voice barely a whisper, and the dogs still.
He lets go of them and pushes himself to his feet.
Meg looks at him, stunned and pale.
Sam's lips curl as he says, "Sic her." He can feel the hounds charge at her like they're an extension of his own will, because in that moment they are.
Meg opens her mouth wide, screaming soundlessly as she leaves her host body, a huge black cloud shooting up towards the domed ceiling of the arena. But the hounds are faster than she is, and they're not governed by the gravity of this world. They chase her down, grab onto her essence and leap straight down into the still-open portal, dragging her with them. The glowing hole slams shut behind them leaving a perfect circle of burning embers behind on the mat.
Sam walks up to the circle and spits into the middle before lifting his eyes up to look for the referee. The audience has fallen dead silent, but every pair of eyes is on him - black, red, and white.
"The opponent has forfeited. Winner: The Hunter!" the Ref bellows as he steps out of the shielded box he's been standing in.
The audience cheers wildly and Sam raises his arms, drinking in their praise.
::: ::: :::
Ruby brings five guests to Sam's afterparty. Three of them are red-eyed and they cluster around Sam on the couch, praising his victory, cooing about his skills. He's drinking champagne straight from the bottle, and blood from any vein that's open. "Anyone who can bring Hellhounds to heel can bring me to bed," says the demon in the redhead on Sam's right. He stops drinking from her arm long enough to laugh, loud and unburdened.
He hasn't laughed like that since Dean died. And he's never laughed like that for Ruby.
The demon to Sam's left, in a male model meatsuit grabs a fresh bottle of champagne from the ice-bucket nearby and pops the cork, sending it flying across the room. Ruby sidesteps its trajectory, catching it in her bare hand, and glares. Sam sees her expression and starts honest-to-Lucifer giggling before taking another swig of the champagne. He burps as the bubbles hit his nose. The third demon by the couch stands up from where they'd been sitting on the floor and straddles Sam, pushing long black hair aside to give Sam access to their carotid.
They're spoiling him, Ruby thinks, trying to get on the winning side before the shit hits the fan. A pleasure-drunk moan from Sam sends ripples through the air and small, unanchored items float to the ceiling - the ice-bucket, a leather jacket and a set of keys, that jingle as they hover past Ruby's field of vision. She bats at them, irritated and heads for the bed. At least it’s not furniture. Two other demons are busy rutting against each other, but there's enough room for Ruby to lie down next to them. She grabs one of the magazines on the nightstand and starts to read about global warming.
The demons next to Ruby pause when they notice her next to them. The larger man on top eyes Ruby and then looks over to Sam. "Why aren't you over there?"
Ruby scoffs. "Why should I be?"
"Rumor has it, he's gunning for Lilith," says the other demon, turning to Ruby. His brown eyes flood with black as he brings his hand down to his tight, leather pants, pushing them down off his hips. "He's our next king, isn't he?"
If this is what his fans think, then it's no wonder the Hunter's grown so popular, Ruby thinks. And Sam's buying it hook, line and sinker. She gives them a steady look. "Think he's got a chance?"
The larger demon rumbles a laugh as he strips off his own undershirt. "I think Lilith's already pissing herself."
"She should be," says the other, younger demon. There's a strange eagerness in his voice.
"Go tell him," Ruby says, refocusing on her magazine. "Should score you some points."
"Maybe I will," the smaller demon says. He turns back to his partner. "Maybe we both will. Later." They move against each other again, making the mattress squeak.
Ruby shifts her position to get a better look at the couch. But Sam's not on the couch anymore. He's hovering two feet above it, along with the redhead, who’s got her legs wrapped around his waist. The other two crossroads demons have spread out on the couch below them. Sam lifts his stained mouth away from the redhead’s neck and meets Ruby's eyes. His brow furrows and his drunken gaze sober in confusion as he takes in the angle of his perspective. Another, groggy wave of energy floods the room and everything floating crashes to the ground, including Sam and the demon on top of him. They fall, land on the already occupied couch. Angry shouts and a loud crunch follow as Sam and the redhead are pushed off the loveseat. They collide with the newly replaced coffee table, which gives way under their combined weight.
The redhead gets up, cheeks flushed and steps over Sam, grabs her leather jacket from the floor and heads out the door. The two demons on the couch resume their activities.
Ruby slaps her magazine down on the bed and gets up, walking to the wreckage on the floor. The demons on the couch have stripped each other’s clothes off and their noises are sloppy. They should try that with a soul riding shotgun, Ruby notes idly. And if they did, would that qualify as a ménage-a-quatre?
Sam's still laughing, his eyes black with flecks of gold around the edges. She puts her hand on her hip and looks down at him, disappointed. Hell of a king. Pun intended.
Sam pushes himself up on his elbows and blinks up at her. "Come here."
"Why?" she asks.
Sam slides his hand down to his waistband and starts unbuttoning his jeans. "Because I-" He slides his fingers lower, struggles with the small metal grip, pulls down the zipper. He gasps as the tight prison gives way. "I want you to."
Ruby's annoyance gives way to amusement as she watches him - uncoordinated long fingers trying to touch himself through the loosened waist without tugging down his cotton briefs, which have grown way too tight. She sits down next to him with a sigh, and then stretches out on her stomach, resting her chin on his shoulder. She reaches out with her hand, cradles his temple, fingers stroking his unwashed, limp hair.
He turns his face away from her, pressing his cheek against her forearm. His hot, coppery breath puffs against the pale flesh in the crook of her elbow, too rapid and too shallow. He scrunches his eyes shut, brow furrowing and bucks his hips up, grabbing hold of her wrist. He tries to pull her hand down towards his crotch, but he's too out of it and she resists him easily.
“Please,” he says, his voice breathless and wrecked. He tenses for a long moment, his legs pulling up, spreading apart and coming together again as though he can’t make up his mind which position aches the least. "Please."
She watches his discomfort, his building anxiety, and feels a heat gathering, growing in her chest, her groin. She feels almost alive. She watches his erection swell further beneath the cotton, not daring to offer her touch. Not just yet. Sam lets out a desperate, reined-in moan but he doesn’t reach down, doesn’t press his palm against the confined flesh. She isn’t sure why he doesn’t, but the thought of him laid out and denying himself makes her smile.
She entwines her fingers with his, guiding his arm out to his side. The movement elicits a sharp pant from Sam but his eyes don’t leave hers, trusting that she’s going to make it good for him, that she’s going to grant him relief from the awfulness building inside him. She can feel his palm dampen, the slight tremble in his fingers as he grips her hands more tightly. Swinging one leg over his hips, as she would a horse, she straddles him. Sam closes his eyes, a flickering, passing grimace contorting his expression as she pushes against him. Not letting go of his hands, she stretches out against his body, kisses his lips. She feels his curling member press against her pelvic bone, his tight gasps as it’s caught between their bodies, the tremor coursing through his arms. She lets go of his hands as she deepens the kiss, slipping her tongue through the gap between his teeth, and Sam moans.
Ruby slides her hand between them, down his stomach and into the waistband of his briefs. Sam gasps and bucks into her, overeager and then winces, eyes flying open. He shoves at her, a wholly different urgent need spurring him on.
"What's wrong," she asks with a grin, pushing her other hand down on his stomach, she spreads her smile wider as she slides it lower along his heated skin, presses at his overfull bladder.
Sam groans and shoves her harder. She lets him go this time, unable to suppress a laugh when he staggers coltishly to his legs. Ruby gets up just in time to stop him from faceplanting on the carpet and holds him steady, looping his long arm around her shoulder, offering her small frame as a crutch.
“I gotta…” Sam slurs. “I gotta…” He sounds drunk and she laughs again. The sound makes him smile, all goofy and lopsided. His expression grows frantic and he tries to pull from her, lurching in the direction of the bathroom. His feet tangle and she laughs as she takes his weight across her shoulders before he can fall and guides him there.
::: ::: :::
Ruby helps him, still half-hard, back to the bed - their bed that already has two demons on it, Sam notes, through the blissed-out haze in his brain. They sit up when he approaches, and watch, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement. But Ruby spins him around and pushes him down on the bed, and he couldn't care less if there's anyone else there because she's climbing up on top of him. As he leans against the headboard, she slips off to sit beside him. She reaches through his gaping jeans and into his briefs and finally pulls him free. With a slow, lazy smile she lowers her head, wraps her lips around his cock, probing at the slit with her tongue. Her saliva is cool, but her breath is hot and he shudders involuntarily, his knee almost coming up to smack her in the chin. She places a palm on his thigh, and he stills beneath her touch. Or tries to.
She slides up his body, rucking his shirt up his stomach as she goes and her small hands chill his burning skin.
“I’m going to make it better, okay?” Ruby whispers into his ear as she fits herself around him. “You took a lot tonight… far more than you’ve ever taken before. And that’s not even counting what you took earlier today. You just need a little release.” Ruby pulls on the hem of his shirt. “I’m going to help you. It’ll be all right. Just hold on for another second,” she says as she eases it up his torso.
His breath catches as the air-conditioned air hits his flesh, gooseflesh prickling along his arms. He bucks slightly against her, restless, and she shakes her head, releasing one hand from the shirt to press down on his knee again. He straightens his legs, pushing into the bed, and his breath catches in his throat. He’s heading towards some kind of breaking point, knows that soon he won’t be able to contain all the little spikes of energy. “Please,” he begs, unsure of what he's even asking for.
But Ruby won't give him what he needs. She sits up and traces her fingers against his stomach until he tenses. He's rock hard, his brain's drifting away and his veins are full to bursting. He needs something to push him over the edge so he can let go. Anything.
To his left, someone clears his throat. Sam twists his head too quickly, making his neck twinge. There's a young man - or rather a demon wearing a young man looking down at him from next to the bed - one of the two that had been on the bed minutes ago. He's an inch or two taller than Ruby maybe, and nearly as slight. "I- I was wondering if you were still thirsty," he says timorously as he slides his hands out of the tight pockets of his leather pants. “Perhaps I could help…”
Sam makes a sound stuck somewhere between hysteria and desperation.
Ruby arches an eyebrow but nods at the demon, pulling her knife out of the sheath in her boot. She cuts across the young man's wrist and he offers it up to Sam, shaking slightly.
Eyes closed, Sam latches onto the wound and drinks. Ruby's deft fingers wrap around his cock and squeeze as they move up and down his shaft, keeping him full. Her mouth closes around him as she sucks harder, enveloping more of him in her moist heat. Her tongue is both too rough and too soft against his flesh, and there's sparks behind his eyelids. He can feel power pour out of him as he spills with a cry.
When he opens his eyes again, Ruby's wiping the back of her hand across her lips, the young demon's got his palm over his bleeding wrist, squeezing the wound, and on the other side of the room, the curtains are on fire.
And Sam is happy.
There's a shriek and a curse as the two crossroads demons on the couch, closest to the curtains notice what's happened. One of them runs to the ice bucket, pulling out the nearly empty champagne bottle to dump its mostly-melted contents on the flames.
Ruby leaps to her feet at the commotion but stops when she realizes what's happened, scowls and glares down at Sam.
He arches an eyebrow at her. Thought you'd be proud.
She smiles at that, acknowledging she’s heard his thoughts, but her expression shifts into horror just as Sam feels something sharp pierce into his upper thigh. He lets go of the demon he's been drinking from and sees the syringe in the young man’s other hand - it’s tinted red but empty.
"What- what is that?" Sam asks as the contents of the syringe mix with everything else he's taken in that night. It’s ice in his veins - so cold that it burns - and it shoots through his whole body, traveling up and down his neural pathways until it's in his toes and running up his chest through his arms. He wants to call out to Ruby for help but he can’t.
"Sam!" Ruby screams as the demon that attacked him backs away. His eyes are still locked on Sam.
Sam can feel Ruby grab onto his shoulders as the coldness travels further up the back of his neck and right into his brain. He needs to tell her that something's very wrong, but his jaw’s locked shut, his body stiffening beyond his control. He wants to scream as the blue fire in his veins expands. There's so much of it and he can't possibly hold it all in.
"I know who you are," the demon who'd poisoned him says. "They're going to try to kill you in the next round. But you won't die now. You can't."
"What did you do? You idiot!" Ruby yells, leaping to her feet. Sam sees her grab the demon with one arm as she draws her demon-killing blade from her hip-sheath with the other. The demon lights up gold-and-white as the blade catches him square in the stomach. Sam tries to reach for Ruby because the room is spinning and the lights are shattering above him and his veins are freezing. He needs something to hold on to, an anchor, or his tissue-thin control is going to give and he'll burst.
He can hear Ruby's voice as she skids back to his side, but she looks all wrong - he can't see her flesh, sees past her pretty face to the black cloud of her true self under her skin shifting and roiling. All the ice in his veins is turning to lava, he can see it glowing just underneath his skin, swears he can smell Ruby's skin begin to char just from touching him. There's a sun forming deep in his gut and any minute now he's going to go supernova. He screams soundlessly up at Ruby as his vision bleeds gold and his back arches as he lets go.
The room around him fills with a terrible white light.
::: ::: :::
There’s a loud, high-pitched humming that grows and grows and there’s a vacuum of power, a bright white light that she’s only seen once or twice before but it’s enough.
“Get out!” She screams, recoiling and scrambling away from Sam’s rigid, bowing body, his head and heels the only parts of him touching the carpet, his arms and legs jerking spasmodically as though there are volts of electricity pumping through him. “Get the fuck out! She shoves at the other demons and rushes at the door. She’s one of the first and she’s grateful for her inhuman speed as she hits the sidewalk and keeps running. She doesn’t turn back until she’s three blocks away. She glances around her and isn’t surprised that none of Sam’s entourage followed her and then she sees the top few floors of their hotel building and one of the windows is lit up like a Christmas tree, all bright, vivid white light. She watches it glow, like some kind of lighthouse or fucking Bat-Signal for all to see, when it suddenly extinguishes. She waits five minutes, ten, before she makes her way back to the hotel; hand curled around her demon-killing knife. One can’t be too careful. She doesn’t pass any demons on the way and, as she makes her way up the staircase and down the hall, she counts four dead bodies. There are two more in the hotel room.
She isn’t sure what she’d expected but it hadn’t been this - everything almost perfectly normal, exactly as she’d left it. Except for the burst pipes, if the flooding in the bathroom is any indication, and shattered light fixtures. She steps around the dead demons and crouches beside Sam.
He’s unconscious and limp, a dark stain of wet spread down the front, legs, of his gaping jeans. His cock is limp and hanging out and there’s the sharp tang of piss. She extracts her knife, preparing to stick him if need be, and pushes two fingers into his jugular. It’s still distended, swollen in high-definition black and she registers the fine network of charred capillaries showing by his eye, temple. She feels the throb of his heartbeat and counts them off. His pulse is a little slow, erratic, but not drastically so. Not enough to be of concern, considering everything, at any rate. She stands, exhales, surveying the room. It’s a mess but they can’t afford changing rooms or even sneaking out without drawing too much attention. The dead bodies in the hallway are enough of a headache, even if their manager is in cahoots with Lilith.
She huffs out an angry breath of air and kicks at the male demon. Killing him once wasn’t enough. She sheathes her knife and returns to Sam’s side. Sam hadn’t moved and the dark webbing at his temple trailing down to the bloated throughway in his neck shows no sign of fading. She squats, gets Sam’s upper body half slung over her back and lifts him in an improvised fireman carry to the bed five feet away. He’s a furnace against her and she dumps him on the tangled, gross sheets, where he flops, limp and rag-limbed. Exhaling, she jerks at knotted bootlaces, muttering curses under her breath, and pulls off his boots. His jeans are a little harder, soaked and molded to his legs. The urine is cold and his thighs are scarlet and chafed. She peels off the briefs, decides the shirt is too much work. She lifts his legs onto the bed, arranges his limbs until he looks comfortable.
Leaving him for the moment, she goes into the bathroom. The damage isn’t as bad as she initially suspected and there’s still water running from the tap. She soaks two of the complimentary hand towels until they’re sopping and frigid and brings them back to Sam. He’s still out cold and she lays the compresses on his upper thighs, pressing them against his lymph nodes. She goes back into the bathroom, drenches a facecloth, and folds it across Sam’s forehead. His parted lips are dry, chapped, and there’s a light snoring coming from somewhere deep in his chest.
“Yeah,” she mutters, going to one of the bodies and hooking her hands into the corpse’s armpits, dragging it towards the hallway. “Sleep it off.”
::: ::: :::
on to chapter six