The Dark That Follows aka The Fickle Deliverance Of Fate - Sam,Liv (OFC) - R - Gen -[1/1]
Title: The Dark That Follows aka The Fickle Deliverance Of Fate -1/1
Author: force-oblique
Rating: Gen ,R for moderately explicit language,violence, sexual situation
Disclaimer: I don't own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Sam,Liv (OFC) - Sam-centric
Spoilers/Warnings: Mostly 3x16 // My style is a bit dark so...this one is a bit dark too...
Word Count: ~2500
Summary: He keeps a picture of his brother always on him, but he rarely speaks of him.He still screams out his name at night, though. And when he screams "Dean", it makes her heart bleed, because it's the same every time.The same expression of loss and utter despair in his face. He always wakes up like that. With Dean's name like a bloody curse or miasma on his lips.
Author's Notes:I have to admit that this is the weirdest piece of fiction I have ever written! So, I hope it doesn't creep you out in the end...
~ English is not my native language so excuse any crappiness and/or mistakes!
Dedication: This fic is dedicated to:
[1]tahirire because she's been a good friend so far and she's been given a hard time lately. She just needs some love! <33 ^_^
[2]blaithacs for her valuable help! <33
Majorly Crossposted at:[daysofthereaper,moon-hunters,wincest-free,sn-fic,spn-fanfic,supernaturalfic,hurt-sam
The Dark That Follows aka The Fickle Deliverance Of Fate
He has her pinned down.
Her face buried in the pillows.
They are soft but they may as well be filled with nails.
She knows he wouldn’t care and neither would she.
He has her trapped between his body and the bed but she doesn’t mind.
She’s felt trapped her entire life or maybe it’s more than a lifetime by now.
Her long ebony hair frame her pale face. Perhaps too pale as some have remarked.
They have called her Snow White or Ice Queen, but this isn’t how she feels.
She probably appears that way because she rarely speaks.
She is not asked to anyways, unless it’s to scream or moan.
It’s not the first time he visits her, it probably won’t be the last either.
They don’t always part on good terms but he keeps coming back time after time and she keeps opening the door.
It’s more exciting that way, unpredictable.
Because when he does come back, it doesn’t necessarily mean he has regretted or repented.
Sometimes it means that he wants to pick up the fight right where they had left it from and so he enters and grabs her by the shoulder and it’s not long till they find themselves in bed again.
Liv is certain it’s not love.
It can’t be.
She is not even sure it’s the sex what keeps drawing him to her.
Many men have preceded him, but Sam -though falling for the same mistakes - seems different somehow.
There’s a certain quality in him she can’t quite place.
But lying on her face now with Sam inside her, a steady rhythm between her thighs, she finds it hard to concentrate or form a coherent sentence.
He is big and muscular and the line between pleasure and pain is indeed very thin and she has already crossed it many times.
But however aloof he may seem, he still calls out her name when he climaxes, “Liv”, and sometimes it hides something like pain or a lamentation.
There have been times when he came to her place with his hands and clothes covered in blood and Liv instantly knew he was a lost soul.
He keeps a picture of his brother always on him, but he rarely speaks of him.
He still screams out his name at night, though.
And when he screams "Dean", it makes her heart bleed, because it's the same every time.
The same expression of loss and utter despair in his face.
He rarely ever dreams.
Most of the times his eyes, remain half-closed, and keep moving frantically underneath his eyelids.
As if he is expecting the worse to happen even in his sleep and he wants to be prepared.
But when he does doze off, he always wakes up like that.
With Dean's name like a bloody curse or miasma on his lips.
And it leaves him sweaty, shivering and in pieces with no one but Liv there to collect him.
When Liv tries to get him to talk about Dean though, he gets angry.
And when he is angry, he is formidable, so she never tries anymore.
She is afraid she will see that scary golden glow in his eyes again, one that she doesn’t want to remember.
But when he is soaked in blood he is vulnerable or appears that way.
Sometimes he bursts into tears the minute he comes in and kneels in front of her, burying his face in her bosom and they just stand there in the middle of nowhere and everywhere, a broken champion and a fragile lady-mystery wrapped in each other for all eternity.
And then she takes him by the hand and leads him in the bathroom.
She gently wipes the dry blood off his face and hands and he remains like that, his eyes drowned in tears and a woe on his lips as she takes his clothes off him and gently washes the blood, the guilt and the sin away.
Liv knows it’s revenge he seeks.
Evil took his brother and all he could do was watch and now he is reckless and adamant in his resolve to bring down everything evil.
He’s gone too deep into the darkness, so deep it engulfed him and as his soul was fractured, it’s not light anymore what’s filling these cracks, it’s darkness itself.
Liv isn’t sure he’s noticed that he brings back blackness with him everytime.
A darkness great enough to fill the room and though she can absorb it and neutralize it with her goodness, she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep doing it.
All Sam wanted was to become a champion of goodness, but his lust for blood and retribution has caused him to be misguided.
Instead of an enlightened Warrior he turned into Blind Nemesis...
As misguided and as ruthless as a Jesuit and she is not sure he can find his way back.
But at least he keeps coming back to her.
After each time he kills and slays and maims and exorcizes, because he knows she will accept him, console him and soothe him the way only she knows.
A lot of men have tried to make her theirs, but she’s never given in.
They were unworthy.
But Sam is different.
There’s no sarcasm, no vanity, no hypocrisy.
No empty words. It's like he doesn't want or expect anything anymore.
He only comes to her when his cruelty shocks even himself. ...For absolution and forgiveness .
And he is almost there.
He is almost inside her heart.
She knows because unlike in the beginning, when he is enraged now, she is not intimidated.
Yes, she knows it’s not love. But it could be.
It certainly could be more than this war. This war he is constantly after...
It comes as no surprise, of course...
Sam has been forged in despair and blood and loss.
No wonder he craves for war and death.
Even his own.
That is all he sees, all he feels, all he desires...
And that is both his advantage and his weakness.
He honestly doesn’t care whether he lives or dies.
He keeps killing and risking and wreaking havoc as if it bears no consequences...
It makes no difference to him whether he lives or dies in the process.
And the truth is that maybe that’s exactly what he wants.
He’s been dead inside ever since his brother died.
He killed himself inside because he didn’t want to feel anymore, he wanted to shut all the feelings of helplessness, solitude and despair out of his heart.
He wanted, he needed his heart to turn into this cold, unfeeling muscle in his chest.
Almost like an unnecessary burden, but Liv knew better than that.
She could see it in his eyes every time he came bloodied and in tears. He needed forgiveness.
This life was killing him, taking away his humanity bit by bit and even though he said he didn’t care and was cruel even to her, she knew he was lying.
He didn’t mean any of the harsh words he said, they were only a façade, the wall he built to keep others away.
The easy way out. His life was too hard not to pick the easy way out when he could...
But he was close, too fucking close to winning her, to redeeming himself.
The bloody days were becoming less frequent and hope was brighter within him.
She couldn’t just let it be. She couldn't just leave him like that...
He just needed a push. One more push and maybe this was the day to do it!
He just needed one push, she could feel it.
Just as she could feel pleasure wash over her as he came and brought her climax too.
Leaning down to kiss her neck, she heard him say it. "Liv".
He called it out, everytime.
As if trying to let her know that he was there with here, even for the short while of their union or battle.
As if letting her know that she wasn't the only one who felt the earth move under, over and around them.
But this time it wasn't enough. This time they were way past that.And she needed to make him see. See already.
As he was gently sliding off her and to the left on the bed she captured his wrist in her hand.
It was a swift yet subtle move but he didn't fail to notice and flinch.
His reflexes were as sharp as ever even when he was next to her.
Liv could only grin at the subtext of this.
Was trusting her enough to have sex, really enough?
But she put that thought at the back of the head as she spoke.
"You need to stop doing that" such a simple sentence, ripe with meaning only he could grasp.
He just made a wave with his head and leaned back on the pillows.
"Which "that" would "that" be, Liv?" he said without looking at her.
"Coming here? Kissing you? Fucking you? Which one?"
Liv did't miss the coarseness in his voice.
His voice was always coarse after he spilt blood.
As if the transformation didn't only involve his soul, something intangible but extended to his being as a whole and it frightened her.
"Fucking it up" she merely said, knowing he was smart enough to understand what she meant.
"Fucking up everything" she added.
Sam was still not looking at her but she knew her words had an impact on him as he inhaled.
"And you need to stop avoiding to talk about your brother. You can't really expect me to believe that you hold him dear and sacred when you come here covered in God knows whose or what's blood every night."
He turned to look at her and his eyes were already burning. She instantly knew she had pushed him, if not enough, then adequately for a response.
"Did you love your brother Sam? Did you? Were you like that around him? Always killing, destroying? Were these the only joys you had back when he was alive?"
"That's not your business! You have no idea what my brother meant to me! How much he sacrificed for me! you have no idea!" he bellowed as he had already sat up, his enormous biceps bent, his hands clenched.
"Really,Sam? It's not my business? Is that why you come to me? Is that why you cry? Is that why you vomit when you look your bloody image in the mirror? Is this your joy? Is this your pride now?"
He moved closer to her and for the first time Liv didn't flinch.
"Do you want me to stop coming over, Liv? Is this what this is all about? Am I making you uncomfortable?
Were you used to seeing only the 'pretty side of life'" till I came along? Were the boys you used to sleep with so superior? Am I beneath you now? Huh? he shouted, grabbing her arm.
His hot, musky breath burning on her face.
"Is that what I said? That I am tired of you? That I mock you? No!" she nodded.
"But you need to understand that this is wrong, this is twisted, Sam. You can't keep doing it. It's killing you! You are not paying tribute to your brother that way. You are just damning your soul"
"Hahaha..." his hysterical laughter resounded like a thunder on a rainy day.
"Damning my soul? Damning my immortal soul? Well, I have news for you, Liv.
There is no afterlife. There is no heaven.
Only non-existence and hell and we just have to choose between the two.
And you know something? Hell is a lot more fun!" he concluded grabbing Liv by the neck.
Feeling his weight come over her, she felt renstricted and out of breath. She fought the urge to struggle against the constriction and the strength he put in squeezing her airway.
Something told her that if she struggled, it would only make it worse.
She often wondered if he had started gaining pleasure into causing pain, into watching life fade in someone's eyes...
But she wasn't ready to find out...
"You think you know hell, Sam? Just because you live in pain and self-loath you think it is enough? That it is comparable?
That it can be even remotely compared to what hell feels like?
Well, maybe you should ask Dean.
And maybe you will get there sooner than you thought, but not as the escape artist powerful enough to help him, but as 'hell's bith'" she whispered.
She didn't have to yell to hurt him. She didn't have to scream to wound him. She just had to find the right words and then just nail them at his heart, one by one.
He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath as if she had really hit him with the sharpest blade.
As if in shock, he slapped her hard across her face till she tasted her own blood.
"Don't you say that word! You hear me? Don't say that word ever again!" furious as he was, he paid no attention to how hard he was squeezing her.
Her body was almost on the verge of passing out...
"Which word? 'Hell's Bitch'? Is it really the word what's bothering you, Sam or is it the reality behind it? That your brother is one now?
Can't you see that killing everything and everyone isn't the way? It's not the way to get your brother back. Is this really what he would have wanted you to become? A mindless killer, maiming and butchering indiscriminately?"
Liv paused to take a breath as he began lossening his grip around her neck.
"You are becoming what you hated Sam. And even though you hate yourself, this isn't what you want, is it?"
As tears begun filling his eyes, Sam felt like a little boy again. As if he was being scolded but more importnatly as if he deserved it.
Only he wasn't a little boy anymore and this wasn't just some mischief.
This was about him and the world and his soul... And a major catastrophe that he was too blind to see looming over him...
Speechless, he let go of her as he saw her change in front of his eyes.
She had the same hair, the same luscious lips, the same body but somehow she looked different.
And before he could really put his hand on it, she turned her back on him.
"Who are you?" he asked trembling.
"You know who I am" she cryptically said.
"No, no! I don't know you! Your name isn't Liv, is it?" he asked again, agony apparent in his voice.
"It is. It is part of my name..." Liv breathed.
With one swift move Sam was off the bed and behind her, turning her around violently.
"Part of your name? What does that mean? Who are you?" he insisted.
And then she turned and with blood oozing out of the darkness that was her eyes she simply said:
"I am DeLIVerance and I am all yours now..."
~ Fin ~
If you enjoyed this fiction (comment!! <333), other SPN fiction you may like:
1)Bleed The Skies - A Sam Fic - [1/1]
2)Hades' Gates - [1/1]
3)This Is How You Fall - A Ruby Fic - [1/2]
4)A Shell - Running On Hope - A Ruby/Dean fic - [1/1]
5)The Other Side - A Ruby Fic - [1/1]
6)Triptych (Of Pain) - A Sam/Dean/Ruby/Lilith fic- [1/?]
Author: force-oblique
Rating: Gen ,R for moderately explicit language,violence, sexual situation
Disclaimer: I don't own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Sam,Liv (OFC) - Sam-centric
Spoilers/Warnings: Mostly 3x16 // My style is a bit dark so...this one is a bit dark too...
Word Count: ~2500
Summary: He keeps a picture of his brother always on him, but he rarely speaks of him.He still screams out his name at night, though. And when he screams "Dean", it makes her heart bleed, because it's the same every time.The same expression of loss and utter despair in his face. He always wakes up like that. With Dean's name like a bloody curse or miasma on his lips.
Author's Notes:I have to admit that this is the weirdest piece of fiction I have ever written! So, I hope it doesn't creep you out in the end...
~ English is not my native language so excuse any crappiness and/or mistakes!
Dedication: This fic is dedicated to:
[1]tahirire because she's been a good friend so far and she's been given a hard time lately. She just needs some love! <33 ^_^
[2]blaithacs for her valuable help! <33
Majorly Crossposted at:[daysofthereaper,moon-hunters,wincest-free,sn-fic,spn-fanfic,supernaturalfic,hurt-sam
The Dark That Follows aka The Fickle Deliverance Of Fate
He has her pinned down.
Her face buried in the pillows.
They are soft but they may as well be filled with nails.
She knows he wouldn’t care and neither would she.
He has her trapped between his body and the bed but she doesn’t mind.
She’s felt trapped her entire life or maybe it’s more than a lifetime by now.
Her long ebony hair frame her pale face. Perhaps too pale as some have remarked.
They have called her Snow White or Ice Queen, but this isn’t how she feels.
She probably appears that way because she rarely speaks.
She is not asked to anyways, unless it’s to scream or moan.
It’s not the first time he visits her, it probably won’t be the last either.
They don’t always part on good terms but he keeps coming back time after time and she keeps opening the door.
It’s more exciting that way, unpredictable.
Because when he does come back, it doesn’t necessarily mean he has regretted or repented.
Sometimes it means that he wants to pick up the fight right where they had left it from and so he enters and grabs her by the shoulder and it’s not long till they find themselves in bed again.
Liv is certain it’s not love.
It can’t be.
She is not even sure it’s the sex what keeps drawing him to her.
Many men have preceded him, but Sam -though falling for the same mistakes - seems different somehow.
There’s a certain quality in him she can’t quite place.
But lying on her face now with Sam inside her, a steady rhythm between her thighs, she finds it hard to concentrate or form a coherent sentence.
He is big and muscular and the line between pleasure and pain is indeed very thin and she has already crossed it many times.
But however aloof he may seem, he still calls out her name when he climaxes, “Liv”, and sometimes it hides something like pain or a lamentation.
There have been times when he came to her place with his hands and clothes covered in blood and Liv instantly knew he was a lost soul.
He keeps a picture of his brother always on him, but he rarely speaks of him.
He still screams out his name at night, though.
And when he screams "Dean", it makes her heart bleed, because it's the same every time.
The same expression of loss and utter despair in his face.
He rarely ever dreams.
Most of the times his eyes, remain half-closed, and keep moving frantically underneath his eyelids.
As if he is expecting the worse to happen even in his sleep and he wants to be prepared.
But when he does doze off, he always wakes up like that.
With Dean's name like a bloody curse or miasma on his lips.
And it leaves him sweaty, shivering and in pieces with no one but Liv there to collect him.
When Liv tries to get him to talk about Dean though, he gets angry.
And when he is angry, he is formidable, so she never tries anymore.
She is afraid she will see that scary golden glow in his eyes again, one that she doesn’t want to remember.
But when he is soaked in blood he is vulnerable or appears that way.
Sometimes he bursts into tears the minute he comes in and kneels in front of her, burying his face in her bosom and they just stand there in the middle of nowhere and everywhere, a broken champion and a fragile lady-mystery wrapped in each other for all eternity.
And then she takes him by the hand and leads him in the bathroom.
She gently wipes the dry blood off his face and hands and he remains like that, his eyes drowned in tears and a woe on his lips as she takes his clothes off him and gently washes the blood, the guilt and the sin away.
Liv knows it’s revenge he seeks.
Evil took his brother and all he could do was watch and now he is reckless and adamant in his resolve to bring down everything evil.
He’s gone too deep into the darkness, so deep it engulfed him and as his soul was fractured, it’s not light anymore what’s filling these cracks, it’s darkness itself.
Liv isn’t sure he’s noticed that he brings back blackness with him everytime.
A darkness great enough to fill the room and though she can absorb it and neutralize it with her goodness, she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep doing it.
All Sam wanted was to become a champion of goodness, but his lust for blood and retribution has caused him to be misguided.
Instead of an enlightened Warrior he turned into Blind Nemesis...
As misguided and as ruthless as a Jesuit and she is not sure he can find his way back.
But at least he keeps coming back to her.
After each time he kills and slays and maims and exorcizes, because he knows she will accept him, console him and soothe him the way only she knows.
A lot of men have tried to make her theirs, but she’s never given in.
They were unworthy.
But Sam is different.
There’s no sarcasm, no vanity, no hypocrisy.
No empty words. It's like he doesn't want or expect anything anymore.
He only comes to her when his cruelty shocks even himself. ...For absolution and forgiveness .
And he is almost there.
He is almost inside her heart.
She knows because unlike in the beginning, when he is enraged now, she is not intimidated.
Yes, she knows it’s not love. But it could be.
It certainly could be more than this war. This war he is constantly after...
It comes as no surprise, of course...
Sam has been forged in despair and blood and loss.
No wonder he craves for war and death.
Even his own.
That is all he sees, all he feels, all he desires...
And that is both his advantage and his weakness.
He honestly doesn’t care whether he lives or dies.
He keeps killing and risking and wreaking havoc as if it bears no consequences...
It makes no difference to him whether he lives or dies in the process.
And the truth is that maybe that’s exactly what he wants.
He’s been dead inside ever since his brother died.
He killed himself inside because he didn’t want to feel anymore, he wanted to shut all the feelings of helplessness, solitude and despair out of his heart.
He wanted, he needed his heart to turn into this cold, unfeeling muscle in his chest.
Almost like an unnecessary burden, but Liv knew better than that.
She could see it in his eyes every time he came bloodied and in tears. He needed forgiveness.
This life was killing him, taking away his humanity bit by bit and even though he said he didn’t care and was cruel even to her, she knew he was lying.
He didn’t mean any of the harsh words he said, they were only a façade, the wall he built to keep others away.
The easy way out. His life was too hard not to pick the easy way out when he could...
But he was close, too fucking close to winning her, to redeeming himself.
The bloody days were becoming less frequent and hope was brighter within him.
She couldn’t just let it be. She couldn't just leave him like that...
He just needed a push. One more push and maybe this was the day to do it!
He just needed one push, she could feel it.
Just as she could feel pleasure wash over her as he came and brought her climax too.
Leaning down to kiss her neck, she heard him say it. "Liv".
He called it out, everytime.
As if trying to let her know that he was there with here, even for the short while of their union or battle.
As if letting her know that she wasn't the only one who felt the earth move under, over and around them.
But this time it wasn't enough. This time they were way past that.And she needed to make him see. See already.
As he was gently sliding off her and to the left on the bed she captured his wrist in her hand.
It was a swift yet subtle move but he didn't fail to notice and flinch.
His reflexes were as sharp as ever even when he was next to her.
Liv could only grin at the subtext of this.
Was trusting her enough to have sex, really enough?
But she put that thought at the back of the head as she spoke.
"You need to stop doing that" such a simple sentence, ripe with meaning only he could grasp.
He just made a wave with his head and leaned back on the pillows.
"Which "that" would "that" be, Liv?" he said without looking at her.
"Coming here? Kissing you? Fucking you? Which one?"
Liv did't miss the coarseness in his voice.
His voice was always coarse after he spilt blood.
As if the transformation didn't only involve his soul, something intangible but extended to his being as a whole and it frightened her.
"Fucking it up" she merely said, knowing he was smart enough to understand what she meant.
"Fucking up everything" she added.
Sam was still not looking at her but she knew her words had an impact on him as he inhaled.
"And you need to stop avoiding to talk about your brother. You can't really expect me to believe that you hold him dear and sacred when you come here covered in God knows whose or what's blood every night."
He turned to look at her and his eyes were already burning. She instantly knew she had pushed him, if not enough, then adequately for a response.
"Did you love your brother Sam? Did you? Were you like that around him? Always killing, destroying? Were these the only joys you had back when he was alive?"
"That's not your business! You have no idea what my brother meant to me! How much he sacrificed for me! you have no idea!" he bellowed as he had already sat up, his enormous biceps bent, his hands clenched.
"Really,Sam? It's not my business? Is that why you come to me? Is that why you cry? Is that why you vomit when you look your bloody image in the mirror? Is this your joy? Is this your pride now?"
He moved closer to her and for the first time Liv didn't flinch.
"Do you want me to stop coming over, Liv? Is this what this is all about? Am I making you uncomfortable?
Were you used to seeing only the 'pretty side of life'" till I came along? Were the boys you used to sleep with so superior? Am I beneath you now? Huh? he shouted, grabbing her arm.
His hot, musky breath burning on her face.
"Is that what I said? That I am tired of you? That I mock you? No!" she nodded.
"But you need to understand that this is wrong, this is twisted, Sam. You can't keep doing it. It's killing you! You are not paying tribute to your brother that way. You are just damning your soul"
"Hahaha..." his hysterical laughter resounded like a thunder on a rainy day.
"Damning my soul? Damning my immortal soul? Well, I have news for you, Liv.
There is no afterlife. There is no heaven.
Only non-existence and hell and we just have to choose between the two.
And you know something? Hell is a lot more fun!" he concluded grabbing Liv by the neck.
Feeling his weight come over her, she felt renstricted and out of breath. She fought the urge to struggle against the constriction and the strength he put in squeezing her airway.
Something told her that if she struggled, it would only make it worse.
She often wondered if he had started gaining pleasure into causing pain, into watching life fade in someone's eyes...
But she wasn't ready to find out...
"You think you know hell, Sam? Just because you live in pain and self-loath you think it is enough? That it is comparable?
That it can be even remotely compared to what hell feels like?
Well, maybe you should ask Dean.
And maybe you will get there sooner than you thought, but not as the escape artist powerful enough to help him, but as 'hell's bith'" she whispered.
She didn't have to yell to hurt him. She didn't have to scream to wound him. She just had to find the right words and then just nail them at his heart, one by one.
He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath as if she had really hit him with the sharpest blade.
As if in shock, he slapped her hard across her face till she tasted her own blood.
"Don't you say that word! You hear me? Don't say that word ever again!" furious as he was, he paid no attention to how hard he was squeezing her.
Her body was almost on the verge of passing out...
"Which word? 'Hell's Bitch'? Is it really the word what's bothering you, Sam or is it the reality behind it? That your brother is one now?
Can't you see that killing everything and everyone isn't the way? It's not the way to get your brother back. Is this really what he would have wanted you to become? A mindless killer, maiming and butchering indiscriminately?"
Liv paused to take a breath as he began lossening his grip around her neck.
"You are becoming what you hated Sam. And even though you hate yourself, this isn't what you want, is it?"
As tears begun filling his eyes, Sam felt like a little boy again. As if he was being scolded but more importnatly as if he deserved it.
Only he wasn't a little boy anymore and this wasn't just some mischief.
This was about him and the world and his soul... And a major catastrophe that he was too blind to see looming over him...
Speechless, he let go of her as he saw her change in front of his eyes.
She had the same hair, the same luscious lips, the same body but somehow she looked different.
And before he could really put his hand on it, she turned her back on him.
"Who are you?" he asked trembling.
"You know who I am" she cryptically said.
"No, no! I don't know you! Your name isn't Liv, is it?" he asked again, agony apparent in his voice.
"It is. It is part of my name..." Liv breathed.
With one swift move Sam was off the bed and behind her, turning her around violently.
"Part of your name? What does that mean? Who are you?" he insisted.
And then she turned and with blood oozing out of the darkness that was her eyes she simply said:
"I am DeLIVerance and I am all yours now..."
~ Fin ~
If you enjoyed this fiction (comment!! <333), other SPN fiction you may like:
1)Bleed The Skies - A Sam Fic - [1/1]
2)Hades' Gates - [1/1]
3)This Is How You Fall - A Ruby Fic - [1/2]
4)A Shell - Running On Hope - A Ruby/Dean fic - [1/1]
5)The Other Side - A Ruby Fic - [1/1]
6)Triptych (Of Pain) - A Sam/Dean/Ruby/Lilith fic- [1/?]