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samisnotevil LeRose tricia necowithachainsaw destiariestya Miuda22 3DBABE1999Nightmare's Pen HinatasTwin1128 BaskervilleHound1864 watergoddesskasey elektra56765 . Lsdugat . shadowdancer33996 . & guests!


previously on bruisedbloodybroken aka The Road So Far:

„I can see that you're thinking about it.", he gave back, clenching the hunter's shirt in his fist. „I'm not scared of you."

Another thing Dean was kind of afraid at the moment: Sam wasn't wary enough around him. He could fall asleep right there and have one of those dreams … and Sam just didn't seem to care.

The hunter literally counted the minutes for Bobby's and Ellen's return to the Salvage at this point. Because he didn't trust himself as much as Sam obviously did.


Fall Of Darkness

Chapter 27 Demon's Blood

It was already early afternoon.

Sam had finally fallen asleep on the couch, his head resting in the hunter's lap, curled up into a tight breathing ball. - Just like that. Just like nothing had happened before. And Dean didn't get, how the younger man was able to sleep like this in his presence. Either he honestly trusted the hunter just like that, or he wasn't all by himself.

Dean leaned back and closed his eyes for a brief second. He could've needed a little nap too, but didn't dare because of fear he'd try to hurt (didn't sound as bad as kill in his mind) Sam again. So no rest for Dean Winchester under this special circumstances. He'd be able to get enough sleep as soon as the spell was done and the ritual performed. Until then he had to hold on – for Sam's sake.

He played gently with a lock of Sam's soft hair, winding it around his index-finger. He was so beautiful like this ... had always been.

A gentle smile enlightened Dean's face as he thought about how good it felt to have Sam so close to him. And to be honest: He didn't even know anymore why the hell he had ever prefered to be all on his own, except for Lola and Alex – when he needed them. But even there ... there had just been this sexual affection, nothing more, nothing less.

Somehow it was weird how comfortable he felt with Sam. Of course it hadn't been easy, for neither if them. But holy hell ... he'd go thru hell and back just for him. He'd do everything to keep him save, even if it meant to die.

The hunter got torn away from his thoughts, as he heard the low rumble from Bobby's Mustang. Then the engine died and the front door banged open just seconds later. Another moment later he was facing Bobby and Ellen, who seemed pretty troubled – and were back way sooner than they had told him.

"Shhh.", Dean laid a finger over his lips, tilting his head down to show them that Sam was asleep. "Just napped off.", he whispered.

The both of them nodded towards him. "Kitchen.", Bobby mouthed. And even when no noise came out of his throat, Dean was able to hear his gruff voice even old man gave him his i-told-you-so-glare and vanished from the livingroom.

Ellen instead sat down on the coffee table and took in the both of them, watching them closely, while the younger male snuggled into Dean's lap, and the hunter petted his head gently.

"Is it bad?", she asked finally without looking up from Sam, a glint of confusion in her voice, since she figured – by the way Dean had portrayed what had happened – it'd be a whole lot worse. That they'd find Sam curled up in some corner of the house and Dean with a glass of whiskey in his hand. And in fact ... there they were on the couch, Sam snuggling into the guys lap who tried to kill him.

Dean nodded, and hooked his finger into the scarf around the younger man's neck, pulling it down as much as possible without waking him.

The hunter instantly recognized her tense for a moment as her look fell on the bruises. Then the huntress looked at Dean with something ... unutterably ... in her eyes.

"And he's not even mad ...", Dean huffed silently, tugging the scarf up again and shaking his head. "He should run ..."

Ellen blew out a long drawn breath and looked at Sam again, than back up at Dean. "Well, i guess he knows that it ... he ... he probably know that it wasn't really you doing this."

Dean huffed and sniffed, resting his hand on Sam's neck. "Doesn't mean i wouldn't have killed him. - Because in my dream, i knew specially well who i was hunting and why. I knew it was Sam. I knew i was killing him. And i liked it ...", he nearly hissed at her, words soaked in disgust and hatred.

Then there was silence for a long while.

"So ... we'll get the blood tonight?", she asked – hesitation in her voice.
Dean nodded and looked down into his lap. "Yeah. - And some information about Abaddon ..."


And so it was. Sam was already awake and curled up on the couch of the living-room when the three hunters emerged from the barn behind the salvage.

The nights started to get warmer already, and it wasn't that bitterly cold anymore. There was no need for gloves, scarfs and hats anymore. A thinner jacket reached out too.

Though it got still dark at around five pm. So it was now. From the yard, wich they crossed, Dean could see that the lights were still out. Thinking of how Sam would react if he'd wake up to darkness and no one home, since he obviously seemed to be scared that Dean would leave ... or dump him, or whatever in the head of Sam went down sometimes.

The hunter thought that the young man over there maybe just stuck with him, because he didn't want to be alone ... didn't want to go back where darkness would swallow him again. And then, on the other hand, there was this smile, whenever Dean looked at him. So happy and innocent and just adorable. So much love and affection shining in green hazel-orbs. It had to be love, hadn't it? Whatever these voices back in his mind – maybe the echoes of his dreams – sang to him, he knew they weren't right. Because he'd know if it would've been different.

Dean shoved his unpleasant thoughts aside as he opened the front door to Bobby's house, leaving it open for the ones who followed. And than – without any hesitation – he went streight into the living-room towards the couch, where he found a sitting Sasquatch.

"Sammy?", he asked and stopped in his tracks, waiting for some kind of okay to narrow further, since he couldn't make out his face in the darkness. At least not the whole one. His eyes narrowed and his gaze closed around the beams of moonlight that hit Sam's left cheek, letting sparks like crystals dance on a wet layer on soft skin.

Somehow the hunter felt glad that he hadn't turned on the lights yet. He needed to hide the drying blood on his hands and his shirt from Sam. It hadn't been something he was proud of. He hadn't done it in pretty some time either. But it had gotten necessary – they needed the damn blood to get the spell and ritual done that hopefully would free him from his nightmares.

A silent sob and a swallowed hiccup followed and Dean saw the dark figure on the couch turn away.

Bobby and Ellen came short after him and stood back, waiting for Dean to do something.

"It's okay.", Sam muttered and rose from his seat. "I just ... I'll go upstairs."

The three hunters shared confused looks as Sam walked past them and towards the stairs in the darkness. It made the impression like he tried to flee and get as much distance between them as possible. Dean blew out a deep breath and turned around on his heels. The hunter wasn't sure if it'd be a good idea to share a bed with Sam tonight, so he had thought about sleeping on the couch. Trying it out, making sure Sam wouldn't get hurt anymore. But he also refused to let Sam just disappear like this.

He knew him. He knew the man extraordinary well since they had spent nearly every minute of the days together, so he figured that letting Sam alone wasn't the greatest idea at the moment. Maybe, when he had fallen asleep he'd sneak downstairs again to get a nap on the couch.


Dean nodded his good night towards Ellen and Bobby, while he went upstairs in the dark, aiming streight at the bathroom to get rid from the blood and dirt on his body. When he was done with showering, he sneaked into their bedroom. The small lamp on the nightstand beside his side of the bed illuminated the room gently.

There was a bulge on the other side, hidden by covers – and like always – a crazy mop of hair peeked out on the top of it. An amused smile spread over the hunter's face and he cocked an eyebrow. Just as he saw the form shift, his face fell again and tiptoed to the bed, stripping off the bathrobe and slit with just his boxers under the sheets, inching towards the him until he felt Sam's soft flannel brush over his bare skin.

"Come 'ere.", he whispered, and laid his hand on Sam's hip, tugging gently.

He didn't move. So the hunter's eyes narrowed. He couldn't believe that Sam tried to fake to be asleep. Maybe the realization that the hunter was dangerous hit Sam just a little too late?

Dean eyed the mop of hair that remained unmoved, felt the tension in the body beside him. Somehow he feared to ask what he longed to know ... "Wanna tell me what's wrong?"

Then there was silence again. Strained silence. Filling the air around them and the whole room.

"Sunshine?" ... was he even still allowed to call him that? After all?

More silence.

Then finally, after a long drawn breath, Sam stirred under the covers. "Did you kill it?" His voice was tiny and hesitant.

Dean's face darkened instantly and his grip on Sam's hip tightened, before he let his hand slip away and propped himself up on his elbow.

Sam felt like walking over thin ice. - He knew that Dean was still Dean. - But he also couldn't deny that he was kind of aware, that Dean wasn't Dean right now. What actually didn't make a lot of sence to anyone except Sam of course. But there was no other way to describe it anyway.

"I woke to its screams.", he explained silently, and tugged the covers down, glancing over his shoulder towards the hunter.

"I - ... I'm sorry Sam. - You weren't supposed to know ...", Dean tried to explain.

Sam turned on his back, eying the hunter concerned. "Did you torture it?"

Was it a trick question? The hunter looked aside.

Sam turned back on his side, away from the hunter, wrapping his arms around himself. He knew how torture sounded. He knew how it felt – at least he thought so. Though there was a difference in between hearing his own screams and the once of someone else. Yeah someONE else. Because even when it was the demon that got tortured, there always remained it's host. True, sometimes their vessels were empty shells when they stayed long enough in one. But sometimes ... sometimes there was still a soul bound to the body. Fighting, screaming and tortured himself. And Sam was able to see thru them. He was able to see if the human's soul was still present, or had already left. And in this case it hadn't. There had still been this innocent piece of humanity locked inside. Probably feeling every single thing the hunters had done to it – and not just to the black-eyed monster.

"You know ... she was still alive ...", Sam muttered, a silent tear running over his face. "She felt it all ..."

"How'd YOU know?", he asked, his voice strained and somehow on the edge. Dean's frown deepened in anger for a moment. No one was supposed to tell him something about demons. No one. He hunted them ever since, or exorcised them when he thought sending them back to hell would be a greater meaning in all of this. Then his eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again.

"I just do ...", Sam answered and squeezed his eyes shut. "Besides ... I don't think that the spell's going to work. Either will the ritual ..." Sam took a low breath before he continued: "It's not clean. - The blood isn't pure enough. You'll just waste your time ..." ... and the girl suffered needlessly.

"How could you possibly know?", he asked again, this time way softer and empathic. The hunter laid a hand on Sam's shoulder and felt him tense under his touch for a brief moment.

"And I think that its way safer to summon a demon, instead picking up a random one." Sam's voice stayed soft and silent like he was reading the hunter a good-nights-tale.

Dean glared at him like he'd seen a ghost. "Tell me, how'd you know, damn it.", he demanded with more force in his voice. "Sam?" Well this seemed like an order. The hunter felt himself getting angrier. Something inside him started to boil. His grip on Sam's shoulder tightened.

"Can we go to sleep?", he asked, laying his hand over Dean's, to show him that he wasn't that mad at him. Probably the hunter haven't even known what he did to that poor girl.

Dean nodded, trying to get his emotions back down. He wasn't himself right now, and he knew it. If Sam didn't want to tell him, then he probably had his reasons. Just like this. There was no reason to push right now, he decided, and who the hell knew how Sam was able to know all of this anyway. Dean attempted to wrap his arms around him, but stopped himself in mid-motion. "Can I ...?", he asked hesitantly.

Sam sniffed and glanced over his shoulder with wet eyes. "You just saw the monster in her, didn't you?" The words just toppled over his lips and Sam couldn't hold them back. "You saw black eyes and you decided to make her scream and beg." the younger man's eyes filled with blackness and new tears.

"Sammy.", Dean whispered broken. "She was a monster."

He swallowed a sob but wasn't able to hold back a hiccup. "She wasn't the monster. - The monster was in her. There's a difference. I AM A MONSTER. She was just human and had the damn rough luck to be possessed."

The hunter still didn't understand. Though he tried. He really tried but failed right there. He was too tired. Too exhausted for that shit.

"Sam. - You're not a monster, damn it. And you know that. - The girl on the other hand ...", That was when he started to understand what Sam meant to tell him. That the possessed girl inside had been still alive – until Dean Winchester had crossed her path. True, the job as a hunter made you numb to different things in life. That was just how it was. And wouldn't there be this deadness to some parts in life a hunter wouldn't survive – at least not mentally.

"So ... you know how to summon a demon?", Dean asked like it was the most usual thing in the world. Sure, he had heard of it but he had actually never tried before since he wasn't all bothered to meet one intentionally.

Sam's hand slid from his. He honestly didn't want to think about it right now. He still had the girls agonized screams in his head, begging and preying. Probably the damn demon had pulled back inside her, playing one of its creepy sick games before the hunter sent it back to hell or killed it.

"Yes.", came back, more silent as a whisper could've ever been. Leaving out that the book with the summoning-spell was right under the bed with a couple of other books. He actually hadn't saved it up for Dean's purposes though.
He had other plans ... one to save Dean and his friends.


Things went down to normal again – as far as being captured on the scrap yard and haunted dreams by a demon could possibly be normal at all. But actually it was. For them it was their daily business. It was hunter's business. Winchester's business.

After the night they had actually tortured the demon and taken his blood, things settled down. The hunter had wanted to do the ritual the night after they had gotten pure blood. But actually ... a pretty clumsy Sasquatch had skipped the damn bowl from Bobby's desk. Now they had to find another demon's name to be able and summon one.

While Dean seemed to get more agitated every day, Sam seemed to get calmer. Though the two of them enjoyed their time together, no matter what. Just with the difference, that Dean wouldn't spend the nights in the same room as Sam. He prefered the couch lately, though he missed the younger man's body beside him. So did Sam. And every night he woke up to the empty space beside him, he sneaked downstairs with one of the blankets and made himself comfortable on the floor beside the couch.

So no matter how hard Dean tried to keep Sam at bay, every day he woke there was this giant guy sleeping next to him anyway. And he was happy. Even with all the troubles around, he was honestly happy to be who and what he was. And the most important of all ... that Sam was with him. That Sam trusted him, really trusted him. So yeah, happy was the understatement of the year for the Winchester.

Until ... well ... until Sam came up with a crappy plan to get a hold of Abaddon and lure her into a trap.

... to be continued


BACON? (pretty please)