Animals

Rating: R

Pairings: Human!Azazel/Human!Alistair, Angel!Dean/Demon!Sam, Dean/Anna (Mating), Dean/Michael (Dub-con), Sam/Dean/Castiel (Final Relationship). Mentions of Dean/Castiel and Sam/Ruby.

Warnings: Animal-like interactions, Wing-porn, Rough sex, Dub-con/Non-con (There's a boundary between them somewhere), Language, DSM sort of dynamics, Violence.

Summary: "I may have…bought a new housemate today," he said, slightly sheepish, and Azazel's eyes lit up in delight. He'd been pestering for Alistair to buy a Demon for months, worried that leaving Sam alone all day couldn't be good for him and that if Alistair bought a female they could always breed them and make more money. Azazel by no means saw Sam as just a stud, but if it helped then why not, you know?

Disclaimers: Nothing is owned. I may be convinced into selling my soul for creative rights, however. (:

"Honey, I'm home!"

Alistair opened the door quietly, calling out into the seemingly-empty two-bedroom apartment as he did so. He tossed his keys onto the side table, sliding his jacket off and closing the door behind him, shaking off the rain from his umbrella into the bucket by the door, placed there specifically for that purpose; Alistair hated getting rain on his floors – it damaged them too much after a while. "You here?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Yeah, just a sec…" The sound of his roommate/lover's voice drifted in from the kitchen, and Alistair followed the wall to where it broke off, cutting off the room at waist height, a doorway to the kitchen created by a small pillar about six feet to the left, so the kitchen could look out into the living room and dining room. He leant on the counter, grinning easily at Azazel as the man wiped grease off his fingers onto his jeans, flipping over the slices of bacon to cook on the other side. Azazel loved bacon, took it to the nth degree, like some sort of weird fetish. He'd eat the stuff morning, noon and night if Alistair let him.

Perched behind Azazel was Sam, his Demon. Sam had been Azazel's companion since childhood – for the human, at least. Sam was about twelve years old by human years, but because Demons aged so quickly he had the appearance of about a twenty year old. He'd stay that way until Azazel died of old age, and he'd die too. Demons were weird like that – if their Master died of natural causes then so did they, but if their Master's life was taken unnaturally then they lived on, to be sold again or sent to a stud farm to breed.

Sam himself was quite sought after for breeding purposes. Already he'd fathered several high-pedigree Demon kids with various dams, and it brought in quite a lot of money; enough for Alistair to pursue his passion of photography and not have to worry about bringing in a paycheck. Azazel himself lived as a salesman for some big-name corporate building, doing something that involved cubicles and assistants and bored Alistair to no end. He didn't understand how someone with so much vibrancy and personality like Azazel could stand to work in such a grey, monochrome job.

Azazel turned off the heat, setting the cooling pan to one side as he scooped off the bacon onto a plate, with a napkin laid on top to soak up the grease. Alistair wrinkled his nose just a little – he was a vegetarian himself. Well, he hadn't always been, but for one piece of portfolio work he'd visited a slaughterhouse. Never touched a piece of meat again.

"Sam, say 'Hello' to Alistair," he muttered absently, munching on the first strip of bacon despite the fact that it must still be burning-hot. Sam blinked once, docilely, before jumping off the kitchen island, silent as the grave. He took one step forward before he stopped suddenly, eyes turning flat-black as opposed to their normal hazel. Immediately he assumed a defensive stance, angling himself between Azazel and the doorway to the kitchen, hissing. Alistair couldn't help imagining a puffed-up alley cat, trying to scare away a threat, ears flat back.

Alistair was used to this sort of thing. Not to this severity, but the same general dislike. Demons were very territorial creatures, and this extended to their Masters. Sam didn't like sharing Azazel with Alistair, which was completely understandable – it was an animal instinct – but he'd never been so obviously hostile. Not since the first week he'd been brought home when Azazel had moved in and Alistair had clearly established his dominance in the house.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Azazel asked, frowning in concern as he stepped up beside his Demon, scratching lightly at the nape of Sam's neck. Slowly the inky blackness of Sam's eyes faded and he relaxed, shifting backward just a little, but his hands were still curled into fists, his glare focused somewhere behind the wall separating the kitchen and the living room. "Alistair?" His lover's eyes moved from the Demon to him, and Alistair smiled.

"I may have…bought a new housemate today," he said, slightly sheepish, and Azazel's eyes lit up in delight. He'd been pestering for Alistair to buy a Demon for months, worried that leaving Sam alone all day couldn't be good for him and that if Alistair bought a female they could always breed them and make more money. Azazel by no means saw Sam as just a stud, but if it helped then why not, you know? 'Besides,' Azazel would always say, 'they make your lives so much easier and it's nice to know someone's watching your back like that.'

Apparently humans don't count.

"Really? Can I see her?"

"It's not a 'her', and…" Alistair paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not a Demon."

"What?" Azazel quickly crossed into the living room, confused and little suspicious, and stopped in the entry way when Sam hissed again. It was too late though; he saw the figure standing, silent and still, next to the coats. "Oh, God, you didn't…"

Plain as day, there he stood. He was tall, just over six foot, well-built and obviously in good health. He looked to be about seventeen, by his species' standards. Old enough to look in his late twenties in human years. His eyes were bright green, glowing with the inner light of Grace and two sleek, jet black wings curved down his back, stopping just above touching the hardwood floor. He stood perfectly still but seemed at ease, cocky almost, arms folded across his chest, weight resting on one leg, and unlike most young creatures he met Azazel's eyes head-on, no preamble. On anything else like him it might seem disrespectful, but on him it just seemed…calculating. Like sizing up an enemy and making sure they weren't a threat. The way the creature's eyes kept flicking to Alistair, then back at Azazel, then through the wall as though he could see Sam through it, his fingers flexing to dig just a little into his arm, it was clear that he was making sure that his new Master was safe, was obviously ready to jump into action at the slightest provocation.

There was a dull silver collar around his neck, inscribed with carvings and sigils in Enochian and Latin that would restrict his powers. Sam wore a similar band around his wrist. Azazel didn't need to look to know that there would be a bright chain of silver down his back, able to be attached or detached from the collar, which would wind itself around the spine and restrict the use of his wings, so that he could move them, but not lift them high enough to fly properly or easily.

His eyes were bright with intelligence. As intelligent as things like that can get.

"An Angel," Azazel stated flatly. "You bought a fucking Angel." He turned to look at Alistair, anger clear on his face, and although the Angel didn't move much, he shifted his weight and that was about as clear a sign of aggression as pulling out a gun or knife. It made Azazel pause before taking a step back, clearly showing the Angel he meant no harm to its Master; he'd known what Sam was like when first bought; so overprotective, and although he hated to admit it, he knew Angels were more powerful than Demons. "What the hell? You know what happens when an Angel and a Demon are in the same house. They'll kill each other!"

"Or they won't," Alistair replied calmly, pushing himself up from where he'd been leaning on the counter. "Look, with that collar on he can't kill Sam, not like an Angel can, and what can I say? I have a thing for wings. You wanted me to buy a companion, well there he is." He rolled up the sleeve of his button-down, exposing the underside of his arm and wrist. There was a black tattoo inked into the fleshier part of his hand, where the thumb began to break away. It was the binding symbol, unique to every Angel and human pair; if the Master touched it with a specific intent then the Angel would sense it and obey; if anyone else touched it, or if it was touched in panic or fear the Angel would feel compelled to help and protect its Master, no matter where the Master was or what the cost might be. "And with this I can make sure he behaves. I'm sure you can convince Sam to do the same. Eventually they'll get used to each other and it'll be fine."

Azazel bit his lip, unsure. Of course, he trusted Alistair knew what he was talking about; for another project of his Alistair had done extensive research into the behaviors and familial and hierarchal structures of both Angels and Demons, but still…having two in such close quarters had never ended well for the breeders who tried, and because they were two males Azazel assumed that they were likely to be more dominant and territorial over each other.

Still, it was worth a shot. At least Alistair had bought a companion; Azazel would feel better about him being out on the streets at all hours now – they lived in a pretty bad neighborhood and having an Angel on your shoulder was definitely not high in the list of worst things.

"Alright, but if this goes south you're taking him back, is that understood?"

"Sure thing," Alistair replied, with the easy smile of someone who knows they're going to get away with whatever, because you love them and everyone knows they hold the reins in this relationship so really any sense of bravado you might have is negated by the reality that you both know they'll do whatever the hell they want and you'll just go along with it.

That was a really long way to describe a smile. Sorry.

"Dean?" The Angel's head snapped up, bright eyes landing on Alistair as the Angel straightened. His wings flexed a little behind him, balancing subconsciously and his arms unfolded, hanging loosely by his sides. "Follow me."

Wordlessly – of course; Angels and Demons couldn't speak the human tongue, although there were researchers who theorized that both species were fluent in Enochian and Latin within their groups – Dean nodded and fell into step behind Alistair, where the man was leading him towards the second bedroom, Dean halted when he heard a low, aggressive growl. The Angel turned, eyes flashing bright white for a moment when he saw the Demon and he bared his teeth, crouching just a little in preparation for a fight. Like cats and dogs, Angels and Demons had an inbred hatred for one another, almost to the point where they had to be kept separate in holding centers and in the streets, otherwise they would very easily attack each other without cause. Azazel had had a good right to be worried.

Sam stalked forward, eyes flat black again to match Dean's white, Alistair turning to watch the exchange, see what they would do. Azazel moved to get between them, but was stopped by a look from his lover; they'd wait, and see. Who knows what could happen?

Sam and Dean approached each other like two wild animals, crossing into each other's territory. Dean knew, of course, that he was the encroacher, the one who was coming into Sam's space, but Alistair was his Master and he was the dominant one, so surely that elevated Dean's status?

The Demon was pouring aggression into his system, baring his teeth in a quiet snarl as he crept closer, the both of them now almost touching. Dean's own scent was aggressive, dominant to match the Demon's, and like wild horses they inhaled each other's scents, to sort out amongst themselves who was the submissive of the two.

Obviously there was something Sam didn't like, for he growled and lashed out at Dean, who parried the blow expertly and growled back, pushing Sam away so there was more distance between them. Then they shifted towards each other again, taking another inhale, to see if the other was willing to admit defeat. No such luck. Sam pressed forward, forcing the Angel to back into the kitchen island in the centre of the room, his wings pinned tightly to his sides to avoid crushing them with his body. Sam purred lightly, obviously finding this position more pleasing to him, and Dean answered with a growl of displeasure.

"Are they meant to be interacting like this?" Azazel's soft whisper carried across the room.

"Apparently so. The breeder I bought Dean from said that there may be a few instances like this where it seems like they're fighting, and sniffing at each other and stuff like that. They're trying to establish the hierarchy. They're not at each other's throats, so something must be happening."

Sam leant down, his hands on Dean's hips to stop the Angel pulling away as he nudged at Dean's jaw and neck with his nose, trying to get the Angel to bare his throat to him. Dean snarled loudly, his wings flaring out to the sides and he turned his head, biting at Sam's jaw harshly, forcing the Demon to pull his head away with a sound of pained surprise. Dean followed his hard bite with softer nips, forcing Sam's head to move up every time it tried to come back down again. The interaction reminded Azazel distinctly of two stallions in a herd, with the way Sam repeatedly kept inhaling the scent of the Angel, and kept being forced away. Actually, it was less like two stallions and more like one, close to a mare in season and taking in her scent.

"How often are Angel mating seasons?" he asked, worried that Sam might be smelling Dean's pheromones and mistaking him for a Demon female – because, you know, Demons can be stupid like that. Sam purred again, brushing his nose along Dean's neck, inhaling deeply and pressing his body more insistently against the Angel's, his pleased noise growing louder when Dean finally relented, baring his throat for the Demon to mark as Sam bit down, hard enough to bruise, right over Dean's pulse. As soon as he had he pulled away with a parting nip and moved out of the room, towards Azazel and Alistair's bedroom. Dean, too, seemed unflustered, merely straightened and moved to Alistair's side again, like nothing had happened between then and when he'd been following the man to the other room. Azazel frowned, reminded of just how different Angel, Demon and human interactions were. To humans that scene would have been seen as foreplay, most definitely.

Alistair considered Dean for a moment, taking in the bite on his neck, the color of his eyes – which had faded back to green when he'd submitted to Sam and shrugged. "Apparently every three months. But no one in this apartment building has another Angel so we don't have to worry about him getting out or something."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Azazel replied, frowning slightly. "If Sam smells Dean in heat – or vice versa – they might do something. They're not exactly smart enough to distinguish different breeds or anything."

"What are you worried about? It's not like they can procreate." Alistair's voice was clearly amused, so obviously less concerned about the consequences of the two creatures fucking each other when mating season comes around.

Azazel rolled his eyes, his voice the epitome of 'Duh'. "They're territorial, love. What happens if we put Sam out to stud and he comes back smelling like a Demon bitch, and Dean gets aggressive? Or if you decide to breed Dean? If they're sleeping together they won't be happy."

"You're acting like they're actually smart enough for that. They're animals, Z. In the animal kingdom females are always shared around and fought over and everything. Besides, I don't intend to breed him just yet; he's never been put out to stud before and I want to give him a little bit of time to settle, you know?"

Azazel cocked his head curiously as his lover, slight smile on his face. "You're so weird," he said, shaking his head in fond amusement.

"But you love me anyway."

Author's Note: This started out as a dream, if you can believe it. Angel!Dean/Demon!Sam? Hells yeah. I just loved it so much, and it was about a week's worth, so not bad. There's seven chapters in this verse; it's already completed, and there will be no delays in my other writing, for those of you who are waiting for More than Strangers or Rowan Winchester Part Two. Don't fear; I'm not lagging behind my schedule, and I'm almost out for the holidays. Yay. (:

Much loves. Review if you feel generous and want to give me love.

HigherMagic x