I didn't have time to edit this because I sat at my computer for four hours straight writing this. There shouldn't be to many mistakes. Slight spoilers for 8x23 and Trigger warning for mental illness. Hope you enjoy.
"Would it be possible, Moose...I'd like...to ask you a-a favor, Sam. Earlier, when you were confessing back there...what did you say? I only ask because, given my history...it raises the question... Where do I start...to even look for forgiveness? I mean..."
"How about we start with this?" Sam says quietly.
Sam holds the needle out to show that's what he means and Crowley tilts his head to the side to submit to taking the injection. Sam sticks the needle in Crowley's neck and Crowley shows no pain but rather seems to be content with it.
Sam begins to unlock the thick chain around Crowley's neck. Sam repaints the devil's trap and drags his sleeping bag into the circle before undoing the cuffs on Crowley's ankles and wrists. Crowley makes an exhausted sound before dropping his tired body down onto the thin sleeping bag. Sam pushes the chair out of the circle.
"Thanks moose," Crowley mutters softly, closing his eyes. Sam lays down next to Crowley, and puts an arm around Crowley's waist.
Crowley, surprised, turns around in Sam's embrace.
"I meant what I said earlier," Crowley says softly, lump rising in his throat. Sam looks utterly drained, his face sunken in from what he assumed was sickness and lack of food.
Sam gives the best smile he can manage. "I know."
Sam finishes the trial an hour later; Crowley now human and the gates of hell shut. Crowley can't bring himself to care.
Sam's sick. Too sick to get out of bed or walk on his own. Dean shoves Crowley into their dungeon and locks the door behind him for good measure. Crowley wants nothing more than to be at Sam's side. Crowley looks around the small dark room. It's only contents are a mattress and a thin blanket.
For the first time in hundreds of years, Crowley sleeps.
Freezing cold. Blood. Screams. Pain pain pain. Crowley awakens with a scream, tears drying on his face. The room is bright now. Crowley looks around and sees Sam's large body sprawled on the floor in the middle of the room. He quickly crawls over to Sam, placing a hand on his cheek. Sam's eyes flutter under his eyelids before opening a crack.
"What are you doing?" Crowley asks, genuinely concerned.
"Heard you yelling. Dean wouldn't check. Left to make me food and I came to check."
"Oh, moose…"
Crowley gently pulls Sam onto the mattress, trying to make him as comfortable as possible, balling his jacket under Sam's head in a makeshift pillow. This time, it's Crowley who wraps his arms around Sam.
Dean lets Crowley out of the dungeon that night. Sam doesn't try to move out of bed again.
It takes almost six months before Sam can even make a quick trip to the bathroom or kitchen on his own; and even then it tires him out enough for a two hour nap. Slowly, Sam is getting better. Crowley is getting worse. Nightmares consume his nights and hallucinations and delusions riddle his days. He loses weight. He catches bad colds. He cries. He prays. And sometimes he just begs to die.
Three months later and Sam is the best he's been in a long time. Crowley's the worst he's ever been. The hallucinations are making him violent. He has less to keep him grounded and more voices begging him to stop their pain by the hour. He starts ripping out his hair. He bruises his arms from gripping them so tight. He bites his fingernails until they bleed. He punches the air; screams at nothing. Dean locks him in an empty room for his own safety.
Sam's better and he hasn't given up on Crowley. Dean thinks he's a lost cause, that he's too far gone. Sam doesn't believe it. Sam does research. PTSD, schizophrenia, anxiety, psychosis. He studies medications and ways to handle people with severe mental illness. A few days later, Sam robs a pharmacy.
Sam keeps Crowley grounded. He keeps a constant litany of 'They're not real. Eat this. Drink this. Stop picking your nails. Don't look at them.' Sam starts out small, giving Crowley Vistaril and Xanax when he gets too worked up and starts getting afraid of even Sam. Sam starts giving him a shot of Droperidol at night. It helps him relax and sleep without nightmares. They went through a trial and error of antipsychotics for almost three months. Some made him worse, some gave him terrible side effects, others just made him so out of it he was practically a zombie. Sam was reluctant to give Crowley Fluphenazine because of its strong side effects and strength, but it was one of the few medications they hadn't tried. He started him on a low dose and finally began to see some improvement. For the first time in a long time he was comfortable giving Crowley simple things he wouldn't have even thought of before the medication. Like forks or belts. Slowly they worked up to a daily dose of 10mg. To say the hallucinations were gone completely gone would be a lie; to say Crowley was better was an understatement.
Everything became manageable. Sometimes he would get distracted easier than other people and he probably talked to himself more than was socially exceptable but that was okay. As long as Sam didn't see him as a freak, then Crowley didn't consider himself one.
It happened on a bad day. The hallucinations were worse than normal and his medication was giving him a headache. He was curled against Sam's side, gripping his shirt tightly in his fist. He didn't even realize he was crying until Sam wiped away a tear. Crowley looked up at Sam with sad, wet eyes.
"It hurts. I can feel it."
That was the worst, when Crowley had delusions of pain. It was like he could feel himself back on the rack when he was just a tortured human soul.
"It hurts so bad Sam."
"I know. It's not real. I promise." Sam pulled Crowley closer, resting his head against his chest, hoping the lull of his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his lungs would calm him.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
He felt Crowley's lip press gently against his. It was tentative; questioning. Sam entwined his fingers in Crowley's hair, deepening the kiss. Crowley opened his mouth when Sam ran his tongue over his bottom lip. They stayed like that for a few minutes, exploring each other's mouths with hot tongues and soft lips. Sam ran his hands over the flat of Crowley's stomach, pushing his thumbs inward to press against his loins. Crowley gasped, pulling away from the kiss.
"Sammy…"
"Do you want this?" Sam whispered.
"Yes, please. Please Sam."
Sam gently flipped them so Crowley was lying under him. Crowley wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him into another deep kiss. Sam felt Crowley harden against his thigh. The next time Crowley pulled away to catch his breath, he pulled Sam's shirt off with practiced ease.
Crowley ran his hands down the exposed tan flesh, taking a few moments to enjoy Sam's bare chest. It wasn't long after that that Sam removed Crowley's clothes, leaving him completely naked beneath him.
Crowley drew in a sharp breath as Sam's fingers ghosted across his hard cock.
"Is that okay?"
Crowley nodded vigorously. He felt Sam press small kisses to his inner thigh before taking the pre-come dampened head of his cock into his mouth and giving a hard suck.
Crowley let out a breathy moan, tangling his hands in Sam's hair. Crowley couldn't remember the last time he felt like this. Every nerve in his body seemed to have ignited with a white hot pleasure, Sam controlling it with his hands and mouth. There was no way he was going to last.
"Sam…Sam please. Fuck me," Crowley whined. Sam was more than happy to oblige.
He quickly removed his pants and reached into his bedside drawer for a bottle of lube. Crowley felt Sam lower his fingers to the puckered hole between his legs. Crowley quickly caught his wrist and shook his head.
"I just want to feel you inside me."
"I don't want to hurt you," Sam said, eyebrows drawing together.
"It's okay. I just… It's good pain. I want to feel that."
Sam paused for a few moments before nodding. Sam poured a generous amount of lube onto his hand before running his hand up and down the length of his cock a few times. Sam was defiantly bigger than any other man he'd been with. But he supposed that came with the package of being a moose.
Crowley drew in a deep breath at the feeling of the tip of Sam's cock nudging against his entrance. Crowley gripped Sam's hips to ready himself for the pain.
"You ready?"
Crowley just gave Sam's hips a gentle squeeze. Sam pushed forward in one hard thrust. Crowley let out a sharp cry and dug his nails into Sam's skin. The sharp pain shot threw him like a lightning bolt before subsiding into a manageable burn.
"I'm so sorry, Crowley. Jeez are you okay?"
Crowley nodded, slowly opening his eyes. He wrapped his arm under Sam's, gripping Sam's shoulder to pull him down into a slow kiss. Sam started up a series of slow shallow thrusts, looking for the right angle. He hit that sensitive bundle of nerves in Crowley in his sixth or seventh try. Crowley let out a soft gasp and bucked his hips up into Sam's.
Sam was already breathing heavily, gripping the sheets near Crowley's shoulders hard. He started up a hard slow rhythm, circling his hips to hit Crowley's prostate each time. A thin sheen of sweat broke out across Crowley's whole body. He wrapped his legs around Sam's hips to meet his deeper thrusts.
"Sam! Sam, I'm going to…ahh!" That was all the warning he could give before he was coming, coating his and Sam's stomach with semen.
Sam felt Crowley's body tighten around him. It only took a few more thrusts before Sam was coming into Crowley's warm passage. Sam pulled out before collapsing next to Crowley, riding out the intense tremors of his orgasm.
Sam looked over towards Crowley who had a blissful smile on his face. Sam smiled too.
"He's using you!" One of the voices hissed from the corner of the room. Crowley's smile widened. What did she know? She wasn't real anyway. The only thing that was real in that moment was Sam's warm fingers entwined with his.
Hope you enjoyed!
Reviews are better than hallucinations!
Lots of love
~July Falconeri