spn/ff: A Grey Death
Title: A Grey Death
Author: Liv darkmagic-luvr
Fandom: Supernatural/Firefly
Characters: River Tam, Sam Winchester, Simon Tam, Inara Serra, Jo Harvelle, Dean Winchester
Pairings: River/Sam, undertones of Inara/Simon and that charge Jo and Dean always seem to have.
30-kisses Prompt: 17. kHz (kilohertz)
Rating: NC-17
Words: 7,760
Warnings: general spoilers. Sex, dubcon, evil!Sam, brainwashing, time travel, blood and such
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or Firefly. Any characters you don’t recognize are original and should not be used without my permission.
Author’s Note: This is unusually graphic for my writing style. Also? This took a good couple months to work out. So many tenses changed, if you see something funky, let me know. Enjoy.
Chinese: And just so you know, I can kill you with my brain.
Black eyes roamed over her naked body, large, calloused hands swept down her front, making her breath hitch, arching into his hands. Her fingers twisted into her sheets, blood filling her mouth as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming as her demon fell into her, sliding long fingers along her skin. His mouth was hot against her neck, teeth scraping against tendons as he trailed his mouth down, down, his tongue sweeping along her collarbone and over the swell of her breast, smirking against her skin as she gasped beneath him.
“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against her, closing his mouth around a nipple, his fingers digging into her hips.
River‘s breath hitched in her throat, and she tried not to scream. “You,” she breathed, a bit of her own blood spilling over her bottom lip. Sam pulled away from her chest, ignoring her whine of protest and kissed her, devouring her mouth with his, his tongue tasting the blood in her mouth, growling as her blood filled his head and slid down his throat, into his veins. He pulled away from her slowly, pulling her bottom lip along with his teeth before gently letting go. River was breathing hard, her skin slick against his as she moved beneath his weight.
“Tell me what you want,” breathed Sam, black eyes flickering hazel, his voice going gentle-soft. He kissed her cheek, his breath along her jaw. “Tell me, River.”
“I want you.”
Sam smiled, all teeth and black eyes and moved so quickly that River wasn’t prepared, but her heart jumped into her throat when he lifted her leg with his hand and pushed his cock into her, snarling into her ear as he took her virginity.
“Oh, River,” he breathed, moving inside her and around her, his hips thrusting into her ruthlessly, watching River’s eyes roll into the back of her head, silently screaming in ecstasy and pain and love. Love, something he’d been breathing into her for a long time, long enough for her to trust him, to let him touch her, to let him fuck her. “Look what you’ve done.”
He caught her open mouth with his, and she let his tongue drown her. Breathing heavily through her nose, her nails opening moon shaped cuts into Sam’s back, digging deeper into him the deeper he rocked into her. He swallowed her screams as she came around him, but he didn’t stop moving, working in her until she was crashing again and again until he finally joined her, ejaculating inside of her and making her his.
He stretched his sweat slick body over hers, the bloody marks in his back sliding shut, healing with his will. He kissed River lazily, sweetly, his nose brushing against hers, his fingers sliding over her skin soothingly.
“I consented,” breathed River, turning her face into Sam’s, eyes hooded. He nodded and pressed his lips to hers for a moment.
“You did.” his mouth trailed down her neck, over her breasts and ribs, settling on a spot right below her belly button.
“It’s a boy.” her voice was matter-of-fact and her fingers slid into his hair, pushing it away from his face so she could stare down at him. Sam smirked against her skin, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to her abdomen.
“It will be.”
“Will you stay?” Sam’s smirk softened and he looked up at her, folding his arms across her stomach and settling his chin against his wrists.
“I consented too, River. I’m yours.”
“Forever?”
“Until I’m dragged back to the pit. And even then, we’ll see each other again.” River’s fingers slid out of Sam’s hair, down his cheek and across his lips.
A knock on the door sent River into a sitting position, her hand flying to her stomach protectively. Sam sat up as well, smirking over his shoulder at the door before turning back to River and kissing her neck.
“Simon. Put him at ease and join him for dinner.”
“You wont leave?” River breathed, her fingers digging into her stomach.
“You’re the only one who can see me.” River stood, naked and flushed, grabbing a robe and tying it around herself securely before she went to the door and answered Simon. He smiled brightly down at her and she glanced over her shoulder. Sam was still sitting there, lounging back on her bed, nude and smirking, hazel eyes swirling black for a moment before he was gone.
“Are you alright, River?”
“It’s dinner time.” Simon smiled, nodding.
“Yes. Are you hungry?”
Large warm hands slid across her ribs, over her hips, teeth scraped against her neck and Sam chuckled in her ear. “Say yes.”
“Yes.” Simon looked at her strangely, but seemed pleased enough and turned to lead the way to the kitchen. River started to follow, but Sam held her back, his front plastered against her back, his hand slipping beneath her robe, kneading her breast-
“River?” River jumped, blinking quickly and followed Simon, ignoring the way her face burned and the sound of Sam laughing; not at her, he wouldn’t laugh at her. She followed Simon to the kitchen, periodically looking over her shoulder to see Sam standing behind her, grinning at her from a distance (and still naked).
The crew was chattering away as Kaylee and the Shepherd served dinner, but River sat in her chair with her head tilted slightly to the side, Sam sitting next to her, (wearing loose fitting jeans and a t-shirt that brought out the puppy in his eyes) his arm across the back of her chair, leaning into her, his fingers drawing patters on her thighs.
“You have to keep this a secret,” he whispered into her hair, his mouth glancing across her earlobe. River’s eyes fluttered closed and she nodded. Sam chuckled airily. “Good girl.”
“Simon can’t know,” muttered River, Jayne (who’s fork was halfway to his mouth), gave her a funny look.
“What are you mooning about, girl?” she turned her head and looked at him with wide, blank eyes.
“But he’ll find out.” Jayne swallowed and turned his head back to his plate. River stared at him, a smirk of sorts tugging at the corner of her mouth. Sam chuckled into her hair, his hand sliding away from her thigh and pressing against her abdomen, solid and heavy and protective.
The black swirled in his eyes and Sam leaned forward on his heels, pulling a knife out of his back pocket. The hand against River’s abdomen fell away, gripping the hem of her robe and pulling it up to her hip. He titled his head slightly to look at her, and smiled wickedly. “Promise not to scream.”
She nodded even as he spun the knife around in his hand, pressing the blade against the skin of her thigh, pulling a ribbon of blood as he cut into her. River shook slightly, gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white, but never made a sound. Sam didn’t seem to care as he stared at the blood across her thigh, lowering his head and running his tongue across the length of the cut.
He drank her and laughed into her body when she heated to his touch. His mouth moved away from the cut in her skin and upwards. His knees hit the ground heavily, a sound that only River could hear and burrowing his head between her thighs, gripping her hips and pulling her forward in her chair. River’s fingers twisted in her palm, nails cutting into her flesh, trying not to call out Sam’s name as his tongue ran the length of her, his teeth scraping against her clit. He drank her and laughed.
.
Sam breathed her air, his hands weaving through her hair as she stood behind Wash in the bridge, watching out the window at all the space. Wash was busy role-playing with his dinosaurs, too busy to notice her. Her eyes fluttered closed as Sam pushed her backwards in the passageway, pressing her into the wall, his mouth falling against the side of her face.
“River?” she started, turning around as Inara headed out of the kitchen, calling her name. “What are you up to?”
“Listening,” said River. “Listening to the stars.”
“Such a liar,” breathed Sam, grinning against her face. Inara seemed satisfied enough with the answer and smiled softly up at her, her hand falling against the stair railing.
“Would you like to come to my shuttle for tea?”
River nodded, sliding her hand off Sam’s chest as she past him, heading down the stairs and following Inara to her shuttle with Sam close behind. When they reached the shuttle however, Sam swore, chuckling darkly and running his hands through his hair.
“Unbelievable. These people still exist.”
River looked at Sam over her shoulder and frowned. “Companions?”
“Hunters.” Inara said her name oddly at that moment, so she didn’t get a chance to ask what a hunter was. She didn’t know just by looking at him what he meant. He was, after all, all in her head.
Sam stood outside the shuttle with his arms braced against the metal frame, a dark look scarring his pretty face as he waited for River, listening to her talk about the ship with Inara. It would be unfortunate, he thought, his eyes narrowing, if Inara Sera were to interfere with his plans.
“I don’t want you going to visit Inara anymore,” he said, later that night, behind her, one hand tangled in her hair, the other digging into her hip. He was teasing her with his cock and his words, and she had been begging for him with whispers a moment ago, but now she was silent, too shocked to say anything.
“I-Inara?” he leaned over her shoulder, pressing himself against her, making her breath catch.
“She’s not the kind of person I want you around,” hissed Sam into her ear, his hand tightening in her hair, his other sliding away from her hip, behind her, gripping himself by the base of his penis and pressing his head against her opening. He listened to the whines she made, to high for any human to hear. “Not while your pregnant with my son. She‘s dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” repeated River in a small voice. Sam pressed his lips against the slope of her neck, watching the side of her face for the change, the acceptation. He watched it soften her face and bring tears to her eyes, and he pressed a kiss to her temple, brushing his cheek against hers and pushing himself inside her with a grunt.
He could feel her heartbeat around him, feel the sorrow and the pleasure swell in her chest. He slid his hand around her, pressing into her stomach, the slap of skin against skin filling their heads until River was crying out his name and crying for Inara. Sam breathed her name against her neck.
“River.”
.
The morning sickness started violently. Sam collected her hair in his fingers, rubbing circles against her bare back with the other hand, skin pressed against skin because they had sort of been in the middle of something when this started. She shook when she finished and he pulled her into his chest like he cared and pressed a kiss to a spot right below her ear. But vomiting was practically an everyday thing for her, so it would be easy to get used to.
She’s already showing signs of life. And she tried to justify it, using logic to make him understand that it’s not possible. Sam cradled her face in his hands and kissed her, sucks on her tongue until she can’t form words around it anymore.
“It’s better this way,” he said and his hands fell to her hips.
Book asked her if someone on the boat needed to sit with him for an hour or two, to learn about special hells after she let a particularly suggestive moan escape her lips in his passing. Sam thinks he’s amusing, and laughed into her neck when she chirped Jayne’s name. When Inara looked at her from across the table during dinner and asked her if she would like to come to her shuttle for tea, she can feel Sam staring at her, burning holes into the side of her face, racking fire as his gaze slid across her cheek.
“No.” and she can hear Inara’s heart shutter at the word.
River had her hands pressed into his chest, her thighs clenched against his sides. Her head dropped back, exposing her neck to him, letting him inside. She left him sleeping in her bed, sneaking around metal corners in a pink paisley dress and bare feet. She didn’t bother knocking on Inara’s shuttle, she thought she might cry if Inara refused her entry.
Inara’s getting ready for bed, tying back her hair and washing off her makeup when River slips in and stops, standing patiently. Inara doesn’t jump when she turns around, like she expects River to be there always when she turns around. She smiled softly at the younger girl and turned back to her mirror, continuing her nightly routine.
“This is very dangerous,” said River softly, her bare feet catching against the metal floor as she moved toward Inara’s bed, sinking into the edge. “We can’t be here long.”
Inara glanced at her in the mirror, raising an eyebrow like she’s amused. “What’s so dangerous?”
“You,” she breathed, her fingers catching against the hem of her dress. Inara stopped looking so amused and turned around completely, staring at River.
“I’m not dangerous, River, what gave you that idea?” looking angry and hurt, her words mixing together and sounding like pain. It made River flinch.
“He didn’t give an explanation, but I trust him inexplicably and irrationally. I’m a castle he’s built up, brick by brick, setting fire to light inside. Full of little lights, swirling around and making new ones,” breathed River, her hands sliding over her abdomen. Inara slid out of her chair and fell to her knees in front of the girl, her eyes wide with concern, fingers curling into her palms against the silk of her bed covers.
“Mei mei.” River’s eyes were full of tears, they spilled out and down her cheeks and she tried to smile, but it was broken.
“He’s a prince,” breathed River, dropping her head, staring at her hands. “He say’s I’m his princess.”
Inara’s hands moved to cup River’s face, pressing her forehead against the younger girl’s. “River, please tell me what you mean.” River choked on her tears, her fingers digging into her dress and her skin, turning her face away an squeezing her eyes shut. Inara tried again. “Does Simon know?”
River shook her head. “Can’t tell Simon. It’ll hurt too much.” River sniffed and laughed, bitterly. “Sam says he’s going to take me away.”
“Who’s Sam, sweetie?”
“My demon. My prince.”
“He-” Inara had to stop and close her eyes, cursing herself for having to say the words out loud. Hoping she wasn’t interpreting the analogy correctly, but hoping she didn‘t sound stupid in River‘s ears. “Sam did this to you?”
“I consented. I accepted his proposal and now it’s growing inside me. Little lights flickering in the shadows until the hours pass and the phoenix emerges.” Inara covered her mouth with one hand, stifling the sob that threatened to tare from her throat. She pulled away from River and stood up, heading for the door to her shuttle.
“I have to tell Simon.” River’s eyes flickered to the side, watching Inara go.
“He’ll kill you.” Inara froze, her hand pressed against the wall of the door.
“Simon?”
“No. Sam.” River let her fingers relax against her abdomen and fell softly onto her back, staring at Inara through her hair. “You’re safe here. Protected.”
“He is a demon then,” said Inara softly, her eyes glancing up where the devils trap was burned into the metal of her shuttle. “He must be pretty powerful, if he‘s able to sense them.”
“He’s a prince,” repeated River. Her hand glanced over her stomach as Inara turned back to her, stony faced and serious, noticing for the first time the slight swell to River’s frame. She bit back the pain in her chest and nodded.
“I wont tell,” said Inara, River smiled gently at her and climbed off her bed, her hair mused, walking past Inara and out of her shuttle. Inara closed her eyes as the younger girl past her, feeling tears well up behind her eyelids.
She stays in her shuttle. Just like River told her to, doesn’t come out for Book or Mal or Kaylee. She sits on her couch with her head in her hands until the knocks stop coming. She sits on her couch running through the names of every demon she’s ever heard of, trying to understand why he would pick River. River who was just a seventeen year old girl.
The name Sam sounds familiar, and she could almost place it. It itched behind her eyes, causing her to stand up a few times from her couch only to sit back down again, because she doesn’t know which book to look for first. Every time River passes by her shuttle she can feel it, feels the silver bangles on her arms burn and the tattoo etched into the bottom of her foot itch with unneeded power. Her granddad taught her well. She was born from a long line of hunters going as far back as Earth-That-Was and the Apocalypse of the Seals. There was something he told her, something that‘d been past down her family for centuries, but she can’t for the life of her put her finger on it.
She has a feeling it has something to do with a demon named Sam. Or maybe it was just a man.
Mal makes Simon try to get Inara out of her shuttle this time, and he sighs, pushing himself out of his chair and turning corners until he’s at her shuttle door. He hesitates, wondering if he should knock like he was raised to or just walk in like he’s being trained to. He picks the greater of two evils and walks into Inara’s shuttle, feeling wrong and intrusive (he wonders if this feeling is what the Captain lives and breaths off of). He doesn’t expect to see the mess. His eyebrows lift as his eyes catch books lying across books, most of them open, all of them old.
Inara’s mouth is hanging open, matching his when she looks up and meets his eyes. She has papers in her lap and her eyes are rimmed red and dark, like she hasn’t been sleeping, like she’s been crying. She tugs at his heart and Simon pivots forward, pushing books off her bed and kneeling in front of her, sliding his hands over her face.
“Inara?”
“I’m so sorry, Simon,” her voice cracks but holds and she just sounds tired and sorry. She closes her eyes and turns her face into one of his palms, her mouth brushing against his wrist.
“Sorry?” asked Simon, his eyes narrowed with concern and the force of his frown. “What for?”
“I can’t. I-” the tears Simon had suspected were at bay filled her eyes, glossing them over and wetting her cheeks, turning them raw. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell you.”
Simon wasn’t good with words, he wasn’t good with actions, he was never taught how to act around people without his father or mother breathing down his neck, telling him to keep a firm grim and to keep his shoulders back. He was emotionally stunted and he was only just starting to open up. That was the only reason he wasn’t pulling away from Inara and going for Kaylee and instead leaning closer to her, pressing his forehead against hers, closing his eyes when his hushing started, trying to sooth her.
“Shh, bao bei.”
“He will kill us both,” Inara turned her head against his, speaking against the corner of his mouth, her breath warm and sweet against his face. “He’s bathed in white. Chosen a vessel to help bring him life and bring his coming.”
“You sound like River,” chuckled Simon, feeling Inara’s eyes squeeze shut and wet against his cheeks.
“It’s a prophecy. From Earth-That-Was.” whispered Inara. “In the end, Lucifer had a human vessel, named Sam Winchester. Sam kept his freewill and the apocalypse was averted. But Sam went to Hell.”
“I’ve heard this story,” said Simon lightly. “Didn’t he drink blood?”
“Demon blood,” affirmed Inara. She scoffed lightly at herself after feeling Simon tense at her words, realizing he had been joking. “Please, Simon, believe me.”
“How can I?” breathed Simon, pulling away from Inara and picking up the book in her lap. It‘s a journal, possible hundreds of years old, the pages are torn and splattered with brown (blood colored and black ink). He manages to read the words Castiel, that raging idjit, didn‘t think to warn us, before the book was closed on his hand. “You’re speaking nonsense. What is all this?”
“My legacy,” whispered Inara, pulling R. Singers journal out of Simon‘s grip and setting it carefully back in her lap. “I’ve been reading up on it. I have script dating back to the early 21st century, all of it tells me exactly what I needed to know.”
“Which was?”
But son of a bitch she couldn’t tell him. Not when she promised River, not when Sam motherfucking Winchester (a demon of the man or the bringer of light; she didn’t know, she couldn’t be sure) was on this ship not three feet away from where Simon slept. But Simon needed to know and it sickened her to condemn them all to the blackest layers of eternity when they found out.
Instead, she smiled, shaking her head even though she knew it looked forced and alien on her face. “Nothing.”
Simon frowned at her, but with the sudden, anticlimactic confession there was tension in the room and it was painfully obvious that Inara was literally sitting between his legs and his shoes were dirtying up the silks of her bed.
Needless to say he left with a hasty, mumbled goodbye. Inara watched him as he stumbled out of her shuttle, letting the smile fade from her face effortlessly. She couldn’t tell him. Not until she was sure about two things: Which Sam was appearing before their little albatross; and probably most important, why her.
.
There are fires between her thighs, and she’s bathed in white and red. Her blood sashaying down her forearms, her hair sticking to her face. She could feel every movement his lips made against her arm as he sucked her dry. Their child moved inside her and sucked his thumb, while his father wet his lips with her blood, pressing red, sticky kisses along the columns of her throat. Her fingers danced along the swell of her stomach, hissing at the feel of his tongue scraping along the wounds in her skin.
“What can we call him?” and when he frowns at her question, she suddenly has insight to the man he was before the black.
“Whatever you want.”
“Call him John.” he froze over her skin, the warmth from the room disappearing (she can almost see her breath).
“No.”
“I want to call him John,” she said, and usually she’s not petulant, but she wants to see what he’ll do. He snarls at her, his eyes black as pitch and fire angry. She smirked at his expression, eyes narrowed in amusement ha, I win -and she raises herself up on her elbows, pressing her mouth against his, letting him take control, possessively. She can feel him growl into her mouth, smiling back and closing her eyes.
She realizes she hasn’t been sleeping. Not like usual, which was not sleeping well, but she’s not sleeping at all. It scares her enough to pull away from him in the night, sliding on a robe and checking herself in the mirror. There are circles, dark, almost bruise-like under her eyes. She can see her bones in the dim lighting, shadowed against her skin. She pulled her robe around herself, tucking her arms under her breasts and resting them on her belly. She’s only weeks along, but she looks months, wondered how he pulled that trick for a moment before the sharp sound of skin on wood makes her start.
She breaths faster at the sound, her eyes darting to the man in her bed and back to the door, bare feet padding softly against the straw woven carpet and to the door. She swallowed.
“Yes?”
“River.” Her heart stuttered to a stop, eyes closing in panic as Inara’s voice sifts through the rice paper and reaches her ears. With one last glance at Sam, River slides open the door and stares into the hollow, red rimmed eyes on Inara, who’s eyes linger on her face before sliding down her frame, settling on her stomach. She reached out, palm pressing against her, and it’s warm and safe and protective.
“This isn’t right,” she whispered, shaking her head as her eyes become glassy. “I have to get you out of here, River, I have to keep you safe-”
“I am safe,” insisted River, covering Inara’s hand with her. “You’re the one who needs to go, when he wakes-”
“He can’t hurt me, River,” interrupted Inara. “I know who he is, bao bei, please, River, I’m begging you to come with me and see Simon-”
She knew she must look horrified at the idea of telling Simon that the man in her head knocked her up because Inara’s eyes harden with determination and she moves her other hand to grip River’s shoulder.
“I swear to Gods that Sam Winchester will not hurt us-” but that might have been the worst thing to say, because River pulled away, her eyes going horrified to suspicious.
“You know his name.”
“Yes, River he’s-”
“He said you were dangerous.”
“He will kill you,” hissed Inara, her voice shrill with upset. “He’s a demon. He’s doesn’t care about you-”
“That’s a lie,” said River loudly and it’s almost a mistake, but no one answered her. Inara bit her lower lip for a moment, letting the loud echo back to silence and then to let River’s breathing even out. It take a minute, maybe two.
“At least let Simon look at you,” she pleaded. “To make sure you’re healthy. You’re so pale.”
She knew she was fine. She knew. Sam promised she would be, that they would be, him and her and their child, that they would be fine. But logic, the nagging voice in the back of her head that told her this couldn’t be real, that there had to be something wrong, that she lost so much blood when he drank from her, won out. Inara almost sobs when she stepped out into the hall, sliding the door shut behind her.
Simon’s bleary eyed and slow when they get to him. Inara explains quickly, somehow making very much sense of the very complicated situation River’s found herself in. River wont let Simon near her though, her hands pressed against her stomach and backing up slow steps when he turns his eyes on her, full of tears and brotherly vengeance.
“Simon, please,” snaps Inara, her voice commanding and pleading. “She doesn’t trust people, he’s brainwashed her into believing anything he says, including that I’m dangerous. She’s gestating too fast, Simon, she’s only been pregnant a week and a half. Just…pretend you’re not her brother for a moment and help her.”
Simon stared at Inara, for a very long time, long enough that River could feel the longing underneath. Longing to help her, longing to reverse time, longing to possess something he could not. He nodded, once, just to her, and then finally River let herself move closer to her brother. She breathed in his sadness and then without warning pulled her into his chest, holding her tightly.
“’M sorry, River,” he muttered into her hair. “I’m sorry that you couldn’t tell me.”
She knew a guilt trip when she heard one, but she couldn’t help closing her eyes against the safe feelings. He told her he loved her with his breath in her hair, he told her he wasn’t disappointed that she couldn’t tell him.
“We need to hurry,” whispered Inara, tugging on Simon’s sleeve. He nodded and reluctantly pulled away from River, brushing tears off her face she didn’t know had gathered. She nodded up at him and he pulled away completely, following Inara down the corridor to the infirmary, River close behind. The quite echoing around them as solace.
It started as a tug in River’s side, a pull at her muscles that made her stop with surprise and discomfort. Discomfort quickly turned into pain and she let out a low whine, her muscles contracting in waves. She pressed a hand against her stomach, furrowing her eyebrows at the unexpected surge of pain. Simon and Inara turned to look back at her, hearing her moan.
“River?” Simon started forward, catching her shoulders to keep her upright. She groaned again, louder this time, the pain increased. Inara joined them, pushing River’s hair behind her ears and looking wide eyed at Simon.
“What’s going on?” Simon moved a hand from her shoulder to her stomach, putting pressure on his palm for an eternity of pain before his eyes narrowed.
“She’s in labor.” Simon pulled his hand away, coming back with blood. He swallowed. “Or a miscarriage.”
River clutched her stomach, doubling over as pain gripped her body. Blood and sweat sliding down her legs. There was a sigh and River looked up to see Sam round the corner, a chuckle catching in his chest, crossing his ankles and leaning against the wall. “I told you not to tell.”
“Sam,” her voice was high and pleading, and without thinking Simon and Inara turned. It surprised her, when Inara gasped, her hand jumping to her mouth and Simon glared at the exact spot Sam would be in if he wasn’t in her head. He wasn’t in her head. With a quick roll of his eyes Sam flicked two fingers, like he was brushing away dust, and a gust picked up inside the spaceship, hard and suffocating. Simon gasped, coughing up blood as he tried to breath, Inara wiped blood away from her nose. Sam’s smirk grew and another flick of her fingers sent Inara crashing into Simon, sending them both to the floor.
River screamed, her hands dripping in blood, shaking in cold sweat. And then Sam was standing in front of her, staring at Inara and Simon, both bleeding from the mouth and nose as they braced against the wind. Sam turned to look at River, pale and dark eyed, staring at him in pain. Her dress was soaked in blood and sweat, clinging to her. Sam moved back to her, dropping softly to his knees and bringing his hand to her stomach.
“You consented,” he breathed into her hair, grinning against her as their baby thrashing inside of her. River winced, turning her head slightly to look at him. Her eyes hollow, the dark circles colored under her eyes standing out against her white skin. “This is the price.”
“You don’t love me,” whispered River.
“Oh, River. I do. Your blood gives me life, your body is holding my child, your heart keeps me tied to this world,” Sam laughed sharply, turning his head and sinking his teeth into her neck. She screamed again, in more pleasure than pain, something she couldn’t help. Sam pulled away from her neck, his teeth and lips smeared with her blood. He laughed again and kissed her hard, making her taste her blood, mixed with poison that tasted like sulfur. His kiss and her blood fogged her head until Simon screaming her name was nothing but a buzz in the back of her head.
His lips pulled away from hers slowly, gently, and looked at her with warm eyes. “Say yes, River, and we’ll be together forever.” His eyes dropped to her stomach and he moved his hand over hers, and she felt warm and safe. “Say yes and you can hold our baby.”
With tears sliding from the corners of her eyes, she moved her hand underneath his, sliding her fingers into his.
“Yes.”
The sound stopped as the space around them opened, sucking out the air and the pain. With light and cold. River let her eyes flutter close breathing in, feeling nothing but Sam.
When she opens them again, she’s not on Serenity. She’s standing in a dirt lot, sounds of a bar filtering through her ears. The wind kicks up softly, brushing her hair across her cheek and the hem of her skirt across her thighs. She looks down, runs her hand across a flat stomach and feels tears gather at the corner of her eyes. The sound of a door slamming open behind her has her whirling around, facing a rundown little place called the Roadhouse. There’s a blonde girl taking out the trash, muttering to herself, and looks over at River after she drops the bag on the ground.
“You lost?”
There’s a pretty man sitting at the bar when the blonde girl leads her inside. He looks up when they stop in front of him. He looks like a kitten and nods at her. “Who’s the girl, Jo?” Jo smiles prettily at him, and it has dark undertones.
“D’know, Dean. Found her outside.” He snorts, his eyes falling down her frame.
“She’s not wearing shoes.” River wants to punch him in the face, to listen to his pretty mouth twist into something bloody and surprised. She thinks he’ll swear.
The air in her head shifts and suddenly he’s there, slapping green paper down on the bar counter and calling it half. He smiles at her, like sunshine and wind and drops into the seat next to Dean. She can’t move, all she can do is stare, the tears in her eyes that had dried outside crawling back. Dean looks from her to Sam and cracks a grin.
“I think she likes you, Sammy.”
Sam was a cruel, cruel man. He bent her and broke her and fucked her and loved her. He crawled inside her and purred into her head; lies and pretty songs, smiles and kisses. Her Sam was a prince and a demon. He and her together created a life and now it was gone, and she was someplace not meant for kind like her.
River broke away from Jo, her hand sliding over her mouth to quiet the sobs in her throat and to catch the nausea twisting in her stomach. They were staring at her, and she was staring at Sam. Dean wasn’t grinning anymore.
“Do you know each other?”
“I’ve never seen her before,” says Sam and doesn’t that just break her. River ran her hands into her hair, clutching her head and squeezing her eyes shut, because it was all just so wrong.
“The meaning of life constitutes a philosophical question concerning the purpose and significance of life or existence in general. This concept has been the subject of much philosophical, scientific, and theological speculation throughout history,” she’s speaking fast and people are starting to look at her. There are tears falling onto her bare feet, mixing in the dust. She looks up, staring straight into Sam, catching him off guard. “The original meaning of the word daemon does not carry any negative connotations, which were later projected onto it as Christianity spread. We both know this is false. It’s the rotting of a soul, the deeper the infection of Hell sinks in, the blacker it becomes. We fade around each other in time and space but we’re never really gone. You said there would be a price, for consenting there would be a price,” Sam stands suddenly, staring at her with his lips parted, like he can’t believe her. River swiped angrily at the tears on her face with her wrist, looking away because logic was becoming painful. “Look what I’ve done.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” asks Dean, and she’s just a little startled, and he’s wondering why she’s so upset. He hates to see girls cry.
“River,” her voice is high and broken. She twists her right foot against the wood floor, frowning at Dean and holds up a hand. “No chick flick moments.”
Sam chuckles, glancing at Dean. The sound catches River off guard and her eyes snap back onto him, her hand falling to her side.
“That’s my line,” mutters Dean, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the bar. River listens as he whispers secrets into her head, her mouth curling into something akin to a smile, but maybe just shy of a happy one.
“It doesn’t feel right,” whispers River, turning her head to look at the bar interior. The dark edges polished with whisky and blood, smelling like heaven and sawdust. “It’s familiar, I can taste it. It burns on the way down, candy coated and warm. So very different, so very similar. The congruencies between half a millennia are striking, like a circle.”
“What the hell is she talking about?” asks Jo, eyebrows drawn together as she stares. Sam’s chuckle is swallowed by a sigh.
“Time,” he answers softly. River looks back at him. “She’s traveled through time.”
“Time travel?” asks Dean, his voice coated in disbelief and lunacy, crazy hilarious. “Isn’t that a little too science fictiony?”
“Says the boy who hunts for ghosts,” catches River lightly, turning up her chin. “Pumps them full of rocks and salt and calls them dead. Sets fire to their bones so they can sigh with peace. They don’t want peace, not the kind you like to think about in your shiny black car. Shotgun shuts his cakehole, bitch.”
“What the fuck?” asks Jo, because she could have sworn she heard this exact conversation like…twelve minutes ago when the Winchester’s came laughing in, Sam grumbling about Dean’s music. And then Dean’s groaning and Sam’s grinning.
“Please tell me she’s not psychic too.”
“She‘s a reader, you idiot,” interrupts River before Sam can say anything or Dean can make bounding strides to anymore outrageous conclusions. “Where I come from, planets are like states, civilization is a suggestion and nín rú cĭ zhī dao, wŏ kĕ yĭ shā hài nín yú wŏ de năo zi.”
“She speaks Chinese,” says Jo, clearly impressed, then turns around to the other patrons in her bar and shouts, “Does anybody in here speak Chinese?” and she’s only half kidding.
And nobody does and that seems to be the straw that broke the camels back, and River’s sinking into a chair, white as lightning and just as volatile in this fragile state she’s created for herself. She’s all alone in this world, with no one but the man who would become her Sam. He was a cookie cutter shape of the hard, sweet, evil, beautiful man she knew on Serenity.
Her eyes glaze over once again and River looks up Sam’s lanky frame, starting from his shoes, up jeans and cotton (and she has to smile to herself because she knows exactly what he has hiding underneath all that plaid and denim, suffered it under her hands and filled herself with it), his hair falling into his face as he looked at her like he used to look at her after being cruel; human like and puppy dog eyes.
But just looking at him creates pools of warmth in her belly. “I want you,” she whispers, her voice carrying far enough for him and his brother to hear. “Even if you are not my Sam. I want what you took away, I want the demon back, black eyes and bloodlust all. And it‘s not fair!” her voice rises as the tears fall, becoming hoarse and hysterical. “You took everything from me you son of a bitch, and you’re not even at fault.”
“Alright, that’s it,” snarls Dean, standing up and grabbing her elbow, dragging her out of her chair and toward the back. “Time to take this somewhere else, you psycho.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t keep you brother from Hell,” hisses River, glaring back at Dean, just so she doesn’t have to look at Sam. But his expression is priceless and it makes her heart break. But the filter’s off and disappeared and the words are eroding their little bubbles of solitude and invincibility like acid. “I’ve seen him, he’s been inside me and built me up and fixed me. I used to be not broken, but I used to be more broken too. Long before our lord Sam Winchester fell into my mind-”
“Dean, get her the hell out of here,” hisses Jo, her eyes wide and staring at River. Only now are the other hunters starting to notice her, the little girl with starch white skin and no shoes, screaming at the Winchesters about Hell and High Water. He knows she’ll protest to being dragged, his solution is to pick her up and hoist her over his shoulder. And he’s right, she’s far too stunned to object. She stares at leather for a moment, and then she’s looking at green and freckles.
“Don’t hurt her, Dean,” says Sam from behind brother of his. Jo’s at his shoulder, looking concerned (for her or him, she doesn’t quite know yet). River feel’s something swell in her throat and she speaks before she can stop herself.
“Sweet that you care.”
“Who the hell are you.” demands Dean and she has to flinch at the string of swear words shouted underneath. Sam shifts, like he’s going to save her from his brother.
“River Tam.” her voice is small and girl-like, and it makes Dean’s eyes soften, remember who he’s taking to. He sighs internally and manages a weak smile in his eyes.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen. But I’m smarter than you.”
“Why do I not doubt that?” mutters Dean, glancing away to roll his eyes. He glances back at her out of the corner of his eye. “River, how do you know Sam?”
And with her turn to look away, her chooses her feet, blinding white against the stained wood floor of the…room? Could it be considered that? There was a bed and windows, but a fog machine in the corner and a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, caught the light and made pieces of her skin glow. Sam perked up at his name, was staring through her skull with curious eyes and heavy beating heart.
“He’s…I’m his…” she takes a shaky breath and looks up with clear eyes and dark expression. “He’s a prince, chosen by the devil to unhinge the world. He chose me.”
“Okay, we’ll go with it,” mutters Dean back to Jo and Sam. “Chose you for what?”
“You wouldn’t understand. I don’t understand and I know everything. You wont comprehend-”
“Try me.” River closes her mouth, purses her lips and considers him. There’s a very high probability that his mind will break. But he’ll pout if he doesn’t know.
“To have his child,” she can hear Jo choking on air and feel Dean blinking very, very slowly at her. She explains. “I let myself trust him, when he came to me in my dreams I then invited him to be part of my mind. He was corporeal, somewhat. He could bring me to orgasm and he could drink my blood, but only I could see him. No, I’m not crazy. Broken, not crazy. It was real, our baby, I would prove it if I could, but the evidence seems to have disappeared, my…my baby’s gone.”
She can’t help the tears that fall.
Jo pushes Dean out of the way and gathers the girl in her arms, holding her while she sobs soul crushing, heart wrenching tears that leave them all empty and frozen.
“A baby?” whispers Sam, covering his mouth with one hand to try and swallow the gasp that threatens his throat. Dean closes his eyes against the wave shock and the sudden twisting in his gut. “Oh my god-”
“She said you were a demon,” because Dean can’t think about the child his brother and this poor girl will never have. “In the future. So…what the hell do we do?”
“We can’t help where I end up,” hisses Sam, glaring at his brother. There’s a keening sound, muffled by fabric and Jo’s hair that catches his attention and he wants to cry with her. Instead he moves forward, nudging Jo away with his knee. She stares at him, like this is all his fault, but moves anyway. River’s nearly hyperventilating, trying to draw breath and to stop shaking. He knows she can barely make him out through her tears and drops to his knees, at her eyelevel and lets her decide if she wants him to comfort her. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against his, her hair falling around them like a veil. Sam can feel her tears fall against his face, and it’s almost like he’s crying with her, for some loss he doesn’t know the weight of yet.
He can feel her warmth radiating onto his skin, feel it like fire when she places her hand against his shoulder and brings him in. The skin of her cheek sticks and slides against his, wet against dry, and presses her mouth into the crook of his neck. Her hair smells like iron and air, he closes his eyes to breathe her in, fingers gentle and tentative against her body, too warm and soft.
“Dear God make me a stone,” he whispers into her hair, swallowing the lump that forms in his throat. He wants to keep her, to show her that he’s not the demon she thinks she knows. Pressed against him, curving perfectly into a body that seems to know her back, he knows she’s telling the truth about him, about what he’ll become.
But being here, his demon sending her back to him, changes time, molding it to something shiny and new. Sam grips her tighter, closing his eyes and hoping she knows what he’s thinking. That if the future is up to her, she wont have to go through it again.
Author: Liv darkmagic-luvr
Fandom: Supernatural/Firefly
Characters: River Tam, Sam Winchester, Simon Tam, Inara Serra, Jo Harvelle, Dean Winchester
Pairings: River/Sam, undertones of Inara/Simon and that charge Jo and Dean always seem to have.
30-kisses Prompt: 17. kHz (kilohertz)
Rating: NC-17
Words: 7,760
Warnings: general spoilers. Sex, dubcon, evil!Sam, brainwashing, time travel, blood and such
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or Firefly. Any characters you don’t recognize are original and should not be used without my permission.
Author’s Note: This is unusually graphic for my writing style. Also? This took a good couple months to work out. So many tenses changed, if you see something funky, let me know. Enjoy.
Chinese: And just so you know, I can kill you with my brain.
Black eyes roamed over her naked body, large, calloused hands swept down her front, making her breath hitch, arching into his hands. Her fingers twisted into her sheets, blood filling her mouth as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming as her demon fell into her, sliding long fingers along her skin. His mouth was hot against her neck, teeth scraping against tendons as he trailed his mouth down, down, his tongue sweeping along her collarbone and over the swell of her breast, smirking against her skin as she gasped beneath him.
“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against her, closing his mouth around a nipple, his fingers digging into her hips.
River‘s breath hitched in her throat, and she tried not to scream. “You,” she breathed, a bit of her own blood spilling over her bottom lip. Sam pulled away from her chest, ignoring her whine of protest and kissed her, devouring her mouth with his, his tongue tasting the blood in her mouth, growling as her blood filled his head and slid down his throat, into his veins. He pulled away from her slowly, pulling her bottom lip along with his teeth before gently letting go. River was breathing hard, her skin slick against his as she moved beneath his weight.
“Tell me what you want,” breathed Sam, black eyes flickering hazel, his voice going gentle-soft. He kissed her cheek, his breath along her jaw. “Tell me, River.”
“I want you.”
Sam smiled, all teeth and black eyes and moved so quickly that River wasn’t prepared, but her heart jumped into her throat when he lifted her leg with his hand and pushed his cock into her, snarling into her ear as he took her virginity.
“Oh, River,” he breathed, moving inside her and around her, his hips thrusting into her ruthlessly, watching River’s eyes roll into the back of her head, silently screaming in ecstasy and pain and love. Love, something he’d been breathing into her for a long time, long enough for her to trust him, to let him touch her, to let him fuck her. “Look what you’ve done.”
He caught her open mouth with his, and she let his tongue drown her. Breathing heavily through her nose, her nails opening moon shaped cuts into Sam’s back, digging deeper into him the deeper he rocked into her. He swallowed her screams as she came around him, but he didn’t stop moving, working in her until she was crashing again and again until he finally joined her, ejaculating inside of her and making her his.
He stretched his sweat slick body over hers, the bloody marks in his back sliding shut, healing with his will. He kissed River lazily, sweetly, his nose brushing against hers, his fingers sliding over her skin soothingly.
“I consented,” breathed River, turning her face into Sam’s, eyes hooded. He nodded and pressed his lips to hers for a moment.
“You did.” his mouth trailed down her neck, over her breasts and ribs, settling on a spot right below her belly button.
“It’s a boy.” her voice was matter-of-fact and her fingers slid into his hair, pushing it away from his face so she could stare down at him. Sam smirked against her skin, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to her abdomen.
“It will be.”
“Will you stay?” Sam’s smirk softened and he looked up at her, folding his arms across her stomach and settling his chin against his wrists.
“I consented too, River. I’m yours.”
“Forever?”
“Until I’m dragged back to the pit. And even then, we’ll see each other again.” River’s fingers slid out of Sam’s hair, down his cheek and across his lips.
A knock on the door sent River into a sitting position, her hand flying to her stomach protectively. Sam sat up as well, smirking over his shoulder at the door before turning back to River and kissing her neck.
“Simon. Put him at ease and join him for dinner.”
“You wont leave?” River breathed, her fingers digging into her stomach.
“You’re the only one who can see me.” River stood, naked and flushed, grabbing a robe and tying it around herself securely before she went to the door and answered Simon. He smiled brightly down at her and she glanced over her shoulder. Sam was still sitting there, lounging back on her bed, nude and smirking, hazel eyes swirling black for a moment before he was gone.
“Are you alright, River?”
“It’s dinner time.” Simon smiled, nodding.
“Yes. Are you hungry?”
Large warm hands slid across her ribs, over her hips, teeth scraped against her neck and Sam chuckled in her ear. “Say yes.”
“Yes.” Simon looked at her strangely, but seemed pleased enough and turned to lead the way to the kitchen. River started to follow, but Sam held her back, his front plastered against her back, his hand slipping beneath her robe, kneading her breast-
“River?” River jumped, blinking quickly and followed Simon, ignoring the way her face burned and the sound of Sam laughing; not at her, he wouldn’t laugh at her. She followed Simon to the kitchen, periodically looking over her shoulder to see Sam standing behind her, grinning at her from a distance (and still naked).
The crew was chattering away as Kaylee and the Shepherd served dinner, but River sat in her chair with her head tilted slightly to the side, Sam sitting next to her, (wearing loose fitting jeans and a t-shirt that brought out the puppy in his eyes) his arm across the back of her chair, leaning into her, his fingers drawing patters on her thighs.
“You have to keep this a secret,” he whispered into her hair, his mouth glancing across her earlobe. River’s eyes fluttered closed and she nodded. Sam chuckled airily. “Good girl.”
“Simon can’t know,” muttered River, Jayne (who’s fork was halfway to his mouth), gave her a funny look.
“What are you mooning about, girl?” she turned her head and looked at him with wide, blank eyes.
“But he’ll find out.” Jayne swallowed and turned his head back to his plate. River stared at him, a smirk of sorts tugging at the corner of her mouth. Sam chuckled into her hair, his hand sliding away from her thigh and pressing against her abdomen, solid and heavy and protective.
The black swirled in his eyes and Sam leaned forward on his heels, pulling a knife out of his back pocket. The hand against River’s abdomen fell away, gripping the hem of her robe and pulling it up to her hip. He titled his head slightly to look at her, and smiled wickedly. “Promise not to scream.”
She nodded even as he spun the knife around in his hand, pressing the blade against the skin of her thigh, pulling a ribbon of blood as he cut into her. River shook slightly, gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white, but never made a sound. Sam didn’t seem to care as he stared at the blood across her thigh, lowering his head and running his tongue across the length of the cut.
He drank her and laughed into her body when she heated to his touch. His mouth moved away from the cut in her skin and upwards. His knees hit the ground heavily, a sound that only River could hear and burrowing his head between her thighs, gripping her hips and pulling her forward in her chair. River’s fingers twisted in her palm, nails cutting into her flesh, trying not to call out Sam’s name as his tongue ran the length of her, his teeth scraping against her clit. He drank her and laughed.
.
Sam breathed her air, his hands weaving through her hair as she stood behind Wash in the bridge, watching out the window at all the space. Wash was busy role-playing with his dinosaurs, too busy to notice her. Her eyes fluttered closed as Sam pushed her backwards in the passageway, pressing her into the wall, his mouth falling against the side of her face.
“River?” she started, turning around as Inara headed out of the kitchen, calling her name. “What are you up to?”
“Listening,” said River. “Listening to the stars.”
“Such a liar,” breathed Sam, grinning against her face. Inara seemed satisfied enough with the answer and smiled softly up at her, her hand falling against the stair railing.
“Would you like to come to my shuttle for tea?”
River nodded, sliding her hand off Sam’s chest as she past him, heading down the stairs and following Inara to her shuttle with Sam close behind. When they reached the shuttle however, Sam swore, chuckling darkly and running his hands through his hair.
“Unbelievable. These people still exist.”
River looked at Sam over her shoulder and frowned. “Companions?”
“Hunters.” Inara said her name oddly at that moment, so she didn’t get a chance to ask what a hunter was. She didn’t know just by looking at him what he meant. He was, after all, all in her head.
Sam stood outside the shuttle with his arms braced against the metal frame, a dark look scarring his pretty face as he waited for River, listening to her talk about the ship with Inara. It would be unfortunate, he thought, his eyes narrowing, if Inara Sera were to interfere with his plans.
“I don’t want you going to visit Inara anymore,” he said, later that night, behind her, one hand tangled in her hair, the other digging into her hip. He was teasing her with his cock and his words, and she had been begging for him with whispers a moment ago, but now she was silent, too shocked to say anything.
“I-Inara?” he leaned over her shoulder, pressing himself against her, making her breath catch.
“She’s not the kind of person I want you around,” hissed Sam into her ear, his hand tightening in her hair, his other sliding away from her hip, behind her, gripping himself by the base of his penis and pressing his head against her opening. He listened to the whines she made, to high for any human to hear. “Not while your pregnant with my son. She‘s dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” repeated River in a small voice. Sam pressed his lips against the slope of her neck, watching the side of her face for the change, the acceptation. He watched it soften her face and bring tears to her eyes, and he pressed a kiss to her temple, brushing his cheek against hers and pushing himself inside her with a grunt.
He could feel her heartbeat around him, feel the sorrow and the pleasure swell in her chest. He slid his hand around her, pressing into her stomach, the slap of skin against skin filling their heads until River was crying out his name and crying for Inara. Sam breathed her name against her neck.
“River.”
.
The morning sickness started violently. Sam collected her hair in his fingers, rubbing circles against her bare back with the other hand, skin pressed against skin because they had sort of been in the middle of something when this started. She shook when she finished and he pulled her into his chest like he cared and pressed a kiss to a spot right below her ear. But vomiting was practically an everyday thing for her, so it would be easy to get used to.
She’s already showing signs of life. And she tried to justify it, using logic to make him understand that it’s not possible. Sam cradled her face in his hands and kissed her, sucks on her tongue until she can’t form words around it anymore.
“It’s better this way,” he said and his hands fell to her hips.
Book asked her if someone on the boat needed to sit with him for an hour or two, to learn about special hells after she let a particularly suggestive moan escape her lips in his passing. Sam thinks he’s amusing, and laughed into her neck when she chirped Jayne’s name. When Inara looked at her from across the table during dinner and asked her if she would like to come to her shuttle for tea, she can feel Sam staring at her, burning holes into the side of her face, racking fire as his gaze slid across her cheek.
“No.” and she can hear Inara’s heart shutter at the word.
River had her hands pressed into his chest, her thighs clenched against his sides. Her head dropped back, exposing her neck to him, letting him inside. She left him sleeping in her bed, sneaking around metal corners in a pink paisley dress and bare feet. She didn’t bother knocking on Inara’s shuttle, she thought she might cry if Inara refused her entry.
Inara’s getting ready for bed, tying back her hair and washing off her makeup when River slips in and stops, standing patiently. Inara doesn’t jump when she turns around, like she expects River to be there always when she turns around. She smiled softly at the younger girl and turned back to her mirror, continuing her nightly routine.
“This is very dangerous,” said River softly, her bare feet catching against the metal floor as she moved toward Inara’s bed, sinking into the edge. “We can’t be here long.”
Inara glanced at her in the mirror, raising an eyebrow like she’s amused. “What’s so dangerous?”
“You,” she breathed, her fingers catching against the hem of her dress. Inara stopped looking so amused and turned around completely, staring at River.
“I’m not dangerous, River, what gave you that idea?” looking angry and hurt, her words mixing together and sounding like pain. It made River flinch.
“He didn’t give an explanation, but I trust him inexplicably and irrationally. I’m a castle he’s built up, brick by brick, setting fire to light inside. Full of little lights, swirling around and making new ones,” breathed River, her hands sliding over her abdomen. Inara slid out of her chair and fell to her knees in front of the girl, her eyes wide with concern, fingers curling into her palms against the silk of her bed covers.
“Mei mei.” River’s eyes were full of tears, they spilled out and down her cheeks and she tried to smile, but it was broken.
“He’s a prince,” breathed River, dropping her head, staring at her hands. “He say’s I’m his princess.”
Inara’s hands moved to cup River’s face, pressing her forehead against the younger girl’s. “River, please tell me what you mean.” River choked on her tears, her fingers digging into her dress and her skin, turning her face away an squeezing her eyes shut. Inara tried again. “Does Simon know?”
River shook her head. “Can’t tell Simon. It’ll hurt too much.” River sniffed and laughed, bitterly. “Sam says he’s going to take me away.”
“Who’s Sam, sweetie?”
“My demon. My prince.”
“He-” Inara had to stop and close her eyes, cursing herself for having to say the words out loud. Hoping she wasn’t interpreting the analogy correctly, but hoping she didn‘t sound stupid in River‘s ears. “Sam did this to you?”
“I consented. I accepted his proposal and now it’s growing inside me. Little lights flickering in the shadows until the hours pass and the phoenix emerges.” Inara covered her mouth with one hand, stifling the sob that threatened to tare from her throat. She pulled away from River and stood up, heading for the door to her shuttle.
“I have to tell Simon.” River’s eyes flickered to the side, watching Inara go.
“He’ll kill you.” Inara froze, her hand pressed against the wall of the door.
“Simon?”
“No. Sam.” River let her fingers relax against her abdomen and fell softly onto her back, staring at Inara through her hair. “You’re safe here. Protected.”
“He is a demon then,” said Inara softly, her eyes glancing up where the devils trap was burned into the metal of her shuttle. “He must be pretty powerful, if he‘s able to sense them.”
“He’s a prince,” repeated River. Her hand glanced over her stomach as Inara turned back to her, stony faced and serious, noticing for the first time the slight swell to River’s frame. She bit back the pain in her chest and nodded.
“I wont tell,” said Inara, River smiled gently at her and climbed off her bed, her hair mused, walking past Inara and out of her shuttle. Inara closed her eyes as the younger girl past her, feeling tears well up behind her eyelids.
She stays in her shuttle. Just like River told her to, doesn’t come out for Book or Mal or Kaylee. She sits on her couch with her head in her hands until the knocks stop coming. She sits on her couch running through the names of every demon she’s ever heard of, trying to understand why he would pick River. River who was just a seventeen year old girl.
The name Sam sounds familiar, and she could almost place it. It itched behind her eyes, causing her to stand up a few times from her couch only to sit back down again, because she doesn’t know which book to look for first. Every time River passes by her shuttle she can feel it, feels the silver bangles on her arms burn and the tattoo etched into the bottom of her foot itch with unneeded power. Her granddad taught her well. She was born from a long line of hunters going as far back as Earth-That-Was and the Apocalypse of the Seals. There was something he told her, something that‘d been past down her family for centuries, but she can’t for the life of her put her finger on it.
She has a feeling it has something to do with a demon named Sam. Or maybe it was just a man.
Mal makes Simon try to get Inara out of her shuttle this time, and he sighs, pushing himself out of his chair and turning corners until he’s at her shuttle door. He hesitates, wondering if he should knock like he was raised to or just walk in like he’s being trained to. He picks the greater of two evils and walks into Inara’s shuttle, feeling wrong and intrusive (he wonders if this feeling is what the Captain lives and breaths off of). He doesn’t expect to see the mess. His eyebrows lift as his eyes catch books lying across books, most of them open, all of them old.
Inara’s mouth is hanging open, matching his when she looks up and meets his eyes. She has papers in her lap and her eyes are rimmed red and dark, like she hasn’t been sleeping, like she’s been crying. She tugs at his heart and Simon pivots forward, pushing books off her bed and kneeling in front of her, sliding his hands over her face.
“Inara?”
“I’m so sorry, Simon,” her voice cracks but holds and she just sounds tired and sorry. She closes her eyes and turns her face into one of his palms, her mouth brushing against his wrist.
“Sorry?” asked Simon, his eyes narrowed with concern and the force of his frown. “What for?”
“I can’t. I-” the tears Simon had suspected were at bay filled her eyes, glossing them over and wetting her cheeks, turning them raw. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell you.”
Simon wasn’t good with words, he wasn’t good with actions, he was never taught how to act around people without his father or mother breathing down his neck, telling him to keep a firm grim and to keep his shoulders back. He was emotionally stunted and he was only just starting to open up. That was the only reason he wasn’t pulling away from Inara and going for Kaylee and instead leaning closer to her, pressing his forehead against hers, closing his eyes when his hushing started, trying to sooth her.
“Shh, bao bei.”
“He will kill us both,” Inara turned her head against his, speaking against the corner of his mouth, her breath warm and sweet against his face. “He’s bathed in white. Chosen a vessel to help bring him life and bring his coming.”
“You sound like River,” chuckled Simon, feeling Inara’s eyes squeeze shut and wet against his cheeks.
“It’s a prophecy. From Earth-That-Was.” whispered Inara. “In the end, Lucifer had a human vessel, named Sam Winchester. Sam kept his freewill and the apocalypse was averted. But Sam went to Hell.”
“I’ve heard this story,” said Simon lightly. “Didn’t he drink blood?”
“Demon blood,” affirmed Inara. She scoffed lightly at herself after feeling Simon tense at her words, realizing he had been joking. “Please, Simon, believe me.”
“How can I?” breathed Simon, pulling away from Inara and picking up the book in her lap. It‘s a journal, possible hundreds of years old, the pages are torn and splattered with brown (blood colored and black ink). He manages to read the words Castiel, that raging idjit, didn‘t think to warn us, before the book was closed on his hand. “You’re speaking nonsense. What is all this?”
“My legacy,” whispered Inara, pulling R. Singers journal out of Simon‘s grip and setting it carefully back in her lap. “I’ve been reading up on it. I have script dating back to the early 21st century, all of it tells me exactly what I needed to know.”
“Which was?”
But son of a bitch she couldn’t tell him. Not when she promised River, not when Sam motherfucking Winchester (a demon of the man or the bringer of light; she didn’t know, she couldn’t be sure) was on this ship not three feet away from where Simon slept. But Simon needed to know and it sickened her to condemn them all to the blackest layers of eternity when they found out.
Instead, she smiled, shaking her head even though she knew it looked forced and alien on her face. “Nothing.”
Simon frowned at her, but with the sudden, anticlimactic confession there was tension in the room and it was painfully obvious that Inara was literally sitting between his legs and his shoes were dirtying up the silks of her bed.
Needless to say he left with a hasty, mumbled goodbye. Inara watched him as he stumbled out of her shuttle, letting the smile fade from her face effortlessly. She couldn’t tell him. Not until she was sure about two things: Which Sam was appearing before their little albatross; and probably most important, why her.
.
There are fires between her thighs, and she’s bathed in white and red. Her blood sashaying down her forearms, her hair sticking to her face. She could feel every movement his lips made against her arm as he sucked her dry. Their child moved inside her and sucked his thumb, while his father wet his lips with her blood, pressing red, sticky kisses along the columns of her throat. Her fingers danced along the swell of her stomach, hissing at the feel of his tongue scraping along the wounds in her skin.
“What can we call him?” and when he frowns at her question, she suddenly has insight to the man he was before the black.
“Whatever you want.”
“Call him John.” he froze over her skin, the warmth from the room disappearing (she can almost see her breath).
“No.”
“I want to call him John,” she said, and usually she’s not petulant, but she wants to see what he’ll do. He snarls at her, his eyes black as pitch and fire angry. She smirked at his expression, eyes narrowed in amusement ha, I win -and she raises herself up on her elbows, pressing her mouth against his, letting him take control, possessively. She can feel him growl into her mouth, smiling back and closing her eyes.
She realizes she hasn’t been sleeping. Not like usual, which was not sleeping well, but she’s not sleeping at all. It scares her enough to pull away from him in the night, sliding on a robe and checking herself in the mirror. There are circles, dark, almost bruise-like under her eyes. She can see her bones in the dim lighting, shadowed against her skin. She pulled her robe around herself, tucking her arms under her breasts and resting them on her belly. She’s only weeks along, but she looks months, wondered how he pulled that trick for a moment before the sharp sound of skin on wood makes her start.
She breaths faster at the sound, her eyes darting to the man in her bed and back to the door, bare feet padding softly against the straw woven carpet and to the door. She swallowed.
“Yes?”
“River.” Her heart stuttered to a stop, eyes closing in panic as Inara’s voice sifts through the rice paper and reaches her ears. With one last glance at Sam, River slides open the door and stares into the hollow, red rimmed eyes on Inara, who’s eyes linger on her face before sliding down her frame, settling on her stomach. She reached out, palm pressing against her, and it’s warm and safe and protective.
“This isn’t right,” she whispered, shaking her head as her eyes become glassy. “I have to get you out of here, River, I have to keep you safe-”
“I am safe,” insisted River, covering Inara’s hand with her. “You’re the one who needs to go, when he wakes-”
“He can’t hurt me, River,” interrupted Inara. “I know who he is, bao bei, please, River, I’m begging you to come with me and see Simon-”
She knew she must look horrified at the idea of telling Simon that the man in her head knocked her up because Inara’s eyes harden with determination and she moves her other hand to grip River’s shoulder.
“I swear to Gods that Sam Winchester will not hurt us-” but that might have been the worst thing to say, because River pulled away, her eyes going horrified to suspicious.
“You know his name.”
“Yes, River he’s-”
“He said you were dangerous.”
“He will kill you,” hissed Inara, her voice shrill with upset. “He’s a demon. He’s doesn’t care about you-”
“That’s a lie,” said River loudly and it’s almost a mistake, but no one answered her. Inara bit her lower lip for a moment, letting the loud echo back to silence and then to let River’s breathing even out. It take a minute, maybe two.
“At least let Simon look at you,” she pleaded. “To make sure you’re healthy. You’re so pale.”
She knew she was fine. She knew. Sam promised she would be, that they would be, him and her and their child, that they would be fine. But logic, the nagging voice in the back of her head that told her this couldn’t be real, that there had to be something wrong, that she lost so much blood when he drank from her, won out. Inara almost sobs when she stepped out into the hall, sliding the door shut behind her.
Simon’s bleary eyed and slow when they get to him. Inara explains quickly, somehow making very much sense of the very complicated situation River’s found herself in. River wont let Simon near her though, her hands pressed against her stomach and backing up slow steps when he turns his eyes on her, full of tears and brotherly vengeance.
“Simon, please,” snaps Inara, her voice commanding and pleading. “She doesn’t trust people, he’s brainwashed her into believing anything he says, including that I’m dangerous. She’s gestating too fast, Simon, she’s only been pregnant a week and a half. Just…pretend you’re not her brother for a moment and help her.”
Simon stared at Inara, for a very long time, long enough that River could feel the longing underneath. Longing to help her, longing to reverse time, longing to possess something he could not. He nodded, once, just to her, and then finally River let herself move closer to her brother. She breathed in his sadness and then without warning pulled her into his chest, holding her tightly.
“’M sorry, River,” he muttered into her hair. “I’m sorry that you couldn’t tell me.”
She knew a guilt trip when she heard one, but she couldn’t help closing her eyes against the safe feelings. He told her he loved her with his breath in her hair, he told her he wasn’t disappointed that she couldn’t tell him.
“We need to hurry,” whispered Inara, tugging on Simon’s sleeve. He nodded and reluctantly pulled away from River, brushing tears off her face she didn’t know had gathered. She nodded up at him and he pulled away completely, following Inara down the corridor to the infirmary, River close behind. The quite echoing around them as solace.
It started as a tug in River’s side, a pull at her muscles that made her stop with surprise and discomfort. Discomfort quickly turned into pain and she let out a low whine, her muscles contracting in waves. She pressed a hand against her stomach, furrowing her eyebrows at the unexpected surge of pain. Simon and Inara turned to look back at her, hearing her moan.
“River?” Simon started forward, catching her shoulders to keep her upright. She groaned again, louder this time, the pain increased. Inara joined them, pushing River’s hair behind her ears and looking wide eyed at Simon.
“What’s going on?” Simon moved a hand from her shoulder to her stomach, putting pressure on his palm for an eternity of pain before his eyes narrowed.
“She’s in labor.” Simon pulled his hand away, coming back with blood. He swallowed. “Or a miscarriage.”
River clutched her stomach, doubling over as pain gripped her body. Blood and sweat sliding down her legs. There was a sigh and River looked up to see Sam round the corner, a chuckle catching in his chest, crossing his ankles and leaning against the wall. “I told you not to tell.”
“Sam,” her voice was high and pleading, and without thinking Simon and Inara turned. It surprised her, when Inara gasped, her hand jumping to her mouth and Simon glared at the exact spot Sam would be in if he wasn’t in her head. He wasn’t in her head. With a quick roll of his eyes Sam flicked two fingers, like he was brushing away dust, and a gust picked up inside the spaceship, hard and suffocating. Simon gasped, coughing up blood as he tried to breath, Inara wiped blood away from her nose. Sam’s smirk grew and another flick of her fingers sent Inara crashing into Simon, sending them both to the floor.
River screamed, her hands dripping in blood, shaking in cold sweat. And then Sam was standing in front of her, staring at Inara and Simon, both bleeding from the mouth and nose as they braced against the wind. Sam turned to look at River, pale and dark eyed, staring at him in pain. Her dress was soaked in blood and sweat, clinging to her. Sam moved back to her, dropping softly to his knees and bringing his hand to her stomach.
“You consented,” he breathed into her hair, grinning against her as their baby thrashing inside of her. River winced, turning her head slightly to look at him. Her eyes hollow, the dark circles colored under her eyes standing out against her white skin. “This is the price.”
“You don’t love me,” whispered River.
“Oh, River. I do. Your blood gives me life, your body is holding my child, your heart keeps me tied to this world,” Sam laughed sharply, turning his head and sinking his teeth into her neck. She screamed again, in more pleasure than pain, something she couldn’t help. Sam pulled away from her neck, his teeth and lips smeared with her blood. He laughed again and kissed her hard, making her taste her blood, mixed with poison that tasted like sulfur. His kiss and her blood fogged her head until Simon screaming her name was nothing but a buzz in the back of her head.
His lips pulled away from hers slowly, gently, and looked at her with warm eyes. “Say yes, River, and we’ll be together forever.” His eyes dropped to her stomach and he moved his hand over hers, and she felt warm and safe. “Say yes and you can hold our baby.”
With tears sliding from the corners of her eyes, she moved her hand underneath his, sliding her fingers into his.
“Yes.”
The sound stopped as the space around them opened, sucking out the air and the pain. With light and cold. River let her eyes flutter close breathing in, feeling nothing but Sam.
When she opens them again, she’s not on Serenity. She’s standing in a dirt lot, sounds of a bar filtering through her ears. The wind kicks up softly, brushing her hair across her cheek and the hem of her skirt across her thighs. She looks down, runs her hand across a flat stomach and feels tears gather at the corner of her eyes. The sound of a door slamming open behind her has her whirling around, facing a rundown little place called the Roadhouse. There’s a blonde girl taking out the trash, muttering to herself, and looks over at River after she drops the bag on the ground.
“You lost?”
There’s a pretty man sitting at the bar when the blonde girl leads her inside. He looks up when they stop in front of him. He looks like a kitten and nods at her. “Who’s the girl, Jo?” Jo smiles prettily at him, and it has dark undertones.
“D’know, Dean. Found her outside.” He snorts, his eyes falling down her frame.
“She’s not wearing shoes.” River wants to punch him in the face, to listen to his pretty mouth twist into something bloody and surprised. She thinks he’ll swear.
The air in her head shifts and suddenly he’s there, slapping green paper down on the bar counter and calling it half. He smiles at her, like sunshine and wind and drops into the seat next to Dean. She can’t move, all she can do is stare, the tears in her eyes that had dried outside crawling back. Dean looks from her to Sam and cracks a grin.
“I think she likes you, Sammy.”
Sam was a cruel, cruel man. He bent her and broke her and fucked her and loved her. He crawled inside her and purred into her head; lies and pretty songs, smiles and kisses. Her Sam was a prince and a demon. He and her together created a life and now it was gone, and she was someplace not meant for kind like her.
River broke away from Jo, her hand sliding over her mouth to quiet the sobs in her throat and to catch the nausea twisting in her stomach. They were staring at her, and she was staring at Sam. Dean wasn’t grinning anymore.
“Do you know each other?”
“I’ve never seen her before,” says Sam and doesn’t that just break her. River ran her hands into her hair, clutching her head and squeezing her eyes shut, because it was all just so wrong.
“The meaning of life constitutes a philosophical question concerning the purpose and significance of life or existence in general. This concept has been the subject of much philosophical, scientific, and theological speculation throughout history,” she’s speaking fast and people are starting to look at her. There are tears falling onto her bare feet, mixing in the dust. She looks up, staring straight into Sam, catching him off guard. “The original meaning of the word daemon does not carry any negative connotations, which were later projected onto it as Christianity spread. We both know this is false. It’s the rotting of a soul, the deeper the infection of Hell sinks in, the blacker it becomes. We fade around each other in time and space but we’re never really gone. You said there would be a price, for consenting there would be a price,” Sam stands suddenly, staring at her with his lips parted, like he can’t believe her. River swiped angrily at the tears on her face with her wrist, looking away because logic was becoming painful. “Look what I’ve done.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” asks Dean, and she’s just a little startled, and he’s wondering why she’s so upset. He hates to see girls cry.
“River,” her voice is high and broken. She twists her right foot against the wood floor, frowning at Dean and holds up a hand. “No chick flick moments.”
Sam chuckles, glancing at Dean. The sound catches River off guard and her eyes snap back onto him, her hand falling to her side.
“That’s my line,” mutters Dean, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the bar. River listens as he whispers secrets into her head, her mouth curling into something akin to a smile, but maybe just shy of a happy one.
“It doesn’t feel right,” whispers River, turning her head to look at the bar interior. The dark edges polished with whisky and blood, smelling like heaven and sawdust. “It’s familiar, I can taste it. It burns on the way down, candy coated and warm. So very different, so very similar. The congruencies between half a millennia are striking, like a circle.”
“What the hell is she talking about?” asks Jo, eyebrows drawn together as she stares. Sam’s chuckle is swallowed by a sigh.
“Time,” he answers softly. River looks back at him. “She’s traveled through time.”
“Time travel?” asks Dean, his voice coated in disbelief and lunacy, crazy hilarious. “Isn’t that a little too science fictiony?”
“Says the boy who hunts for ghosts,” catches River lightly, turning up her chin. “Pumps them full of rocks and salt and calls them dead. Sets fire to their bones so they can sigh with peace. They don’t want peace, not the kind you like to think about in your shiny black car. Shotgun shuts his cakehole, bitch.”
“What the fuck?” asks Jo, because she could have sworn she heard this exact conversation like…twelve minutes ago when the Winchester’s came laughing in, Sam grumbling about Dean’s music. And then Dean’s groaning and Sam’s grinning.
“Please tell me she’s not psychic too.”
“She‘s a reader, you idiot,” interrupts River before Sam can say anything or Dean can make bounding strides to anymore outrageous conclusions. “Where I come from, planets are like states, civilization is a suggestion and nín rú cĭ zhī dao, wŏ kĕ yĭ shā hài nín yú wŏ de năo zi.”
“She speaks Chinese,” says Jo, clearly impressed, then turns around to the other patrons in her bar and shouts, “Does anybody in here speak Chinese?” and she’s only half kidding.
And nobody does and that seems to be the straw that broke the camels back, and River’s sinking into a chair, white as lightning and just as volatile in this fragile state she’s created for herself. She’s all alone in this world, with no one but the man who would become her Sam. He was a cookie cutter shape of the hard, sweet, evil, beautiful man she knew on Serenity.
Her eyes glaze over once again and River looks up Sam’s lanky frame, starting from his shoes, up jeans and cotton (and she has to smile to herself because she knows exactly what he has hiding underneath all that plaid and denim, suffered it under her hands and filled herself with it), his hair falling into his face as he looked at her like he used to look at her after being cruel; human like and puppy dog eyes.
But just looking at him creates pools of warmth in her belly. “I want you,” she whispers, her voice carrying far enough for him and his brother to hear. “Even if you are not my Sam. I want what you took away, I want the demon back, black eyes and bloodlust all. And it‘s not fair!” her voice rises as the tears fall, becoming hoarse and hysterical. “You took everything from me you son of a bitch, and you’re not even at fault.”
“Alright, that’s it,” snarls Dean, standing up and grabbing her elbow, dragging her out of her chair and toward the back. “Time to take this somewhere else, you psycho.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t keep you brother from Hell,” hisses River, glaring back at Dean, just so she doesn’t have to look at Sam. But his expression is priceless and it makes her heart break. But the filter’s off and disappeared and the words are eroding their little bubbles of solitude and invincibility like acid. “I’ve seen him, he’s been inside me and built me up and fixed me. I used to be not broken, but I used to be more broken too. Long before our lord Sam Winchester fell into my mind-”
“Dean, get her the hell out of here,” hisses Jo, her eyes wide and staring at River. Only now are the other hunters starting to notice her, the little girl with starch white skin and no shoes, screaming at the Winchesters about Hell and High Water. He knows she’ll protest to being dragged, his solution is to pick her up and hoist her over his shoulder. And he’s right, she’s far too stunned to object. She stares at leather for a moment, and then she’s looking at green and freckles.
“Don’t hurt her, Dean,” says Sam from behind brother of his. Jo’s at his shoulder, looking concerned (for her or him, she doesn’t quite know yet). River feel’s something swell in her throat and she speaks before she can stop herself.
“Sweet that you care.”
“Who the hell are you.” demands Dean and she has to flinch at the string of swear words shouted underneath. Sam shifts, like he’s going to save her from his brother.
“River Tam.” her voice is small and girl-like, and it makes Dean’s eyes soften, remember who he’s taking to. He sighs internally and manages a weak smile in his eyes.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen. But I’m smarter than you.”
“Why do I not doubt that?” mutters Dean, glancing away to roll his eyes. He glances back at her out of the corner of his eye. “River, how do you know Sam?”
And with her turn to look away, her chooses her feet, blinding white against the stained wood floor of the…room? Could it be considered that? There was a bed and windows, but a fog machine in the corner and a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, caught the light and made pieces of her skin glow. Sam perked up at his name, was staring through her skull with curious eyes and heavy beating heart.
“He’s…I’m his…” she takes a shaky breath and looks up with clear eyes and dark expression. “He’s a prince, chosen by the devil to unhinge the world. He chose me.”
“Okay, we’ll go with it,” mutters Dean back to Jo and Sam. “Chose you for what?”
“You wouldn’t understand. I don’t understand and I know everything. You wont comprehend-”
“Try me.” River closes her mouth, purses her lips and considers him. There’s a very high probability that his mind will break. But he’ll pout if he doesn’t know.
“To have his child,” she can hear Jo choking on air and feel Dean blinking very, very slowly at her. She explains. “I let myself trust him, when he came to me in my dreams I then invited him to be part of my mind. He was corporeal, somewhat. He could bring me to orgasm and he could drink my blood, but only I could see him. No, I’m not crazy. Broken, not crazy. It was real, our baby, I would prove it if I could, but the evidence seems to have disappeared, my…my baby’s gone.”
She can’t help the tears that fall.
Jo pushes Dean out of the way and gathers the girl in her arms, holding her while she sobs soul crushing, heart wrenching tears that leave them all empty and frozen.
“A baby?” whispers Sam, covering his mouth with one hand to try and swallow the gasp that threatens his throat. Dean closes his eyes against the wave shock and the sudden twisting in his gut. “Oh my god-”
“She said you were a demon,” because Dean can’t think about the child his brother and this poor girl will never have. “In the future. So…what the hell do we do?”
“We can’t help where I end up,” hisses Sam, glaring at his brother. There’s a keening sound, muffled by fabric and Jo’s hair that catches his attention and he wants to cry with her. Instead he moves forward, nudging Jo away with his knee. She stares at him, like this is all his fault, but moves anyway. River’s nearly hyperventilating, trying to draw breath and to stop shaking. He knows she can barely make him out through her tears and drops to his knees, at her eyelevel and lets her decide if she wants him to comfort her. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against his, her hair falling around them like a veil. Sam can feel her tears fall against his face, and it’s almost like he’s crying with her, for some loss he doesn’t know the weight of yet.
He can feel her warmth radiating onto his skin, feel it like fire when she places her hand against his shoulder and brings him in. The skin of her cheek sticks and slides against his, wet against dry, and presses her mouth into the crook of his neck. Her hair smells like iron and air, he closes his eyes to breathe her in, fingers gentle and tentative against her body, too warm and soft.
“Dear God make me a stone,” he whispers into her hair, swallowing the lump that forms in his throat. He wants to keep her, to show her that he’s not the demon she thinks she knows. Pressed against him, curving perfectly into a body that seems to know her back, he knows she’s telling the truth about him, about what he’ll become.
But being here, his demon sending her back to him, changes time, molding it to something shiny and new. Sam grips her tighter, closing his eyes and hoping she knows what he’s thinking. That if the future is up to her, she wont have to go through it again.