Author's Note: WARNING! Smut alert.
Chapter Four
Once Sam loaded up Dean's Impala, as there was no way that Dean was riding in Sam's 'bitch seat' as he called it, they were off to a town not two hours from Forks called Aberdeen. There wasn't too much in the way of scenery after they left the forests behind, nothing but buildings and ugly factories with smoke billowing out the pipes. Thirty minutes into the drive on highway 101, Dean decided to drop the silent curious wondering and just ask Sam about the phone call.
"Why didn't you want one of your hunter buddies to come out here and deal with it if you were so against hunting again?" Dean said, looking at Sam fully on a particularly long straight away.
"That's the problem right there, Dean. I don't have 'hunter buddies'." Sam replied, not even bothering to glance away from the passenger window.
"What?" Dean's eyebrows scrunched together. "I thought that this was a family business for you and your Dad, and his mother and father. Why no hunter friends?"
"My dad has hunters that he calls friends, but they generally stay away from me. Dean, to most of them, I'm just as much a monster as a banshee or shifter." Sam sighed.
"How- wait, you mean cause of your psychic abilities?" Dean growled, clenching his jaw. How could they reject one of their own like that?
"That's part of it, yes, but it's also because I don't kill every supernatural oddity I come across. I figure, if they're not hurting anyone, and they're not a ghost that needs to pass on, then they're fine. There are virtually no other hunters who share that opinion but me and Bobby. I have to do a lot of convincing to make sure even my Dad doesn't follow the same fucked up creed that other hunters do." Sam snorted. "They think that my dad should have put a bullet between my eyes as soon as he found out."
Dean gaped. He wasn't able to contain the expression at all. "Jesus…"
"And now you know why I don't really want to continue hunting any more. There's too many bad associations in it for me, not to mention if I run into one of the other hunters without my father, I'm likely to get hunted myself." Sam shook his head, "But I'd never ignore a hunt if I found one. That's just cruel and cowardly. If this one wasn't so close to me, though, I would have made Bobby send someone else,"
"I hope you like living in Forks, then," Dean said, "You know, with all the vampires and werewolves and strange people running around," He said sarcastically, but sent a smile in Sam's direction. It was a change of subject, one that Sam was entirely grateful to use.
"I wouldn't want it any other way," Sam smiled back, and actually found himself looking forward to working with Dean.
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Bobby had thought that the problem was a Shtriga, which was a good educated guess in the long run, but still wrong. Oh so very wrong…
The kids that had been dying were ill because of a curse, not a life-force sucking demon. Both Sam and Dean had been sure it was a Shtriga until they broke into the security office where the surveillance tapes were kept at the hospital the night they rode into town. After pulling out the list of names and finding out what rooms the children were held, they saw that the same woman, albeit dressed as a nurse would visit each one sometime after one in the morning. The coincidence was too much, considering that some of the kids were on different floors and wards, so there was no way that the nurse was there for any legitimate reason.
Dean figured out how to zoom in and then they had a picture to go on. It was admittedly a little fuzzy, but they could see that she had grey eyes and black hair with high cheekbones and a thin mouth, enough to recognize her should they see her.
Saturday morning, they entered the hospital, acting as volunteers from some organization that Sam had researched in the area carrying teddy bears and soft rag dolls for the kids they needed to visit. After only one hour of handing the toys out and talking with the children, they spotted her. Daisy Vaughn, her name tag boasted. Sam told Dean in hushed tones in the hallway walking towards another kid's room that he should stay and keep Daisy in his sights while Sam broke into her home to get more info on the whole situation.
Dean wasn't too happy with the babysitting duty, but Sam obviously had done this before and would now what to look for. Sam had jibed him about being a cop and aiding a break-in, and Dean finally lost the pout in favor of punching Sam's shoulder.
Daisy's home was a modest one-story in the middle of a large urban development, the perfect accompaniment to her nursing job. Seeing that there were no other cars in the garage and nothing from her mail to suggest that she lived with anyone else, Sam surreptitiously broke in through the back door and texted Dean once inside.
He got a she's still here, all clear moments later.
Sam didn't think he had ever seen a more military-like home even that one time when he had to visit his father's old uncle who had been in the Vietnam War. It was so sparse, no decorations to speak of, just a TV, coffee table and couch in the living room and a small two-chaired table in the kitchen. The rest of the house was no different, save for the bedside table.
There was a picture of the nurse with a child in her arms, no older than four years, with many of her same features. Both were smiling and happy in the bright sunshine afternoon at what looked like a park. Right next to that happy memory, like the ultimate contrast, was an engraved invitation to Elise May Vaughn's Funeral.
And there was the motive.
It took a little while longer to find the means, but in a beat-up old cardboard box in the back of her closet was a book of spells, and the same materials Sam had seen time and time again that were used to summon demons. Obviously, the woman had made a deal from Hell.
Sam winced. He hated to think just how strong the demon was that the lady was supplying power to, because as soon as he burned the book and found a way to stop the grieving witch, the bastard was going to come after him. Just another weekend in Hunterland, he thought wryly to himself.
He just hoped that it didn't come to that. Everything about this hunt was so convoluted and complex, he was beginning to regret bringing Dean with him.
Sam sighed and texted Dean the address.
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It had gone about as bad as could be expected, considering Sam's luck.
They had confronted Daisy about the book and her late night rendezvous with hellspawn, and she had broken down crying. She did help them burn the book, tearfully relying her sad tale about Elise and a car crash and being so angry and then scared when the demon threatened her to keep her from stopping the curses. Dean had watched Sam's stoic face through it all; wondering how many times the young hunter had heard similar stories. He obviously wasn't too impressed with the lady's action, that was for sure.
Then everything just came down on their heads, too fast even for Dean to react. He was too shocked with the turn of events to do anything but stare.
The demon that had been using Daisy for its power-up scheme seemed to come out of nowhere and possessed her. The black eyes and twisted snarl greeted them as it reached into the bottom of the box and grabbed a bag of… what looked like black dust.
"Damn little hunter…should've kept out of this," the demon said, using Daisy's feminine lilt and sounding utterly out of place coming from the small woman.
"Yeah, that's us hunters," Sam said, "Too nosy for our own good," and he pulled a gun from out of the back out his jeans.
The demon laughed at the sight of the thin-barreled Colt and threw the dust at them. Sam fired before it hit and obscured his vision, and luckily before the demon could escape. But the strange substance caught them both, and itched on contact.
"What the fuck?" Dean asked the quiet air, wiping his face off and patting his arms down. "That was real threatening…"
"We were just lucky I decided to bring the gun with me from Forks, or that would have been a lot more difficult." Sam said, looking around the room and trying to decide what to do with the body.
"You mean it doesn't normally go that smoothly?" Dean asked.
"Nope. Guns don't kill demons – you have to exorcise them if you want them gone." Sam said, tucking the Colt in his jeans again. "Now for the fun part…" Sam indicated the body.
"Yeah, I'm a shining example of the police force. Helping the psycho English teacher break into homes and bury bodies…" Dean joked, absently itching his forearm before moving to help Sam clean up the house.
"Yep, aren't you up for promotion, too?" Sam smirked.
"The things I do for your job, Sam. Don't drop her arms, now."
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They were in the motel room after, a rather nice alternative to the memories of the dives Sam's father used to shack them in. The walls were a warm beige instead of some insanely ugly wallpaper and the two queen beds were made of hard cherry wood with light blue comforters. There was even a decently sized TV on a dresser across from the beds.
Dean sat at the table in a wooden chair with a book on witch lore, memorizing each detail in the pages perfectly as soon as he read them. So far, he had read a good quarter of Sam's library in the basement and he knew that there were more in storage. He was glad that there was so much to read, especially when it was all so intriguing. It gave him something to do in his free time, and considering the fact that he didn't sleep, there was a lot of it.
He looked up when the bathroom door opened, and his eyes narrowed immediately. Sam had turned his back on him to look through his duffle bag, and Dean saw the scars.
"Are those from the fire?" Dean asked, and Sam visibly tensed.
"Some of them…" Sam answered quietly, turning back to face Dean. "Others, like this one," He pointed to one low on his stomach, "Are from hunting."
Dean stared at Sam's white, but large healed scar. He closed his book, and stood in his socks, walking over to Sam. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off Sam's bare chest, his glace moving from his scars to his tanned skin, enchanting in the warm glow of the room lights. It was like his brain had shut down as he moved close enough to feel the heat from Sam's body, hear Sam's heart pounding fast as Dean moved to him, like a drumbeat calling to Dean's senses.
He reached out to touch Sam, his fingertips running down Sam's chest from collarbone to navel. Sam shivered from his cool touch, leaning into it and unconsciously closer to Dean. He stepped forward, and Dean brought his other hand to slide behind Sam's neck and pull him down. Dean stood straighter and their mouths met in the middle as Sam's hands encircled his waist, both moaning at the new contact never shared before.
Fire. Heat consumed Dean, like the hottest summer days he could remember as a teenager, melding with all his wet dreams and bursting into the headiest desire he had ever felt toward anyone as their lips parted and tongues danced together. It wasn't even Sam's blood that attracted him like this – it was just pure, unadulterated lust.
Sam slipped the coat off of his shoulders as Dean smoothed his hands over Sam's back and arms, marveling at the play of muscles and the aura that Sam radiated. Sam didn't even bother removing Dean's shirt, just shoving his hands underneath and pulling Dean closer to him. Neither of them could get enough, eating at each other's mouths like they were starving for it.
Dean decided that clothes were entirely unnecessary, tearing off his shirt and pants lightening-quick, before returning to the sinfully delicious lips that belonged to this amazing man that he had only met a few months ago. Sam kissed him hard, and then moved his mouth down, over his jaw, licking just under his chin before biting down on Dean's neck aggressively, a gesture that made Dean's spine tingle with growing want. While Sam continued to lave his neck with attention, Dean slipped his hands down to Sam's hips, grasping firmly, and used his strength and speed to shove Sam onto the bed, straddling his waist and capturing the hunter's lips again.
Sam's hands were all over him, his nails scratched roughly up Dean's back, making him arch further into Sam, their hips slotting together and feeling sogoodsogood. And all Dean wanted was more…
He ripped the towel off Sam, letting his eyes travel over his nude form appreciatively before moving in again, sucking down Sam's neck and chest, and licking over his abs. Sam parted his thighs without being prompted, and Dean's hands automatically went to hold them separated before he took Sam's cock in his mouth. Sam gasped and moaned deeply, his entire body tensing like a pulled bowstring. His one hand fisted the pillow next to his head while the other ran through Dean's hair and moved down to his neck, his fingers digging harshly into the defined muscle there.
All through it, Dean teased him to the edge and kept backing off at the last minute, leaving Sam a writhing, begging mess. Dean had a bottle of complimentary lotion prepared next to him, grabbed quickly when he had dragged Sam into the bed, and he screwed open the cap.
Somehow, with all their rushing and scrabbling at each other, Dean managed to control his urges just enough to work Sam open slowly, teasingly. Sam was about ready to scream at the prolonged denial of release when Dean reached his mouth again, sharing a heated kiss that was all tongue and teeth that sufficiently promised Sam that there was more to come.
Dean slicked himself up, moving to position between Sam's legs and holding Sam's wrists pinned with one hand before sheathing himself inside him, one long push that Sam couldn't help moaning through. Sam felt no pain, just the aching stretch and slide that made him swivel his hips up to entice Dean to move. Dean gasped, lost in the heat and potent smell of Sam that only intensified when Sam was sweating, hot, and exhilarated. Dean thrust in and out, not able to contain himself any longer, and groaning at the sensation. Then, he was completely foregone.
He pounded into Sam, hardly holding himself back at all, encouraged by the sounds that Sam made while biting his lip in attempt keep them in. He let go of Sam's wrists, grasping onto his hips, and adjusted them both so he could thrust in deeper, and the intense pleasure that flowed through Sam so suddenly made his teeth break the skin, turning his lips a dark, enticing crimson. Dean's eyes were almost black with desire as he stared at the blood before he leaned in and caught Sam's lower lip, sucking it into his mouth.
Sam, through the haze of his own lust, grabbed the small silver knife from the nightstand. When Dean pulled back from his mouth, Sam ran the razor-sharp point hard in a cut just below his collarbone, watching Dean's face as the blood welled up to the surface, stark against his skin in the low light.
Dean was still reeling from the tiny taste from Sam's lip when he saw Sam lower the knife to his skin, opening a small wound deep enough that it would bleed for a while. His eyes lost their golden color almost completely as he watched, riveted, as the blood run out and the smell over came him again. He fused his lips over the cut and sucked, holding Sam down even more firmly than before.
When Dean moved to suck at the wound, the new angle that he was thrusting hit Sam's prostate nearly every time. It made Sam grab at Dean and try to draw breath uselessly, so lost in the face of the almost painful stimulation; the pleasure was so mind-blazingly intense. He came without being touched, screaming as his whole body clenching and bucking against Dean's as Dean pulled away from his chest and buried himself inside Sam, hips thrusting shallowly as he came moments after.
They both panted harshly as Dean pulled out, falling next to Sam in bed. Sam calmed and fell to sleep almost right after Dean pulled Sam into his arms. Dean fell into a trance, basking in the afterglow for a few hours before coming to his senses.
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