SPN/X-Men Crossover fic Part 4/9: Broken Bonds
Title: SPN/X-Men Crossover Part 4/9: Broken Bonds
Author: neutraldeviance
Fandom: Supernatural AU and X-Men Movie-verse AU. There’s no established timeline for either fandom.
Rating: NC-17 adult situations, language and violence
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/Peter (implied), Logan/Scott/Jean, Bobby/Marie
Supporting Characters: Professor Xavier, Ororo Munroe, OMC, Meg
Summary: Dean and the X-Men are hot on the trail…but are they too late to save Sam and Peter?
Warnings: established relationship, angst, governmental torture, read at your own risk, ~text~ is telepathic speech
Word Count: 4,769
Beta: un-beta’d, mistakes are all my own
Disclaimer: The story is mine. The characters are not.
Author’s note:1) This is part four to my SPN/X-Men ‘verse. I don’t know how many parts there’ll be, but more than likely no more than a couple more or so. 2) Feedback is most anxiously desired! :)
One day ago…
His back arched into hot flesh as he was filled from behind, the tight hot burn long having subsided to give way to electrifying streaks of pure unadulterated euphoria spreading through his nerve endings like wildfire as every hard thrust hit home. He cried out, fingernails clawing into the wall leaving deep gorges that would have him picking paint and plaster from under them for days. Somehow that didn’t matter too much.
The man pounding inside him knew every little dirty trick to get him to scream and whimper and howl in animalistic passion as sinful fingernails left stinging welts down his chest and abs that disappeared almost as they were formed. The hot liquid breath on the back of his neck and then the sharp painful nips of teeth that trailed over his shoulder enhanced the overall experience.
He rolled his hips back and forth to meet the slapping gyrations of his mate, his teeth clenched together so tight his jaws ached. A cross between a low growl and a soft purr was forced out of his throat as he was taken again and again.
“SAMMMMMY!”
He craved the feeling of his younger brother’s hard thick cock forcing itself inside over and over, the docile mate playing the part of the aggressor. He was owned, collared and tamed by that dirty burning friction and the passion they shared in their primal dance that was older than time was time. The pleasure/pain grounded him in ways that only the two Winchesters could ever truly understand.
“God Dean…so fucking hot inside you…”
It was wholly ironic that the one thought Dean could form was about how the FUCK Sam could form intelligent thoughts when his older brother was reduced to embarrassing whimpers and unintelligible begging.
Sam’s long arms wrapped around his middle as the taller, younger Winchester held on tight for the final thrust that would bring them both tumbling over the edge, and as Sammy hit that sweet spot deep within his belly, white fire streamlined a path from his heavy balls and hot sweet life spewed from his rock hardness, coating the wall in front of him.
“DEAN! FOR GOD’S SAKE…!!!”
Dr. Jean Grey, the resident mutant psychic, stumbled into Dean’s room after her telekinesis slammed into the heavy oak door with such force it was obliterated to base molecules, effectively dissolving into air. Her eyes were glowing with psychokinetic fire as she grabbed hold to a side of the now empty entryway, unsteady on her feet and her silk nightgown plastered to her body like a tight glove by a thick coating of perspiration. Her breath came out in heated gasps, long slender fingers going to grab her head.
“DEAN! PLEASE WAKE UP!”
She screamed, tears in her eyes covering up the erotic moans that her body was being forced to feel as Dean’s heated fantasy caused his sleeping body to react naturally by giving off his pheremones like a thick cloud of lust and animal passion, unknowingly projecting his feelings to the psychic doctor.
She had been nestled between Scott and Logan, their bodies intertwined comfortably in their tribunal bed when all of a sudden she had been woken up from a dream that wasn’t hers, covered in sweat and feeling things that weren’t hers to feel. The images of the dream flashed through her mind and as much as she tried she couldn’t shut it out. She scrambled out of the bed to follow its source and found herself heading towards Dean Winchester’s room.
The closer she got the worse the feelings became until they were so pleasure-filled that they bordered on torturous pain as the build-up had no outlet. She felt everything as Dean did from his base memories, her mind and body confusing the two as her psychic powers made it real for her. Her sweat stung the phantom welts on her breasts and stomach that had suddenly appeared the second before she burst into his room.
Dean woke up with a startled yelp, wildly thrashing about, confusion the predominant feeling. His breathing slowed as he came to full awareness. His brows knit in more confusion as he inhaled deeply and shot a look in Jean’s direction.
“Got problems there, Red?”
The memories of the dream were fading, though he was ravaged with the pain of loss as he realized it was only a dream. As he looked at Jean though, he couldn’t help but snigger a little as she staggered over to the bed and sat down on it with a heaved sigh. The second Dean came to awareness, the overwhelming sensations she had been feeling abruptly stopped as Dean threw up the mental shields his brother had so tediously showed him how to build.
Jean slowly composed herself as she demurely tucked a lock of fire-red behind her left ear and her body returned to the quiet, poised demeanor that Dean had come to associate with her personality. Her vivid green hues tentatively sought his gaze before she spoke, not wanting to spark the animal within his fragile psyche.
“I can’t even begin to imagine the pain you feel, Dean…” She began hesitantly, her voice a careful whisper.
“…Don’t, Jean. No one can imagine what I’m going through. Not even you.” Dean’s growl was soft, but had a definite hard-edge to it. “I know you X-People love the touchy feely chick-flick shit, but that ain’t me. Not with you anyway.” After a moment’s pause, he looked at her with a canted head and quirked left brow. “Did I…do…that to you?” He was aware of a telepath’s abilities and he wasn’t dumb. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
She nodded in understanding, secretly smiling to herself seeing similarities between Dean and Logan. The Wolverine had come a long way in regards to sharing his feelings. Not by much, but he was learning. Scott and Jean were helping him with that process. Jean offered a wane smile to Dean and reached out to pat his hand softly, which he quickly drew back to himself and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You didn’t mean to, Dean. When I entered your mind while you were…unconscious…I suppose my telepathy latched onto that part of your mind that was connected to your brother. Ever since then…it’s been difficult to block you out.”
“What do you mean was connected? It still is.” Dean sat up, his moss eyes narrowing to a glittering slit and his lips formed into a dangerous scowl.
Jean sighed, forgetting for a moment how touch and go ferals were when it came to reality in the way it was perceived by them and others.
“Yes, Dean. You are both still very connected. I can feel it throughout your entire being. The problem is that it’s being blocked somehow, and not by another telepath. It’s an unnatural block…and I think that you may be the key to finding Sam.” She sighed when he gave her a wide-eyed exasperated look, already feeling the animal coming to surface. She decided to let him rant anyway.
“Then what the FUCK have we been waiting for you and that mind-thing Cerebro to do?!” He snarled as he threw the covers off and got out of the bed and began to pace the floor clothed only in his boxers and not caring about the messy state they were in from his dream. “I knew I should’ve just done this alone! No good freaky leather mutant x-jerks…”
Dean’s less-than flattering remarks came spilling out at lightning speed until Jean simply had enough of it and concentrated to form a minimal telekinetic barrier in front of Dean that he simply walked right into. Snarling in surprise he looked back at her, expecting for some reason to see her eyes pitch black, but when he didn’t go flying pinned to the wall he simply stuttered back in confusion.
“No, I’m not a demon. I’m simply a girl who knows how to get a boy’s attention.”
She flitted her eyelashes and flipped back her hair. It was an effort to take down his guard, if even just a little bit, but when it didn’t work and she was gifted a deep growl for her efforts she huffed a sigh and stood up, walking over to stand in front of him.
“Look. I didn’t say it was going to be easy. Nor did I say it was even going to work. It’s just a theory I’m working on. If we work together I think we could pool both our minds and find a way to unblock Sam’s mind from yours.”
Even Jean could admit that the piercing glare he gave her sent shivers running down her spine, and not entirely of the fearful variety. However, knowing what she knew she quelled whatever other feelings may have evolved and stuck with the business at hand.
“So…what. You wanna get back in my head? Is that it? Look Red, I told you. The only person that belongs there is Sammy. Ain’t no room for no one else.” Dean was still shaky with the whole telepath business. He didn’t like the fact that there were people who could just go prancing around in his head without his permission. The only difference with Sam was that he knew his younger brother wouldn’t.
“I know it seems hard, Dean, but you’re just going to have to trust me. I’ve worked with…blocks…like this before. And there may be a way to open it just a crack so you can communicate with him if even for a little bit, so we can track them better. What do you say?”
Dean sighed as he peered deeper into her eyes and his enhanced senses couldn’t pick up any sign of betrayal. No quickened heartbeat to give away a lie, no smell of fear or deception in her scent and she seemed so very sure of herself, the way Sam did when he got certain ideas into his head. Finally his shoulders slumped and he nodded as he dropped his chin to his chest.
“Kay. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for my Sammy.” In the same beat his eyes looked up to meet hers in a deadly stare. “But you so much as think anything funny and I won’t think twice about snapping that pretty lil neck o’ yours. Got that?”
She smiled back at him, more sure than ever of the similarities between Dean and Logan.
“Of course, Dean. I wouldn’t expect anything less. Now, if you’re up for the day I’d like to try a little something. Shower, get dressed and meet me at Cerebro in one hour. I need to meditate and prep myself before going into your mind again.”
“Christ! Don’t you people ever ask around here?” Dean rolled his eyes in disgust. It seemed that ever since he stepped foot on the mansion grounds he’d been ordered to do one thing or another and he was getting tired of it.
“Well that wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?” She grinned back at him as she turned to leave the room and let him get ready.
“Guess not. Hey wait, one question first.” Dean’s brows furrowed in confusion looking back to Jean when she turned back with a questioning look of her own. “You were screamin’ pretty damn loud. How is it that only I woke up?”
An amused chuckle pierced the sudden silence as emerald eyes found jade ones.
“Oh that’s easy. I simply made it so they couldn’t hear me.”
“The whole damn mansion? Everyone?”
“The whole damn mansion. Everyone.”
She sauntered out of the room amused at the dumbfounded expression she’d left on Dean Winchester’s face.
He shook himself out of the stupor at having processed just how many minds she had to take control of to keep them all asleep when he snapped to the realization that…he didn’t have a door.
“Um…Jean? Dr. Grey! HEY! I don’t have a door!...JEAN?!”
~~~~
Less than 24 hours ago…
They couldn’t have been together again longer than a couple of hours. Peter had been patient with Sam as he wallowed in the corner, staying right by his side the whole time. He’d finally gotten to the point where he could coax Sam next to him. Like a frightened child, Sam had finally let himself be pulled into Peter’s careful embrace.
He was curled up on his side clutching his knees to his chest using the Russian mutant’s muscular thigh as a pillow. Peter soothingly ran his fingers through Sam’s damp oily mane, but stayed quiet. What words of comfort could he use when there were none to give? So he said with actions what failed him with words.
Sam had finally fallen into a dreamless sleep, but even so, he would moan or cry out periodically, always Dean’s name. Peter sighed heavily, letting his head rest against the cold hard wall of their cell. When he would feel salty tears falling against his naked skin, he would lean down and brush away the chestnut locks from Sam’s forehead and whisper quietly in Sam’s ear. It would calm the broken man…for awhile anyway.
It wasn’t until the door abruptly opened again that both men startled back to full awareness. As before, four armed guards dressed all in black entered the hole but this time it was Peter they ordered to stand. Sam tried to crawl away from Peter into the corner, but Peter’s strong arms gripped the man’s shoulders.
“Nyet! I shall not leave him!” His words and demeanor were unwavering. The cold look in his bright blue eyes flashed angrily.
“Give me a reason, mutie. Give me just one reason to put a bullet through your ugly little brain.” The first guard, clearly the higher in rank, stepped forward and pointed his weapon at Peter.
“Go ahead. If your superiors sanction such an action after keeping us alive so long then DO IT!” Peter was fed up with being treated like a prisoner of war. He was sick of watching them carry Sam away, only to bring him back worse off than before. Enough was enough.
“Don’t play the hero, kid. It’ll only get you killed.” A second guard stepped in, female this time. Her weapon was still pointed at the two but her voice was softer, if not kinder. “Come with us now…or I will shoot him.” She did not falter as she stepped right up to the two and pressed the nose of her gun hard between Sam’s eyes, making him whimper aloud.
“J…just go. I’ll be alright. Promise…” Sam didn’t know what tortures they had waiting for Peter, but he was pretty sure no matter what they were it would be worse for Peter to watch them murder him in cold blood, no matter the peace that death would bring Sam.
“Will he be left alone?” Peter’s voice faltered momentarily as he implored the female guard. It was a pointless question, but one that Peter needed to ask.
The woman canted her head as if deciding, expression completely hidden by the helmet and mask she wore.
“I’m sorry mutant. I can’t guarantee that.” Her voice sounded tired and defeated, but honest.
“Fine. I will go.” The words were said between grit teeth as he slowly unwrapped his arms from around Sam and stood up.
The female guard had made a mistake though as she didn’t move from her hunkered position. It left her center unbalanced and the bulk of her weight on her upper body. The second Peter had sturdy footing, quick reflexes honed from years in training with his fellow X-Men, he reached out and snatched her gun in his grasp, twisting into the move so that it pulled the female off her balance and toppling to her side.
As Peter completed the turn, he brought the gun to his own center, his fingers easily finding the trigger. He pressed down hard, feeling the weight of the force from the gun in his muscles as he let the automatic bullets fly towards the first of the guards and over-rotating in his spin to aim for the other guards. The first guard’s body was pulverized by the close shots and fell dead almost immediately. The third guard, another male, cried out as he was disabled by shots to his arm and knees.
The fourth guard had seen the action, but wasn’t quick enough to the draw as he felt hot fire in his neck where Peter’s aim had found the lethal spot of exposed skin between the neck of his uniform and his helmet. His head was nearly decapitated as the gun completed its round.
The gunfire stopped as Peter rounded on the female guard, intent on simply using her as a catalyst for escape, as slim as that was, but it was a last ditch effort to get the upper hand. Unfortunately, Peter didn’t fully understand who it was he was dealing with. As he turned to face her, gun pointed, he saw that she had already got to her feet a little black box with a flashing red button in her hand, finger pressing the button hard.
Peter screamed in agony as he dropped to his knees and his hands went to his head, the gun falling to the floor with an echoing thud as the metal implants were activated sending electric shocks of non-lethal, but very painful, strength through his nervous system. His body shuddered and rocked with the pain and he fell to his side, curling his knees to his chest.
The woman stepped closer to him, de-activating the device. As Peter was re-orienting himself, the toe of her boot crashed hard with the back of his skull and Peter fell silent as the blow left him unconscious.
“Private Weston to control. We have shots fired, three men down.” She looked to Sam as she was talking into her ear-radio waiting for a response.
Sam had huddled in the corner hearing the gunfire and his arms had gone to cover his head as he whimpered lightly, tears forming and leaking down his cheeks. He didn’t notice that the gunfire had stopped, he just continued to shake, his hands firmly placed over his ears and eyes squeezed shut to block it all out.
“Yes. Both mutants are alive but two men are dead….I…yes, sir. I understand sir. I request clean-up, sir. The mutant will be taken care of...Yes…Private Weston out.”
She grabbed her gun and kept it trained on Sam while she waited for back up. Three other heavily armed guards entered shortly after, all three of them gasping at the gory scene they were met with.
“Stop standing there gaping you idiots and get him outta here!” Pvt. Weston shouted at them, and pointed to Peter.
Two of the men nodded and rushed in lifting Peter’s lax body by the arms and dragged him out of the room while the third helped the wounded man out as well. Weston kept her weapon trained on Sam as she left and locked the door behind her, leaving the two dead guards behind to rot.
~~~~
Less than 24 hours ago…
Jean had been working nonstop for the better part of the day with Dean Winchester in Cerebro, her mind hooked into the machine as she used it to map out Dean’s psychic connection with Sam. It had taken her most of that time, simply to sift through Dean’s defenses and battling his feral psyche to reach his core, the deep unnatural emptiness that reflected the loss of that deep bond.
It had been taxing on both mutants, because the deeper Jean delved into Dean’s mind, the stronger the block pushed back, making it extremely difficult for her to filter out the psionic backlash. There were precious few times when they felt they had gotten close, and Dean reached out with his body to grasp hold of the essence that was Sam, only for it to slip away like water through his fingers.
~He’s right there Jean! I can feel him! I just can’t hold onto him!” ! Dean’s mind spoke through the manufactured link to Jean’s thoughts, his mental voice holding the same animal growl as his physical one.
~You must keep tying, Dean! You must keep pushing! To break the bonds that tie him, you have to be strong of will! Remember Sam needs you too, and if he catches even a hint of your mind he will push back all the more!”~
Jean’s eyes were shut with intense concentration, beads of perspiration trickling down the side of her face from beneath the metal helmet that connected her to the power-augmenting machine called Cerebro. It amplified psychic abilities to near unlimited levels, and even with its help they were fighting a quickly losing battle.
Still the only thing they could manage was a faint ghostly image of Sam and Peter in a dark room, holding onto each other. Dean felt a rush of jealous anger, seeing his Sammy naked in the arms of another naked man. An intense rage filled his mind at the state of Sam’s body, seeing it beaten and broken, but more than that a pulling need to comfort him, to see him smile again.
~”Let go of the rage, Dean! You’re losing the connection…!”~
And then the room went dark as the ghostly image on the screens faded away. Dean growled out in frustration as he leapt off the chair with a desperate howl, tears of rage, anger and pain streamed down his cheeks. His fingers gripped into fists as he slammed them down hard on the main console of Cerebro, the empty metal clang echoing around them.
Jean slowly pulled off the Cerebro helmet and placed it on its stand. She was breathing hard as her hands brushed away the wet sheen that had accumulated on her forehead, dampening her fire red hair in the process.
“We can try again later…for now we need to rest.” She said to Dean, looking tiredly up at him.
“NO! We’ll try again now!” Dean left no room for argument when he got in her face and snarled, then quickly sat back down in the chair brought in for him through the exercise. He laid back in it and swiped at the tears before he closed his eyes, readying himself for the immense discomfort that came with being plunged into a psychic link with the very powerful telepath.
Jean sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose to ease the headache that had been growing halfway into the process.
“Alright, one more time, Dean. Then we rest. I can’t take much more of…”
“Just link me up, Red.” His growl was unyielding.
She swallowed thickly and nodded, a raspy breath being let out as she pulled the metal gear back onto her head. She reigned in her control and closed her eyes, meditating on the eerie quiet around her, and then a flash of bright light raced across the holo-screens allowing for a visual interpretation of their link. Once again she sorted her way through the din of Dean’s mind and found the empty hollow.
~”Feel him, Dean. Feel his presence, follow the psychic thread that attaches you to him.”~ She said softly into his mind, coaxing him into the fold as she brought their minds together.
Once again, the ghostly image faded into view, but this time Dean screamed out as the emotions that filtered weakly through from Sam were outright terror. They watched the bloodbath as Peter grabbed a weapon from armed guards. Dean was lost in his need to get to Sam, to comfort him, but Jean took a step aside from them and focused in on the surroundings.
Her eyes opened as they were gleaming white hot with psionic fire and a warm glowing aura surrounded her form as she harnessed her powers fully. For a split second the room was filled with blinding light as the shape of a bird flitted into form from her fiery aura and she focused all her energy into a dying man’s thoughts.
~”What the!!! Col. O’Connell…just another job…fucking mutie..Dear God in heaven HELP ME!...”~
Jean screamed out as she tore off Cerebro’s helmet, forcing the link to close abruptly which had both her and Dean screaming with a sudden psychic backlash that hit them with the weight of a ton of bricks. Blood trickled from both their noses as they came down from the death throes of the dying guard that Jean had gleamed final thoughts from.
Panting heavily, she dropped the helmet to the floor, and hunched over the console, her last bit of energy before unconsciousness used to contact the one man who could make any sense of this.
~”Professor!”~ Jean flooded the professor’s mind with everything she and Dean had witnessed as quickly as she could in a frantic desperate cry.
All Dean knew was blackness as he and Jean slipped into the cold clutches of oblivion.
~~~~
The Present…
“I am…disappointed in you, Weston.” Col. Gary O’Connell stared back at her with angrily glaring honey-brown eyes.
It had been a surprise when Sgt. Gary O’Connell had suddenly been promoted to Colonel, supposedly after his flawless capture of Samuel Winchester. So it was no lie, when others higher in rank held a grudge against him. But Pvt. Weston was not one of those. She was simply a soldier who did what she was told, like any other newbie in rank.
She held her chin high, sparkling green eyes hiding the disappointment she had in herself for her sorry display earlier. She had been called to Col. Gary O’Connell’s office and the two of them were having a private talk. No one ever blinked an eye when the Colonel shut the door, a leering grin on his handsome face.
“I am to believe that not only did you approach the prisoners with the safety on your weapon off, when you were clearly instructed to have it on, but you allowed one of said prisoners to gain control of your weapon, resulting in the death of two of the men entrusted to your team’s care?!”
His voice rose in anger and heat as he got in her face and repeated back to her what was on the hastily made report. Private Weston simply nodded, still staring blankly ahead, body at full attention.
“Sir, that is correct, Sir! Sir, it was an error in judgment, Sir!” Her fingers were knotted tightly together behind her, feet exactly shoulder-width apart.
“NO Private! It was a direct disobedience of orders! And I will have no dissention among my ranks.”
In a move too quick for Private Weston to process, a flash of metal hit her eyes as a sharpened dagger was brought across her throat, slicing through the soft skin as easily as if it were melted butter. She gagged on her own blood as it poured out from the opening, quickly gathering up in a pewter bowl with odd designs on it held in Col. Gary O’Connell’s left hand. The dagger-hand held her steady as the light left her eyes, and the pewter bowl was filled.
Her body dropped lifeless to the tiled floor of Col. O’Connell’s office as he turned and sniffed at her still warm blood in the bowl. His honey-brown eyes shifted to darkest ebony as he dipped his right index finger into the middle of the crimson pool, an odd energy rippling the surface.
~Yes, Master. All is going according to plan. We have the youngest Winchester. He is being broken….all has been taken care of. The loss of Dean Winchester is…regrettable, but I have full confidence in my ability to break Samuel….of course my love, the other mutants are being…conditioned…as we speak. We are very near, Master!”~
The demon known only as Meg smiled through her current host body, shivers of pleasure running through it from the words spoken to her through communing blood magic with her Master.
~“Thank you, Master. We shall meet again…very soon.”~
The rippling energy abated as Col. O’Connell’s finger left the pool. A satisfied smirk crossed his lips as he brought the pewter bowl to his lips and greedily drank the remaining crimson life spilled by Private Weston.
He would call an attendant later to clean up the mess and report Weston’s disappearance. For now, the demon Meg would revel in her Master’s plans and the current flow of power granted her through the spilled blood of an innocent.
Part 5: Devil's Plot
Author: neutraldeviance
Fandom: Supernatural AU and X-Men Movie-verse AU. There’s no established timeline for either fandom.
Rating: NC-17 adult situations, language and violence
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/Peter (implied), Logan/Scott/Jean, Bobby/Marie
Supporting Characters: Professor Xavier, Ororo Munroe, OMC, Meg
Summary: Dean and the X-Men are hot on the trail…but are they too late to save Sam and Peter?
Warnings: established relationship, angst, governmental torture, read at your own risk, ~text~ is telepathic speech
Word Count: 4,769
Beta: un-beta’d, mistakes are all my own
Disclaimer: The story is mine. The characters are not.
Author’s note:1) This is part four to my SPN/X-Men ‘verse. I don’t know how many parts there’ll be, but more than likely no more than a couple more or so. 2) Feedback is most anxiously desired! :)
One day ago…
His back arched into hot flesh as he was filled from behind, the tight hot burn long having subsided to give way to electrifying streaks of pure unadulterated euphoria spreading through his nerve endings like wildfire as every hard thrust hit home. He cried out, fingernails clawing into the wall leaving deep gorges that would have him picking paint and plaster from under them for days. Somehow that didn’t matter too much.
The man pounding inside him knew every little dirty trick to get him to scream and whimper and howl in animalistic passion as sinful fingernails left stinging welts down his chest and abs that disappeared almost as they were formed. The hot liquid breath on the back of his neck and then the sharp painful nips of teeth that trailed over his shoulder enhanced the overall experience.
He rolled his hips back and forth to meet the slapping gyrations of his mate, his teeth clenched together so tight his jaws ached. A cross between a low growl and a soft purr was forced out of his throat as he was taken again and again.
“SAMMMMMY!”
He craved the feeling of his younger brother’s hard thick cock forcing itself inside over and over, the docile mate playing the part of the aggressor. He was owned, collared and tamed by that dirty burning friction and the passion they shared in their primal dance that was older than time was time. The pleasure/pain grounded him in ways that only the two Winchesters could ever truly understand.
“God Dean…so fucking hot inside you…”
It was wholly ironic that the one thought Dean could form was about how the FUCK Sam could form intelligent thoughts when his older brother was reduced to embarrassing whimpers and unintelligible begging.
Sam’s long arms wrapped around his middle as the taller, younger Winchester held on tight for the final thrust that would bring them both tumbling over the edge, and as Sammy hit that sweet spot deep within his belly, white fire streamlined a path from his heavy balls and hot sweet life spewed from his rock hardness, coating the wall in front of him.
“DEAN! FOR GOD’S SAKE…!!!”
Dr. Jean Grey, the resident mutant psychic, stumbled into Dean’s room after her telekinesis slammed into the heavy oak door with such force it was obliterated to base molecules, effectively dissolving into air. Her eyes were glowing with psychokinetic fire as she grabbed hold to a side of the now empty entryway, unsteady on her feet and her silk nightgown plastered to her body like a tight glove by a thick coating of perspiration. Her breath came out in heated gasps, long slender fingers going to grab her head.
“DEAN! PLEASE WAKE UP!”
She screamed, tears in her eyes covering up the erotic moans that her body was being forced to feel as Dean’s heated fantasy caused his sleeping body to react naturally by giving off his pheremones like a thick cloud of lust and animal passion, unknowingly projecting his feelings to the psychic doctor.
She had been nestled between Scott and Logan, their bodies intertwined comfortably in their tribunal bed when all of a sudden she had been woken up from a dream that wasn’t hers, covered in sweat and feeling things that weren’t hers to feel. The images of the dream flashed through her mind and as much as she tried she couldn’t shut it out. She scrambled out of the bed to follow its source and found herself heading towards Dean Winchester’s room.
The closer she got the worse the feelings became until they were so pleasure-filled that they bordered on torturous pain as the build-up had no outlet. She felt everything as Dean did from his base memories, her mind and body confusing the two as her psychic powers made it real for her. Her sweat stung the phantom welts on her breasts and stomach that had suddenly appeared the second before she burst into his room.
Dean woke up with a startled yelp, wildly thrashing about, confusion the predominant feeling. His breathing slowed as he came to full awareness. His brows knit in more confusion as he inhaled deeply and shot a look in Jean’s direction.
“Got problems there, Red?”
The memories of the dream were fading, though he was ravaged with the pain of loss as he realized it was only a dream. As he looked at Jean though, he couldn’t help but snigger a little as she staggered over to the bed and sat down on it with a heaved sigh. The second Dean came to awareness, the overwhelming sensations she had been feeling abruptly stopped as Dean threw up the mental shields his brother had so tediously showed him how to build.
Jean slowly composed herself as she demurely tucked a lock of fire-red behind her left ear and her body returned to the quiet, poised demeanor that Dean had come to associate with her personality. Her vivid green hues tentatively sought his gaze before she spoke, not wanting to spark the animal within his fragile psyche.
“I can’t even begin to imagine the pain you feel, Dean…” She began hesitantly, her voice a careful whisper.
“…Don’t, Jean. No one can imagine what I’m going through. Not even you.” Dean’s growl was soft, but had a definite hard-edge to it. “I know you X-People love the touchy feely chick-flick shit, but that ain’t me. Not with you anyway.” After a moment’s pause, he looked at her with a canted head and quirked left brow. “Did I…do…that to you?” He was aware of a telepath’s abilities and he wasn’t dumb. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
She nodded in understanding, secretly smiling to herself seeing similarities between Dean and Logan. The Wolverine had come a long way in regards to sharing his feelings. Not by much, but he was learning. Scott and Jean were helping him with that process. Jean offered a wane smile to Dean and reached out to pat his hand softly, which he quickly drew back to himself and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You didn’t mean to, Dean. When I entered your mind while you were…unconscious…I suppose my telepathy latched onto that part of your mind that was connected to your brother. Ever since then…it’s been difficult to block you out.”
“What do you mean was connected? It still is.” Dean sat up, his moss eyes narrowing to a glittering slit and his lips formed into a dangerous scowl.
Jean sighed, forgetting for a moment how touch and go ferals were when it came to reality in the way it was perceived by them and others.
“Yes, Dean. You are both still very connected. I can feel it throughout your entire being. The problem is that it’s being blocked somehow, and not by another telepath. It’s an unnatural block…and I think that you may be the key to finding Sam.” She sighed when he gave her a wide-eyed exasperated look, already feeling the animal coming to surface. She decided to let him rant anyway.
“Then what the FUCK have we been waiting for you and that mind-thing Cerebro to do?!” He snarled as he threw the covers off and got out of the bed and began to pace the floor clothed only in his boxers and not caring about the messy state they were in from his dream. “I knew I should’ve just done this alone! No good freaky leather mutant x-jerks…”
Dean’s less-than flattering remarks came spilling out at lightning speed until Jean simply had enough of it and concentrated to form a minimal telekinetic barrier in front of Dean that he simply walked right into. Snarling in surprise he looked back at her, expecting for some reason to see her eyes pitch black, but when he didn’t go flying pinned to the wall he simply stuttered back in confusion.
“No, I’m not a demon. I’m simply a girl who knows how to get a boy’s attention.”
She flitted her eyelashes and flipped back her hair. It was an effort to take down his guard, if even just a little bit, but when it didn’t work and she was gifted a deep growl for her efforts she huffed a sigh and stood up, walking over to stand in front of him.
“Look. I didn’t say it was going to be easy. Nor did I say it was even going to work. It’s just a theory I’m working on. If we work together I think we could pool both our minds and find a way to unblock Sam’s mind from yours.”
Even Jean could admit that the piercing glare he gave her sent shivers running down her spine, and not entirely of the fearful variety. However, knowing what she knew she quelled whatever other feelings may have evolved and stuck with the business at hand.
“So…what. You wanna get back in my head? Is that it? Look Red, I told you. The only person that belongs there is Sammy. Ain’t no room for no one else.” Dean was still shaky with the whole telepath business. He didn’t like the fact that there were people who could just go prancing around in his head without his permission. The only difference with Sam was that he knew his younger brother wouldn’t.
“I know it seems hard, Dean, but you’re just going to have to trust me. I’ve worked with…blocks…like this before. And there may be a way to open it just a crack so you can communicate with him if even for a little bit, so we can track them better. What do you say?”
Dean sighed as he peered deeper into her eyes and his enhanced senses couldn’t pick up any sign of betrayal. No quickened heartbeat to give away a lie, no smell of fear or deception in her scent and she seemed so very sure of herself, the way Sam did when he got certain ideas into his head. Finally his shoulders slumped and he nodded as he dropped his chin to his chest.
“Kay. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for my Sammy.” In the same beat his eyes looked up to meet hers in a deadly stare. “But you so much as think anything funny and I won’t think twice about snapping that pretty lil neck o’ yours. Got that?”
She smiled back at him, more sure than ever of the similarities between Dean and Logan.
“Of course, Dean. I wouldn’t expect anything less. Now, if you’re up for the day I’d like to try a little something. Shower, get dressed and meet me at Cerebro in one hour. I need to meditate and prep myself before going into your mind again.”
“Christ! Don’t you people ever ask around here?” Dean rolled his eyes in disgust. It seemed that ever since he stepped foot on the mansion grounds he’d been ordered to do one thing or another and he was getting tired of it.
“Well that wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?” She grinned back at him as she turned to leave the room and let him get ready.
“Guess not. Hey wait, one question first.” Dean’s brows furrowed in confusion looking back to Jean when she turned back with a questioning look of her own. “You were screamin’ pretty damn loud. How is it that only I woke up?”
An amused chuckle pierced the sudden silence as emerald eyes found jade ones.
“Oh that’s easy. I simply made it so they couldn’t hear me.”
“The whole damn mansion? Everyone?”
“The whole damn mansion. Everyone.”
She sauntered out of the room amused at the dumbfounded expression she’d left on Dean Winchester’s face.
He shook himself out of the stupor at having processed just how many minds she had to take control of to keep them all asleep when he snapped to the realization that…he didn’t have a door.
“Um…Jean? Dr. Grey! HEY! I don’t have a door!...JEAN?!”
~~~~
Less than 24 hours ago…
They couldn’t have been together again longer than a couple of hours. Peter had been patient with Sam as he wallowed in the corner, staying right by his side the whole time. He’d finally gotten to the point where he could coax Sam next to him. Like a frightened child, Sam had finally let himself be pulled into Peter’s careful embrace.
He was curled up on his side clutching his knees to his chest using the Russian mutant’s muscular thigh as a pillow. Peter soothingly ran his fingers through Sam’s damp oily mane, but stayed quiet. What words of comfort could he use when there were none to give? So he said with actions what failed him with words.
Sam had finally fallen into a dreamless sleep, but even so, he would moan or cry out periodically, always Dean’s name. Peter sighed heavily, letting his head rest against the cold hard wall of their cell. When he would feel salty tears falling against his naked skin, he would lean down and brush away the chestnut locks from Sam’s forehead and whisper quietly in Sam’s ear. It would calm the broken man…for awhile anyway.
It wasn’t until the door abruptly opened again that both men startled back to full awareness. As before, four armed guards dressed all in black entered the hole but this time it was Peter they ordered to stand. Sam tried to crawl away from Peter into the corner, but Peter’s strong arms gripped the man’s shoulders.
“Nyet! I shall not leave him!” His words and demeanor were unwavering. The cold look in his bright blue eyes flashed angrily.
“Give me a reason, mutie. Give me just one reason to put a bullet through your ugly little brain.” The first guard, clearly the higher in rank, stepped forward and pointed his weapon at Peter.
“Go ahead. If your superiors sanction such an action after keeping us alive so long then DO IT!” Peter was fed up with being treated like a prisoner of war. He was sick of watching them carry Sam away, only to bring him back worse off than before. Enough was enough.
“Don’t play the hero, kid. It’ll only get you killed.” A second guard stepped in, female this time. Her weapon was still pointed at the two but her voice was softer, if not kinder. “Come with us now…or I will shoot him.” She did not falter as she stepped right up to the two and pressed the nose of her gun hard between Sam’s eyes, making him whimper aloud.
“J…just go. I’ll be alright. Promise…” Sam didn’t know what tortures they had waiting for Peter, but he was pretty sure no matter what they were it would be worse for Peter to watch them murder him in cold blood, no matter the peace that death would bring Sam.
“Will he be left alone?” Peter’s voice faltered momentarily as he implored the female guard. It was a pointless question, but one that Peter needed to ask.
The woman canted her head as if deciding, expression completely hidden by the helmet and mask she wore.
“I’m sorry mutant. I can’t guarantee that.” Her voice sounded tired and defeated, but honest.
“Fine. I will go.” The words were said between grit teeth as he slowly unwrapped his arms from around Sam and stood up.
The female guard had made a mistake though as she didn’t move from her hunkered position. It left her center unbalanced and the bulk of her weight on her upper body. The second Peter had sturdy footing, quick reflexes honed from years in training with his fellow X-Men, he reached out and snatched her gun in his grasp, twisting into the move so that it pulled the female off her balance and toppling to her side.
As Peter completed the turn, he brought the gun to his own center, his fingers easily finding the trigger. He pressed down hard, feeling the weight of the force from the gun in his muscles as he let the automatic bullets fly towards the first of the guards and over-rotating in his spin to aim for the other guards. The first guard’s body was pulverized by the close shots and fell dead almost immediately. The third guard, another male, cried out as he was disabled by shots to his arm and knees.
The fourth guard had seen the action, but wasn’t quick enough to the draw as he felt hot fire in his neck where Peter’s aim had found the lethal spot of exposed skin between the neck of his uniform and his helmet. His head was nearly decapitated as the gun completed its round.
The gunfire stopped as Peter rounded on the female guard, intent on simply using her as a catalyst for escape, as slim as that was, but it was a last ditch effort to get the upper hand. Unfortunately, Peter didn’t fully understand who it was he was dealing with. As he turned to face her, gun pointed, he saw that she had already got to her feet a little black box with a flashing red button in her hand, finger pressing the button hard.
Peter screamed in agony as he dropped to his knees and his hands went to his head, the gun falling to the floor with an echoing thud as the metal implants were activated sending electric shocks of non-lethal, but very painful, strength through his nervous system. His body shuddered and rocked with the pain and he fell to his side, curling his knees to his chest.
The woman stepped closer to him, de-activating the device. As Peter was re-orienting himself, the toe of her boot crashed hard with the back of his skull and Peter fell silent as the blow left him unconscious.
“Private Weston to control. We have shots fired, three men down.” She looked to Sam as she was talking into her ear-radio waiting for a response.
Sam had huddled in the corner hearing the gunfire and his arms had gone to cover his head as he whimpered lightly, tears forming and leaking down his cheeks. He didn’t notice that the gunfire had stopped, he just continued to shake, his hands firmly placed over his ears and eyes squeezed shut to block it all out.
“Yes. Both mutants are alive but two men are dead….I…yes, sir. I understand sir. I request clean-up, sir. The mutant will be taken care of...Yes…Private Weston out.”
She grabbed her gun and kept it trained on Sam while she waited for back up. Three other heavily armed guards entered shortly after, all three of them gasping at the gory scene they were met with.
“Stop standing there gaping you idiots and get him outta here!” Pvt. Weston shouted at them, and pointed to Peter.
Two of the men nodded and rushed in lifting Peter’s lax body by the arms and dragged him out of the room while the third helped the wounded man out as well. Weston kept her weapon trained on Sam as she left and locked the door behind her, leaving the two dead guards behind to rot.
~~~~
Less than 24 hours ago…
Jean had been working nonstop for the better part of the day with Dean Winchester in Cerebro, her mind hooked into the machine as she used it to map out Dean’s psychic connection with Sam. It had taken her most of that time, simply to sift through Dean’s defenses and battling his feral psyche to reach his core, the deep unnatural emptiness that reflected the loss of that deep bond.
It had been taxing on both mutants, because the deeper Jean delved into Dean’s mind, the stronger the block pushed back, making it extremely difficult for her to filter out the psionic backlash. There were precious few times when they felt they had gotten close, and Dean reached out with his body to grasp hold of the essence that was Sam, only for it to slip away like water through his fingers.
~He’s right there Jean! I can feel him! I just can’t hold onto him!” ! Dean’s mind spoke through the manufactured link to Jean’s thoughts, his mental voice holding the same animal growl as his physical one.
~You must keep tying, Dean! You must keep pushing! To break the bonds that tie him, you have to be strong of will! Remember Sam needs you too, and if he catches even a hint of your mind he will push back all the more!”~
Jean’s eyes were shut with intense concentration, beads of perspiration trickling down the side of her face from beneath the metal helmet that connected her to the power-augmenting machine called Cerebro. It amplified psychic abilities to near unlimited levels, and even with its help they were fighting a quickly losing battle.
Still the only thing they could manage was a faint ghostly image of Sam and Peter in a dark room, holding onto each other. Dean felt a rush of jealous anger, seeing his Sammy naked in the arms of another naked man. An intense rage filled his mind at the state of Sam’s body, seeing it beaten and broken, but more than that a pulling need to comfort him, to see him smile again.
~”Let go of the rage, Dean! You’re losing the connection…!”~
And then the room went dark as the ghostly image on the screens faded away. Dean growled out in frustration as he leapt off the chair with a desperate howl, tears of rage, anger and pain streamed down his cheeks. His fingers gripped into fists as he slammed them down hard on the main console of Cerebro, the empty metal clang echoing around them.
Jean slowly pulled off the Cerebro helmet and placed it on its stand. She was breathing hard as her hands brushed away the wet sheen that had accumulated on her forehead, dampening her fire red hair in the process.
“We can try again later…for now we need to rest.” She said to Dean, looking tiredly up at him.
“NO! We’ll try again now!” Dean left no room for argument when he got in her face and snarled, then quickly sat back down in the chair brought in for him through the exercise. He laid back in it and swiped at the tears before he closed his eyes, readying himself for the immense discomfort that came with being plunged into a psychic link with the very powerful telepath.
Jean sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose to ease the headache that had been growing halfway into the process.
“Alright, one more time, Dean. Then we rest. I can’t take much more of…”
“Just link me up, Red.” His growl was unyielding.
She swallowed thickly and nodded, a raspy breath being let out as she pulled the metal gear back onto her head. She reigned in her control and closed her eyes, meditating on the eerie quiet around her, and then a flash of bright light raced across the holo-screens allowing for a visual interpretation of their link. Once again she sorted her way through the din of Dean’s mind and found the empty hollow.
~”Feel him, Dean. Feel his presence, follow the psychic thread that attaches you to him.”~ She said softly into his mind, coaxing him into the fold as she brought their minds together.
Once again, the ghostly image faded into view, but this time Dean screamed out as the emotions that filtered weakly through from Sam were outright terror. They watched the bloodbath as Peter grabbed a weapon from armed guards. Dean was lost in his need to get to Sam, to comfort him, but Jean took a step aside from them and focused in on the surroundings.
Her eyes opened as they were gleaming white hot with psionic fire and a warm glowing aura surrounded her form as she harnessed her powers fully. For a split second the room was filled with blinding light as the shape of a bird flitted into form from her fiery aura and she focused all her energy into a dying man’s thoughts.
~”What the!!! Col. O’Connell…just another job…fucking mutie..Dear God in heaven HELP ME!...”~
Jean screamed out as she tore off Cerebro’s helmet, forcing the link to close abruptly which had both her and Dean screaming with a sudden psychic backlash that hit them with the weight of a ton of bricks. Blood trickled from both their noses as they came down from the death throes of the dying guard that Jean had gleamed final thoughts from.
Panting heavily, she dropped the helmet to the floor, and hunched over the console, her last bit of energy before unconsciousness used to contact the one man who could make any sense of this.
~”Professor!”~ Jean flooded the professor’s mind with everything she and Dean had witnessed as quickly as she could in a frantic desperate cry.
All Dean knew was blackness as he and Jean slipped into the cold clutches of oblivion.
~~~~
The Present…
“I am…disappointed in you, Weston.” Col. Gary O’Connell stared back at her with angrily glaring honey-brown eyes.
It had been a surprise when Sgt. Gary O’Connell had suddenly been promoted to Colonel, supposedly after his flawless capture of Samuel Winchester. So it was no lie, when others higher in rank held a grudge against him. But Pvt. Weston was not one of those. She was simply a soldier who did what she was told, like any other newbie in rank.
She held her chin high, sparkling green eyes hiding the disappointment she had in herself for her sorry display earlier. She had been called to Col. Gary O’Connell’s office and the two of them were having a private talk. No one ever blinked an eye when the Colonel shut the door, a leering grin on his handsome face.
“I am to believe that not only did you approach the prisoners with the safety on your weapon off, when you were clearly instructed to have it on, but you allowed one of said prisoners to gain control of your weapon, resulting in the death of two of the men entrusted to your team’s care?!”
His voice rose in anger and heat as he got in her face and repeated back to her what was on the hastily made report. Private Weston simply nodded, still staring blankly ahead, body at full attention.
“Sir, that is correct, Sir! Sir, it was an error in judgment, Sir!” Her fingers were knotted tightly together behind her, feet exactly shoulder-width apart.
“NO Private! It was a direct disobedience of orders! And I will have no dissention among my ranks.”
In a move too quick for Private Weston to process, a flash of metal hit her eyes as a sharpened dagger was brought across her throat, slicing through the soft skin as easily as if it were melted butter. She gagged on her own blood as it poured out from the opening, quickly gathering up in a pewter bowl with odd designs on it held in Col. Gary O’Connell’s left hand. The dagger-hand held her steady as the light left her eyes, and the pewter bowl was filled.
Her body dropped lifeless to the tiled floor of Col. O’Connell’s office as he turned and sniffed at her still warm blood in the bowl. His honey-brown eyes shifted to darkest ebony as he dipped his right index finger into the middle of the crimson pool, an odd energy rippling the surface.
~Yes, Master. All is going according to plan. We have the youngest Winchester. He is being broken….all has been taken care of. The loss of Dean Winchester is…regrettable, but I have full confidence in my ability to break Samuel….of course my love, the other mutants are being…conditioned…as we speak. We are very near, Master!”~
The demon known only as Meg smiled through her current host body, shivers of pleasure running through it from the words spoken to her through communing blood magic with her Master.
~“Thank you, Master. We shall meet again…very soon.”~
The rippling energy abated as Col. O’Connell’s finger left the pool. A satisfied smirk crossed his lips as he brought the pewter bowl to his lips and greedily drank the remaining crimson life spilled by Private Weston.
He would call an attendant later to clean up the mess and report Weston’s disappearance. For now, the demon Meg would revel in her Master’s plans and the current flow of power granted her through the spilled blood of an innocent.
Part 5: Devil's Plot