Title: Through Blackened Eyes
Authors: Kay and Kam
Rating: Hard R (Very hard R)
Spoilers: This is an in John's mind for the end of Devil's trap so that's the only episode spoiled. Please keep in mind, this is not just the episode with a few sentences added nor is it some added scene.
Warnings: All around Wincest mini-scenes, means John, Sam and Dean are all present. Oh, and it's not all that nice.
Disclaimer: No profit is being made; I'm just indulging my self.
Summary: So, he went to question what had been said, ask Dean to repeat himself but instead he was greeted with a deep voice, "Why, Good morning John," and, try as he might, John couldn't quite get his face to take the scowl that he was so desperate to show.

Through Blackened Eyes

John's voice rang through his own head, dragging him from the haze-filled unconsciousness that he had fallen into. He could feel his limbs moving, his mouth opening and closing of its own accord, like when he'd just be waking up and his body was still half convinced he was sleeping soundly or when he laid on his arm in some strange position while sleeping and it felt like some limp noodle, feeling and thinking his arm was raising when all it did was stay in that same awkward position. He heard Dean's voice, heard him saying words that he couldn't quite decipher as if he was choosing not to pay full attention when Dean only used that tone on important matters. A tone that Dean had learned from him but didn't use unless it was necessary and how often was it that Dean found something important enough to be completely serious?

So, he went to question what had been said, ask Dean to repeat himself but instead he was greeted with a deep voice, "Why, Good morning John," and, try as he might, John couldn't quite get his face to take the scowl that he was so desperate to show.

The Demon.

As he thought that, his head was filled with laughter and he found himself wondering why Dean was talking calmly when the thing they had been hunting twenty years was in the same vehicle as them. Yes, the soft purr that Dean's beloved produced let him know that and he would have let it lull him back to sleep had the laughter not grown in strength. It didn't sound like the cackle you saw in the movies, where the bad guy knew he had won and would laugh right before making the killing move which was always somehow sidestepped. It was a deep, throaty, sound that in a way reminded him of his father's laugh but there was maliciousness in there as well. He couldn't explain it, it was a normal laugh, but still the demon made it sound wicked, intimidating…wrong.

"All Dean and Sam see is you," the demon whispered against what felt like his ear but he knew that he couldn't have felt it, just as he couldn't feel the pain that was suppose to be running through his body.

John found himself cussing, found himself struggling to even wiggle a single, small toe but it was all in vain and the laughter only grew at his attempts. He was trapped in his own body, able to hear muffled sounds from around him but unable to get any substance from the sounds. He had no control; he couldn't even see what was going on around him, couldn't hear, couldn't warn his boys. He was useless and he realized, with dread rising in his throat, it was his body that was going to be used to kill his boys. He knew that was why the demon had taken over his body. His boys were going to see his face before they died.

Then his eyes opened on their own, or technically by the demon, and it was like a movie screen; instead of seeing the world from his own tunnel vision he saw it as if he were an outsider, as if he were not trapped in his own body. This time the laughter sent chills down his spine or would have, he added as an after thought and still he didn't even make a sound.

It was an odd feeling to not be in control of ones own body, unnatural was more of the word he was looking for. It made his whole 'self' – because he couldn't call what he had his body; it had no shape only feeling – ache with the some kind of sense of wrong like that first time he had walked into a haunted house; neither him nor the spirit wanting him there. Or better yet, like that time he had stumbled across an abandoned building where Satanist had done more than their fair share of rituals. It was the feeling that he got when he found a body of a poor soul who thought they could control things that had been locked away because of its treachery.

He felt the monsters arms wrap around him pulling him along, still laughing under its breath all the while still speaking to Dean and Sam. Sounds that were muffled to John, that he was yet to be able to understand. "Your boys are so loyal," it whispered into his ear, hands roaming up to run over the soft hairs on the back of his neck. "One's willing to go to Hell for you; thinks he can march his way down to where we sleep and free your pathetic soul. As if we would kill you," John felt his face turn up in a sneer, as if he was still connected to his body but another try for power turned up just as useless as the times before. "Kill you? So we could set your soul free when we have no claims on it?" The Demon said with a scoff. "His own faith is not strong enough to realize the truth; oh, you'll go to Him but your son, Dean is it? Your son…"

The laugh that left the thing was etched with desire; desire for his oldest son's soul, to have him for an eternity as a play thing. Had he any control of his body he wasn't sure if he'd gag on that thought or growl menacingly; growl and make the demon pay first, there would be time for gagging later. "He's a tricky one. We have as much of a claim on him as your God has. If he were allowed to go to Him it would be by a very thin notch; if he were to come to Hell willingly though? If he were to find a way there and march down there to save you? Even that good deed would not overshadow the fact that he would then be ours.

"It would be amusing to have a live one with us," and now it's hands slipped to John's waist with its chin resting on his shoulder in some faux sign of appreciation. "We haven't had a live one with us in so long. Do you know what some of us would do with him? They don't even have to be anywhere near as clean cut as your son for us to torture souls in that way. Take their control away that far and they buckle like pigs, would run into a lake if we asked them to. He would be so much fun to play with."

"Leave my sons alone," John hissed, managing to pull away from the demon some even if it was on some level that John wasn't going to even try and comprehend. He wasn't going to try and comprehend most of the situation he was in right now. He didn't have time or energy to do that, later maybe when this was over he would try to but for right now. No this was too complex to try and wrap his mind around, when he wasn't in control of his body yet it still felt like he was.

"Leave them alone?" It whispered as if it was actually taking that under consideration, mocking him and then he felt the wide grin on his face that wasn't his and the demon behind him, "You want them?"

The image of Dean on his knees was instantly flashed in front of him, hands reaching out to rest on his hips as he looked up to meet John's eyes, Dean's own filled with uncertainty. His head moved forward, closer to him, but all he could see was the shaking in Dean's shoulders, trembles running through him.

"Stop," John hissed his anger and disgust not concealed as he yanked away once more from the thing's chilly hands.

Instead of ending the cruel images the thing switched to another as it whispered, moving away from John, "Have you wanted him, John? Wished he wasn't your son so you could court him like your sweet Mary?"

John was on his non-existent knees as the next set of images invaded his mind, chocking him without mercy. Sam was beneath him, head resting in the crook of Dean's neck, moaning softly as John reared back to thrust in harder bringing another moan from Sam and a gasp of pain and desire from Dean.

"Stop."

Dean tied to a bed, bruises showing clearly from under the tight ropes as John's fist slowly slid inside of him. The tears that Dean had been holding back for so long finally sliding free only to collect on the sweat stained pillow that he had so kindly placed under Dean's head.

"Please."

Dean lying in front of him, enough blood covering Dean to almost convince someone that his skin color was indeed that deep red. Small patches of pale white skin showing through before turning into deep slash marks from the knife that John held in his hand, intent on connecting all the scars into one. He could taste blood on his lips, blood from kissing Dean so furiously, so deep and hard. A bar in between Dean's knees, keeping him open and waiting for when John finally took him, Dean's voice whispering and begging softly for him to stop, for him not to kill him. The hilt of the knife going inside of his oldest son…

"Stop!"

For a moment he didn't realize where he was; he didn't realize that his body felt right again, although hurt and guilt was tearing at his heart at the sight of Dean before him, head collapsed against his chest and dripping in his own blood. He had enough time to reach out and free Sam before the demon had taken control again. He was going for Dean, wanting him free as well, but he was cut off and thrown back into his mind, just praying for this to end with his boys safe and the laughter of the thing behind him again.

The End.

A/N: Well… what can I say? This story came along by me trying to figure out a title for one of my other stories and that's the oddest way for me to ever get an idea for something to write.

I'm not too sure I like The Demon in this; I keep imagining him as a slimy little grass snake rather than anything frightening or scary, or even a bit intimidating.

Kam and I had a little issues on the way we see grammar rules a couple of times in this; so if you noticed a few grammar issues that changed just blame it on sibling rivalry and one of us being stupid.

I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Kay
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