Title: Bewitched, Bothered, and Devoured
Author: Wincesteriffic Kaz
Info: An ancient evil surfaces and the Winchesters must rely only on each other in a town of unwitting killers where anyone or everyone could be out to get them. Set in season 2 Dean/Sam 11th in the 'BYC Verse'
Author's Note: I am….. SO SORRY! Lol I never intended anyone to have to wait this long for the second chapter! I should never have posted the first until I was finished with the alphabet on my gen account. You've all so graciously waited for the next chapter and I'm working on this one in earnest now that I've finished the alphabet. I never forgot you or this story. I was just hopelessly sidetracked with the other collection and a I'm bad, bad writer. Lmao Back now, kids! On we go!
Graphic depictions within. Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em but if I did, they'd never get dressed.
~Reviews are love~
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"Can't believe you even managed to get outta that bed." Bobby shook his head. "Come on. I'll run ya' to the head and then you're goin' right back. I ain't pickin' your ass up off the floor."
"We're gonna finish packing up." Dean hooked a thumb over his shoulder and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder.
"Don't forget the molotovs in the garage." Bobby grinned and heaved George to his feet.
"Molotovs?" Sam asked as Dean nudged him toward the front door. He ducked back to collect Merrylin's journals and jogged to catch his brother at the door.
Dean chuckled. "Yeah well, we couldn't find anything concrete on how to kill the damn creatures so we figured we'd try roasting it."
Sam shook his head fondly as they headed for the garage. "You're gonna enjoy that way too much."
Chapter 2
Sam stared down at the stun gun in his hand and swallowed around a lump of emotion. He turned the small device over in his hands, eyes falling to the metal prongs on the end that delivered the stun and shuddered. "There has to be a better way."
"You said a low-level electric jolt might free someone from the thing's mind-mojo." Dean shrugged and gave his taser a practice test. He pressed the trigger and it crackled as a small charge arced between the prongs. He grinned and then looked up at his little brother. His smile instantly faded as he took in Sam's pale face and the fear in his eyes as he stared down at the similar weapon in his hands. "Sammy?" Dean set his taser aside before sliding a hand up the back of his brother's neck. It only took him a moment to understand what the problem was and he sighed sadly. "Hey. Come're. Come on." He plucked the weapon from his brother's hands and tossed it to the counter beside his own, then pulled Sam into a hug. "That's not gonna happen again. It's not, Sammy."
Sam nodded and buried his face in his brother's neck. "I can't lose you. I can't…" He sniffed, remembering the hunt for the bloody bones and how he had watched Dean fade away when the super-juiced taser they had used had caught him as well. "I can't do that again, Dean. Fuck."
"Not gonna happen," Dean assured him.
"Are uh… you guys need some alone time or somethin'?"
Dean flicked his eyes to the clerk behind the counter angrily. "Go play with your register for a minute." He turned away from the clerk, dismissing him, and leaned back to look at his brother. "These babies only have the standard charge, dude. We're not over-clocking 'em this time." He grinned. "Worst these'll do is make one of us pee our pants. Granted, that's pretty high up there on the 'suck' list but that's it. That's the worst."
Sam felt his face burning with shame as he nodded. "Really never wanted these in the arsenal again."
Dean chuckled. He squeezed Sam's neck over his collar for a moment before letting him go. "Only time I've ever seen someone salt and burn a taser." And Sam had done so after the bloody bones with a grim face and determination that they would never own another and had sworn them both off hunting a bloody bones ever again. "Come on. Let's get these and get outta here."
Sam blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Sorry. Just… sorry."
"I get it, man. You know I do." Dean gave his brother a nudge toward the register and the clerk who was still staring at them curiously. "It's gonna be fine, Sammy."
"Yeah." Sam wasn't sure he believed that, but he let it go for now.
Dean pulled out his wallet and his newest fake credit card, handing that over to the guy at the register. He had been planning on paying cash for the tasers, but the smirk on the young guy's face as they stepped up changed his mind. "Ring it up." He collected the bagged weapons off the counter and his card when the clerk handed it back and signed the receipt with a broad smile. "Don't spend it all in one place."
Sam rolled his eyes with a fond, knowing smile as he and Dean left the store, but he didn't argue. "How far away are we from Tybee Island?"
"'Bout three hours, I think." Dean shivered as they left the store and the cold autumn wind gusted into his face. "Bobby shot me a text; said there's a Day's Inn near some old fort."
"First Day's Inn in the country," Sam said and then ducked his head with a cough. "I think. Read it somewhere."
"Nerd." Dean grinned and went to the trunk, opening it. "You would know that."
"Shuddup." Sam smiled and climbed into the car while Dean stowed the tasers. He sincerely hoped they would have no cause to use them. He didn't even want to think about whether or not he would be able to use one on his brother. He slid across the bench seat until he was pressed against Dean's side and sighed with a smile as Dean's arm rose over his head and settled on his shoulders. He slid down in the seat enough to rest his head on Dean's shoulder and closed his eyes. "Gonna grab a nap."
Dean chuckled. He turned and dropped a kiss into Sam's hair while his brother stretched his legs along the seat and into the footwell. "Good." He pulled back out onto the highway and tried to let his nerves settle. He had a bad feeling about this job that he couldn't seem to shake, and Sam's nerves over the tasers had certainly not helped.
He let his mind drift as they drove east with Sam's warmth along his right side. Dean thought back over the last few months - over the last year, really - and smiled as he tugged Sam in a little tighter. The only thing he could wish for that would make things better was for their dad to still be alive. He shook his head, pushing the dark thoughts away, and followed the exit signs to Tybee Island. "Hey, Sammy," he said and jostled his brother lightly with his arm until Sam's head rose up. He chuckled fondly when Sam gave him a sleepy look before sitting up. After a lifetime spent living on the road together, Dean could not even begin to count the number of times he had seen that look. "We're here."
Sam rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around as they crossed a bridge over a narrow sound. "Wow. It's beautiful." He smiled at the turn-of-the-century homes lining the streets. They were painted in white and yellow, brown and orange, and made Sam feel as though they had stepped back in time. Old cypress trees rose up above the rooftops with moss hanging like streamers to blow in the ocean breeze. He startled when the phone in his pocket buzzed and dug it out with Dean chuckling beside him. "Shut up."
Dean smirked. "Who is it?"
"Bobby." Sam flipped the phone open. "It's a text. He says 'did some digging. Tybee B&B better choice for Winchester sleepovers.'"
That made Dean laugh and he shook his head. "Still weirds me out that he knows about us."
Sam smiled and nodded. "Oh, yeah. There's an address." He looked up and pointed ahead of them. "Three blocks up. That's the street."
"Which way?" Dean asked and glanced over to see Sam shrug.
"Scenic route?" Sam grinned and tucked his phone away after shooting a quick 'thank you' to Bobby. "Try left. More rooftops that way. More populated is probably a more likely spot for a bed and breakfast." He watched the buildings as they passed and looked at the people on the streets and shook his head. "It certainly doesn't look like some primordial evil has taken over, but…"
"What?" Dean glanced at him before putting his eyes back on the road. When it came to his little brother, he never questioned Sam's gut.
"I dunno." Sam blew out a breath and looked over at Dean. "Something doesn't feel right."
"Just means we're in the right place." Dean nodded ahead of them. "There it is. Whoa." The house rose up at the end of the long street. It was a warm, inviting yellow with white trim, brick-lined walks, a gazebo tucked off to the side, and a massive, moss-draped cypress tree towering above it like a sentinel. "He sure we can afford the friggin' Ritz, here?"
Sam chuckled. "His text said he already booked us a room. I think he's screwing with us again. Bet you ten it's the honeymoon suite."
Dean laughed and nodded as he followed a sign for parking down the street. He parked the car in the half-empty lot and stretched once he got out. The breeze blowing in from the ocean a mile away was cold enough to make him shiver, and he wrapped his arms around his chest. "Wish we could'a gotten this job in a warmer month."
Sam opened the trunk and pulled out Dean's bag, tossing it to him. "Then you would have complained about the heat."
"Would not." Dean glared at his brother. "I don't complain."
"You whine."
"Your face whines!"
Sam snorted a laugh and slung the strap of the weapons bag over his shoulder along with his duffel. "Lame, big brother." He yelped when Dean wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged his head down. "No noogies!"
"Tough." Dean laughed as he dug his knuckles into the top of Sam's head before letting him go. He danced away from the punch Sam aimed at his shoulder with another laugh and led the way up the shaded walk to the house. He whistled softly in admiration. "This is one sweet place."
Sam nodded and climbed the stairs of the front porch. He raised his hand to knock on the door and it opened ahead of him. "Oh! Uh… hello," he said to the man who leaned around the open door to look up at them. He was perhaps six feet tall, less Sam thought, with a white streak cutting through the middle of his black hair, and round glasses. "We have a reservation."
"Oh! Of course. Of course. Come in!" The man stepped back and pulled the door open wide. "I'm Daryl Pink. Welcome to Tybee Island Inn."
"Thanks." Sam followed him inside with Dean at his back and looked admiringly around the lobby. It looked as though it had been left behind from a Casablanca set and gave the feeling of being somewhere exotic and warm with cabanas and drinks with umbrellas. Sam flushed a little, picturing his big brother in a pair of tight swim trunks and holding one of those silly drinks by the mahogany bar in the next room.
"Sammy?" Dean frowned and tapped his shoulder. "You alright? You look a little weird."
Sam coughed, clearing his throat and nodded. "Yeah. No. I'm good. I'm, uh… so, we have a reservation under Singer?" He assumed Bobby would have used his name rather than theirs and was right when Daryl smiled and nodded.
Dean scowled with Sam's odd behavior, but then he took in the flushed face, the little stutter, and the way he wouldn't meet Dean's eyes while Sam lowered his duffel to cover his crotch and Dean grinned. He moved up behind his brother and slid a surreptitious hand along his brother's ass where Daryl couldn't see it. "Hope you gave us a room with a big bed."
Sam froze with Dean's voice in his ear and his hand on his ass and then closed his eyes in defeat; Dean had clearly noticed his arousal. "Dammit," he muttered and shivered as his brother chuckled in his ear.
"Uh… yes. Yes, there is…" Daryl blinked several times at the two tall, attractive men and then shook himself, turning to a desk in the corner. "Mr. and Mr. Singer. You're booked in the Captain's Quarters."
Dean's grin spread. "Arrr, matey!"
"Oh, man." Sam put a hand over his face and met Daryl's eyes as the man turned back with a key in hand. "I'm Sam. This is Dean. And I apologize in advance for all the pirate jokes you're going to hear."
Daryl laughed at that and handed him the key. "Young man, I've heard far worse. Now, if you'll follow me." He led them through the house and smiled as heard Dean muttered more pirate-related phrases under his breath. "Breakfast is served in the solarium at eight." He waved a hand to his left. "Lunch at two and dinner at eight. If you miss a meal, feel free to raid the kitchen. Just don't leave Marta a mess or she's likely to poison your eggs." He chuckled and looked over his shoulder to find both men smiling. "Now, your suite is downstairs on the lower level. This is the stair." He put a hand on the rail of a classic, wrought-iron spiral staircase and started down them. "Yours is the only suite down here. Just you and the wine cellar." He heard another muttered comment from Dean that, given Sam's gasp, had to have been particularly dirty and Daryl chuckled.
"This place is amazing," Sam said and slapped his brother's hand away from his ass once they reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Thank you!" Daryl stopped at a heavy wooden door and let Sam open it with the key. "You have a full bath, king-size bed, wet bar, flat screen with cable access, and that door there…" he pointed with a smile. "… is your own personal entry with a private courtyard." He stepped back, letting the young men into the room and then went out into the hall. "Settle in and be sure to let me know if you need anything."
Once Daryl had gone, Dean gave his second low, appreciative whistle of the day as he took in the room. "Hot damn, Sammy. Kinda hopin' it takes us a while to figure out this case."
Sam chuckled and set his duffel and the weapons bag on one of the chairs flanking a wide, comfortable looking leather couch. He nodded to a support pillar in the center of the room and looked over at Dean with a mischievous smirk. "That looks sturdy."
"Oh, we are definitely gonna have some fun in this room," Dean promised. He looked through a wide door to the left and grinned. "Holy crap. Check out this monster bed."
Sam followed him into the bedroom and laughed when Dean dropped his bag to the floor and dove onto the king-size bed. "Hey." He slapped a hand on his brother's ass. "We've got work to do, remember?"
"Mmph," Dean grunted with his face buried in the pillows.
"Bum," Sam laughed and shook his head. "I'll lock us down."
Dean turned his head enough to see Sam and smiled. "Can't move. The awesome bed ate me."
"Jerk." Sam gave Dean's backside a squeeze before going back to the weapons bag.
Dean groaned happily again and rolled to his back. It felt so nice to be laying out on a soft mattress after so many hours driving that he truly did not want to move again. He closed his eyes and listened absently to Sam moving around the spacious suite and the soft shake of the salt container. He heard Sam come back into the bedroom and snorted a soft laugh when he felt his brother start climbing over his legs. "Dude. Case?"
Sam smirked and ducked his head down to bite the hinge of Dean's jaw lightly. "Still be there in five minutes, and you look fucking hot sprawled out on this awesome bed, big brother."
"Yeah?" Dean smiled with the warm curl of lust in his belly. He gave a low groan when Sam dropped his hips to rub their denim-clothed erections together. He curled his arms around Sam, planted one foot, and flipped them in a rush of movement that made Sam yelp and then laugh. Dean chuckled as he settled atop his brother and caught his lips, kissing him breathless.
"I let you do that." Sam tipped his head back to let Dean's tongue and teeth slide over his jaw to his throat.
"Uh-huh." Dean slid one hand down Sam's chest, dragging his nails lightly until Sam moaned. He gave an answering moan of his own when Sam's big hands gripped his hips and pulled him in. "Fuck, yeah."
Sam gasped and hummed a moan with Dean's hand making its way to his ass. He nodded while his brother's fingers spread possessively and teased at his hole through his jeans. "Dean."
"Yeah." Dean started up a rhythm, thrusting his hips into Sam, curling his back a little with each roll of his hips until it felt like his cock was being stroked, and he knew Sam was getting the same sensation, if his brother's noises were any indication. He watched Sam's expressive face - the closed eyes and panting mouth - and groaned. "Wanna hear you."
Sam nodded. He kissed his brother when Dean's lips slid along his and matched the rhythm Dean was setting, pulling Dean's hips in as he rolled his own up. The familiar pressure was building with each almost too-rough press of the denim over his cock and it was perfect. "God, Dean!"
"That's it." Dean tugged Sam's left leg up and dug his fingers into his ass, pulling Sam's hair with his other hand at the same moment, and earned a shout. "Come on, Sammy. Come. Wanna hear it. Fuck!" He lost himself in the frenzy of sensation as they moved and rocked together on the bed, the feeling of imminent orgasm burning through his body and starting to clog the air in his chest. "Sammy."
Sam nodded, unable to speak as the pleasure reached a peak. He threw his head back and shouted as he came. He felt the hot pulses trapped in his boxers and shuddered when his big brother's hips slammed into his own as Dean followed him over the edge.
"Fuck!" Dean yelled it into the skin of Sam's neck as his orgasm found him. He shivered and let his hips jerk in their own lost rhythm while they both slowly came down from the pleasure until they were gasping together. Dean began to chuckle as he nosed into the hair behind Sam's ear and heard Sam's answering, breathless laugh. He grimaced then, feeling the warm, sticky mess in his pants and snorted. "Yech."
"S'your fault," Sam said, smiling into his brother's neck while he caught his breath.
"You started it," Dean objected and grudgingly began to lift himself away from his brother. He looked down at Sam and laughed. "Your hair, dude. It's like…" He laughed more loudly when Sam shoved him to the side and rolled off the bed. "… like you stuck your finger in a light socket! That's awesome!"
"Shut up!" Sam couldn't quite hide the laugh before he grabbed a pillow from the chair at the foot of the bed and slapped it into Dean's head. "Asshat," he muttered and grabbed his bag, heading for the bathroom.
Dean hugged the pillow, allowing himself a minute to just laugh at the picture Sam had presented. "Oh, man." He shook his head with a smile and sat up, tugging his jeans away from his crotch with one hand while unzipping them with the other. "It's like we're horny teenagers sometimes. Jesus." He stripped his jeans and boxers off, using the soiled cotton to wipe himself down, and strode out into the sitting area for his bag.
"Dude," Sam said and threw his hands up as he came out of the bathroom and found his big brother bent over the couch, naked from the waist down. "That's not even fair." He reached out to run his hands over the bared flesh of his big brother's ass, but Dean ducked away.
"Knock it off!" Dean laughed and waved a clean pair of boxers at Sam. "Promise you can ride me all you want tonight, but right now, how about we do some actual work?"
Sam grinned and zipped up his own fresh jeans. "Stop showing off like that and we'll get more done."
"Can't help it if this ass is irresistible." Dean cracked his own hand into his ass and then rubbed it. "Ow."
"You're ridiculous."
"Your face is ridiculous."
"Put your pants on before we get sidetracked again," Sam warned with a laugh. He self-consciously ran his fingers through his hair to tame it and then grabbed the bag with his laptop. "You should check out the bathroom," he said and pointed before Dean could pull on his clean boxers. "Seriously. That tub?"
"What?" Dean crossed the room and stuck his head in the bathroom and his jaw fell open. An antique, brass, claw-footed tub big enough for the both of them took up a whole wall of the room, and he nodded while a naughty smile spread over his face. "Definitely doin' all kinds of kinky shit in that tub. Hot damn."
Sam chuckled while the laptop booted. "Damn. Forgot to ask Daryl for the WiFi password." He reached across the desk he had settled at and picked up the phone and frowned. "Line's dead. I'll let him know," he said as he stood. "Back in a minute."
"Where you going?" Dean asked. He sat on the back of the leather couch and tugged his jeans on.
"To get the WiFi password and to let Daryl know our phone's dead down here." Sam smiled and leaned down brush a kiss over his brother's lips. "Five minutes, tops."
"Dude." Dean hurriedly pulled his jeans on while Sam strode to the door and out. "Hey! Dammit, Sammy! Wait up! Crap." He zipped his jeans and winced, nearly catching himself in the fly, then jogged barefoot to the door after his brother. He looked up and groaned, seeing his much longer-legged brother already vanishing at the top of the spiral stairs. "Awesome. Gonna kick your ass, and not in the fun way."
Sam stumbled at the top of the stairs trying to look back at Dean in his haste to beat him and chuckled. He caught himself on the railing, straightened, and let out an involuntary yelp to find Daryl only feet away. "Whoa!"
"Mr. Singer?" Daryl frowned. "Did you need something?"
"Yeah, uh." Sam shook himself and smiled. "The phone is dead in our suite, and I need the WiFi password, please."
Daryl's frown cleared for a smile "Of course! This way!"
"Dammit, Sammy." Dean started up the stairs and looked down with a scowl when he realized the floor was wet at the bottom. "Great. And it leaks down here. Sam!"
Sam looked back at his brother's shout and shook his head. "Uh, sorry. Dean's a little loud."
Daryl chuckled. "That's quite alright. Here." He handed Sam a business card with the WiFi password on the back. "And I'll see if I can figure out why the line is dead in your suite. Sorry about the inconvenience."
"No problem." Sam pocketed the card and headed back to the stairs in time to meet Dean at the top. "Dude, what?"
"What do you mean 'dude, what'?" Dean grabbed Sam's arm and gave him a nudge back to the stairs while he sent a wave to Daryl. He turned back to his brother and slapped his hand up the back of his head. "Brainwashing monster with a taste for 'long pig', remember? We don't split up on this job."
Sam snorted a laugh while he rubbed the back of his head and looked up over his shoulder at his brother. "Long pig?" He grinned and then groaned as he nearly hit his head on the stairs above him.
"Means people, jackass." Dean chuckled and steadied his brother when Sam tripped. "You're a menace."
"I know what it means." Sam reached the bottom and waited for Dean. "You're right, though. I wasn't thinking. Sorry."
"No harm, no foul." Dean pushed him ahead. "Let's figure out what to do next so we can grab some food." He smirked. "Seem to have worked up an appetite."
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Sam moved back a step from the gurney in the medical examiner's office and swallowed as he looked at the remains of the man lying atop it. "There's not much left in the abdominal cavity," he observed. He flicked his eyes to his brother and the green tinge to Dean's face gave him some comfort that he wasn't the only one affected by the grisly sight.
The medical examiner nodded solemnly. "Whoever's killing these poor bastards, they're making sure they suffer first."
"Wait, doc." Dean loosened his tie in deference to the gorge rising in his throat and scowled. "This guy was alive when he was gutted?"
"Oh, definitely. Look." The doctor picked up one of the dead man's hands and turned it palm up. "There are heavy traces of tissue from his own intestines here. He was trying to hold his guts in when he died."
"Jesus." Dean swallowed hard at that. "And the local cops have got nothing."
The doctor shook his head and recovered the body. "Not that I'm aware of, no. Sheriff Walker isn't the sort of man to let something like this go easily. If there's anything to turn up, he'll find it. Have you spoken to him yet, agents?"
"Ah, no. Not yet." Dean smiled and gave Sam a nod toward the door. "We wanted to have a look at the bodies first and see if there was a case here at all."
"The sheriff's our next stop," Sam assured the man. "Thank you, Doctor Collins." He quickly left and breathed deeply of the fresher air once the doors closed behind them, clearing the smell of antiseptic that had failed to mask the stench of ruptured intestines from his nose. "We really need to find this thing and stop it."
"Yeah." Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair as they headed toward the exit. "Those looked like knife wounds, like something sliced him open."
"Or really sharp claws." Sam wished he'd brought the research with them. "I don't remember anything in the lore about claws, though."
"We'll find out eventually when we gank the bitch." Dean shoved open the door and smiled as fresh, autumn air helped to cleanse the smell from the autopsy theater from his nose. "Let's go see what the sheriff has to say."
"Hopefully, he has more…" Sam's voice trailed off as they stepped outside and were met by four people. "Uh… excuse us." He took a step toward them and was stopped by Dean's arm across his chest.
"Wait." Dean's eyes narrowed as he looked at their faces - three men and one woman. None of them had moved, but their eyes were following them. "Something's not right."
"Shit. George." Sam tensed as the four townsfolk moved forward a step together. "He said it was the locals who almost killed him." He looked over at his brother. "Where are the tasers?"
"In the trunk," Dean ground out and braced himself for a fight.
Sam nodded. "Try not to kill them. It's not their fault." Still, even expecting the attack, Sam flinched as the four threw themselves at him and his brother. He caught the arm of one man who looked to be in his sixties before his fist made contact. "Stop!" Sam grunted as the man's body slammed into his and knocked him back a step. He twisted and used his weight to spin them so the man crashed into the wall in his place. Sam shouted in pain and surprise, feeling something sharp slice along his left arm. He turned to find the woman holding a bloodied knife and ducked aside as she stabbed at him again.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean kicked the knees out from under the man on his left and reeled when the man on his right got in a lucky swing to the side of his head. He spared a glance to his brother and felt cold fear when he saw the woman with the knife. "Sam, watch your ass!"
"I know!" Sam caught her arm before she could cut him again. He gasped as two strong arms wrapped around his neck from behind. A heavy weight dragged him backward and cut off his air. He rolled his eyes to his left and watched his brother stagger under the combined weight of the other two men. Sam fought to hold on to the woman's arm, keeping the knife from his throat as she strained to shove it home.
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To Be Continued…
