Hell is Living Without You; a Sam as King of Hell fic
Title: Hell is living without you.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Gabriel
Word-count: 700
Summary: Sam is King of Hell and Gabriel refuses to leave him. A drabble-ish thing.
Author's Note: This might be a WIP. I don't know. I ADORE Sammy as King of Hell, because evil!Sam is just... I don't know, hot. So hot. Maybe if I do more, I'll call the next one "It's Hard to Dance with a Devil on Your Back"
Sam had always been in Dean's shadow. Whatever he had done, Dean had already done it. Didn't matter if Sam did it better, because Dean had showed him what to do in the first place. Dean was the one who always got the attention. From girls. From the damn angels. Castiel had only ever treated Sam like a peripheral- an attachment to Dean that could be ignored for the most part while the angel made goo-goo eyes at the older Winchester boy. And why was Dean a Righteous man? He'd never done anything righteous; he drank and gambled and treated people badly when it suited him. He wasn't exactly chaste either. Dean's only redeeming gift was that he was an idiot that treated his own life as worthless, giving it up for people he didn't know, because that was what they'd always done. Sam had been a fool himself back then, a kicked puppy that just crawled around in Dean's shadow, backing him up and never exploring his full potential. Dean had allowed that, had stolen the limelight and the glory. He'd tried to stop Sam realising what he could be, the greatness he could achieve. He could change the world; change the stars in the sky. And he would. But right now, he had other things on his mind.
He idly kicked at the obsidian dais, the souls of the damned shifting like smoke, trapped in the stone. That was the problem with Hell. It was showy, flashy, like a bad Las Vegas attraction. Poke it hard enough and it slowed, poke it again and more than likely, it would stop all together. Sam had found that. He might have been a pawn, tricked by Ruby and played by Lilith. But he'd beat them at their own game. The hunger had got too much and he'd drunk Ruby dry, felt the power move through him like nothing else. He'd seen the world in a new light, a light that shone from him. Old Yellow-Eyes hadn’t cursed him at all; he’d just given him a key and now Sam knew exactly what door that key opened. He forced his way to Hades- who knew you could use a summoning circle to send yourself down There? Well, now he did- and smashed a few demons into the jagged walls of yellowing bone and taken his place on that empty throne.
It was amazing how quickly the demons accepted the change. Perhaps it was the short, sharp execution of those who stood against him- their blood staining his lips, his chin, dripping like thick treacle onto the floor- that convinced those that wavered, uncertain. But most of them knew Lucifer had been Caged and useless too long, and Sam had been promised to them since the beginning of time. He was Hell’s Boy King, and now he was claiming what was his. He didn’t need Lucifer. He was human, and far more creative when it came to pain and suffering than any of them.
The only problem had been Gabriel. The stubborn little archangel had followed him down- the huge white-gold wings blackened by smoke from the Pits and the tips of those feathers melting and curling under the weight of all the world’s sin. Love, it was said, could save the world. Love was all you needed. It was not true. Gabriel loved Sam, the new King of Hell could see that, could see it in the tears that the angel cried for him when he refused to relinquish Hell, when he refused to give up the power that was rightly his. He could hear it in the way Gabriel’s reply echoed through Hell when Sam ordered him to leave. He could feel it in the way Gabriel trembled under him as one by one Sam pulled out his feathers and then watched as, like Prometheus’ liver, they grew back day after day.
Gabriel was as stupid as the rest of them. He thought he could tell Sam what to do, that Sam was frightened of him, that Sam would simply obey. Sam was sick of obeying. Now he was obeyed. Feared. Respected. And even if Gabriel watched him with silent despair, thick iron collar around his throat, one good tug of the chain would stop that. Sam did not have to see the archangels misery if he did not want to.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Gabriel
Word-count: 700
Summary: Sam is King of Hell and Gabriel refuses to leave him. A drabble-ish thing.
Author's Note: This might be a WIP. I don't know. I ADORE Sammy as King of Hell, because evil!Sam is just... I don't know, hot. So hot. Maybe if I do more, I'll call the next one "It's Hard to Dance with a Devil on Your Back"
Sam had always been in Dean's shadow. Whatever he had done, Dean had already done it. Didn't matter if Sam did it better, because Dean had showed him what to do in the first place. Dean was the one who always got the attention. From girls. From the damn angels. Castiel had only ever treated Sam like a peripheral- an attachment to Dean that could be ignored for the most part while the angel made goo-goo eyes at the older Winchester boy. And why was Dean a Righteous man? He'd never done anything righteous; he drank and gambled and treated people badly when it suited him. He wasn't exactly chaste either. Dean's only redeeming gift was that he was an idiot that treated his own life as worthless, giving it up for people he didn't know, because that was what they'd always done. Sam had been a fool himself back then, a kicked puppy that just crawled around in Dean's shadow, backing him up and never exploring his full potential. Dean had allowed that, had stolen the limelight and the glory. He'd tried to stop Sam realising what he could be, the greatness he could achieve. He could change the world; change the stars in the sky. And he would. But right now, he had other things on his mind.
He idly kicked at the obsidian dais, the souls of the damned shifting like smoke, trapped in the stone. That was the problem with Hell. It was showy, flashy, like a bad Las Vegas attraction. Poke it hard enough and it slowed, poke it again and more than likely, it would stop all together. Sam had found that. He might have been a pawn, tricked by Ruby and played by Lilith. But he'd beat them at their own game. The hunger had got too much and he'd drunk Ruby dry, felt the power move through him like nothing else. He'd seen the world in a new light, a light that shone from him. Old Yellow-Eyes hadn’t cursed him at all; he’d just given him a key and now Sam knew exactly what door that key opened. He forced his way to Hades- who knew you could use a summoning circle to send yourself down There? Well, now he did- and smashed a few demons into the jagged walls of yellowing bone and taken his place on that empty throne.
It was amazing how quickly the demons accepted the change. Perhaps it was the short, sharp execution of those who stood against him- their blood staining his lips, his chin, dripping like thick treacle onto the floor- that convinced those that wavered, uncertain. But most of them knew Lucifer had been Caged and useless too long, and Sam had been promised to them since the beginning of time. He was Hell’s Boy King, and now he was claiming what was his. He didn’t need Lucifer. He was human, and far more creative when it came to pain and suffering than any of them.
The only problem had been Gabriel. The stubborn little archangel had followed him down- the huge white-gold wings blackened by smoke from the Pits and the tips of those feathers melting and curling under the weight of all the world’s sin. Love, it was said, could save the world. Love was all you needed. It was not true. Gabriel loved Sam, the new King of Hell could see that, could see it in the tears that the angel cried for him when he refused to relinquish Hell, when he refused to give up the power that was rightly his. He could hear it in the way Gabriel’s reply echoed through Hell when Sam ordered him to leave. He could feel it in the way Gabriel trembled under him as one by one Sam pulled out his feathers and then watched as, like Prometheus’ liver, they grew back day after day.
Gabriel was as stupid as the rest of them. He thought he could tell Sam what to do, that Sam was frightened of him, that Sam would simply obey. Sam was sick of obeying. Now he was obeyed. Feared. Respected. And even if Gabriel watched him with silent despair, thick iron collar around his throat, one good tug of the chain would stop that. Sam did not have to see the archangels misery if he did not want to.