Title: Judas Horse
Author: HigherMagic
Pairings: Demon!Dean/Demon!Sam, allusions to Dean/Alistair, Dean/Fallen!Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~ 3400
Spoilers: None (This is AU)
Summary: It's breaking point on the tip of the knife.
Notes/Warnings: Lots of bloody, gory, evil boys doing stuff to each other.
Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

Dean is in the torture room with Adam and Alistair when Sam comes to find him. One moment he's crouched over the trembling soul, knife ready to dig between his vertebrae as Alistair has been teaching him, and the next he's pinned up against a wall, Sam standing in the doorway with his arm outstretched, fingers splayed wide open. Dean can feel his fingertips against his heart, suffocating him and tightening around the suddenly racing organ.

"Sam -." He chokes when Sam's hand tightens, eyes glowing yellow and murderous, his upper lip curling back in a snarl as he begins to choke Dean, a ghostly hand around the other demon's neck tightening, tightening…. Dean sputters and struggles, trying to fight the strong hold that's not even there, but his powers are next to nothing against Sam's and he stops after a moment.

The Boy King snarls, eyes flaring between black and yellow so fast it makes Dean dizzy – his little brother is pissed. "Leave us," he snaps to Alistair, who bows and takes his leave, a small sort of smirk on his face like he knows exactly what's about to happen and plans to hear it in excruciating detail from the last occupant and only witness to what's about to go down – Adam.

"You whore," Sam growls finally, still holding a shaking arm out to Dean, keeping him pinned against the burning walls of Adam's torture chamber. "You fucking good-for-nothing slut." Sam's so angry that he can't even speak – can't think. Slowly, his hand begins to tighten and Dean starts choking, gasping and feeling like he's about to throw up. Black smoke spews out of his mouth as his head lolls, his soul being forced out of the human shape he takes in Hell.

Sam lets him fear death for a while – lets him think he's going to kill Dean because honestly he's thinking about it – he's had enough of Dean's disloyalty and his sleeping around. He lets his hand drop, lips curled in a derisive sneer as he steps forward towards the gasping demon. Dean has tears leaking from underneath his closed eyelids, so human in his fear and panic, and when Dean looks up at his mate, it's with anxious, beautiful jade eyes.

Sam crouches down and Dean cowers away, but the Boy King takes his mate's chin in hand and forces their eyes to meet. Dean blinks, shies away when Sam leans in and inhales, snarling against his temple and he pushes Dean onto his back, tearing at the demon's clothing until Dean is naked, and runs his nose down Dean's chest, inhaling all the while like an animal scenting his mate to see if she's in heat. The scene would have a kind of animalistic passion to it if Dean weren't still trembling with fear, the feeling of his soul pouring out of his mouth still fresh in his mind. Sam's angry – angrier than Dean's ever seen him – and the older brother shakes at what that could mean for him.

He looks up when Sam reaches between his legs, two fingers shoving into him with no preamble, and his whimper is a higher harmony to Sam's bass growl.

"Do you know what people do to animals that can't stop fucking and procreating?" Sam asks, the low thrum of violence in his voice almost like a physical weight in the air, keeping Dean down, paralyzed with fear as Sam's fingers slide into him, feeling how loose he still is and the come that's still inside of him. "They get them fixed. Castrate them." Sam bites down savagely on the inside of Dean's thigh, making his older brother cry out before he can stop himself, and bites down until he reaches bone, jerking his slightly-too-sharp teeth back so that he takes flesh with him. "That's what we do to whores too, Dean. We get them fixed so they don't go fucking anything that walks like a fucking bitch in heat. Whose come is this, Dean?"

Sam trails blood-slick lips along Dean's cock, and the older Winchester chokes again at the thought that Sam might actually just…tear it off. He could do it – he's strong enough to do it and Sam might just be angry enough. After all, Sam doesn't need Dean's dick to fuck him. He just wants the hole. Dean whimpers.

But he doesn't answer. Sam growls again.

"Answer me, Dean, right the fuck now," Sam demands, standing so he's towering over Dean, muscles quivering with pent up anger and aggression, and it's been a long time since Dean was legitimately afraid of his brother beyond the mild adrenaline rush that came with a bit of rough handling. No, this is bone-shaking fear now. Fear of death.

Dean searches his mind quickly – he knows whose it is, but Dean doesn't want Sam to take Castiel away. Dean likes the Angel – he's a good, pretty little plaything and Dean put a lot of time and effort into him. He doesn't want that to go to waste. Besides, he needs his Angel for his plans later. Dean will smell of the Angel and of his human toys, but Sam might see that as just his regular playing. He has to think fast.

"Alistair," he finally says, and Sam's eyes narrow, looking him over like he could tell if Dean was lying just from his eyes. No chances of that – Dean's so scared he doesn't even have a subconscious tell. Sam has no way of reading past that terror, and Alistair's already encroached one too many times. Dean would feel bad about framing his teacher…if he wasn't a demon.

Sam finally snarls. "This is the second time he has been forward towards you. It makes me wonder if you're inviting his attention, Dean."

"No, Sammy," Dean says, sitting up, feeling so exposed under Sam's penetrating gaze. "I didn't want him to. He caught me by surprise and I couldn't fight." Dean blinks, looking away, fists clenching. "I was weak and blind-sided and he took advantage."

Sam snarls again, kneeling down and pushing at Dean's shoulders until Dean's flat on his back. The force of it knocks the wind out of him and he lies gasping on the floor. "Fucking liar," Sam growls, covering Dean's body with his own, pinning Dean's arms above his head. "You know what I do to lying whores, Dean? I give them a taste of their own medicine." Dean shivers when Sam's lips go to his neck, biting down hard enough to shed blood which he laps at like a newborn kitten. "Fuck, Dean, do you even know how pretty you are? How many demons would fuck you given half the chance? How many of them I'm keeping at bay for you?" He bites down harder, punctuating the sentences with a thrust of his cock against Dean's ass once he pulls Dean's legs over his own, making his brother spread for him, leaning on his shoulders so he has no leverage. "But if you'd rather just be a whore I'm sure I can be more lenient – let them have their way with you over. And over. And over again."

When he pulls away from Dean's neck the demon feels like his throat's just been ripped out – he can't speak, can hardly breathe, and Sam's wearing his blood and his flesh on his face. Sam's eyes are glowing a brighter yellow than Dean's ever seen them, and he hisses, biting his lip when Sam thrusts into him, deeply, all the way, Dean's too-dry channel catching and tearing and flooding with blood.

He tries to say he doesn't want anyone but Sam, though that's not quite true anymore. Dean definitely wants to say he doesn't want to be 'given' to the masses. He doesn't want to be a bitch for the whole demon court. He doesn't want to be cast from Sam's bed. His eyes stay green and he tries to speak but every time he does he chokes on his own blood, feeling Sam's savage thrusts in his throat as his brother fucks into him as hard as he can, as though he could fuck the slutty behavior right out of Dean.

"No one will own you like I do, Dean," Sam growls, eyes flashing back to black for a moment as he leans up, bracing himself on his own arms and letting Dean's go. His head falls forward as he pants against Dean's torn-out throat, his hips snapping faster and faster as he sprints towards his release. "You are no one else's. This is the last time I will tell you that; do you understand?"

Dean chokes around a 'Yes', but Sam seems to understand anyway. He gives a low grunt and stills as he comes, and Dean bites his lip to stop himself hissing at the sting.

God's warriors were worried. The demons had not only managed to capture Gabriel (who had recently been discovered to be alive, though whether he was still alive after being caught remained to be seen) but now had Michael's third choice of a vessel. Lucifer's servants were getting stronger and if they were managing to capture and kill Archangels, then something had to be done. The garrison sent to rescue the Righteous Man had not survived. They were sending a second garrison.

Well, no actually. They weren't sending a garrison. They were sending armies. If the demons had managed to get Archangels then regular Angels weren't safe. The more fire power they had the more likely they were to succeed. Heaven was practically abandoned as Angels began to take vessels on Earth, almost half of the throng going to Earth and making their way to a Devil's Gate. Their mission was to either capture or kill the Winchesters. All of them. And, if possible and applicable, to find and rescue any surviving Angels.

They had split up, taking many Devil's Gates across the world and there was a garrison of half a dozen waiting near one in Wyoming when they came across an unexpected…well, change of plans.

Dean is subdued when he comes into his Angel's room, but nothing can really put much of a damper on his mood for long. He is going topside today and he is going to take Castiel. He is going to put the final nail in the Angel's coffin to make him fall; betraying his own kind.

And if Castiel doesn't pull through, well, then it's a shame, but that's what happens sometimes.

His ass hurts – after Sam had fucked him he'd practically torn him apart, shedding skin around all his major organs and pouring acid into them, making him drink it and then shoving a hose of scalding hot water up his ass 'to wash him clean'. It had hurt and even with his healing abilities Dean hadn't been able to walk properly for at least a couple of hours.

The Angel is ready to greet him with a blowjob, though, so that manages to put him in a better mood.

He cards his hand through Castiel's hair gently as he comes down, panting towards the ceiling before he looks down at the blue-eyed Angel and smiles a little, pulling Castiel up to stand. "Are you familiar with the 'Judas Horse' concept, sweetheart?" he asks, blinking black eyes down at Castiel and the Angel cocks his head, because of course he knows the figure who betrayed Jesus Christ, but does not know how to associate that with a horse.

He shakes his head and Dean sighs, pushing him down onto the bed after a moment, on his stomach and pushes his wings out, spreading them. He buries his hands into the soft downiness and notices that, for the first time in a long time, he hasn't had to order Castiel to show his wings. His Angel does so willingly. The thought makes him pause for a moment, an unease gathering inside him, but then he pushes it away, continued to pet Castiel.

"Horses are herd animals," he says as he stands, going into a corner of the room and grabbing some tools, heading back towards the bed. "When they run they'll follow the leader regardless of if that horse actually is in the herd or not. When they are panicked, anyway. Mustang catchers will train a horse that will lead a herd right into the corral." He pauses, waiting for Castiel to make the connection.

"You wish me to lead the Angels into a trap," he states blandly, no hesitance about it, and Dean smiles, nodding.

"Yep. You're going to go up to them, tell them you escaped and you've managed to catch one of them. One high up in the order…and you'll lead them right into a ring of Holy Fire."

Castiel nods, turning his head to look at Dean where the demon has returned to straddling his lower back, breath hitching a little at the predatory look in his mate's eyes. "I understand," he says, testing the water, and then watches with wide eyes as Dean takes out a serrated, double-edged blade, holding it up to the light so he can catch his reflection in the blade, and then he smiles down at the Angel.

Castiel wants to ask what Dean's about to do – he thought he'd been good, been loyal and rewarded for following Dean's orders, but then the demon's just coming back to hurt him. He's confused and afraid now and his wings shift, feathers ruffling in distress.

The demon shushes him gently, leaning forward so his lips are by Castiel's ear; "Have to make you look the part, sweetheart," he purrs right before the blades slices into the muscle next to Castiel's spine, and the Angel jerks and cries out, writhing to get away from the sensation. Dean takes a hold of one of his wings and pulls, ripping out a few feathers and shocking him into stillness. "You wanted to be good, didn't you Angel? Changing your mind now?" Dean growls, eyes sliding back into black again as his upper lip curls back in a snarl and he twists the blade, malicious with it now because he thought he was being nice to his Angel – letting him outside, letting him help Dean and help more of his brothers. "I don't have the patience to deal with you today if you're going to be like this."

Castiel gasps, tears building up behind his eyes and he closes them, swallowing and trying to get control of himself, even as Dean slides the blade out and then embeds it in his wing where the feathers are torn and he mewls in pain, shaking his head as though he can't believe it's actually happening. "Please, Dean…"

"Don't fucking talk to me like I owe you anything," the demon growls, the scent of Castiel's blood and pain like the best perfume and he smiles, mouth watering before he leans down and places a deceptively gentle kiss to his Angel's bleeding back. "You'll do your job – a fine job, sweetheart – and then you'll get another reward."

Castiel chokes on his shaky inhale, because since last night, 'reward' has taken on a whole new meaning, and he shivers to think of what Dean will give him if he does well. He's determined to do what Dean asks of him. Not because of a reward, or because it's what he's trained to do, but because it will make Dean happy and Castiel will do whatever it takes to make Dean happy.

Kushiel runs forward towards the staggering shape of her lost brother, catching Castiel as he falls. The Seraph looks like he's been through Hell – his Grace is almost black, swirling with a mix of green and white that is the last vestiges of his Holiness. It isn't much, but it's enough to help him.

"Castiel." He blinks up large, wide blue eyes, one of them almost swollen shut from a blow and one side of his face is covered in blood from a still-leaking cut on his forehead. Uriel kneels in front of him, holding his face in his hands, his Grace reaching forward to try and soothe his trembling brother. "Castiel, what happened?"

The Seraph breathes in shakily, clutching at Uriel. "Captured…Whole garrison. All of them dead. I made it to the Righteous Man but it was just me against hundreds and I was captured. Tortured." Castiel shakes his head, forcing his body to remember the torture as something painful and not proof of Dean's devotion, tries not to think of it with a longing, wistful sigh and a happy smile. Dean would be proud of his Angel's performance if he was there to see it. "Escaped. Ran through the Devil's Gate. Got followed but…" Then, he surges up, and the few Angels gathered at the state of him – he's unclothed, having not been given any before 'escaping' Hell, and his body is a mottled canvas of black, blue and yellow. He wouldn't be standing if he was human. Blood adds splashes of color against the sepia of his pale skin.

But his wings…

Tatters. Feathers are holding on by a thread and his right wing is almost ripped completely in half, the other hanging limp behind him because the nerves were severed to connect them, so he can't move it. Uriel tries to reach forward, his hand glowing with healing energy, but Castiel stops him.

"Don't waste your energy," he says, voice shaking, and he tries to play it off as pain and exhaustion instead of fear over Uriel discovering his secret, as he would if their Graces were to touch. "I've managed to trap several of the higher-up demons. The Boy King's mate and a few other powerful ones. Please, come with me and help me; I can't transport them on my own."

Then he's turning and running off. His brothers regard him with confusion and a little bit of distrust – after all, his Grace is so black – but then again…to capture Dean Winchester would be a great stepping stone in their mission. Not only Second in Hell, but also Michael's true vessel…yes, he truly is a prize. So they run after Castiel, following as the Seraph pushes open the doors to an old warehouse and rushes inside, waving them in after him. The way he has no fear going into the place is something they take heart in, seeing no reason to be anxious if the Seraph isn't, and they eagerly run into the warehouse after them.

As soon as the door closes the room is thrust into blackness. Kushiel gives out a cry of alarm, unsheathing her blade and specialist weapon – a flaming whip – and the rest follow suit.

A voice comes out of the blackness; "Ah, so lovely of you to join me." And then there's the click of a Zippo lighter, and a hand and part of a face is illuminated by the tiny flame. Dean's eyes flicker black and he smiles and drops the lighter, and the room goes up in flames. The Angels are surrounded in a ring of Holy Fire that is almost half the size of the warehouse, and as they watch, the circle completes itself, sealing them in.

Kushiel looks for Castiel and finds him at the demon's side, watching her watching him with his head cocked, eyes curious. She strides over to him, as close as she dares get to the flames and points her weapon at Dean.

"Strike him down, brother, and help us!" she cries, and Castiel looks between her and Dean, a curiously blank expression on his face. The demon meets his eyes, still black, still smiling, and Castiel returns it and looks back to Kushiel.

"Why on Earth would I do that?"

Dean laughs, and Castiel turns to him like a dog begging for affection from its master, looking for approval for a job well done. Dean strokes a hand down the side of Castiel's face and the Angel sighs, smiling as his wounds are healed away. Then, Dean takes his chin in hand, lifting his head up, and seals their lips together in a kiss. The Angels gasp as they watch, watch as Castiel doesn't fight, and how his Grace swirls like a maelstrom at the demon's touch.

They watch as Castiel's Grace turns completely black.

And, though his eyes are shut during the kiss, the Angels know that they've gone black too.