*Notes: This was written from a kink prompt. I'm sorry in advance. I am a monster. I hate myself for even writing this. W/e I'm going to Hell anyways.

Summary: This is based off of the French Mistake episode, only its what would happen if only Sammy got through into real world. Evil! Sammy. He meets Jensen Ackles face to face and, upon finding that he's nothing like the brother he remembers from his world, he decides to get rid of a little dead weight...but not before he has a little fun.

Pairings: Evil!Sammy/Jensen Ackles

This was never meant to happen...this was never meant to-

Stop. Rewind the tape.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck! God! Fuck! GOD! SHIT! FUCK!STOP! GOD! PLEASE STOP!"

Climax!

"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. OH OH OH. HA HA. OH. GOD. OH. SHIT. STOP, PLEASE STOP! HA HA HA."

His voice is much deeper than Jen's, and it's obviously laced with loads of sarcasm the way the drink he poured down Jensens' throat, earlier, was laced with loads of sleeping pills. His face intrudes into the others intimate regions. His tongue pours out of his smirking mouth, and he licks the salt from the smaller mans sandpaper jawline as he pumps his steak knife against his skin the way a man pumps his big cock against a girl's leg while he tells her that her pussy's sweet.

His head picks up, and he stares at him with wide eyes, then, he's jumping back, laughing, smiling. His hands are bloody. They spatter crimson all over the floor as he shakes them clean then smears it in with his dirty, bare feet.

He staggers a bit as his head gets light and the laughter in his chest stops bubbling up. And, then, he's stumbling forward and those hands press to the sides of his own face. He smears the shimmering red all over his high cheekbones, his chapped lips, his glittering forest eyes spark fiercely with his childish fever. "You're sexy, when you beg, Dean." The bloody splotches crust at the edges as he talks too loud and pushes his hands against the other man's thighs, squeezes them, soils the unbuttoned and unzipped denim, and spreads his jeans akimbo the way a dude spreads apart a girls' legs in the backs of a black Impala before they fuck them and leave them half-dressed on their parents' doorstep on prom night.

His hand gropes at the soft, blood-soaked cotton that covers his preys crotch. His crotch-a length below the tanned navel that's a length below the huge gash in his chest. The gash is so deep it exposes the white and pink of rib bones, and the shocked muscle refuses to move. Liquid fire won't quit eating at his skin. He won't quit sweating. God. He won't quit bleeding. The taller man starts sucking at the edges of the wound, digging into it with his tongue. And that wound's a length below the man's blood-kissed and tear smeared face, a length below his pretty, glistening green eyes. "Please. Fuck. Just. Please. Jared. Stop. God. Please. Please. Pleasepleaseohgodpeaseefucks yestawsyest." The man's words slur into undecipherable drivel that dribbles from his mouth as his head hangs forward and he quakes with sobs.

The beast is straddling Jensen now and stroking his bloody hand through his hair, using the blade of his steak knife to tip the frightened actors chin upwards. "Don't be that way, baby. You've gotta play the game. Big brother, remember? You've got to take care of your little Sammy. Now, open that pretty little mouth for me. Come on Dean. I thought you'd do anything for your baby brother?" His nose and lips nudge against Jensen's wet cheek, and his expression's almost sorrowful, apologetic, as he grinds his own strong hips against the others flaccid cock.

Jensen pulls his head away, jerks it around and tries to avoid the mouth touching him.

"Call me Sammy." His voice gets more demanding, and he digs his dirty fingernails against the smaller mans shoulder.

"Please. Please. Fuck. Jared. Don't do this!"

"I didn't tell you to say PLEASE. I told you to call me 'SAMMY.' " His teeth clench up, and he drags the knife blade demandingly through his skin. More blood wells against his bicep, then spills over the edge of the gash like a waterfall.

"Y-you're sick Jared. Please. Please. I'll get you help, just-" The noise is a pathetic mewl, the same as when he's begging.

"My patience is wearing thin, Dean." The taller man grips the handle of the blade tightly before driving the blade straight into the others shoulder. Clean to the hilt.

"S-SAMMY!"

"say you love me."

"I love you!"

"Say, 'I love you, baby brother.'"

"I love you, b-baby" hiccough, "bro-ther," sob. "Please, just let me go. I'll do anything. Anything."

Jensen was going to do anything, anyway. "You wanna leave me, Dean? You don't think we make a cute couple? Are you breaking up with me?" The blade slides across his pretty, shuddering mouth.

"No. No. No." The terrified actor is stammering against the cold metal, and the hunter is pursing his lips thoughtfully into that signature bitch face. He leans across him, pressing his lips against the shell of Jensens' ear.

"I think you're a liar."

"I'm not. I'm not lying. Jar- Sammy, please."

"I don't think you mean it."

"Please," Jensen begs. Tears are flowing freely down his pretty face, making lines in all that blood, but his deranged costar doesn't seem to care. In fact, he seems to revel in it. Drink in all that pain.

He grips the knife again, yanking it back out of his chest and licking the blade clean. He moans as his own green eyes bleed black. Endless pits. Hunger. Jensen nearly faints. "Y-you...h-how..."

He's silenced as the blade is pressed firmly against his throat. Sammy grins in that way that sends chills straight down the spine of anyone living or dead, "I like it better when you don't talk."