Part 4: Hell on Earth
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The air rushed out of Dean's lungs on impact, his head striking the far wall for the second time today as Sasha, in all his incubus glory, rammed into him to send them both flying. At first Dean thought Sasha had rushed him on pure instinct, but despite the incubus' lack of sentient thought processes right now, every one of his movements seemed to have a purpose.
Dean found himself completely immobile once his head cleared enough for him to recognize what was happening. His arms were pinned to his sides from the sheer force of Sasha's larger body against his, and one of those taloned hands was holding onto his throat tight enough to make him choke.
Saying the situation was bad did not do it justice.
"Sa…Sasha…" Dean tried, staring back into the snarling face of someone he liked to consider a very good friend, regardless of the fangs, the horns, and the blazing red eyes, "St…stop…you…don't…wanna do this. It's me." Dean tried to raise one of his hands, and was pleasantly surprised to discover he could, meaning Sasha was giving him a little more breathing room. The sound of Dean's voice seemed to make the beast pause. "Yeah," Dean said, forcing a smile and taking short gasps of air when the hand on his throat started to loosen, "It's me. Dean," he emphasized, using that free arm to point up at his face, "See…you don't…wanna do this. Do you?"
Sasha's fangs were bared, his eyes wide and vibrant, and in the next moment Dean found himself flat on his back on the floor with incubus Sasha planting a knee on either side of his hips.
"Okay, maybe you do wanna do this…" Dean managed, not at all oblivious to the perils of his situation. Half of his mind was still on Sam and whatever the demons were doing to him on the other side of the door. He realized, however, that his own position would require some very quick thinking if he wanted to do anything to help his brother. And of course if he wanted to avoid full on molestation and possible death by a horny incubus.
Before Dean's cognitive abilities could fully resurface, Sasha had his wrists pinned together above his head with one hand while the other began to paw at his clothes. The quick thinking part could begin any time now, Dean thought. Any time. But all Dean could think to do was struggle with all his strength to get away.
Since Sasha's attention was focused on removing Dean of his clothing, Dean did manage to free one of his arms and start twisting away before unavoidably being caught again and pinned more firmly. That at least did the job of prolonging the inevitable. Maybe if Dean could continue managing that for an undefined amount of time, the demons would eventually come back in and kill him properly.
One could only hope.
"Sasha, stop!" Dean tried, his stomach doing all sorts of nasty flips as Sasha's hips pressed down into his. As before Dean's voice made the incubus pause, but Dean no longer assumed he could reason with Sasha just because there was some recognition. "Look," he said, staring up into crimson unflinchingly, "Just look, okay? I know I'm damn sexy, and I can appreciate that you're really crazed for a fix right now, but my brother is outside that door with seven demons ready to do God knows what to him. Now, maybe we can help each other out. You want me?" Dean prompted, feeling quite disturbed by the hungry look that responded. Still, he could swindle with the best of them and grinned as he said, "Okay. You can have me. But first you help me get my brother away from the demons. How's that?" After all, Sasha didn't have to know that Dean had no intention of fulfilling his end of the bargain.
And then Dean felt really stupid—something that kept happening lately—because he should have remembered that an incubus can read a person's emotions. As good of a liar as Dean had learned to be over the years, some people just know when you're not telling the truth. And Sasha looked pissed.
"Maybe that wasn't the best way to go," Dean said, grinning sheepishly.
The look on Sasha's face was almost enough to make Dean shake. The incubus didn't care about deals. Even if Dean hadn't been lying about handing himself over after a miraculous recovery of Sam, things probably would have turned out the same way. The incubus would not wait. He knew what he wanted and he would have it now. And he wanted Dean.
It would almost be flattering to be wanted so badly if Dean didn't know that the only reason the incubus wanted him was because he was the only person in the room right now. In another situation, he doubted a frenzied Sasha would be very picky.
Maybe it was better that Sam was on the other side of the door.
Sasha had returned his attention to Dean's layered shirts, effectively slicing a claw down the front of Dean's button down, popping the buttons off in a single swipe. Dean was thankful he and Sasha had both left their leathers in the Impala when they started using that paint for the devil's traps, but at least it would have given him another layer. Right now Dean was down to his T-shirt and out of options.
Thrashing seemed the only choice available, because there was no way Dean was just going to lie there and let this happen. "Get off me!" Dean yelled, struggling as much as he could to make things more difficult for his captor, "God damn it, Sasha, we have to help Sam! Snap out of it already!"
A snarl replied, menacing with warning. Suddenly, Dean's wrists were free, but he didn't have time to celebrate or utilize this turn of events before he felt the effects of why. Using both taloned hands, Sasha tore into Dean's T-shirt, ripping it apart like a rag and taking half of Dean's skin with the pieces of fabric. Dean cried out, the deep gashes made on his chest stinging in pain.
The fighting instincts Dean's father had instilled in him since he was barely five years old told him to act now. "I said get off!" Dean yelled again, rebounding with a swinging fist that connected squarely with Sasha's jaw, thankfully missing any grazing of those curling horns. But punching Sasha was like punching a concrete wall, and Dean was almost certain he broke at least a few bones in that hit.
Sasha rebounded much faster than Dean had though, his growl no longer warning but filled with promise. He lunged for Dean's neck, digging his fanged eyeteeth into the flesh beneath Dean's left ear and biting hard.
This wasn't a vampire bite, but it stung, and Dean felt the small trickle of blood that started to seep from the wound. He hadn't called out this time though because to be honest it didn't hurt in quite the same way. Dean's head felt heavy, clouded. As if the sharp bite had been more like a pleasurable nibble at his neck, Dean's body gave a deep shiver. Maybe this wasn't so bad.
Whoa. Dean shook his head, trying to shake Sasha off with it. What the hell was that? Dean's whole body felt heavier now. He knew Sasha hadn't hit an artery or anything; it was a firm bite but still small. Was it a pressure point or something?
Dean still felt a little fuzzy when Sasha began to pull away, bending down then to lick at the wounds he had created on Dean's chest. Dean's stomach lurched at the feeling and shuddered down to his toes. This was wrong on so many levels.
Sasha's hips were still pressing down on Dean's, pinning Dean's legs between his knees. Dean remembered that normally Sasha had that convenient covering below the waist when he was in his incubus form. But if Dean's senses told him anything right now, the covering wasn't there anymore.
Gotta think. Gottathink. There had to be a way out of this. Sam needed him! And God damn it, Sasha would never forgive himself if this went as far as it seemed to be headed. Dean couldn't allow that. He was supposed to protect them.
Dean gave a sudden hiss as Sasha's tongue swiped languidly at one of his deeper cuts. The sensation was right on that borderline between pain and nauseating pleasure. It felt…kind of good.
No! Again Dean had to shake his head. What the hell was wrong with him? Sasha was demoned out and trying to mount him for crying out loud. He was not enjoying this! He was bleeding and pinned to the fucking floor! What could possibly be wrong with Dean in the head to…make…him…
Shit. It dawned on Dean so suddenly his eyes sprang wide, and not just because Sasha's tongue had started to travel below his navel. Pheromones. Why else would the incubus be allowing foreplay? He needed it. He needed to elicit some kind of response from Dean's body, even if it wasn't entirely consensual, and what better way then to trick Dean's brain into thinking he was having a good time.
This was good. Dean tried to tell himself this was good. He could beat pheromones. Sasha said they were just suggestion, not mind control. Dean just had to stay focused. Not that that would stop Sasha from eventually laying claim to him anyway, but it was a start. Even frenzied and out of his mind, Sasha still wanted Dean willing, and there was no way in hell that was going to happen.
Apparently Sasha thought he had made his point and that he now had a resigned victim, leaving Dean's entire upper body free. Dean flinched when Sasha began to tug down his jeans, but at least Sasha had shifted enough to un-align their hips. Dean's legs were still mostly pinned, but he could do this. He waited until the right moment and then slammed his hips up into Sasha's face.
There wasn't enough time. Dean twisted his body away and turned onto his stomach, starting a desperate crawl. His bare, wounded chest rubbed painfully on the floor as he went, but he didn't care. Sasha's shotgun wasn't far away, right where Dean himself had dropped it after unsuccessfully smacking Greed. If he could just get to it. A shot wouldn't kill Sasha, thank goodness, since the bullets were lead, but it might slow him down.
Dean couldn't believe he had made it as far as he did when at last the shotgun was only inches out of reach. He could hear Sasha growling behind him, but he couldn't risk a look back. He lunged that last inch forward, grabbed the gun and rolled onto his back again, ready to fire. He understood now why Sasha hadn't simply dragged him back. The incubus was standing, which left no more illusions as or whether or not that below the waist covering was gone. Without the covering, it was just the tattoos again, and the tattoos went everywhere.
Sasha's large talon-like hands flexed into fists. His powerful, gargoyle feet left cracks in the floorboards as he walked forward. A great roar left him and his wings shot out behind him, extending to their full and glorious breadth.
Dean couldn't move. He didn't know if it was some affect of the pheromones or if it was just that Sasha looked about ready to storm over there and rip his head off. Neither would surprise him.
As Sasha stomped closer, Dean steadied the gun again. He had to fire. He had to. Sasha roared once more and Dean pulled the trigger, aimed right at Sasha's midsection. But he was too late, because at the same moment Sasha's arm shot out, grabbing the gun and causing the shot to blow a hole in the ceiling above them. Sasha ripped the gun from Dean's hands and threw it aside.
This was going to hurt.
Sasha was on Dean in the next second, and he wasn't wasting time anymore. As his claws had so easily turned Dean's T-shirt into shreds, now they ripped at his jeans, destroying the button and zipper and revealing the light grey of Dean's boxer briefs beneath.
With one more play to make Dean submissive before he took him, Sasha straddled him, aligning their hips again and pressing firmly so that Dean's breath hitched against his will. Then, with one clawed hand grabbing painfully at Dean's hair, Sasha pulled Dean up into an angry, hungry kiss—all fangs and possession.
At first, Dean tried to struggle out of it. This was not like their kiss in the alley or the nice part of that dream. This was the nightmare. All that needed to be added was Sam's taunting laughter and constrictive hands.
No. This wasn't happening. Dean had to stop this. He had to stop Sasha and…and…and what was he doing? Sam? Was there something about Sam? Dean couldn't...remember. He was with Sasha. Sasha was…kissing him. Slow. Deep. Dean felt a sting in his chest but even that started to fade. He liked kissing Sasha. He normally wouldn't admit it, but he did. He had known that in the dream, and seen it realized in the alleyway. So he started to kiss back, feeling the slight prick of fangs on his lips. He liked that too.
Dean's hips bucked up into Sasha involuntarily, and he felt the assurance of just how much Sasha wanted him. Dean wanted it too. He hadn't had sex in so long, it seemed. He wanted it now. He wanted Sasha. He wanted…
"Dean!"
…he…wanted…
"Dean, are you okay!"
…he…
"Dean, answer me!"
…Sammy?
"Dean!"
Sam!
Fuck.
Dean's eyes sprang back open as his senses returned. Sam. Sam was calling for him. And this was not happening.
With every bit of strength left in him Dean pushed Sasha away, forcing a low grumble from the incubus at being denied yet again. "Sam!" Dean yelled.
"Dean!" Sam called back, 'Thank god. What's happening in there?"
Sasha was having none of this, that's what.
The incubus was tired of waiting for his prey to acquiesce. With a clawed hand gripping either side of Dean's jeans he pulled them down in an angry tug to Dean's ankles, almost taking his shorts down with it.
"I'm gonna be fucked and filleted is what, and probably not in that order!" Dean called back, "Get the hell in here!"
"I'm trying! The door's stuck!"
Jesus, Dean thought, as Sasha pulled Dean's body against him tight. If this actually happened while Sam was on the other side of only a couple inches of a fucking door…no.
Just no.
"Sam!"
"Just…just stall him somehow!"
Sasha growled and reached between their bodies for Dean's shorts. "We're a little beyond that right now!"
"I'm thinking!"
"Think faster!"
A few breathless moments passed. Dean's head was in a complete haze. Half his brain was focused entirely on Sam and getting out of this mess, but the other still reeled from the pheromones. When the heel of Sasha's palm pressed into Dean through his shorts, he moaned. But when those claws started reaching inside his shorts, he screamed.
"Sam!"
SLAM. If Dean didn't know any better he would swear the door just exploded.
Sam rushed in so fast, Sasha hadn't even turned around before the younger Winchester jabbed something into the back of his neck. Sasha howled, rising up off of Dean and falling back onto his side. Sam had hold of Dean the next second, carefully pulling him out from under Sasha to a safe distance where he could rest against the wall.
Dean stared back at Sasha at first as the incubus started to shake, tremors wracking his body as he morphed slowly into his human guise.
"What did you do to him?" Dean asked, amazed as much as he was grateful.
With a humble smile, Sam held up that same syringe Lust had used to cause all of this, only now it was empty again. "Figured it would work the same way in reverse."
That's Sammy. Smart as a whip. "Nice. But didn't she sorta…summon that out of…" And before Dean could actually say the word "nothing" the syringe returned to just that, vanishing from Sam's fingers.
It was times like these they knew not to ask questions.
A few feet away, Sasha had all but turned entirely back to normal, but he was shaking harder than ever and was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His clothing had all rematerialized, which Dean was grateful for, but the guy looked pretty well wrecked.
Sam went over to check on him and placed his usual caring hand on the incubus' back. "Sasha…are you okay?" he asked.
Sasha's breathing was still heavy, and he gasped a few times before managing to look up, blinking at Sam as if he wasn't sure he recognized him. "Sam…?"
"Yeah," Sam smiled, "It's okay. Everything's okay now."
Sasha nodded vacantly, but suddenly sat up, his eyes wild with panic. "Dean!" he called, looking imploringly to Sam at first before noticing the real thing, slouched against the wall and still bleeding and half clothed. Like a shot, he scrambled over to Dean's side, forgetting Sam completely. "Dean!" he cried again, "Oh God…what did I do? I…I never would have—"
"Save it," Dean broke in, holding up a weary hand and managing to grin despite the pain, "I've been through shit like this so many times with Sam and others, I don't wanna hear it. When the supernatural's to blame, the real you's exempt. Okay? I choose to blame demons."
"But, Dean—"
"Hey," Dean said more firmly, "Do you want to ravage me against my will and leave me in dire need of stitches?"
Sasha looked affronted. "Of course not. I would never—"
"Exactly. I know that. You know that. Sammy knows that. So shut up. You don't owe me any explanations. Might accept a new outfit though," he added with a smirk.
Dean's current outfit was beyond trashed. He also realized then that his pants were still at his ankles and the encounter had left him at least half hard. He doubted there was enough embarrassment in the world.
"Uhh…ya mind?" he said, holding an arm out to Sasha so the guy could help him stand. Sasha complied right away of course, and as soon as Dean was on his feet, he reached down to pull his pants back up, favoring the hand that might not have any broken bones but still hurt like hell after punching Sasha. Of course, Dean could no longer zip or button his pants, but it still made him feel better to have them completely on again. He was just happy he never lost his shorts.
"Dean, please, " Sasha said, turning to Dean with eyes that could more than beat Sam out for the kicked puppy award, "I just feel like…like there's nothing I could ever say to—"
"So don't. What have I been saying, huh? I don't need to hear any apologies." Dean got right in Sasha's face on those words, because he had used up all of his patience on Sam a long time ago; there was none to spare for Sasha. Besides, he really didn't need an apology. It wasn't Sasha's fault. Dean liked Sasha. A lot. And…and…Dean realized he was leaning in closer and closer to Sasha, and that he…kind of liked it. "God, you smell good," he said, breathing in that familiar scent as his face leaned up into Sasha's neck.
Sasha's body went visibly rigid. "Uhh…Dean? I'm thinking I must have really gotten you with the pheromones, didn't I?"
That snapped Dean back to himself. He pulled away from Sasha like he'd been burned. "Fuck. Please tell me that's going to wear off."
A nervous laugh fell from Sasha's lips and he scratched the back of his head. He was still a little shaky but already looked a lot better. "Sure," he said, "In about…twenty-four hours."
"What!"
"Actually…they're a little more potent when we're frenzied, so…maybe longer."
Oh that was great. Just great.
Could this day get any worse? It wasn't even ten in the morning!
"Look, the important thing is that everyone's okay. Right?" Sam said.
Dean turned to his brother with a ready comeback but stopped short. There he went feeling like an idiot again, because he must be one to be this stupid. "Dude, how are we all okay?"
"What?" Sam asked.
"How?" Dean said again, glancing towards the remains of the door, that he now realized Sam must have gone super strength Sam SMASH on to get it to explode open like that. "There were seven demons on you. What happened?"
"Oh," Sam said, looking somewhere between sheepish and terrified of being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "It's…it's fine now. They're gone."
"Gone?" Sure, Dean was kind of out of it and had all these crazy thoughts about Sasha running through his head, but he was himself enough to know that Sam was hiding something big. "Dude, seven demons and you. How are they just gone?" Dean headed straight for the door. Despite the sting in his chest as air and the remains of his shirts struck against his skin, he was fine. His ego was bruised more than anything. But there was no reason he should be fine. He and Sam had both been up against pretty impossible odds. Something had to change those odds in Sam's favor.
Sasha came up beside Dean as they both reached the door, having to step over some of the debris from Sam's entrance. And there they were. Just outside, mulling about in the hallway and the neighboring bedroom was the demons. All seven of them. But they weren't demons anymore. They were just scared, trembling, and in some cases sobbing human beings.
The demons really were gone, leaving all of their hosts intact.
Dean looked back at Sam, who still had that sheepish, scared look on his face. "You…exorcised all of them?" Dean said. He couldn't believe it. Sam had their Dad's journal, sure, but—
"No," Sam shook his head, "I didn't." He took a few steps closer to Sasha and Dean at the door. Dean knew that look. That was Sam's 'I don't know what I am' look, his 'please help me, please promise you'll kill me if something goes wrong' look.
Dean tried to maintain a brave face. He shrugged. "You super strength decked them all and knocked the demons right out of them, or what?"
But Sam didn't see the humor. He shook his head again. "You won't believe it…"
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The three hunters had done all they could for the hosts left behind in the wake of the seven deadly sins. There wasn't much to be done about the damage to the house, but they didn't really think it was their problem anymore. They'd done their job. Later, they had gathered their things from the motel, deciding that regardless of having won, they didn't feel safe staying there anymore. They had also finally managed to get through to Bobby. He was disoriented but no worse for the wear, and they were currently waiting for him to get back in town so they could explain what happened and maybe grab a late breakfast.
The menus hadn't even been perused yet though, despite the drinks section ending in them all getting coffee—all taken very differently. They were too busy listening to Sam's side of the story. And he was right, Dean didn't believe it.
"That's it?"
"Yeah."
Dean shook his head and leaned over the table. "That's…it?"
"Yes, Dean, that's it. That's all," Sam said exasperatingly. He was alone on his side of their booth while Sasha shared with Dean. "I don't know what did it. Maybe it was because I was panicked. Maybe because I was so worried about what was happening with you two, I don't know. It just happened. Poof, they were gone, as good as an exorcism, but not."
Now it was Sasha who leaned over the table. "And all you said was…go to Hell?"
Sam nodded, but Dean still didn't believe it. "And they took that literally?"
Apparently Sam was getting pretty annoyed with Dean because he shot his brother a frustrated glare and clutched at his coffee cup a little tighter. "Come on, Dean, I told you about Ava being able to control demons. I guess…it was just like what happened on Nicollet with the TK, only…this time it was something new. I didn't even realize what was happening at first. They just started leaving the bodies, shooting out of them. Then they were gone and those people were left, having to remember all the horrible things those demons had done over the past few weeks. It was so…horrible." Sam glanced down into his mug, his hazel eyes looking very green with a glimmer of wetness in them. "I don't know why I couldn't get my powers to work when we were still in the room, but once I knew you were left in there alone, I guess…I guess I was just so…scared of…of…"
"What I might do?" Sasha's voice came soft and self-deprecating. He started to lean back in the booth again, and his eyes shimmered just as Sam's were.
"I didn't say that," Sam said, looking up from his coffee with a severe expression, "I was scared of what the demons were going to make you do, and of what Dean might have had to do to you to stop it." Sam's voice grew smaller and his eyes disappeared again into the depths of his overly creamed and sugared coffee. "I don't want to lose either of you. Not because of me."
That was it. Dean was downright sick of this. He may not be able to wipe that self-pitying look off his brother's face, or Sasha's, but he did not have to sit here and listen to them brood. "Will you two knock it off," he growled, slamming his own black coffee down hard on the table. It tasted bitter just the way he liked it, and brought his mind a little closer to its comfortable sharpness. "I refuse to listen to you two bitch all day. You," he said, pointing at his brother, "Are a freak. I know this. I accept this. I encourage the practice of honing this if it means those power will come when we want them to instead of when we're two seconds from death or worse. But you are not a bad guy. You are not evil. And you are not some sissy girl who feels sorry for himself after saving peoples' lives. Coz that's what you did back there, Sammy. You saved those seven people and rescued us. So stuff it."
Dean whipped around so quickly on Sasha that he actually made the incubus flinch.
"And you," he said, "Are also a freak. Maybe an even bigger freak, since you're a sex vampire who had a hard-on for me for maybe two minutes back there and left a few nice reminders." Dean touched a hand gingerly to his chest, which was now cleaned and bandaged and under a brand new shirt, but still ached. "But you're not a bad guy either. You wouldn't have done anything to me if Lust hadn't drained you and sent you on the rampage. You weren't in control of your actions, so I don't consider you responsible. I'm looking on the bright side here. I remain unmolested, both of you are fine, and all of those people got out of there alive and back in control of their bodies. Where's the downside here?"
Both Sam and Sasha had the hindsight to look a little ashamed of their scowling faces. Sam gave a shrug, not saying anything, but Sasha turned to Dean and said, "You're probably right, Dean. It's just…" he glanced down at his lap, "…you might want to move your hand."
Dean took a moment to process that, looked down to notice how high up on Sasha's thigh his hand happened to be right now, and couldn't remove it fast enough. Okay, maybe there was a downside.
Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him, half in horror while the other half of him probably felt like laughing. He could feel Sasha's eyes on him too, but he didn't meet gazes with either of them. He just picked up his menu and pretended to look at it.
"Twenty-four hours?" he said, buried in the waffles section.
"At least," came Sasha's reply.
"Wonderful," Dean flipped to the next page, "You think Bobby will want pancakes?"
tbc...
A/N: Short, but I knew you'd want this chapter quickly. Thanks so much for that great response on the last chapter. I figured you could use a good cliffy like that. There will be one more part to this arc, and then on to the Gordon arc! Thanks again.
Crim
