Pain Paints Him, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Pain Paints Him
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A follow on to of sorts to the "Points" ( Which Begins Here)and "Pieces" ( Which Begins Here) Verse...comes after Paint the Sky, Paint Him Red and Painted in Shades of You...Sam and Dean go after The Demon...and the tables are turned.
Warnings/Author's Notes: I think...well, hell I don't know...but I'm hoping we're done...at least for now. God...I don't know...*shudders*.
It isn’t exactly vengeance that he’s after, because that would imply he dislikes what he is, but there is a driving desire to kill…to kill the one responsible, regardless He smiles as he drives, remembering in the first hours, while he abused his brother, how Dean had been convinced he was possessed.
It had taken days for Dean to accept the truth. Days of bleeding and abuse, days of fucking and beatings.
There was no demon inside of him…there was only Sam and the gifts he’d been given, gifts that the demon wanted, manipulated, even used to direct to bring him to the place where he fractured, where this…thing he’d become was released. The darker side of Sam Winchester, dark enough to swallow the night sky crawled up out of the cracks…still Sam…still human.
The afternoon is bright, though a cool breeze keeps it from being hot. In a mid-sized town in middle America, Sam navigates through streets filled with costumed children and cars. Beside him Dean sits staring out the window.
His welted flesh has to hurt, pressed bare against the leather of the seats, but Dean hasn’t moved since Sam had put him in the car. He hasn’t spoken since his punishment, not even when Sam had pulled them over in the desert in the middle of the night for a blow job on the side of the road. Sam smiles and runs a hand over his shoulder. The bruises over his body are mostly faded. He’ll have to remember to paint him again later. There was something beautiful in the way Dean’s skin purpled and blackened under his fingers.
Sam pulls the car to a stop outside the Harvest Fair and reaches over to slowly pump Dean’s cock. He’s hard instantly. Sam pulls the mesh of power around him and squeezes until Dean’s eyes close, then presses an invisible hand inside his still gaping ass. All around them families move, in and out of the fair, candy apples on sticks and cotton candy…and there they sit, Sam slowly fucking Dean’s ass.
Just as suddenly, Sam stops, releases Dean.
“Pull your pants on, Dean. We’ll be getting out of the car.”
Sam puts his hand on the seat between them, on the gun. It had taken a while to find, but he’d killed anything and everything to get it, humans, demons, it hadn’t mattered. They had followed the signs, the omens…their haphazard trail across the country lead them here…to this place. All he has to do now is get its attention.
It is here, of that much he was certain. He climbs out of the Impala and holds Dean’s door, the rifle loose at his side. Dean pulls the sweatpants on and stands, his nipples hardening in the cool autumn breeze. He sways a little and Sam has to wonder when he’s fed Dean last. It’s been at least twenty four hours. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat. Don’t want you passing out on me.”
The fair was crowded and Sam smiles to himself as he guides Dean through it, his hand on Dean’s neck. Sam can feel the streams of energy…the people, the hunters, the demons…swirling around them as he feeds Dean a hot dog, ignoring the looks they were getting as they sat on a bench and Sam holds the food to Dean’s mouth while petting his red and heated back with the other.
“After today, Dean, everything changes. The world will lay itself at our feet.”
“Excuse me, sir. I’m going to have to ask you to hand over the gun and leave.”
Sam looks up, the smirk belaying the sincerity in his voice. “What is the problem officer?” His eyes flicker up to the cop’s, then go back to Dean’s face. “Eat baby, you need your strength.” Dean’s mouth opens and he takes another bite of the hot dog, but doesn’t otherwise move.
“This is a family event, sir, and this display is…unacceptable. Now, hand over the gun.”
“I can’t do that. It’s a family heirloom. Maybe you should just fuck off.” He flicks a tendril of thought at the man and his partner, pushing them away. “Cops. You’d think they’d have learned by now.”
Sam shoves the last of the hot dog into Dean’s mouth and stands. “Well now…how much mayhem do you think it will take to get the bastard’s attention?” He takes two steps away and turns back to where Dean sits. “I’m gonna be horny as hell when this is over, Dean. I hope you’re ready for me.”
Dean’s eyes rise to his and Sam likes the blank, emptiness he sees in them. There’s nothing left in them but what he himself has put there. “Fetch me a child Dean.” Sam says it quietly, watches as Dean moves, all the grace and speed of the hunter he was with the obedience of the slave he has become.
When he returns, he’s holding the hand of a boy…maybe 9 years old. Sam isn’t sure how exactly he’s cajoled the child, but he comes willingly.
The police have returned with reinforcements, and Sam can feel the approach of the hunters…three…no, five of them, circling around. “That’s it boys, come on.” Sam whispers. His mind reaches out to the simple minded…children, adults, anyone who will respond easily and he draws them too…closer…watches as they fill with demons…He holds the boy in front of him, stills him when fear begins to surface.
“On your knees Dean.” Sam says, just to watch him do it. “Good boy. Hold the child.”
He begins on the outer circle of the fair, blowing up rides, burning down booths…pushing people closer to the place where he stands….closing his eyes and rolling his neck as he starts to randomly pick out people in the crowd and cutting them open. It takes only minutes for the police to begin firing, but he stops them, turns the bullets into the crowd. He doesn’t count the bodies, just lets them fall.
Beside him the child shivers, quivers in Dean’s arms. The fear is delicious.
“Bravo, Sam. Really an impressive display.” The voice is enough to bring him to a stop. Sam opens his eyes to find a man in a cop’s uniform standing in the circle formed by the people who hadn’t managed to escape…only feet away. His eyes glow a yellow-gold.
“I half expected you’d show up looking like my old man.” Sam quips.
“Too clichéd, even for me.”
Sam cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow.
“You called me, remember?”
“What, you in a hurry?”
“As much as I have come to love your artistry with these things, Sam, I do have other business to attend to.”
“Yeah…you’re here for another one of us.”
“Us?” The demon-cop paces around him. “You say that like there’s more than just you.”
Sam smile is wicked as he crosses his arms. “Well, we both know that there’s no one quite like me, is there?”
“No one has risen to their full potential like you, that’s for certain. It was brilliant, really…opening the door the way you did. Asking your father to sacrifice himself so that you could have him.” He gestures toward Dean. “Seriously, he’s a masterpiece.”
“Kill him, Dean.” Sam whispers and Dean’s eyes flick up to his briefly before his hands move and the boy slumps to the ground, his neck broken.
The demon-cop stops beside Dean, lifts his chin and he smiles. “Fucking brilliant.”
Sam waits until he leaves Dean and circles back around. “You’ve killed, maimed, raped in most imaginative ways. But I must admit I’m disappointed in the number of my own children you’ve seen fit to destroy along the way.”
Sam flicks his eyes at one of the nearer demon-possessed teenagers and sets her ablaze with the raising of an eyebrow. “Oops.”
The demon slaps him, hard, across the cheek and Sam chuckles. Three more burst into flames amid screaming and frantic movement. They can’t escape with the flames holding them all within the grounds, but they pull away from the burning bodies as the demons trapped within them squeal.
“Are you finished with your little display?”
Sam lets the smile melt from his face. “The depends.” He lifts the gun, cocked it. “Are you ready to die?”
“Really Sam…that can’t kill me.”
“Maybe…maybe not…wanna see?” He fits the rifle to his shoulder. “Sam Colt wasn’t the only gun maker in the world to know a little about the world of demons.”
His eyes narrow. If he sees the truth of what Sam holds in his hand, Sam can’t tell. It wouldn’t matter anyway. “May I ask why? When we’re essentially on the same side now?”
“Arrogant SOB aren’t you?” Sam asks. “What makes you think I’m on your side of anything?”
It stops pacing. “No? The massacre at Stanford? The little girl and her family in Lawrence…what you’ve done with your brother?”
“Never said I was on that side either.” The hunters are closing in. He can sense them too. “Maybe all I’m interested in is me.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
Sam has never really given it a lot of thought. It all came to this though. “I don’t take orders. Not from him, not from you.”
Some of the demons are turning to engage the hunters. Let them. Keep them both busy.
“And that’s reason enough to kill me?”
Sam lowers the rifle a little. “I need a reason?” He laughs and squashes more people, demons, it didn’t matter. “Please, you should know me better than that.”
The demon stands now over Dean. “Perhaps I under estimated you, Sam.”
“Perhaps.” Sam refit the rifle to his shoulder. “Perhaps I should stop talking and be done with it.”
“But then, I know something you don’t.” His smile was sickening as his hand descended on Dean’s shoulder. The skin under his hand started to redden, then purple. Only a passing flicker on Dean’s face registered the pain.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do you think it matters to me that you hurt him? I’ve hurt him far more.”
“Have you, Sam?” His hand pet over Dean’s hair and the muscles in Sam’s face twitch. He wants more than to kill the bastard, he wants to bleed him, beat him.
“Dean, come to me.” Sam says and Dean is on his feet and walking toward him in seconds. All around them battle rages as demons and hunters and average people fought each other and the blaze that was slowly eating toward them. “I think it’s time for you to die.”
The demon turns to face him. “Know that if you kill me Sam, you will regret it. You will regret far more as well.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Sam’s finger squeezes and the rifle kicks, the special round chewing through the air and taking the cop in the forehead. As he falls a blinding pain sweeps through Sam, and his power lashes out. Everything left alive around them screams in unison as they are shredded and his mind cracks and he falls, curling into a ball on the bloody ground.
It rushes out of him, into him, through him…his head swirling as the pain breaks open walls and the darkness swirls and he is both light and dark at once, everything together before the pain pushes and he retches and the walls rebuild…leaving him cold and broken with images of everything he’s done, everything he’s been…
“Oh..god…” He rocks himself, pushing the images out of his head…It hurts, the shattering, the opening of the walls and the pouring of himself back into himself…worse than the going, worse than the breaking apart….”Dean.” He gasps, reaches…finds Dean’s leg and uses it to pull himself up. “Dean…please…” He can’t open his eyes. He can’t….Dean’s hand is on his head, combing through his hair, gentle, soothing.
Slowly, Sam let’s his eyes open, focus on Dean, on his face…his eyes meet Dean’s and Sam shivers. Blood paints his skin, blood that Sam spilled…blood that Sam…he retches again, spilling out the last contents of his stomach and bile until he is heaving dry…and Dean simply stands there, watching.
As Sam crawls back to his knees, Dean squats, his eyes still empty, vacant, his hand coming to rest on Sam’s shoulder. “Its going to be okay, Sam.” Dean says, though his voice holds no emotion, no comfort. “I’m going to take good care of you.”
He stands, his hand in Sam’s hair again. Sam starts as the hand closes in a fist and fights as Dean starts to drag him, toward the dead cop, the dead demon. “Dean? Dean…please…I-“
“You killed all these people Sam. Look at you.”
Sam’s clothes are bloody. He can’t catch his breath as he looks around them…shakes his head, shakes from head to toe. “No…no…” But it’s true, and he knows and there’s nothing he can do to reclaim it…to reclaim himself…”Please, Dean…please.” He thinks he might be begging Dean to finish it, to kill him, but he knows, looking up at his brother that it won’t happen.
“It wasn’t you he wanted Sam.” Dean kicks the man, rolls him over. “All of this…it was me he wanted.” Dean’s eyes aren’t quite as vacant now as he turns to look at Sam. “You were just the means by which to break me…to make me…and now…” His smile makes Sam wilt, his stomach churn…and if there were anything left in it, he might retch again.
“Now, little brother…it’s my turn.”
Title: Pain Paints Him
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A follow on to of sorts to the "Points" ( Which Begins Here)and "Pieces" ( Which Begins Here) Verse...comes after Paint the Sky, Paint Him Red and Painted in Shades of You...Sam and Dean go after The Demon...and the tables are turned.
Warnings/Author's Notes: I think...well, hell I don't know...but I'm hoping we're done...at least for now. God...I don't know...*shudders*.
It isn’t exactly vengeance that he’s after, because that would imply he dislikes what he is, but there is a driving desire to kill…to kill the one responsible, regardless He smiles as he drives, remembering in the first hours, while he abused his brother, how Dean had been convinced he was possessed.
It had taken days for Dean to accept the truth. Days of bleeding and abuse, days of fucking and beatings.
There was no demon inside of him…there was only Sam and the gifts he’d been given, gifts that the demon wanted, manipulated, even used to direct to bring him to the place where he fractured, where this…thing he’d become was released. The darker side of Sam Winchester, dark enough to swallow the night sky crawled up out of the cracks…still Sam…still human.
The afternoon is bright, though a cool breeze keeps it from being hot. In a mid-sized town in middle America, Sam navigates through streets filled with costumed children and cars. Beside him Dean sits staring out the window.
His welted flesh has to hurt, pressed bare against the leather of the seats, but Dean hasn’t moved since Sam had put him in the car. He hasn’t spoken since his punishment, not even when Sam had pulled them over in the desert in the middle of the night for a blow job on the side of the road. Sam smiles and runs a hand over his shoulder. The bruises over his body are mostly faded. He’ll have to remember to paint him again later. There was something beautiful in the way Dean’s skin purpled and blackened under his fingers.
Sam pulls the car to a stop outside the Harvest Fair and reaches over to slowly pump Dean’s cock. He’s hard instantly. Sam pulls the mesh of power around him and squeezes until Dean’s eyes close, then presses an invisible hand inside his still gaping ass. All around them families move, in and out of the fair, candy apples on sticks and cotton candy…and there they sit, Sam slowly fucking Dean’s ass.
Just as suddenly, Sam stops, releases Dean.
“Pull your pants on, Dean. We’ll be getting out of the car.”
Sam puts his hand on the seat between them, on the gun. It had taken a while to find, but he’d killed anything and everything to get it, humans, demons, it hadn’t mattered. They had followed the signs, the omens…their haphazard trail across the country lead them here…to this place. All he has to do now is get its attention.
It is here, of that much he was certain. He climbs out of the Impala and holds Dean’s door, the rifle loose at his side. Dean pulls the sweatpants on and stands, his nipples hardening in the cool autumn breeze. He sways a little and Sam has to wonder when he’s fed Dean last. It’s been at least twenty four hours. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat. Don’t want you passing out on me.”
The fair was crowded and Sam smiles to himself as he guides Dean through it, his hand on Dean’s neck. Sam can feel the streams of energy…the people, the hunters, the demons…swirling around them as he feeds Dean a hot dog, ignoring the looks they were getting as they sat on a bench and Sam holds the food to Dean’s mouth while petting his red and heated back with the other.
“After today, Dean, everything changes. The world will lay itself at our feet.”
“Excuse me, sir. I’m going to have to ask you to hand over the gun and leave.”
Sam looks up, the smirk belaying the sincerity in his voice. “What is the problem officer?” His eyes flicker up to the cop’s, then go back to Dean’s face. “Eat baby, you need your strength.” Dean’s mouth opens and he takes another bite of the hot dog, but doesn’t otherwise move.
“This is a family event, sir, and this display is…unacceptable. Now, hand over the gun.”
“I can’t do that. It’s a family heirloom. Maybe you should just fuck off.” He flicks a tendril of thought at the man and his partner, pushing them away. “Cops. You’d think they’d have learned by now.”
Sam shoves the last of the hot dog into Dean’s mouth and stands. “Well now…how much mayhem do you think it will take to get the bastard’s attention?” He takes two steps away and turns back to where Dean sits. “I’m gonna be horny as hell when this is over, Dean. I hope you’re ready for me.”
Dean’s eyes rise to his and Sam likes the blank, emptiness he sees in them. There’s nothing left in them but what he himself has put there. “Fetch me a child Dean.” Sam says it quietly, watches as Dean moves, all the grace and speed of the hunter he was with the obedience of the slave he has become.
When he returns, he’s holding the hand of a boy…maybe 9 years old. Sam isn’t sure how exactly he’s cajoled the child, but he comes willingly.
The police have returned with reinforcements, and Sam can feel the approach of the hunters…three…no, five of them, circling around. “That’s it boys, come on.” Sam whispers. His mind reaches out to the simple minded…children, adults, anyone who will respond easily and he draws them too…closer…watches as they fill with demons…He holds the boy in front of him, stills him when fear begins to surface.
“On your knees Dean.” Sam says, just to watch him do it. “Good boy. Hold the child.”
He begins on the outer circle of the fair, blowing up rides, burning down booths…pushing people closer to the place where he stands….closing his eyes and rolling his neck as he starts to randomly pick out people in the crowd and cutting them open. It takes only minutes for the police to begin firing, but he stops them, turns the bullets into the crowd. He doesn’t count the bodies, just lets them fall.
Beside him the child shivers, quivers in Dean’s arms. The fear is delicious.
“Bravo, Sam. Really an impressive display.” The voice is enough to bring him to a stop. Sam opens his eyes to find a man in a cop’s uniform standing in the circle formed by the people who hadn’t managed to escape…only feet away. His eyes glow a yellow-gold.
“I half expected you’d show up looking like my old man.” Sam quips.
“Too clichéd, even for me.”
Sam cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow.
“You called me, remember?”
“What, you in a hurry?”
“As much as I have come to love your artistry with these things, Sam, I do have other business to attend to.”
“Yeah…you’re here for another one of us.”
“Us?” The demon-cop paces around him. “You say that like there’s more than just you.”
Sam smile is wicked as he crosses his arms. “Well, we both know that there’s no one quite like me, is there?”
“No one has risen to their full potential like you, that’s for certain. It was brilliant, really…opening the door the way you did. Asking your father to sacrifice himself so that you could have him.” He gestures toward Dean. “Seriously, he’s a masterpiece.”
“Kill him, Dean.” Sam whispers and Dean’s eyes flick up to his briefly before his hands move and the boy slumps to the ground, his neck broken.
The demon-cop stops beside Dean, lifts his chin and he smiles. “Fucking brilliant.”
Sam waits until he leaves Dean and circles back around. “You’ve killed, maimed, raped in most imaginative ways. But I must admit I’m disappointed in the number of my own children you’ve seen fit to destroy along the way.”
Sam flicks his eyes at one of the nearer demon-possessed teenagers and sets her ablaze with the raising of an eyebrow. “Oops.”
The demon slaps him, hard, across the cheek and Sam chuckles. Three more burst into flames amid screaming and frantic movement. They can’t escape with the flames holding them all within the grounds, but they pull away from the burning bodies as the demons trapped within them squeal.
“Are you finished with your little display?”
Sam lets the smile melt from his face. “The depends.” He lifts the gun, cocked it. “Are you ready to die?”
“Really Sam…that can’t kill me.”
“Maybe…maybe not…wanna see?” He fits the rifle to his shoulder. “Sam Colt wasn’t the only gun maker in the world to know a little about the world of demons.”
His eyes narrow. If he sees the truth of what Sam holds in his hand, Sam can’t tell. It wouldn’t matter anyway. “May I ask why? When we’re essentially on the same side now?”
“Arrogant SOB aren’t you?” Sam asks. “What makes you think I’m on your side of anything?”
It stops pacing. “No? The massacre at Stanford? The little girl and her family in Lawrence…what you’ve done with your brother?”
“Never said I was on that side either.” The hunters are closing in. He can sense them too. “Maybe all I’m interested in is me.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
Sam has never really given it a lot of thought. It all came to this though. “I don’t take orders. Not from him, not from you.”
Some of the demons are turning to engage the hunters. Let them. Keep them both busy.
“And that’s reason enough to kill me?”
Sam lowers the rifle a little. “I need a reason?” He laughs and squashes more people, demons, it didn’t matter. “Please, you should know me better than that.”
The demon stands now over Dean. “Perhaps I under estimated you, Sam.”
“Perhaps.” Sam refit the rifle to his shoulder. “Perhaps I should stop talking and be done with it.”
“But then, I know something you don’t.” His smile was sickening as his hand descended on Dean’s shoulder. The skin under his hand started to redden, then purple. Only a passing flicker on Dean’s face registered the pain.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do you think it matters to me that you hurt him? I’ve hurt him far more.”
“Have you, Sam?” His hand pet over Dean’s hair and the muscles in Sam’s face twitch. He wants more than to kill the bastard, he wants to bleed him, beat him.
“Dean, come to me.” Sam says and Dean is on his feet and walking toward him in seconds. All around them battle rages as demons and hunters and average people fought each other and the blaze that was slowly eating toward them. “I think it’s time for you to die.”
The demon turns to face him. “Know that if you kill me Sam, you will regret it. You will regret far more as well.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Sam’s finger squeezes and the rifle kicks, the special round chewing through the air and taking the cop in the forehead. As he falls a blinding pain sweeps through Sam, and his power lashes out. Everything left alive around them screams in unison as they are shredded and his mind cracks and he falls, curling into a ball on the bloody ground.
It rushes out of him, into him, through him…his head swirling as the pain breaks open walls and the darkness swirls and he is both light and dark at once, everything together before the pain pushes and he retches and the walls rebuild…leaving him cold and broken with images of everything he’s done, everything he’s been…
“Oh..god…” He rocks himself, pushing the images out of his head…It hurts, the shattering, the opening of the walls and the pouring of himself back into himself…worse than the going, worse than the breaking apart….”Dean.” He gasps, reaches…finds Dean’s leg and uses it to pull himself up. “Dean…please…” He can’t open his eyes. He can’t….Dean’s hand is on his head, combing through his hair, gentle, soothing.
Slowly, Sam let’s his eyes open, focus on Dean, on his face…his eyes meet Dean’s and Sam shivers. Blood paints his skin, blood that Sam spilled…blood that Sam…he retches again, spilling out the last contents of his stomach and bile until he is heaving dry…and Dean simply stands there, watching.
As Sam crawls back to his knees, Dean squats, his eyes still empty, vacant, his hand coming to rest on Sam’s shoulder. “Its going to be okay, Sam.” Dean says, though his voice holds no emotion, no comfort. “I’m going to take good care of you.”
He stands, his hand in Sam’s hair again. Sam starts as the hand closes in a fist and fights as Dean starts to drag him, toward the dead cop, the dead demon. “Dean? Dean…please…I-“
“You killed all these people Sam. Look at you.”
Sam’s clothes are bloody. He can’t catch his breath as he looks around them…shakes his head, shakes from head to toe. “No…no…” But it’s true, and he knows and there’s nothing he can do to reclaim it…to reclaim himself…”Please, Dean…please.” He thinks he might be begging Dean to finish it, to kill him, but he knows, looking up at his brother that it won’t happen.
“It wasn’t you he wanted Sam.” Dean kicks the man, rolls him over. “All of this…it was me he wanted.” Dean’s eyes aren’t quite as vacant now as he turns to look at Sam. “You were just the means by which to break me…to make me…and now…” His smile makes Sam wilt, his stomach churn…and if there were anything left in it, he might retch again.
“Now, little brother…it’s my turn.”