[fic] leonidaslion: The Suite!Verse
[ evil!Sam ]
Title: The Suite!Verse
Writer:
leonidaslion
Status of work: WIP
Characters and/or pairings: evil!Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings, kinks & contents:[Click to read]Dubious Consent, Dark!fic, Evil Sam Winchester, Apocalypse, Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Abuse
Length: 300k+
Summary: Prompt: evilSam and Dean
Reccer's notes: No discussion, or reccing session of evil!Sam would be complete without mention of The Suite!Verse. This work is so dark and rich and well crafted, it is an SPN primer for how to write the quintessential evil!Sam.
leonidaslion is a supremely talented writer and though long, this story is never boring. It plumbs the rich depths of Sam and Dean's relationship, their emotions, devotion and obsession with exquisite care. Still a WIP, each section is still a complete chapter onto itself. A must read.
[Short excerpt]It seems to take forever to get to the elevator, but he’s pretty sure that it has only been a few minutes. Just long enough for Dean to have accepted the fact that he’s heading downstairs to die with friends. He definitely cut too deep, and then he spent too long lying in the bed waiting for the demon to show. Those stupid mistakes are killing him, but at least he’s dying as himself instead of the broken, shadow-thing that Sam is trying to make of him.
If this is as close as Dean can come to winning, then it’ll have to do.
He eyes the button for a few seconds, gauging distance and his own flagging strength, and then rears back up onto his knees and slams the heel of his hand down on the rounded plastic. There’s a pristine ding and the doors immediately slide open, flooding green light into the hallway.
Dean lets out a shout of alarm and falls backwards, shutting his eyes. It’s still there against his eyelids, of course: an after-image of flames, green and vile and hungry, filling the elevator car.
Cracking one eye, he checks to see if he imagined it. The flames are still curling up the walls and sliding along the ceiling like water. He stares, mesmerized, and thinks that the elevator should have closed by now. Instead, the doors are still standing open, like it knows he’s there. Like it's waiting for him.
This is his brother’s safeguard, Dean realizes slowly. This flame-filled elevator.
Well, fuck Sam. Fuck Sam and his pushing and his hunger and the goddamned gilded cage he’s shoved Dean into. Fuck it all. If Dean’s going out, then he’s going out fighting, damn it.