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writingbyebonioTitle: I Didn't Know Me Until I Met You
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eboniorchid
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Chapter 3: I Bleed and I Kneel for You
[087.Scared]
At the door to 6F, Sam paused, key in hand, and took a deep breath. It had been a long walk, even though he hadn't walked slowly, so it was terribly late. He was sure Meg would take her time with punishing him tonight, that this fight would be a long one and that she probably wouldn't let him get sleep anytime before dawn. She'd have too much blood to slash out of him before then.
He was wrong, though. Sort of.
As soon as he cleared the door, he was slammed against the wall, pinned there by invisible hands and he couldn't figure out if he was more likely to throw up or just choke. Meg didn't use psychokinesis, didn't have it, it wasn't her gift. All the lights were off and the apartment was shrouded in almost total darkness, but he looked, looked for the golden glow of his father's eyes.
He would be royally fucked if his father was in town.
He didn't see anything, though, only black, shadows hiding absolutely everything, except a single patch of moonlight on the floor, a few feet in front of him. Father wasn't really one to play games with him, if he was in punishment mode, which meant that whoever was doing this, keeping him there, probably wasn't his father, but if it is wasn't Father … then … fuck.
He shivered and prayed, even to the gods that had cast out his ancestors all those millennia ago.
He knew this night had been too good to be true.
Meg's voice slid over him, lilting tone overlaying pure malice, from somewhere ahead of him and off to the left. "You're awfully late tonight, Sam. We had a report, remember? With Father? I think it was around … yeah … I think it was around midnight. You didn't show. And I had to weave the most elaborate stories you've ever heard and grovel, Sam, I had to grovel, almost on my knees for daddy, because you didn't show up. I got worried, ya know, as big sisters do when their little brothers don't come home at the proper time. So I called our dear brother to help with things, the search and all that. And he's probably just as pissed as I am about you showing up three and a half hours late. I know you boys have your own special way of dealing with all your screw-ups, Sam, and I'm sure you'll work out those kinks tonight just fine, as usual."
He shuddered, his suspicions confirmed.
And then she was there, breathing over him, laughing at him, fuming so much he could feel her heat on his skin long before she even touched him. One of her hands snaked out to squeeze at his neck, painfully restricting his oxygen supply, as her blade, sharp and edged with her own magicks, sliced through his shirts and bit into the skin of his side, blood seeping out to stain his clothes. It was almost like she intended to literally cut him in half, straight down the middle, like some fish she was gutting for dinner. Then she brought her knife to her lips, licking the blood off its edge, slitting her own tongue open, dark liquids mingling, though her cut, unlike his, healed almost as quickly as it was split.
"I have your blood in mine, brother, and yet you almost caused there to be serious bloodshed in the family tonight, simply because you couldn't follow one fucking order. You're usually so good at that, following orders, doing as your told. But for some reason, when it really counted, you totally ignored what I told you to do. And for what, Sam? It wasn't staking out the bar. I know. I went back there looking for you when you didn't show up and Father was about to bite my fucking head off, but you weren't there. Where'd you go, Sam? What was so fucking important that you'd risk disappointing your family, risk punishment?"
"I didn't go anywhere. I just … I went for a walk."
Meg prowled around him, releasing her grip on his neck, to slice a strip of oozing red into his other side and he cried out.
"I'm a lover of lies, Sam. I know when you're lying to me. And that wasn't even a good one. Try again."
"I … I met someone."
"You met someone. What do you mean you met someone, Sam?" She looked at him, puzzled, and his lip quivered, wanting to form a smirk, wanting to let him be smug, which caused her to burst into harsh laughter. "Oh, Sam. You little slut. I didn't even know freaks like you could get ass, let alone in some honkey-tonk country bar. Is that what you're telling me, Sam? That you met someone met someone? That you just came home from banging in the bed of some boy's truck?"
"I guess."
"Well, Sam." She stepped right up in his face, her words low, coated with anger, and edged with a touch of maniacal glee. "I hope the sex was fucking worth it."
Then she was gone, folding back into the darkness, and a man stepped into the shard of silver light ahead of him. Sam's breath ran in and out of him too fast, eyes wide, but his jaw was set tight, defiant, even as the man lifted his face to the light.
Kane. Brother. Torturer.
Something in him always broke when Kane was around. Or maybe it was always broken and he could just pretend it was in working order whenever Kane was out of the picture, by tacking the pieces together with strips of emotional tape and intellectual Elmer's glue, like some horrid elementary school art project.
Kane had many magicks at his disposal, his psychokinetic powers only being his strongest talent, but he was a physical beast. He enjoyed the feel of flesh yielding under his hands, the feel of the fight leaving bodies he'd bruised and broken. If Meg was a queen of the realm for her penchant for mind games and mayhem, driving people to do things they would never do otherwise, driving them mad, then Kane was her exact compliment, a connoisseur of the arts of corporal punishment, torture, destruction, and all their seeds of despair.
And Kane was here.
Kane had come for him, by Meg's invitation. Kane had come to bleed him, to use him. And Kane would be glad when he was through, as glad as Sam would be broken.
The first punch fell hard and fast in his gut and his body doubled over, because Kane let it. Sam was sure he'd heave all over the place, but there was nothing, only spit and bile hit the floor before Kane's fists were on him, his head and chest throbbing with blinding pain, his vision swirling and blurring as he felt the floor rise to meet his back, jarring his shoulders. Sam felt the press of his brother's power as his arms were pressed to the floor above his head and Kane kneeled down, straddling his stomach. Sam nearly shook through the floor having Kane on him like that and he closed his eyes, stifling the "please don't" that almost came to his lips. It would only turn Kane on, make him want this more, want to pummel Sam's body until he was bloody and half-dead. So he just had to swallow hard and endure as Kane's clenched hands struck, cruel and rhythmic, into the bruising mess that was now his body and face.
Sam could barely hear anything over the ringing in his ears, but he thought Meg might have said something, because Kane stopped his assault and got up, rolling Sam roughly onto his stomach. He lay there, no longer held down by Kane's body or power, but still weighted by pain and fear. He felt heaviness on his ass and instinctively panicked, bucking up to roll it off before his body was flattened back onto the floor by the crush of Kane's magicks and he tried to think about anything but this, being anywhere but here. The heaviness settled back onto him, but it was fairly light and his fear trickled out of him, because it was only his sister.
She used her knife on him then, carving symbols of clan and fealty, obedience and servitude, into the planes of his back, cutting away bits of his shirt as she sought out more skin to paint with the red of his veins. There was nothing for her to add, though. These were old markings, faded to subtle scars now, on the outside, even though they were burned into his psyche, burned into his soul, so deep that if he glimpsed them while turning away from some mirror, he'd see them as Meg must be seeing them now, freshly opened, blood red. He wondered if Dean had seen the scars, if Dean would know what he was from the signs carved into his skin. But then Meg was moving, lifting off him and walking away.
And Sam heard the click-click of the locks sliding free and couldn't hide the chill and shudder that ran through him. He'd known it would end this way from the moment he'd seen his brother standing stark against the moonlight, but there was always some little part of him that thought maybe … maybe this time would be different, maybe she'd stay and Kane would leave and Sam would bleed, but even that would still be better than … just … better. Sometimes he even thought about telling his father, but he didn't know if that wouldn't just make everything worse. Sam knew what he had to do to make this better and he was doing it, all the time and as fast as he could, but that didn't help him now.
Nothing could help him now.
"I think my work here is finished and ya know what? I'm hungry. So, I'm gonna go grab an early breakfast. I probably won't be back for a while. I'll just leave you boys to your fun. Oh, but try to keep the moans to a reasonable volume, okay? The last time Kane visited, the neighbors filed a public disturbance complaint and I'd kind of like to keep this apartment."
And she walked out the door with a smile he couldn't see but knew was there. She walked out the door and locked it behind her, humming some new deathrock anthem as she made her way down the hall.
She left him there.
She always had.
Even knowing Kane's desires, knowing Sam's resistance, knowing Sam's disgust. Even then, all the times when Sam had been too young, in life, in his craft, but too pretty for Kane to ignore. Even later, when Sam's strength, his magicks, were budding but only into enough of a challenge for Kane to think of as fun. Even now, when whatever power he could usually wield had been beaten out of him as bruising aches were beaten into him, as his skin was split wide and bloodied.
His mission was about more than just vengeance. That Cloak, that level up, that new rank, all of it, meant freedom from Meg's sadistic whims, freedom from his role as the family whipping boy, freedom from being Kane's occasional whore. He'd be a full member of the clan instead of some pet project of his Father's that everyone else only saw as human pet for them to play with. He'd have power enough, respect enough, allies enough, to hold his own. Someday. Someday soon.
But he wasn't there yet, didn't have what he needed yet, couldn't fight and win yet.
So, when Kane said "get up," he did. And when Kane said "strip," he did that. And when Kane said "kneel," a sick grin sliding onto a face that never saw smiles … Sam did that too.
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12
Back to the Table of Contents
Author:
eboniorchidFull Header for the Series
Additional Series Info
Chapter 3: I Bleed and I Kneel for You
[087.Scared]
At the door to 6F, Sam paused, key in hand, and took a deep breath. It had been a long walk, even though he hadn't walked slowly, so it was terribly late. He was sure Meg would take her time with punishing him tonight, that this fight would be a long one and that she probably wouldn't let him get sleep anytime before dawn. She'd have too much blood to slash out of him before then.
He was wrong, though. Sort of.
As soon as he cleared the door, he was slammed against the wall, pinned there by invisible hands and he couldn't figure out if he was more likely to throw up or just choke. Meg didn't use psychokinesis, didn't have it, it wasn't her gift. All the lights were off and the apartment was shrouded in almost total darkness, but he looked, looked for the golden glow of his father's eyes.
He would be royally fucked if his father was in town.
He didn't see anything, though, only black, shadows hiding absolutely everything, except a single patch of moonlight on the floor, a few feet in front of him. Father wasn't really one to play games with him, if he was in punishment mode, which meant that whoever was doing this, keeping him there, probably wasn't his father, but if it is wasn't Father … then … fuck.
He shivered and prayed, even to the gods that had cast out his ancestors all those millennia ago.
He knew this night had been too good to be true.
Meg's voice slid over him, lilting tone overlaying pure malice, from somewhere ahead of him and off to the left. "You're awfully late tonight, Sam. We had a report, remember? With Father? I think it was around … yeah … I think it was around midnight. You didn't show. And I had to weave the most elaborate stories you've ever heard and grovel, Sam, I had to grovel, almost on my knees for daddy, because you didn't show up. I got worried, ya know, as big sisters do when their little brothers don't come home at the proper time. So I called our dear brother to help with things, the search and all that. And he's probably just as pissed as I am about you showing up three and a half hours late. I know you boys have your own special way of dealing with all your screw-ups, Sam, and I'm sure you'll work out those kinks tonight just fine, as usual."
He shuddered, his suspicions confirmed.
And then she was there, breathing over him, laughing at him, fuming so much he could feel her heat on his skin long before she even touched him. One of her hands snaked out to squeeze at his neck, painfully restricting his oxygen supply, as her blade, sharp and edged with her own magicks, sliced through his shirts and bit into the skin of his side, blood seeping out to stain his clothes. It was almost like she intended to literally cut him in half, straight down the middle, like some fish she was gutting for dinner. Then she brought her knife to her lips, licking the blood off its edge, slitting her own tongue open, dark liquids mingling, though her cut, unlike his, healed almost as quickly as it was split.
"I have your blood in mine, brother, and yet you almost caused there to be serious bloodshed in the family tonight, simply because you couldn't follow one fucking order. You're usually so good at that, following orders, doing as your told. But for some reason, when it really counted, you totally ignored what I told you to do. And for what, Sam? It wasn't staking out the bar. I know. I went back there looking for you when you didn't show up and Father was about to bite my fucking head off, but you weren't there. Where'd you go, Sam? What was so fucking important that you'd risk disappointing your family, risk punishment?"
"I didn't go anywhere. I just … I went for a walk."
Meg prowled around him, releasing her grip on his neck, to slice a strip of oozing red into his other side and he cried out.
"I'm a lover of lies, Sam. I know when you're lying to me. And that wasn't even a good one. Try again."
"I … I met someone."
"You met someone. What do you mean you met someone, Sam?" She looked at him, puzzled, and his lip quivered, wanting to form a smirk, wanting to let him be smug, which caused her to burst into harsh laughter. "Oh, Sam. You little slut. I didn't even know freaks like you could get ass, let alone in some honkey-tonk country bar. Is that what you're telling me, Sam? That you met someone met someone? That you just came home from banging in the bed of some boy's truck?"
"I guess."
"Well, Sam." She stepped right up in his face, her words low, coated with anger, and edged with a touch of maniacal glee. "I hope the sex was fucking worth it."
Then she was gone, folding back into the darkness, and a man stepped into the shard of silver light ahead of him. Sam's breath ran in and out of him too fast, eyes wide, but his jaw was set tight, defiant, even as the man lifted his face to the light.
Kane. Brother. Torturer.
Something in him always broke when Kane was around. Or maybe it was always broken and he could just pretend it was in working order whenever Kane was out of the picture, by tacking the pieces together with strips of emotional tape and intellectual Elmer's glue, like some horrid elementary school art project.
Kane had many magicks at his disposal, his psychokinetic powers only being his strongest talent, but he was a physical beast. He enjoyed the feel of flesh yielding under his hands, the feel of the fight leaving bodies he'd bruised and broken. If Meg was a queen of the realm for her penchant for mind games and mayhem, driving people to do things they would never do otherwise, driving them mad, then Kane was her exact compliment, a connoisseur of the arts of corporal punishment, torture, destruction, and all their seeds of despair.
And Kane was here.
Kane had come for him, by Meg's invitation. Kane had come to bleed him, to use him. And Kane would be glad when he was through, as glad as Sam would be broken.
The first punch fell hard and fast in his gut and his body doubled over, because Kane let it. Sam was sure he'd heave all over the place, but there was nothing, only spit and bile hit the floor before Kane's fists were on him, his head and chest throbbing with blinding pain, his vision swirling and blurring as he felt the floor rise to meet his back, jarring his shoulders. Sam felt the press of his brother's power as his arms were pressed to the floor above his head and Kane kneeled down, straddling his stomach. Sam nearly shook through the floor having Kane on him like that and he closed his eyes, stifling the "please don't" that almost came to his lips. It would only turn Kane on, make him want this more, want to pummel Sam's body until he was bloody and half-dead. So he just had to swallow hard and endure as Kane's clenched hands struck, cruel and rhythmic, into the bruising mess that was now his body and face.
Sam could barely hear anything over the ringing in his ears, but he thought Meg might have said something, because Kane stopped his assault and got up, rolling Sam roughly onto his stomach. He lay there, no longer held down by Kane's body or power, but still weighted by pain and fear. He felt heaviness on his ass and instinctively panicked, bucking up to roll it off before his body was flattened back onto the floor by the crush of Kane's magicks and he tried to think about anything but this, being anywhere but here. The heaviness settled back onto him, but it was fairly light and his fear trickled out of him, because it was only his sister.
She used her knife on him then, carving symbols of clan and fealty, obedience and servitude, into the planes of his back, cutting away bits of his shirt as she sought out more skin to paint with the red of his veins. There was nothing for her to add, though. These were old markings, faded to subtle scars now, on the outside, even though they were burned into his psyche, burned into his soul, so deep that if he glimpsed them while turning away from some mirror, he'd see them as Meg must be seeing them now, freshly opened, blood red. He wondered if Dean had seen the scars, if Dean would know what he was from the signs carved into his skin. But then Meg was moving, lifting off him and walking away.
And Sam heard the click-click of the locks sliding free and couldn't hide the chill and shudder that ran through him. He'd known it would end this way from the moment he'd seen his brother standing stark against the moonlight, but there was always some little part of him that thought maybe … maybe this time would be different, maybe she'd stay and Kane would leave and Sam would bleed, but even that would still be better than … just … better. Sometimes he even thought about telling his father, but he didn't know if that wouldn't just make everything worse. Sam knew what he had to do to make this better and he was doing it, all the time and as fast as he could, but that didn't help him now.
Nothing could help him now.
"I think my work here is finished and ya know what? I'm hungry. So, I'm gonna go grab an early breakfast. I probably won't be back for a while. I'll just leave you boys to your fun. Oh, but try to keep the moans to a reasonable volume, okay? The last time Kane visited, the neighbors filed a public disturbance complaint and I'd kind of like to keep this apartment."
And she walked out the door with a smile he couldn't see but knew was there. She walked out the door and locked it behind her, humming some new deathrock anthem as she made her way down the hall.
She left him there.
She always had.
Even knowing Kane's desires, knowing Sam's resistance, knowing Sam's disgust. Even then, all the times when Sam had been too young, in life, in his craft, but too pretty for Kane to ignore. Even later, when Sam's strength, his magicks, were budding but only into enough of a challenge for Kane to think of as fun. Even now, when whatever power he could usually wield had been beaten out of him as bruising aches were beaten into him, as his skin was split wide and bloodied.
His mission was about more than just vengeance. That Cloak, that level up, that new rank, all of it, meant freedom from Meg's sadistic whims, freedom from his role as the family whipping boy, freedom from being Kane's occasional whore. He'd be a full member of the clan instead of some pet project of his Father's that everyone else only saw as human pet for them to play with. He'd have power enough, respect enough, allies enough, to hold his own. Someday. Someday soon.
But he wasn't there yet, didn't have what he needed yet, couldn't fight and win yet.
So, when Kane said "get up," he did. And when Kane said "strip," he did that. And when Kane said "kneel," a sick grin sliding onto a face that never saw smiles … Sam did that too.
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12
Back to the Table of Contents
Tags:
- !fanfic,
- category: slash,
- challenge: 100moods,
- challenge: mini_nanowrimo,
- challenge: nanowrimo,
- challenge: undermistletoe,
- character: dean winchester,
- character: john winchester,
- character: meg masters,
- character: sam winchester,
- character: the demon,
- character: tom the demon,
- fandom: supernatural,
- fic series: idmuimy,
- fic universe: spn idkmuimy,
- genre: angst!fic,
- genre: au!fic,
- genre: challenge!fic,
- genre: dark!fic,
- genre: first-time!fic,
- genre: humor!fic,
- genre: hurt/comfort!fic,
- genre: plot!fic,
- genre: smut!fic,
- genre: wincest!fic,
- kink: incest,
- kink: manipulation,
- kink: non-consent,
- pairing: sam/dean,
- pairing: sam/kane,
- rating: nc-17,
- type: multi-chapter,
- warning: underage,
- warning: violence
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-12-12 09:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-12 09:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-12 10:45 pm (UTC)*iz dead*
the last line is SO FUCKING PERFECT
oh, btw, meg's brother does have a name from the sides. he's refered as 'tom'. Anyway...
no subject
Date: 2006-12-12 10:54 pm (UTC)And yeah, I heard about that only after looking everywhere and only finding him named "Demon" and deciding he kind of seemed like a Kane to me. Now, he's just "Kane" in my head and I just can't look at him and think "Tom". Although, I definitely joked to someone else who mentioned the name thing that now I feel compelled to write crack!fic about "The Amazing Adventures of Tom the Demon" or "An Interview with a Demon Named Tom". *hee* LOL!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-14 04:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-14 06:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-17 06:39 pm (UTC)::hugs Sam::
You're wrecking me here.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-19 05:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 03:44 am (UTC)