28.09. Sacred cows make the tastiest hamburgers.
The rush that comes with watching the good fall never gets old, not for Sam Winchester, crowned King of all Hell. Every God-faring man who looks up at him with eyes as black as the pits he commands sends a thrill through his body, every good Catholic girl who screams out blasphemies as he takes them hard against the back of his throne sets his heart soaring. Because he is corruption embodied, and doing this makes him dizzy with power. Makes him the closest thing to God that could possibly exist in this Godless dimension.
But humans are small fare. No human can be completely Good, doused as they are in Sin from the moment of their birth. No, the greatest satisfaction comes with the greatest fall, and so imagine his satisfaction when a blessed angel is dragged to his feet. And not just any angel. No, he could not imagine any greater gift that this poor soul laid out before him now.
Castiel. Here to rescue his brother from the pit, guide him in God’s work. But he did not realise how far Dean Winchester had fallen, did not realise he was far beyond saving, and now the guardian angel’s vessel was dressed in little more than rags. His whole body was scratched, bleeding and broken, and Sam supposed he had to hand it to him; it looked like he had put up a good fight. But this warrior would not escape from Hell. No matter how many of his brethren were sent after him. Sam would break them all, one by one.
Standing, to emphasise his height over the collapsed angel of the Lord, he stalked around the broken body. A cruel chuckle escaped from his lips as the creature below him stirred, tried to push himself up with limbs that refused to cooperate.
“It’s interesting, pain, isn’t it?” Sam questioned idly, as if he was offering the man an observation on the weather. “I suppose you’re not used to it. But we can hurt you here. The playing field isn’t level, like it might be...” He cast his eyes upwards, “Topside. Here we can break you into little pieces, glue you back together, and start all over again. In fact, I can think of someone who would love nothing more than to do just that to you.”
“Please...”
Oh, so the angel was begging? He had fallen further than even Sam had realised, then. An angel, begging mercy from Satan? There went his place behind Heaven’s gates, right there.
“All in good time,” Sam laughed louder, crouching down to lift Castiel to his feet. The angel couldn’t stand alone, had no choice but to slump into Sam’s arms, was unable to do more than wince as he found himself being kissed viciously by his new Lord and Master.
“You are not meant for me,” Sam commented, holding Castiel in a sick imitation of a lover’s embrace. “No, there is no choice for your keeper other than my brother.” Heaving the weight of the broken vessel with him, Sam crossed back to his throne, settling the angel in his lap before continuing. “You hate me now. You wonder where you went so wrong. How your mission could have failed, so completely. But trust me, this is only the beginning. Dean will teach you the true path, don’t you worry about that.”
A click of his fingers was all that was required to summon his brother. Still grinning his evil grin, Sam tightened his fingers in Castiel’s hair, forcing him to look in Dean’s direction. “This is the man you were sent to save. But there’s been a change in plans. This man...” he grinned at his brother, “Is going to save you.”
A final biting kiss to the angel’s bleeding lips, and then Sam handed him off to his brother. “Enjoy him, Brother. Break him. Do as you please. But make him one of us.”
Muse: Sam Winchester
Fandom: Supernatural
Verse: Irony
Word count: 657
But humans are small fare. No human can be completely Good, doused as they are in Sin from the moment of their birth. No, the greatest satisfaction comes with the greatest fall, and so imagine his satisfaction when a blessed angel is dragged to his feet. And not just any angel. No, he could not imagine any greater gift that this poor soul laid out before him now.
Castiel. Here to rescue his brother from the pit, guide him in God’s work. But he did not realise how far Dean Winchester had fallen, did not realise he was far beyond saving, and now the guardian angel’s vessel was dressed in little more than rags. His whole body was scratched, bleeding and broken, and Sam supposed he had to hand it to him; it looked like he had put up a good fight. But this warrior would not escape from Hell. No matter how many of his brethren were sent after him. Sam would break them all, one by one.
Standing, to emphasise his height over the collapsed angel of the Lord, he stalked around the broken body. A cruel chuckle escaped from his lips as the creature below him stirred, tried to push himself up with limbs that refused to cooperate.
“It’s interesting, pain, isn’t it?” Sam questioned idly, as if he was offering the man an observation on the weather. “I suppose you’re not used to it. But we can hurt you here. The playing field isn’t level, like it might be...” He cast his eyes upwards, “Topside. Here we can break you into little pieces, glue you back together, and start all over again. In fact, I can think of someone who would love nothing more than to do just that to you.”
“Please...”
Oh, so the angel was begging? He had fallen further than even Sam had realised, then. An angel, begging mercy from Satan? There went his place behind Heaven’s gates, right there.
“All in good time,” Sam laughed louder, crouching down to lift Castiel to his feet. The angel couldn’t stand alone, had no choice but to slump into Sam’s arms, was unable to do more than wince as he found himself being kissed viciously by his new Lord and Master.
“You are not meant for me,” Sam commented, holding Castiel in a sick imitation of a lover’s embrace. “No, there is no choice for your keeper other than my brother.” Heaving the weight of the broken vessel with him, Sam crossed back to his throne, settling the angel in his lap before continuing. “You hate me now. You wonder where you went so wrong. How your mission could have failed, so completely. But trust me, this is only the beginning. Dean will teach you the true path, don’t you worry about that.”
A click of his fingers was all that was required to summon his brother. Still grinning his evil grin, Sam tightened his fingers in Castiel’s hair, forcing him to look in Dean’s direction. “This is the man you were sent to save. But there’s been a change in plans. This man...” he grinned at his brother, “Is going to save you.”
A final biting kiss to the angel’s bleeding lips, and then Sam handed him off to his brother. “Enjoy him, Brother. Break him. Do as you please. But make him one of us.”
Muse: Sam Winchester
Fandom: Supernatural
Verse: Irony
Word count: 657