Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters (sighs). I'm a nice girl, don't sue me!
This is not the kind of thing I usually write. It just came to my mind after watching 2x14 Born under a bad sign. So I wrote it. Hope at least someone likes it.
In the beginning, it was her regular wet dream. Back in Black sounding in the background. A very naked Dean Winchester moving on top of her. Incoherent moans. Breathing becoming an issue. His voice trembling as he babbled her name on his way to ecstasy. Then (and that was different from her usual Deandream), he started a trail of kisses from her belly button downwards. She closed her eyes in expectation and arched her neck at the same time, never wanting it to finish. When she opened her eyes to enjoy the sight of what he was doing to her, he noticed it and raised his head to smile. That wasn't Dean's sexy smile. Basically, because that was not Dean. She tried to fight it. She tried to wake up before anything else happened because she knew she was dreaming. But she couldn't stop it. Sam Winchester was then pinning her to the bed in that cheap motel room. Making her gasp when he entered her without warning, hurting her like hell. She turned her head to the side because she didn't want that thing to see there were tears of pain in her eyes.
Pain and frustration. Because while the possessed Sam had kept her, something had clicked inside Jo. She had never told anyone the wrath invading her while she was tied to that chair had been accompanied by waves of arousal. But she did not forget it. It came to haunt her every single night.
The Sam in her dream was pounding hard inside of her, and Jo soon found herself raising her hips to meet his thrusts. Releasing all her hate in each of them and finding it strangely satisfactory. When they were finished, he got off her without a word, just a look from those eyes which were not completely yellow, but were not a hundred percent Sam's either. The scent of her own blood mixed with their juices brought a lump of anguish to her throat. With her first tears of desperation, she woke up.
A trembling hand traveled to her tights only to find the wetness between them and in her sheets. She ran to the bathroom. After throwing up, she looked at her image in the mirror. Destroyed by the haggard aspect she offered, she could only see how much more rotten she was in the inside. Every time she thought about that part of her that had been awoken with the kidnapping, she made herself feel sick. She took some water in her still shaking hands and splashed her face with it. She had always had this childish belief that when the baddies got their just deserts, their damage was somehow neutralized. But now, the yellow-eyed demon had gone to hell and Sam could not be blamed because it hadn't been him attacking her. And, as far as she knew, he probably didn't even remember that much during his possession. She was not stupid; she knew it had not been his fault. But it was his body that she saw fucking her once and again every night. His teeth and the strong grip of his hands bruising her skin .His face was what she saw as she came in her dreams. Sam Winchester was almost certainly by that time happily hunting with his brother, enjoying his favorite beer everyday, not even thinking anymore about that episode of their lives. Then, it was her. She was screwed. More than she thought she could ever be.