writingbyebonio | Fanfic - SPN: Nothing Left - Side Three

Title: Nothing Left [Evil!Sammy Universe]
Author:

eboniorchid
Full Header for the Series

Side Three: Fight-Fuck
[093.Sympathetic]

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti." Sam made the sign of the cross in front of the ghostly woman.

"Amen."

"Oremus. Cor Iesu, flagrans amore nostri."

Dean tried not to lose his rhythm as he watched Sam's face twitch, just once. "Inflamma cor nostrum amore tui."

"O divinum Cor Iesu, praesta, quaesumus, animabus purgantibus requiem aeternam, morituris gratiam finalem, peccatoribus veram paenitentiam, paganis fidei lucem, nobis nostrisque omnibus tuam benedictionem. Tibi ergo, Cor Iesu piissimum, omnes has animas commendimus et pro ipsis tibi offerimus omnia merita sacri Cordis tui."

"Amen."

It was a two person ceremony, Sam grudgingly taking the lead, and the air was charged with joy and tears more than violence or anger, something they hadn't felt at the end of a hunt in a long time. It almost seemed less like a banishment and more like a wedding, though it only took a fraction of the time. They were calling for a moment of transformation, asking a higher power to look fondly upon those present and grant them grace and love, but, unlike in a wedding, they were also asking said deity to grant eternal rest. A soul, sinner or not, needed a new home after lingering too long in this place, serenely visiting her relatives and friends every day at dusk like she still lived in the parish house around the corner or just lived at all. Sister Bethany Purdue just couldn't let go without binding her heart to the heart of her god.

"O Sacrum Cor Iesu, Patris voluntati obsequentissimum."

"Inclina ad te corda nostra, ut quae placita sunt ei faciamus semper."

"Domine Iesu Christe, qui dixisti: Petite et accipietis; quaerite et invenietis; pulsate et aperietur vobis; quaesumus, da nobis petentibus divinissimi tui amoris affectum, ut te toto corde, ore et opera diligamus et a tua numquam laude cessemus."

"Amen."

Sam's jaw tightened as he made the sign of the cross again, Sister Purdue already beginning to brighten and fade as her sins were forgiven and scattered like dust. "O sacrum Cor Iesu, salutis nostrae sitientissimum."

"Revoca nos praevaricatores ad Cor, ut non moriamur in peccatis nostris."

Then together: "Amen."

She smiled, tears in her eyes and in those of the family members who were brave enough to gather around her, to stand with their hands entwined just beyond the circle of candles and symbols chalked on the floor. Then she was lifted, transported, and transformed into a star, rising and vanishing into the evening sky.

I claim you for my Father's house.

The sobbing, though partly joyful, meant that they didn't stay long, solemnly and gratefully pocketing a generous donation to the cause. Riding back to the motel, the car didn't feel all that more comfortable, however, somehow overwarm and stifling, so Dean was all too happy to get into the room, crank the vaguely helpful thermostat down and settle in for something celebratory.

"Mmmm." He popped open a beer and sat back on his bed as he started to drink. He breathed deep and closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the alcohol and trying not to remember the way that his brother's face had shifted with distress as the Latin began to affect the nun's spirit, as his words began to free her and send her away.

You remain unforgiven.

Sam sounded like he was busying himself, gathering up their stuff for an early morning departure since something in Montana seemed to need attending to. Dean was reluctant to open his eyes, though, and he held them closed a little longer, draining his beer before feeling out the nightstand and setting the empty bottle down.

He let his eyes slide open, watching his brother's shifting back. "You wanna go back to the bar?"

"No, but … go ahead." Sam seemed satisfied enough with the state of his items for the moment, pulling out his laptop and flipping it open as he dropped onto his bed.

Dean shrugged, not really interested in going to the bar, but not sure that he wanted to do anything else either. His mouth tilted into a pensive position for a few moments, but then he was getting up and heading for the weapons bag. "The guns need oil." He didn't quite know who he was talking to as Sam seemed beyond uncaring, but he said it anyway, carrying the bag over to the table and sliding into the closest seat.

It was a long time before anyone said anything, the sounds of metal and swiping cloth, plastic and tapping fingers, subtly challenging the silence in the room. Dean fell into his usual routine - disassemble, clean, oil, assemble, disassemble, clean, oil, assemble - and a kind of peace came with it, like he could feel Truth with a capital 'T' doing this in a way that he just couldn't when it came to religion. Sam probably felt the same way. It was probably why the ceremony got him a little twisted up, overthinking the presence - or lack thereof - of those heavenly hosts whom their Latin was always calling forth.

Mary, Mother of God, please pray for me.

Dean wiped his forearm above his eyebrows, sweating in the heat of the room, and he groaned at the thermostat, which seemed unable to handle the heat produced by two working men. He put his thoughts on hold, though, when he remembered that it was at max, that it shouldn't be this hot in here. His eyes flicked to his brother, a flush coloring Sam's cheeks as his hands sped angrily over the keys like neither his fingers nor his laptop were in danger of breaking, though it looked like they might be.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean cautiously worked the words into the air.

Sam didn't seem to hear him, but he set his laptop aside and got up from the bed, searching for something.

"Sam! You wanna order some food?" His voice was more forceful this time, cutting through the gathering clouds of Sam's thoughts enough to make his anxious movements halt for a few seconds before starting again.

"Huh? No. Not hungry." Sam continued his search. "I'm going out for a walk. I need some air."

Dean froze, his heartbeat moving from thuds to rolling thunder in his chest. "Why don't we stay in tonight, huh?" It wasn't the same setup for the situation he'd dreamed, but … "Things don't feel quite right."

"I'll be fine, Dean. I just- … I need to clear my head." Sam wasn't looking at him, still caught up in searching for something, maybe his shoes.

Dean was out of his chair and across the room in seconds, his hand on Sam's shoulder making Sam look at him, a little confused and buried in his own thoughts. "Hey! What's going on?"

Sam's sudden smile was hard and patronizing. "Nothing that concerns you."

He tried not to flinch from what felt like a word-based slap. "You're my brother."

"Among other things."

His jaw set as he fought down his need to look away, turn away, from that smug revealing of the truth. "Just talk to me."

"We've already talked, Dean. I've got nothing else to say." Sam shrugged out of Dean's grip, moving around him to grab the shoes half-hidden under the bed, sitting to pull them on.

"Was it the ritual?" Dean slowly turned to watch his brother tie up his shoes, his brow tense because he wasn't entirely sure what he was saying, but it felt like truth.

"Dunno what you mean." Knot. Bow. Double knot. Knot. Bow. Double knot.

Something shifted in his gut. "… You're still immune, right?"

Sam slowly lifted his eyes to Dean's, an angry tightness framing his lips as they moved. "Yeah. My human nature can still protect my demon bits from holy words and it's still good at making the words work for other people."

Not innocent and knowing too much.

Dean felt his eyebrows bunch, sure that he was missing something, that Sam's words weren't quite right, that they stung somehow and maybe not in the way they usually did. The thought kept his mind occupied for a moment as Sam got up and headed for the door. Dean caught him by the shoulder again before he'd gone far, though, turning him around and staring him down, skipping any remaining preamble. "You gotta tell me what's going on in your head, Sam. I can't help if I don't know what's happening."

Sam stepped back with a huff, incredulous. "You can't help even when you do know."

"So … what? You just want me to give up?! Stop trying?!" Suggestions of defeat, of uselessness, made him angry, made him yell, but Sam wasn't budging, and Dean eventually gentled his tone. "Come on, Sam, just … let me help."

The quick slip of eyelids down and up was just a blink, but it was also a shift of Sam from a conversational distance away, nearly aloof, to the intimacy of breeched personal space with a hand gripping Dean's upper arm roughly. "You don't know what you're saying."

The depth of Sam's voice was tainted with annoyance, arrogance, but there was a roughness to it, a desperation just out of reach, and Dean shivered as he looked into his brother's eyes and saw menace there, feeling the stirring of fear that Sam worried over. "… So tell me."

"I need- …" Sam ground his teeth, jawline shifting, but then he was sucking in breath, dropping his gaze, and stepping away again. "I swear, I'll be back in a few hours, okay? Just- … Give me a few hours."

Find and release before you do something wrong and fuck everything up.

Dean shook his head even though his brother couldn't see it and moved towards Sam, all the more convinced that this was running deeper than he could yet understand. "Not without me. If you really need air, we can go out for air, but that's not really it, is it?"

Sam's growl was a peek into his restrained anger. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why are you so stressed?"

"Maybe because you're trying to follow me around like I'm ten."

"Bullshit. Before that."

Sam's mouth shifted slowly from a stern line to a hard sneer, his eyes flicking up to glint dangerously at his brother. "You already know the answer." His head tilted as his voice sing-songed. "Slip-ping, I'm slip-ping." It fit the tones of 'Honey, I'm home' with a wild edge that made Dean's instincts scream, memories and dreams nudging their way to the front of his mind.

Hunt. Use. Destroy.

"Stop that!" He wanted holy water and Sam, but … this was Sam, not a demon they were hunting, and he knew holy water wouldn't help.

"Why? It's what you're thinking isn't it? That being part-Fallen is making me lose my mind? That I'm a psycho and you don't want me out on the streets?"

"No. I just think- …" No lies. Sam would know if he lied. "You just need to relax."

"Too much energy to burn. Hence, me taking a walk." He smiled sweetly and nodded, doing a quick turn to put him back on his way to the door.

Dean jumped to block his path. "I'm not letting you leave this room without me."

Sam's lips twitched, seemingly amused. "Well … I'm certainly not taking you with me, so … unless you want me to hurt you, I suggest you move out of my way." Sam moved forward, but Dean moved with him and Sam's mouth slid back into a hard line. "You really don't want to do this."

"I'll do what I have to."

"You're not worried that I might mess up that pretty face of yours?"

"Hasn't happened yet, so … nope."

One minute Sam was nodding his agreement and the next he was grabbing the front of Dean's shirt and turning them both enough to throw him into the rickety table and chairs six feet to the right of the door. Nothing broke, though, neither the furniture nor Dean, but everything was a mess as he scrambled to get up and Sam yanked the door open, storming into the growing darkness outside.

Still caged. Still playing the game.

Climbing up to chase after him, Dean only narrowly remembered to close the door, worried but kind of glad that Sam seemed to be heading away from populated areas, toward a wooded spot up the road. All the while Sam flexed and tightened his fists, but he didn't take a swing, even as Dean caught up to him, showing no signs of turning back. Dean didn't know what to say, though, and as much as he wanted to know what was going on, it was pretty clear that Sam was only prepared to answer with his fists right then and that wouldn't actually explain much of anything.

A little ways into the forest, Sam turned and threw a right hook that sent Dean stumbling into a tree. "I told you to leave me alone." He continued walking into the woods. "Go back to the room."

"No." Dean shook his head, stretching his jaw as he went after Sam, only a pace or two behind. "Something's going on and you're gonna tell me."

The natural light dimmed further as Sam went deeper into the forest, but Dean followed easily until he found himself grunting, gut and back aching as Sam's foot slammed into his stomach. He went down like a dropped rock, the momentum more than he could handle when he was surprised and surrounded by brush that was just waiting to trip him. Blinking at his brother's receding back with disbelief, he pushed himself up slowly and put one wary foot in front of the other. It seemed harder to follow this time, though, the woods somehow insulating them in a pocket of summer heat.

"I'm just trying to help." His words were softer than he'd meant them to be, but he couldn't help feeling like the dirt underfoot may as well have been eggshells.

"I don't need your help. I need some fucking space!"

Break. Cry. Bruise. Bleed.

He was ready for the next punch when it came, ducking and weaving around to avoid the knee that swiftly jabbed after it. There was a fever rushing in him all of a sudden, though, and his breathing lost its rhythm enough to allow Sam's other fist to connect under his chin, his head snapping back as Sam wasted no time sending him flat on his face with a throw that had rocks and broken branches scraping skin and tearing at clothes.

Sam stood just out of reach, fuming. "Is this what you want, Dean? You want me to hurt you? Is that why you won't go the fuck home?"

Dean quickly climbed back to his feet, trying to talk his brother down as they began circling each other slowly, neither sure who was hunter or hunted. "I want you to talk to me … but first … I want you to calm down."

"The only way that's going to happen is if you get the fuck out of my face, which you used to do just fine, but all of a sudden you seem to need … extra … encouragement."

The last two words hit his ears in time with blows to his face, his shirt snatched up like lightning in one of Sam's fists as the other flew into him. Eye throbbing and jaw aching, he tried to defend himself against Sam's onslaught, but his movements didn't seem fast enough anymore and Sam's hits flared more pain into him than they used to. It didn't help that something seemed to be burning up his air, cooking his insides as he labored to breathe it in. The minutes were painful but seemingly short before he was pinned, eating dirt from the ground with wrenched limbs, a wrecked face, and an ass full of cock that had torture-worthy noises shaking in the back of his throat.

Pleasure and justice and necessity all got a little blurry in the dark.

It was the first time that he thought to ask Sam to really stop, not just slow down or be gentler, because fuck if this didn't hurt more than it felt good. The angle was all wrong and his body was thoroughly bruised if not broken, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing that he'd walked into this and if Sam needed some less-than-pretty stress relief then- … He sucked in an inhale, gritting his teeth, and tried to focus on relaxing enough to get this done with the least amount of damage that would be regrettable for either of them.

"When I'm through with you, I'm gonna tell you to go back to the motel again, and you're gonna follow those instructions to the letter …" Sam yanked his head up by the hair, growling into his ear. "Or this will look like a kindergarten party."

Dropped into the dirt again, Dean shuddered as Sam drove into and out of him. He tried in vain to stay quiet and stay in the present, but his body was unable to pretend that it wasn't being twisted and fucked open and his mind was injuring itself trying to imagine what would make this seem like a children's party. His breathing became ragged but almost relieved as Sam began to fuck him harder, wilder, his curses and moans getting louder. Then when Sam rammed his way in, hard enough to tear a yell from Dean's mouth, Dean knew it was over, his body filthy, wet, and too hot, inside and out.

Tainted.

He was largely prepared to lay face-first in the dirt for a minute, to regroup as Sam relaxed his hold and started to get up, but Sam flipped him over. His bare ass hit the ground, poked and scraped and uncomfortable enough to make him fight even if he'd been okay with Sam continuing - which he wasn't. Sam kneeled over his thighs, though, and leaned forward to slam him back down, a harsh hand squeezed at his neck when he tried to sit up.

"Sam- …"

"No." His words were intense and deliberate. "You're going to come for me, because you're a slut like that, and then you're going to leave me the fuck alone."

Dean couldn't keep the quiver of misplaced desire out of his system as Sam held his eyes and opened his mouth, bending his head to spit directly onto his brother's dick. He wanted to turn away and turn off the wrongly calibrated nerve-endings that were getting his cock semi-hard, but his body's reactions almost seemed fueled by the situation, as if Sam was doing more than just smearing spit down his shaft with a thumb and looking at him like- …. like he was- … Dean shuddered, the pressure of Sam's hand at his throat becoming a dizzying counterpoint to the too-light stroking over his cock as Sam's fingers closed around it, strengthening the sensations. Grunting with want, Dean's eyelids fluttered as his aching hips forgot the discomforts of the forest floor and thrust up until Sam's lip curled in both amusement and disgust, responding to Dean's need by jacking the cock in his control more and more roughly.

Lying stripped, shredded, and wholly under Sam's hands, Sam's body, Sam's will, Dean began to overheat, losing sense of anything but the feel of his pulse banging out against the curved walls of Sam's hands and the burning friction of sliding fingers that he didn't want to stop. A critical mass of pleasure built in the mix in no time, heightened by a thrill that Dean refused to name but feared that he'd want more of. His vision began to blur and his body seemed to shake its way into sauna-mode, screaming for cool air as Sam's hand shifted and sped around his dick, violent fingers choking his gasps and moans at the source. Then there was a roar in his ears, blood vessels broken somewhere, as he became a detonating bomb and his thoughts fled further away with every jerk of his body, eyes blocking out the rain of sweat as he fitfully added streams of fresh spunk to the rest of the filth on his ripped up shirt.

Explode and breathe in your own shattered pieces.

He hefted air in audibly like he was fresh from the water, swallowing and trembling as Sam finally let go of his neck and his dick, rising and stepping away. Part of him wanted to get up immediately, to show himself that he could do it, if for no other reason, but huffing and coughing were only so conducive to physical activity. Gradually, he worked to calm himself and his breath, eating the sounds of his pain as he slowly moved to get up. Pulling his pants back into place with care, he watched his hands instead of looking at the back that his brother had turned towards him. It made him wonder about the card in his pocket, about the woman who said that she really understood, and he told himself that he'd say something on the day that things got really bad, but he knew himself and knew that day would never seem to arrive, even if- … He shook his head and shrugged away the urge to scoff. No sirens were or would be sounding, but that was okay. This was just Sam – a stressed Sam, but still Sam - so he didn't really need them anyway.

When Sam sighed, though, almost laughing, seemingly surprised, Dean straightened up a bit more, cautiously feeling that a cool breeze had finally come to their end of the woods. "You okay?" He licked split lips that tasted like dirt and dried blood, his stomach barely kept from erupting despite what might pass as an off-color afterglow.

"Yeah. I just- … I don't- …" Sam couldn't seem to find the words.

"You don't … remember?" Dean interjected, outlandishly but wishfully thinking that it would explain a lot and allow them to cover and ignore a lot more.

Sam shook his head, still talking in the other direction. "Of course I remember. I just- … I'm really okay now."

Dean paused to run back through the words a few times because they seemed like a big deal to Sam, but he couldn't exactly understand. He just mumbled "good" and looked down again, beginning to brush the dirt off of his clothes and making a face at the size of the come stain on his shirt even though he had to squint to really see it in the dark. When things crunched under shifting shoes that weren't his, he tried not to shiver, but he was afraid to look up as he began to feel unnaturally warm again, something heavy and hot gliding down his back. "… Sam?"

"I guess I don't need firewood tonight after all."

Dean's hands stopped, his mind snapping to images of flames eating their way across an old apartment window, flames reaching out for his yelling brother, flames chasing his father out of their childhood home. Throwing up wasn't an option even if the hand that Sam wrapped around the back of his neck made Dean want to pull away. Those nightmares weren't what Sam meant, though, and they weren't who Sam was, so Dean just gave him a concerned big brother face and refused to flinch as he finally found his brother's eyes. "Why did you need it in the first place?" No more misplaced anger. No more stubborn games.

Sam looked at Dean for a long moment, his face unreadable, but then he backed down, his eyelashes falling, and his voice softened though his grip on Dean didn't. "I don't like to be reminded that I can't be fixed."

Dean breathed evenly, connecting the dots. "You don't need fixing, Sam … and I don't need protecting … so if you're stressed and you need whatever, then … I can handle it … but I need to know what's going on, okay?"

Meeting Dean's eyes in the last light, Sam finally nodded. "Okay."

The word had weight somehow, like they'd shaken hands with bloody palms pressed together, bound. Dean couldn't let things stay heavy like that, though, couldn't breathe when he let this all be serious, intense, when he let it all be real. So he just tugged on his smirk, like his favorite pair of boots, and shrugged, chuckling as he snaked out of his brother's hold and started walking back to the motel. "Besides … you just got lucky tonight. Next time you try to split my ass in half like some fucking coconut, I'm gonna make you scream like girl."

Just behind him on the left, Sam stayed quiet until Dean's laughter had been swallowed up, awkward and swept away on a night wind going nowhere. Then Sam exhaled heat like some sleeping dragon and it curled smoke-like against Dean's ear. "Sure, Dean. … Screaming. … Next time."

They kept walking.

One - Two - Three

Further Author's Notes: The next installment up will likely be “Walking Nightmares,” the last in the Walking Series from the “After the Day of Fire” section of the ‘verse, but my muse runs me, so *shrugs*. Also, FYI, the translation for the Latin ritual is whited out below (so as not muddle your afterglow with worries of blasphemy). If you're curious, though, you should probably assume that Sam, at least, has some sense of the ritual's meaning. It is a modified version of the "Novena ad Sacrum Cor" or "Novena to the Sacred Heart," which is available in full over here. Highlight the space below to see the translation:

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

"Amen."
Amen.

"Oremus. Cor Iesu, flagrans amore nostri."
Let us pray. Heart of Jesus, burning with love for us.

"Inflamma cor nostrum amore tui."
Set our hearts on fire with love of You.

"O divinum Cor Iesu, praesta, quaesumus, animabus purgantibus requiem aeternam, morituris gratiam finalem, peccatoribus veram paenitentiam, paganis fidei lucem, nobis nostrisque omnibus tuam benedictionem. Tibi ergo, Cor Iesu piissimum, omnes has animas commendimus et pro ipsis tibi offerimus omnia merita sacri Cordis tui."
O Lord Jesus Christ, who have said: Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you; mercifully attend to our supplications, and grant us the gift of Your divine charity, that we may ever love You with our whole heart and with all our words and deeds, and may never cease from praising You.

"Amen."
Amen.

"O Sacrum Cor Iesu, Patris voluntati obsequentissimum."
O Sacred Heart of Jesus, most obedient to the will of the Father.

"Inclina ad te corda nostra, ut quae placita sunt ei faciamus semper."
Incline our hearts to You, that we may do always what is pleasing to You.

"Domine Iesu Christe, qui dixisti: Petite et accipietis; quaerite et invenietis; pulsate et aperietur vobis; quaesumus, da nobis petentibus divinissimi tui amoris affectum, ut te toto corde, ore et opera diligamus et a tua numquam laude cessemus."
O divine Heart of Jesus, grant, we pray You, eternal rest to the souls in purgatory, final grace to those who are about to die, true repentance to sinners, the light of faith to non-Christians, and Your blessing to us and all who are dear to us. To You, therefore, we commend all these souls, and in their behalf we offer unto You all the merits of Your Sacred Heart.

"Amen."
Amen.

"O sacrum Cor Iesu, salutis nostrae sitientissimum."
O Sacred Heart of Jesus, thirsting for our salvation.

"Revoca nos praevaricatores ad Cor, ut non moriamur in peccatis nostris."
Recall us sinners to Your Heart, that we may not die in our sins.

"Amen."
Amen.

The End. ;-)