Blood Bound 1/?
Title: Blood Bound
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC:17
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Warnings: Underage (Sam is 14), violence
Summary: Samuel Singer, unable to fight off the bullies at his new school, turns to the only student that everyone fears for help: an introverted loner named Dean. Struggling to get closer to the unwilling and rebellious teen, he soon discovers that they're connected in a way that not even he can comprehend. Trying to find the truth, Sam soon realizes that some secrets were meant to remain hidden.
PROLOGUE
Lawrence, Kansas
November 10, 1983
Black smoke polluted the night air as firefighters rushed to stoke the fiery flames surrounding the Winchester household, their attempts to save the lives of the people inside fruitless. The entire neighborhood flooded the streets in a panic as sirens echoed in their abused eardrums, the colored lights of the police cars casting an eerie glow on their frightened faces. Resting against the back door of an ambulance was a little boy, the cries coming from the baby in his arms quieting almost immediately when he placed his quivering lips to the infant's forehead.
"Don't you worry, little man," he whispered. "Everything's gonna be alright. I promise."
The older boy glanced up at the window of his bedroom in terror, desperately searching for the pair of yellow eyes that met his as he escaped the burning house with his baby brother. The demon inside was gone, he was sure of it. But the damage he'd left behind would stay with the boy forever.
"We're going to be separated for a while, Sammy," he said, tears falling from his green eyes. "I'm sure of it. But don't you worry 'cause I'm gonna find you. I'll always find you, baby boy."
The stoic boy remained calm as he came to grips with the knowledge that both of his parents were dead. He remained calm as he was taken away by the strange people who promised both him and little Sammy a good home, their words as meaningless to him as the situation in which he currently found himself. He figured there was no need to get hysterical over bullshit that he couldn't control, no matter how badly his entire body was screaming for the volcano inside of him to erupt. It wasn't until they tried taking Sam away from him that he finally gave in to the impulses telling him to break, falling to the his knees before everyone and begging for them to bring his brother back. Rather than listen to the pleas of the little boy before them, they took the screaming infant to whereabouts unknown, leaving the child left behind to pick up the fragmented pieces of his shattered heart. He was so distraught over his current predicament that the hunting skills his father began teaching him over the course of a few months failed to kick into action, leaving him clueless to the attention he seemed to have attracted by a certain someone peering at him from a distance.
Beyond the tears and pain, far from the prying eyes of the people surrounding the screaming boy, was a man hiding in the shadows, carefully watching the agony displayed all over the sobbing child's face with an intense curiosity. He appeared to be in his late forties, with graying hair and piercing yellow eyes. His nasty sneer gave his already sinister features an even greater edge, the menacing look he exhibited enough to frighten any passerby that dared take a step into the darkness he retreated to in an attempt to mask his all too foreboding presence. When his appetite for inquiry was sated, he made his escape through the double doors leading out of the building and headed to the nearest pay phone, extracting a number out of his coat pocket.
"What?" said a gruff voice on the other end.
"They're going to be separated. I'm going to need you to keep an eye on them as I have…other matters to attend to. You know what you need to do?"
"Affirmative. But…which one?"
"Doesn't matter, really. They're both important to me. I need you to keep on top of things. If my plans get derailed because of you, I'll be sure to pay you a visit personally. You do not want that, I assure you."
For a brief moment, there was nothing but silence. The yellow-eyed man scowled at the phone, clearly irritated at the lack of communication coming from the other end.
"I want you to keep your end of the bargain, Azazel. I'm not goin' into this if you don't plan on bringin' her back."
"Don't you worry," Azazel grinned. "I'll keep up my end. Just keep your eye on those boys."
The line disconnected as Azazel dropped the phone without placing it on the receiver, exiting the booth and disappearing down a long stretch of road that led to a secluded cabin away from the general public. As he entered the living room, he sat on a nearby recliner and stared disinterestedly at the man standing beside the fireplace, the anguish he suffered made all the more apparent by his disheveled appearance. His masculine features, combined with the ragged jeans and heavy boots he wore, made Azazel think of him as a "mountain man" type, one of those guys that could hoist a woman over a hard shoulder and drag her kicking and screaming to his bed. The thought made him smile, the image of this man raping an unsuspecting female too great a thought to ignore.
The man being so carefully dissected by his irreprehensible foe turned to face the detestable creäture before him with a disdain so palpable, it was a wonder the object of its glare didn't burst into flames. Azazel smiled wickedly at the primal hatred all over his face, the sinful desires of the flesh a potent aphrodisiac to the evil man.
"So, we meet again…John Winchester."
"Just tell me what you want me to do."
Azazel's brows furrowed in confusion. "Do? I don't want you to do anything, Johnny boy. I'm goin' to do it all for ya. You see,-" he leaned forward in his chair to pick up the handle of a large dagger, pointing it at John while he spoke- "I'm going to kill you. And when I do, you are going to do something very important for me. You are going to help me realize my vision. An entire army of demons will be grateful to you for your service to our cause…but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me, does your offer still stand?"
"Yes," he replied unhesitatingly. "Take my lousy soul if that's what you want, just don't hurt my boys."
"Oh, don't you worry…they'll be well taken care of."
Getting up from his place on the chair, Azazel stood in front of John and placed the sharp point of the dagger to the other man's chest, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Do you accept?"
John took a deep breath and relaxed as every bone in his body loosened, thoughts of his boy's smiling faces washing away each painful emotion that threatened to take hold of whatever control he still possessed.
This is for them. It's all for them.
"I accept."
Azazel plunged the blade deep into the heart of the man in front of him, watching with fascination as the life drained from his chocolate-brown eyes. Blood dripped from the wound in thin rivulets, staining the thick carpet beneath the demon's feet. Disgusted at the mess left behind by the irritating mortal, he shoved the body off of his weapon and stepped over the crimson puddle to the kitchen, washing the dagger meticulously. When he was finished, he shot a glance behind him to the dead body now laying on the floor of his living room, shaking his head at the man's astounding ignorance.
"And to think, you actually thought your boys were safe from me. Little do you know, those darlings of yours will soon be mine. You can bank on that, Johnny."
The demon fell to the floor as his deranged laugh penetrated the night air, completely oblivious to the pair of brown eyes watching him from the outside of his kitchen window.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC:17
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Warnings: Underage (Sam is 14), violence
Summary: Samuel Singer, unable to fight off the bullies at his new school, turns to the only student that everyone fears for help: an introverted loner named Dean. Struggling to get closer to the unwilling and rebellious teen, he soon discovers that they're connected in a way that not even he can comprehend. Trying to find the truth, Sam soon realizes that some secrets were meant to remain hidden.
PROLOGUE
Lawrence, Kansas
November 10, 1983
Black smoke polluted the night air as firefighters rushed to stoke the fiery flames surrounding the Winchester household, their attempts to save the lives of the people inside fruitless. The entire neighborhood flooded the streets in a panic as sirens echoed in their abused eardrums, the colored lights of the police cars casting an eerie glow on their frightened faces. Resting against the back door of an ambulance was a little boy, the cries coming from the baby in his arms quieting almost immediately when he placed his quivering lips to the infant's forehead.
"Don't you worry, little man," he whispered. "Everything's gonna be alright. I promise."
The older boy glanced up at the window of his bedroom in terror, desperately searching for the pair of yellow eyes that met his as he escaped the burning house with his baby brother. The demon inside was gone, he was sure of it. But the damage he'd left behind would stay with the boy forever.
"We're going to be separated for a while, Sammy," he said, tears falling from his green eyes. "I'm sure of it. But don't you worry 'cause I'm gonna find you. I'll always find you, baby boy."
The stoic boy remained calm as he came to grips with the knowledge that both of his parents were dead. He remained calm as he was taken away by the strange people who promised both him and little Sammy a good home, their words as meaningless to him as the situation in which he currently found himself. He figured there was no need to get hysterical over bullshit that he couldn't control, no matter how badly his entire body was screaming for the volcano inside of him to erupt. It wasn't until they tried taking Sam away from him that he finally gave in to the impulses telling him to break, falling to the his knees before everyone and begging for them to bring his brother back. Rather than listen to the pleas of the little boy before them, they took the screaming infant to whereabouts unknown, leaving the child left behind to pick up the fragmented pieces of his shattered heart. He was so distraught over his current predicament that the hunting skills his father began teaching him over the course of a few months failed to kick into action, leaving him clueless to the attention he seemed to have attracted by a certain someone peering at him from a distance.
Beyond the tears and pain, far from the prying eyes of the people surrounding the screaming boy, was a man hiding in the shadows, carefully watching the agony displayed all over the sobbing child's face with an intense curiosity. He appeared to be in his late forties, with graying hair and piercing yellow eyes. His nasty sneer gave his already sinister features an even greater edge, the menacing look he exhibited enough to frighten any passerby that dared take a step into the darkness he retreated to in an attempt to mask his all too foreboding presence. When his appetite for inquiry was sated, he made his escape through the double doors leading out of the building and headed to the nearest pay phone, extracting a number out of his coat pocket.
"What?" said a gruff voice on the other end.
"They're going to be separated. I'm going to need you to keep an eye on them as I have…other matters to attend to. You know what you need to do?"
"Affirmative. But…which one?"
"Doesn't matter, really. They're both important to me. I need you to keep on top of things. If my plans get derailed because of you, I'll be sure to pay you a visit personally. You do not want that, I assure you."
For a brief moment, there was nothing but silence. The yellow-eyed man scowled at the phone, clearly irritated at the lack of communication coming from the other end.
"I want you to keep your end of the bargain, Azazel. I'm not goin' into this if you don't plan on bringin' her back."
"Don't you worry," Azazel grinned. "I'll keep up my end. Just keep your eye on those boys."
The line disconnected as Azazel dropped the phone without placing it on the receiver, exiting the booth and disappearing down a long stretch of road that led to a secluded cabin away from the general public. As he entered the living room, he sat on a nearby recliner and stared disinterestedly at the man standing beside the fireplace, the anguish he suffered made all the more apparent by his disheveled appearance. His masculine features, combined with the ragged jeans and heavy boots he wore, made Azazel think of him as a "mountain man" type, one of those guys that could hoist a woman over a hard shoulder and drag her kicking and screaming to his bed. The thought made him smile, the image of this man raping an unsuspecting female too great a thought to ignore.
The man being so carefully dissected by his irreprehensible foe turned to face the detestable creäture before him with a disdain so palpable, it was a wonder the object of its glare didn't burst into flames. Azazel smiled wickedly at the primal hatred all over his face, the sinful desires of the flesh a potent aphrodisiac to the evil man.
"So, we meet again…John Winchester."
"Just tell me what you want me to do."
Azazel's brows furrowed in confusion. "Do? I don't want you to do anything, Johnny boy. I'm goin' to do it all for ya. You see,-" he leaned forward in his chair to pick up the handle of a large dagger, pointing it at John while he spoke- "I'm going to kill you. And when I do, you are going to do something very important for me. You are going to help me realize my vision. An entire army of demons will be grateful to you for your service to our cause…but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me, does your offer still stand?"
"Yes," he replied unhesitatingly. "Take my lousy soul if that's what you want, just don't hurt my boys."
"Oh, don't you worry…they'll be well taken care of."
Getting up from his place on the chair, Azazel stood in front of John and placed the sharp point of the dagger to the other man's chest, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Do you accept?"
John took a deep breath and relaxed as every bone in his body loosened, thoughts of his boy's smiling faces washing away each painful emotion that threatened to take hold of whatever control he still possessed.
This is for them. It's all for them.
"I accept."
Azazel plunged the blade deep into the heart of the man in front of him, watching with fascination as the life drained from his chocolate-brown eyes. Blood dripped from the wound in thin rivulets, staining the thick carpet beneath the demon's feet. Disgusted at the mess left behind by the irritating mortal, he shoved the body off of his weapon and stepped over the crimson puddle to the kitchen, washing the dagger meticulously. When he was finished, he shot a glance behind him to the dead body now laying on the floor of his living room, shaking his head at the man's astounding ignorance.
"And to think, you actually thought your boys were safe from me. Little do you know, those darlings of yours will soon be mine. You can bank on that, Johnny."
The demon fell to the floor as his deranged laugh penetrated the night air, completely oblivious to the pair of brown eyes watching him from the outside of his kitchen window.