Disclaimer: I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.
Summary: Dean makes a rash decision which could result in total transformation of the apocalyptic outcome. Set 4x16 – AU Mostly. SLASH
Pairings: Alastair/Dean
Author's Note: This is sort of a continuation of my On The Head Of A Pin AU, which hopefully will add onto any of the loose ends from that story. If you haven't read that, it's no biggy but you may want to. I'll have a bit of an explanation here in the beginning though. For all you angst whores (and I quote) out there though, this should be sure to please you ^_^
Just as a side not, this could quite possibly switch to M so please stay open minded.
Without anything further, please enjoy!
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Cut Me Loose
Both Alastair and Dean panted wildly, feverish with the remnants of their quickly fading orgasms, heaving chests rubbing against one another. Neither one spoke, seeing as words would do little in terms of justification of what was already understood – this was nothing. Meant nothing. Alastair was heartless, thus incapable of loving and Dean could never love a demon. That's just how things were and how they would always stay. This here, was a onetime thing. A one night stand, if you will. Neither Dean nor Alastair would be willing or proud to speak to any other about these events and things would just continue with business as usual from here on out. Or would they?
Still as Alastair laid his head on the hunter's shoulder, and Dean in return, he couldn't help but notice something different had sprouted up inside him. Some unknown spark of electricity which had started lustfully in his member, drifted to his stomach, and now settled contently in the spot in which Dean had stabbed him earlier. Alastair swallowed hard, suddenly unable to stop blinking over his dry eyes. He was Hell's finest torturer, a vicious and ruthless demon created over centuries. He could not love, that emotion was simply an incapability for him. Where a heart should be, only black and cold space lie. Never the less, as he held Dean firmly in his arms, Alastair desired nothing more than to pull his favorite pupil closer and never let him go. Alastair could not love, but if indeed he could, he would pick a time to describe it rather than a feeling. If he had the choice, he would pick Dean Winchester as his lover, and the time to love would be now.
Alas, no love was to be found between these two partners, and so what was the point of dreaming? Alastair was a demon and could not love – tristis, tamen verus. (sad but true) And so, the almighty demon simply hung limp on this carefully conformed devil's trap with Dean only inches from his face. "Dean," he rasped, his voice coming out dry and scratchy, "What have you done?"
Dean blinked vigorously, as if being suddenly brought back to reality. His eyes widened in fear, his heart beginning to thud harshly deep within his chest as he took a very cautious step away from Alastair. He swallowed hard, unable to speak for the words had been drenched from his lips. From his mind. Carelessly, he allowed himself to trip on a discarded tool which lay upon the ground crashing onto the concrete below. What had he done? What line had he really just crossed here? The hunter's mouth hung open in awe as he gazed upon Alastair's battered a bloodied body, feeling suddenly contaminated by the demon's filth.
Alastair examined the expression upon Dean's face carefully, debating just how he could use this moment of weakness to his advantage. "Dean, Dean, Dean," he regained control of his voice, allowing seduction to drip thickly onto his tone, "What have you done? Hmm?" He frowned sarcastically, as if scolding the hunter non-verbally.
Dean swallowed hard, still somewhat flabbergasted about what had just passed between them. Slowly he arose to his feet, his muscles visibly trembling. "I just—," he began hesitantly, avoiding Alastair's almost judgmental stare, "Did we?" Dean questioned the events just occurred, though he knew they had indeed happened.
A devilish smirk tugged at the corners of Alastair's lips as he watched Dean shudder under his gaze. That was the one thing in which he never hoped to loose, the dominance he held over the Winchester. "Oh, we did," the demon replied smugly, almost boastfully.
At last Dean met his tormentor's gaze, feeling a cold wave flourish over him. For an instant, the hunter thought surely he would be sick, but remained standing tall if not simply for appearance's sake. "Oh no," Dean muttered, his voice barely grazing a whisper. With that, he ran a hand through his hair which was damp with sweat – he felt completely repulsed with himself. It was the same feeling which had overcome him the moment he accepted Alastair's offer down in the pits of Hell. It was as if all the work that had been done in which to rebuild himself over the course of the past few months was all pointless, ruined, a wasted effort. For now, even as he stood falsely confident before the demon, Dean felt more shattered than ever.
"Oh yes," Alastair laughed wildly, enjoying every minute of Dean's demise, "Oh yes!"
Dean could feel humiliation beginning to flare up in his cheeks, an empty pit starting to boil deep within him where his stomach should lie. "Shut up," he hissed, turning away from Alastair hastily. He suddenly couldn't even stand the sight of him, much less hear his taunts.
"Wait, Dean, just where do you think you're going? You know, this doesn't have to be a public affair," Alastair cleared his throat, quickly recovering from his short term hysteria.
Dean furrowed his brow in confusion. Turning his head to gaze slightly over his shoulder, he asked, "What do you mean?"
"I mean, this could be our little secret," Alastair mused, almost suggestively, "No one has to know. Besides, I won't tell them if you won't."
Dean felt an unexpected flicker of hope bubble up inside him at the demon's offer. Ignoring his previous fear, he turned and actually took a few steps towards Alastair. "You'd do that?" he questioned, getting right up in his old master's face.
Alastair smiled eagerly, the young pup was taking his bait. "One condition," he proclaimed.
Dean frowned somewhat, but was still interested in what Alastair had to say, "Okay?"
"Cut me loose," Alastair demanded.
Meanwhile, standing in the room just next door Castiel leaned upon the large table which sat towards the center of the room. His rather heated conversation with Anna had left him feeling frustrated and discontent. Still, above all else, there was really one thing specifically which was slowly grinding away on his nerves – the next room. Whatever Dean was doing in there, Castiel silently prayed was for the best. Still, for Hell's torture practices to be being committed, Alastair's screams had ceased rather quickly. Everything was just a little too silent for the angel's taste.
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Sam gripped the stirring wheel even tighter, his knuckles beginning to turn white. The fresh demon blood within his system made it feel as though his own blood was on fire as it coursed through his veins. Shaking his head somewhat, the young hunter simply concentrated on the road before him. The windshield wipers squealed rhythmically as the sloshed the rain water back and forth. Back. And. Forth.
Still, despite all the good he was sure his powers would do in stopping Alastair once and for all, there was a lingering doubt in the back of Sam's mind. What if Dean was right, what if things had already gone too far for him? Hell, he seemed to be spending more time with Ruby now than he was his own brother! No, Sam assured himself silently, This has to work. This has to be right.
Yet back in the small room of the warehouse, Dean could feel all the muscles in his body tightening. He stood there in this long drawn and extremely awkward silence, eyeing Alastair suspiciously all the while. "Dean, cut me loose," Alastair repeated, his voice more firm this time.
Dean licked his lips delicately, dropping his eyes towards the ground almost in shame. "Or what?" the hunter challenged, wanting to know just what game pieces were out on the chess board.
"You know what," Alastair growled in response, "Tell me, how do you think little Sammy will react to lustful dabble that's occurred here?" Dean swallowed hard, feeling his true hatred for Alastair burn deep in the bottom of his heart. He let out an echoing sigh, still not lifting his eyes to meet Alastair's. "Dean," Alastair muttered, catching the hunter's undivided attention, "Do it. Cut. Me. Loose."
Dean looked upon Alastair's face once more, retrieving Ruby's knife from the nearby cart of tools. "Alright," he replied, his voice barely audible.
Castiel dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his vessel's trench coat, letting out a soft sigh as he lifted himself from the table's edge. His footsteps echoed loudly upon the concrete as he took many uncertain steps towards the doorway. What would he find lying beyond it? For one of the first times since his embodiment in this earthly flesh, Castiel indeed felt afraid. He halted his walk just before reaching the boundaries of the door, waiting and debating.
Meanwhile, Dean strode over to Alastair who still clung to the devil's trap. Unwrapping the demon's chains hurriedly, the hunter regretted his every movement. Then, never taking his eyes off of Alastair, he knelt almost subjectively before the demon in which to remove the chains about his ankles. At last, Dean took Ruby's knife and scraped away the symbol which kept Alastair at bay. Almost instantly, the demon placed his hands upon Dean, grasping him roughly from the shoulders before slamming him into the trap himself.
Leaning so close that Dean could feel his breath upon his cheek, Alastair muttered to his pupil, "I thank you kindly, my boy. But do not think this is the last time we shall converse." And then, almost as a departing gift Alastair leaned in abruptly, plastering a most uncomfortable kiss to the Winchester's lips. Dean almost winced as they mouths intertwined, feeling Alastair unexpectedly bit down upon his lower lips causing him to bleed. Even so, something was different as Dean trembled beneath Alastair's touch. Instead of suckling the blood away from Dean's lip, Alastair almost seemed to be inserting something into the wound.
Suddenly, the demon broke their embrace, forcefully slamming Dean into the metal before leaving him to crash down upon the floor. Stealthily, the demon creeped away into the shadows of the warehouse, sneaking out some back door most likely. Still Dean lay limp upon the floor, a strange yet sickening wave flourishing quickly over his entire body. It started as a dull thumping in his lip, but wasted no time in spreading to every nook and cranny. At first it felt burning hot, causing the hunter to break out in a rather abrupt fever, but then surely chills followed thereafter. Dean found himself curling into a ball beneath the frame of the devil's trap, clutching him arms desperately.
Finally though Castiel had enough, he needed to know what was going on behind this door. Taking a few more steps closer to the class, the angel peered in frowning at the sight before him. He saw the rack empty, the demon who'd been occupying it mysteriously absent. And then it caught his eye – Dean's body curled at its base. Without a second's hesitation, Castiel burst into the room appearing at Dean's side almost instantly. "Dean, Dean," he called, turning the hunter over in which to see his face.
There was a light sweat upon Dean's brow, his eyes glazed and unfocused as if off somewhere else. Meanwhile, the hunter's mouth hung slightly open in which a thin trail of purple tinted blood flowed. Castiel rubbed his fingers over the mysterious liquid, lifting it close to his eyes in which to examine it. Dean choked and gasped, his body convulsing somewhat. Suddenly, there came another pair of footsteps which came to a sudden halt as the person saw what was taking place before them. Castiel glanced over his shoulder to see none other than Sam Winchester rushing over to his location. Quite frankly, the angel was just perplexed on how he managed to find their location. Help from Ruby, no doubt, he mused to himself.
"Dean, Dean!" Sam shouted in hysteria, clenching his brother's jacket desperately, "Cas, what's wrong with him?"
"I don't know, Alastair's gone. He must've done something to him," Castiel responded, checking over Dean's body for any other possible injuries.
"What did he do?" Sam questioned, his voice coming out rather hushed.
Castiel let out a deep sigh, just shaking his head as he overlooked the elder hunter. "I don't know," he repeated.
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Author's Note: So yeah, please let me know what you guys think so far. This is only the first chapter, but I plan on making the plot thicken a bit more as things go along. I'll try my best to stick to the basic storyline of the fourth season, but I'm not making any guarantees haha.
Feedback is always appreciated, especially when starting a new story. Thanks for reading!
