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runedgirlTitle: Fade To Black (Not While Your Hand’s In Mine) Ch 4/18
Author: runedgirl
Rating: This chapter R, NC-17 overall
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/demon!Dean
Summary: The brother that Sam gets back isn’t the same, but Sam’s love is. Sam risks everything and leaves everyone he’s ever cared about behind in the desperate hope that the bond between him and Dean might just be strong enough to transcend what hell did to him.
Set post Season 3, seven months after Dean’s deal came due and written over the summer before it was AU, this story just kept writing itself and wouldn’t let go until it was an epic love story in every sense, eventually spanning five decades with enough twists and turns to make me dizzy.
Warning: Spoilers for S3 finale; some violence; Wincest (obviously)
Beta: Big thanks to K for caring enough to make awesome suggestions *hugs*
AN: Not a WIP – story is finished with 18 chapters and will be posted regularly. Feedback is adored and promptly savored.
They leave the demon bound and gagged while they do the ritual, not trusting him not to interfere and fuck it up, but he’s uncharacteristically subdued while Sam chants the Latin and Ruby painstakingly dips the needle in the mix of blood and ink and works it under their skin. The design is small, much smaller than the now-broken tattoo on Dean’s chest, sliced to ribbons by the hellhounds before they dragged him off to hell. Strange that the rest of him is healed and perfect, but the ink remains broken there even though the skin isn’t.
They sit bare-chested side by side, the demon bound tightly to the desk chair and Sam sprawled back in another. Sam’s jeans are slung low enough on the demon’s hips to expose the dark hair trailing down his taut stomach, and Ruby’s fingers itch to follow it lower, drag a sharp nail to where the curls are coarser and he’s hot beneath the denim. Sam’s body is leaner, smooth and sleek, the muscles of his abs rippling as he settles back in the chair, eyes narrowed and fixed on his brother.
The demon doesn’t flinch when she prepares him, but Sam’s fingers twitch as Ruby slips the buttons on their jeans and pulls the flaps open enough to expose the flesh she needs. She works the sigils into the flat planes of their bellies, and their skin goosebumps when she brushes her thumb over the hollows of exposed hipbones. It’s lower than Sam instructed, but he doesn’t realize it when he’s too busy staring at the demon, and neither of them seem to know their dicks are half hard by the time she’s done. Ruby smirks a little, watches the magic sink beneath their skin as she finishes the last of Sam’s. Their breath hitches in unison as she removes the needle, stomach muscles fluttering as the link draws solid, and unconsciously they shift closer, Sam’s chair skidding an inch or two across the floor and their knees bumping. They’re both flushed, Sam’s cheeks pink and the tips of the demon’s ears bright red, and the bulge between their thighs obvious in loosened jeans.
“Done?” Sam asks tentatively, still staring at the demon.
Ruby nods, steps away.
“Okay then,” Sam says, jeans slipping lower on his hips as he walks behind the demon to unbind the wires keeping his hands tethered to the chair. The demon hisses his discomfort as Sam works open the too-tight ropes, rubs his wrists as soon as he’s free while Sam works on his ankles. The second he’s released, the demon’s up and kicking the chair over, raining curses on Sam as he yanks the spit-soaked gag out of his mouth. “Fucking crazy bitch,” he yells, turns to get away and crumples like he’s been hit in the stomach with a line drive.
“Fuck!” they yell in unison, and Sam scrambles to close the distance between them at the same time as the demon. They crash together, elbows catching ribs and foreheads knocking, both of them cursing and shoving at each other but neither able to coordinate any sort of open space.
Ruby giggles.
“What the hell did you do?” Sam demands, looking aghast.
She gives him her best impression of innocence. “What you asked me to do, Sam.”
“But this – we – there’s only like three feet between us, for fucksake,” he sputters. The demon growls, fists clenched, staring at Ruby like she’s a punching bag he’s about to practice on.
“Well Sam, you didn’t really specify how close when you said close. Besides, these things aren’t exact, that’s just how it came out.”
Sam blinks. Three feet. Three fucking feet.
“Call me if you need me,” Ruby says, and she’s still smiling when she goes.
“You fucking idiot,” the demon says, glaring.
“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “Pretty much covers it.”
* * *
There’s just enough room to close the bathroom door so the demon doesn’t have to come in with him when he has to piss, but only if he’s pressed up against it the entire time, yelling at Sam to hurry the fuck up. Which, by the way, tends to have a paradoxical effect.
The rest of the time, he’s right there, and if Sam thought Dean was a constant presence at his side before, he never imagined just what constant really means. The demon’s skittish now too, even more than before, some unstable combination of angry and scared and just plain incredulous that Sam really did this. Sam’s frankly starting to feel pretty much the same.
He takes the demon to a diner in New Mexico on the third day for dinner just to put the three feet of table between them, but regrets it when the beleaguered waitress finally dumps a cup of steaming hot coffee on the demon’s very interested crotch after the fourth time he tries to grab her tits. Not sneak a feel, just full out grab, until not even Sam’s attempts to explain it away as some kind of psychological dysfunction can keep Julie Ann from taking her well-deserved revenge.
The demon keeps the passenger side window rolled down when they’re driving, dispensing free demonic advice to anyone who pulls up alongside the Impala, usually something about how to fuck your sibling or poison your boss or get your dick to grow (because dude, what can you even do with that little thing?). Sam’s got a bitch of a headache by the time they find an appropriately seedy motel, and he holds the spray bottle of holy water pressed against the demon’s back the entire time they’re checking in, nudging him threateningly every time the demon opens his amazingly lethal mouth to speak.
Predictably, the second they’re in the room and Sam puts the bottle down, he gets an earful.
“What’d you have to do that for?” the demon demands, stabbing at Sam’s chest with one finger, jaw set hard in anger.
“Oh, I dunno, maybe because you’ve got the whole world ready to come after us?”
The demon looks almost contrite. Or is he – Christ, is he pouting? “Was just having some fun, Sam.”
“Fun? That’s what you do for fun? Piss people off until they’re coming after you with shotguns or dousing you with hot coffee?”
The demon shrugs, gives Sam a smirk that edges closer to a smile than Sam’s seen on him yet. “Yeah?”
“No! You can’t do that, it’ll just get us – I mean, shit, don’t you get that we have to lay low? There are people after us, and you’re just making it easy for them.”
The demon takes a step back, cocks his head and stares. “Us,” he says, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. “Huh.”
Sam’s not sure what it means, but he can sense the subtle change, the way the demon slows down and his expression relaxes, loses a little bit of the rage and softens almost imperceptibly, like he’s suddenly seeing Sam for the first time. “Dean?” Sam asks -- tentative, hopeful.
The demon snorts, steps up and gets in Sam’s face. “I can think of some other things we can do for fun, Sammy-boy,” he smirks, “Since you don’t want me pissing off the natives.” He fists a hand in Sam’s shirts, draws him in, and Sam can’t help the sudden shudder when their hips brush, rush of heat low in his belly at the touch.
“Fuck off,” he warns, shoving the demon backwards so hard they both double over in pain when he moves too far, matching curses as they scramble back.
“I’d like to, Sam,” the demon growls, “But some idiot tied me to your fuckin’ apron strings, and now here we are, like it or not. And I dunno about you, but I don’t intend to never get laid again for my entire fuckin’ life – which, by the way, is gonna be a long long time -- so either develop a liking for threesomes or get used to watching.”
Oh Jesus. Sam’s blushing so hot at the images that leaves that he can’t even manage a response, and really, what the hell do you say to that anyway? He wasn’t thinking about SEX when he came up with the whole binding ritual idea. At least he doesn’t think he was.
The demon’s close again, though he doesn’t try to touch, just torments Sam with his words. “Or it could just be me and you, little brother,” he offers, voice pitched low, rough with lust he doesn’t try to disguise. “You like that better, Sammy?”
“Don’t call me that,” Sam warns, gut twisting at the obscene parody the demon’s making of Dean’s love, and Sam’s even sicker knowing he’s heard those words in his own fantasies, the times when he was too tired/lonely/needy to push them away. Times he wanted Dean like that, too much, too desperately.
“C’mon Sam,” the demon’s whispering, one hand sneaking up Sam’s hip, creeping back to brush over the curve of his ass. Sam doesn’t have to look down to know how hard he is.
“Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me.”
To Sam’s surprise, the demon obeys, drops his hand with a shrug and turns away to reach for the television, and for a split schizophrenic second Sam feels a glimmer of disappointment. The demon climbs onto the bed and settles himself against the headboard, kicks off his boots and crosses his bare feet and sighs like Sam’s just cancelled Christmas forever. His worn-thin jeans are tented obscenely, and he squirms and bucks his hips up with another put-upon sigh.
“Yeah yeah, tough life, I know,” Sam says as he kicks off his own boots and sits on the other edge of the bed, as far away as possible within the three foot limit.
“You’re a stubborn sonofabitch,” the demon grumbles. “Always have been.”
Sam doesn’t answer, but he turns enough to watch the demon’s expression. He does remember, Sam thinks, no matter what Ruby said. Somewhere inside, there’s still something of his brother. And Sam’s determined to find it.
* * *
The demon falls asleep like that, curls onto his side still fully dressed and closes his big black eyes, and Sam breathes a sigh of relief, lets himself relax for the first time all day. It’s hard to work up much worry that the demon will kill him in his sleep when he looks like this – like Dean, exhausted and little boyish, long girly lashes and plush full lips and sprinkled freckles, ripped jeans and bare feet. Sam reaches over to ghost his fingers through Dean’s hair, brushes the gold tips silky and soft under his touch. He can only see Dean, warm and breathing beside him. He falls asleep to the slow pull of his own wanting, his hand slid across the bed and tucked under his brother’s body and the miraculous beating of his heart.
Sam wakes to bloodcurdling screams in the blackened room and the thrash of limbs, catching a knee to the groin before he can roll away far enough to be out of danger. The demon’s eyes are closed but his body jerks and stiffens as he fights invisible enemies, flailing wildly and howling in agony, and god, it’s horrible, so much more horrible now that Sam knows what Dean had to endure down there, how long it went on. How it ended.
He manages to get a grip on the demon’s shoulders, urges him awake with “Hey, wake up, it’s just a dream, c’mon man, you’re okay, you’re okay.”
The demon shakes his head frantically, eyes shut tight and mouth curled into a twisted grimace as he fights, “No, no,” he’s saying, pleading with someone Sam can’t see. “Not him, please, not him –
Sam can’t help it, the voice is Dean’s, the pain is Dean’s, and he can’t stand it, he has to try, has to call to his brother. “It’s okay – Dean, it’s okay, it’s just me, it’s Sam.”
The demon struggles harder at that, kicking wildly, “No no, god no, not him, not Sam, please – don’t make me, can’t – can’t – not Sam, ohgod, ohgod,” and there are tears leaking from beneath his closed eyes as he dissolves into sobs and goes limp in Sam’s grip.
Sam’s just as frozen, the implications of the demon’s words slowly coming clear, when the demon’s eyes suddenly flutter open. Green. Bright and wet with tears, and brilliant sparkling green.
Sam leans down and kisses him without meaning to, softly on his parted pink mouth, quickly before the moment’s gone. “Dean, ohgod, Dean.”
The green only holds for a few seconds more, but it’s enough for Sam to see the horror there, the terrible awareness of what he is and what he’s done. Then the blackness slides down and covers it over, but Sam knows now what’s under there, knows what the blackness hides.
Sam tries to hang on, but the body in his arms stiffens, jerks in his grasp.
“Either do that again or get the fuck off me,” the demon says.
Chapters 5 and 6
Author: runedgirl
Rating: This chapter R, NC-17 overall
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/demon!Dean
Summary: The brother that Sam gets back isn’t the same, but Sam’s love is. Sam risks everything and leaves everyone he’s ever cared about behind in the desperate hope that the bond between him and Dean might just be strong enough to transcend what hell did to him.
Set post Season 3, seven months after Dean’s deal came due and written over the summer before it was AU, this story just kept writing itself and wouldn’t let go until it was an epic love story in every sense, eventually spanning five decades with enough twists and turns to make me dizzy.
Warning: Spoilers for S3 finale; some violence; Wincest (obviously)
Beta: Big thanks to K for caring enough to make awesome suggestions *hugs*
AN: Not a WIP – story is finished with 18 chapters and will be posted regularly. Feedback is adored and promptly savored.
They leave the demon bound and gagged while they do the ritual, not trusting him not to interfere and fuck it up, but he’s uncharacteristically subdued while Sam chants the Latin and Ruby painstakingly dips the needle in the mix of blood and ink and works it under their skin. The design is small, much smaller than the now-broken tattoo on Dean’s chest, sliced to ribbons by the hellhounds before they dragged him off to hell. Strange that the rest of him is healed and perfect, but the ink remains broken there even though the skin isn’t.
They sit bare-chested side by side, the demon bound tightly to the desk chair and Sam sprawled back in another. Sam’s jeans are slung low enough on the demon’s hips to expose the dark hair trailing down his taut stomach, and Ruby’s fingers itch to follow it lower, drag a sharp nail to where the curls are coarser and he’s hot beneath the denim. Sam’s body is leaner, smooth and sleek, the muscles of his abs rippling as he settles back in the chair, eyes narrowed and fixed on his brother.
The demon doesn’t flinch when she prepares him, but Sam’s fingers twitch as Ruby slips the buttons on their jeans and pulls the flaps open enough to expose the flesh she needs. She works the sigils into the flat planes of their bellies, and their skin goosebumps when she brushes her thumb over the hollows of exposed hipbones. It’s lower than Sam instructed, but he doesn’t realize it when he’s too busy staring at the demon, and neither of them seem to know their dicks are half hard by the time she’s done. Ruby smirks a little, watches the magic sink beneath their skin as she finishes the last of Sam’s. Their breath hitches in unison as she removes the needle, stomach muscles fluttering as the link draws solid, and unconsciously they shift closer, Sam’s chair skidding an inch or two across the floor and their knees bumping. They’re both flushed, Sam’s cheeks pink and the tips of the demon’s ears bright red, and the bulge between their thighs obvious in loosened jeans.
“Done?” Sam asks tentatively, still staring at the demon.
Ruby nods, steps away.
“Okay then,” Sam says, jeans slipping lower on his hips as he walks behind the demon to unbind the wires keeping his hands tethered to the chair. The demon hisses his discomfort as Sam works open the too-tight ropes, rubs his wrists as soon as he’s free while Sam works on his ankles. The second he’s released, the demon’s up and kicking the chair over, raining curses on Sam as he yanks the spit-soaked gag out of his mouth. “Fucking crazy bitch,” he yells, turns to get away and crumples like he’s been hit in the stomach with a line drive.
“Fuck!” they yell in unison, and Sam scrambles to close the distance between them at the same time as the demon. They crash together, elbows catching ribs and foreheads knocking, both of them cursing and shoving at each other but neither able to coordinate any sort of open space.
Ruby giggles.
“What the hell did you do?” Sam demands, looking aghast.
She gives him her best impression of innocence. “What you asked me to do, Sam.”
“But this – we – there’s only like three feet between us, for fucksake,” he sputters. The demon growls, fists clenched, staring at Ruby like she’s a punching bag he’s about to practice on.
“Well Sam, you didn’t really specify how close when you said close. Besides, these things aren’t exact, that’s just how it came out.”
Sam blinks. Three feet. Three fucking feet.
“Call me if you need me,” Ruby says, and she’s still smiling when she goes.
“You fucking idiot,” the demon says, glaring.
“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “Pretty much covers it.”
* * *
There’s just enough room to close the bathroom door so the demon doesn’t have to come in with him when he has to piss, but only if he’s pressed up against it the entire time, yelling at Sam to hurry the fuck up. Which, by the way, tends to have a paradoxical effect.
The rest of the time, he’s right there, and if Sam thought Dean was a constant presence at his side before, he never imagined just what constant really means. The demon’s skittish now too, even more than before, some unstable combination of angry and scared and just plain incredulous that Sam really did this. Sam’s frankly starting to feel pretty much the same.
He takes the demon to a diner in New Mexico on the third day for dinner just to put the three feet of table between them, but regrets it when the beleaguered waitress finally dumps a cup of steaming hot coffee on the demon’s very interested crotch after the fourth time he tries to grab her tits. Not sneak a feel, just full out grab, until not even Sam’s attempts to explain it away as some kind of psychological dysfunction can keep Julie Ann from taking her well-deserved revenge.
The demon keeps the passenger side window rolled down when they’re driving, dispensing free demonic advice to anyone who pulls up alongside the Impala, usually something about how to fuck your sibling or poison your boss or get your dick to grow (because dude, what can you even do with that little thing?). Sam’s got a bitch of a headache by the time they find an appropriately seedy motel, and he holds the spray bottle of holy water pressed against the demon’s back the entire time they’re checking in, nudging him threateningly every time the demon opens his amazingly lethal mouth to speak.
Predictably, the second they’re in the room and Sam puts the bottle down, he gets an earful.
“What’d you have to do that for?” the demon demands, stabbing at Sam’s chest with one finger, jaw set hard in anger.
“Oh, I dunno, maybe because you’ve got the whole world ready to come after us?”
The demon looks almost contrite. Or is he – Christ, is he pouting? “Was just having some fun, Sam.”
“Fun? That’s what you do for fun? Piss people off until they’re coming after you with shotguns or dousing you with hot coffee?”
The demon shrugs, gives Sam a smirk that edges closer to a smile than Sam’s seen on him yet. “Yeah?”
“No! You can’t do that, it’ll just get us – I mean, shit, don’t you get that we have to lay low? There are people after us, and you’re just making it easy for them.”
The demon takes a step back, cocks his head and stares. “Us,” he says, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. “Huh.”
Sam’s not sure what it means, but he can sense the subtle change, the way the demon slows down and his expression relaxes, loses a little bit of the rage and softens almost imperceptibly, like he’s suddenly seeing Sam for the first time. “Dean?” Sam asks -- tentative, hopeful.
The demon snorts, steps up and gets in Sam’s face. “I can think of some other things we can do for fun, Sammy-boy,” he smirks, “Since you don’t want me pissing off the natives.” He fists a hand in Sam’s shirts, draws him in, and Sam can’t help the sudden shudder when their hips brush, rush of heat low in his belly at the touch.
“Fuck off,” he warns, shoving the demon backwards so hard they both double over in pain when he moves too far, matching curses as they scramble back.
“I’d like to, Sam,” the demon growls, “But some idiot tied me to your fuckin’ apron strings, and now here we are, like it or not. And I dunno about you, but I don’t intend to never get laid again for my entire fuckin’ life – which, by the way, is gonna be a long long time -- so either develop a liking for threesomes or get used to watching.”
Oh Jesus. Sam’s blushing so hot at the images that leaves that he can’t even manage a response, and really, what the hell do you say to that anyway? He wasn’t thinking about SEX when he came up with the whole binding ritual idea. At least he doesn’t think he was.
The demon’s close again, though he doesn’t try to touch, just torments Sam with his words. “Or it could just be me and you, little brother,” he offers, voice pitched low, rough with lust he doesn’t try to disguise. “You like that better, Sammy?”
“Don’t call me that,” Sam warns, gut twisting at the obscene parody the demon’s making of Dean’s love, and Sam’s even sicker knowing he’s heard those words in his own fantasies, the times when he was too tired/lonely/needy to push them away. Times he wanted Dean like that, too much, too desperately.
“C’mon Sam,” the demon’s whispering, one hand sneaking up Sam’s hip, creeping back to brush over the curve of his ass. Sam doesn’t have to look down to know how hard he is.
“Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me.”
To Sam’s surprise, the demon obeys, drops his hand with a shrug and turns away to reach for the television, and for a split schizophrenic second Sam feels a glimmer of disappointment. The demon climbs onto the bed and settles himself against the headboard, kicks off his boots and crosses his bare feet and sighs like Sam’s just cancelled Christmas forever. His worn-thin jeans are tented obscenely, and he squirms and bucks his hips up with another put-upon sigh.
“Yeah yeah, tough life, I know,” Sam says as he kicks off his own boots and sits on the other edge of the bed, as far away as possible within the three foot limit.
“You’re a stubborn sonofabitch,” the demon grumbles. “Always have been.”
Sam doesn’t answer, but he turns enough to watch the demon’s expression. He does remember, Sam thinks, no matter what Ruby said. Somewhere inside, there’s still something of his brother. And Sam’s determined to find it.
* * *
The demon falls asleep like that, curls onto his side still fully dressed and closes his big black eyes, and Sam breathes a sigh of relief, lets himself relax for the first time all day. It’s hard to work up much worry that the demon will kill him in his sleep when he looks like this – like Dean, exhausted and little boyish, long girly lashes and plush full lips and sprinkled freckles, ripped jeans and bare feet. Sam reaches over to ghost his fingers through Dean’s hair, brushes the gold tips silky and soft under his touch. He can only see Dean, warm and breathing beside him. He falls asleep to the slow pull of his own wanting, his hand slid across the bed and tucked under his brother’s body and the miraculous beating of his heart.
Sam wakes to bloodcurdling screams in the blackened room and the thrash of limbs, catching a knee to the groin before he can roll away far enough to be out of danger. The demon’s eyes are closed but his body jerks and stiffens as he fights invisible enemies, flailing wildly and howling in agony, and god, it’s horrible, so much more horrible now that Sam knows what Dean had to endure down there, how long it went on. How it ended.
He manages to get a grip on the demon’s shoulders, urges him awake with “Hey, wake up, it’s just a dream, c’mon man, you’re okay, you’re okay.”
The demon shakes his head frantically, eyes shut tight and mouth curled into a twisted grimace as he fights, “No, no,” he’s saying, pleading with someone Sam can’t see. “Not him, please, not him –
Sam can’t help it, the voice is Dean’s, the pain is Dean’s, and he can’t stand it, he has to try, has to call to his brother. “It’s okay – Dean, it’s okay, it’s just me, it’s Sam.”
The demon struggles harder at that, kicking wildly, “No no, god no, not him, not Sam, please – don’t make me, can’t – can’t – not Sam, ohgod, ohgod,” and there are tears leaking from beneath his closed eyes as he dissolves into sobs and goes limp in Sam’s grip.
Sam’s just as frozen, the implications of the demon’s words slowly coming clear, when the demon’s eyes suddenly flutter open. Green. Bright and wet with tears, and brilliant sparkling green.
Sam leans down and kisses him without meaning to, softly on his parted pink mouth, quickly before the moment’s gone. “Dean, ohgod, Dean.”
The green only holds for a few seconds more, but it’s enough for Sam to see the horror there, the terrible awareness of what he is and what he’s done. Then the blackness slides down and covers it over, but Sam knows now what’s under there, knows what the blackness hides.
Sam tries to hang on, but the body in his arms stiffens, jerks in his grasp.
“Either do that again or get the fuck off me,” the demon says.
Chapters 5 and 6
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 01:48 am (UTC)The last scene is great! Any mention to Dean's green eyes would normally makes me happy but in this context, knowing that it makes Dean unhappy to remember, I don't know...*sigh*
Great update and can't wait to read more!
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 01:35 pm (UTC)More soon!
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 02:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 01:35 pm (UTC)Hugs,
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 01:38 pm (UTC)Thanks!
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 01:39 pm (UTC)Miss you!
Lyns
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 04:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 01:40 pm (UTC)Hugs,
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 05:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 01:41 pm (UTC)Thanks again,
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 08:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 01:42 pm (UTC)Hope you'll keep reading through the dark parts and not give up -- that's one of the things I adore about Sam. :)
Hugs,
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 09:51 am (UTC)Seriously;
threesome, watching or you and me, know which I'd choose.LOL. This should be all kinds of fun.
Love the nightmare scene, vulnerable/hurt Dean is always a fav. Way to go.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 09:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 01:44 pm (UTC)Hugs,
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 02:05 pm (UTC)More soon!
Hugs,
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 02:05 pm (UTC)Dean is breaking my heart there. Well, so is Sam. I simply love how you write them.
But 3 feet is mean. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 02:06 pm (UTC)Hugs,
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-22 06:21 pm (UTC)Oh this is SOOOOOO Damn Gooood!!!!!!
/fangirling for now.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-23 02:08 am (UTC)Your feedback made my day -- thanks!!
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-23 02:14 pm (UTC)I love the 3 feet thing; that's hilarious, and I can totally see Ruby doing that to them because Sam didn't specify how close.
I am so excited for more!
♥
no subject
Date: 2008-10-23 05:12 pm (UTC)Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-23 04:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-23 05:12 pm (UTC)Hope you'll keep reading and letting me know what you think -
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-23 06:20 pm (UTC)So many brilliant things in this chapter. I particularly adored Dean's idea of fun XD that was great characterization and amusing to boot.
And all these parts where Dean dreams are just killing me in the best way. I love how plain his dialogue is, the complete lack of criptic anything.
CAn't wait for the next chapter! thanks for updating!
no subject
Date: 2008-10-23 06:30 pm (UTC)Hugs,
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-23 09:42 pm (UTC)Hope you don't mind that I've friended you I really really don't want to miss the next chapter, seeing how I managed to miss when you posted the previous 3 *bangs head on desk*.
Great characterisation, Sam's guilt and his love. Demon Dean how you describe Dean's mannerisms how they are so twisted and then so not! All so beautifully done.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-23 10:26 pm (UTC)Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-10-24 11:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-24 02:33 pm (UTC)Hugs,
Lyns
no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 02:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 06:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 06:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 12:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 03:02 pm (UTC)Hugs,
Lynsey
no subject
Date: 2008-11-07 11:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-07 04:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-29 04:42 am (UTC)Most tender moment: when Dean finally falls asleep and Sam notices his appearance before brushing his hair.
The dream was terrifying although not completely unexpected in its horror. We are learning more of Dean's time in hell along with Sam.
The last scene when Dean's eyes are green and Sam kisses him - fabulous, loved that their first kiss happened with Dean in awareness.
Thanks for writing this and sharing.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-27 08:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-09 03:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 06:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-11 04:34 am (UTC)3 feet.
I got the biggest, shit-eating grin on my face when I read that, and my imagination ran wild as the impact of that little revelation sunk in.
You're an evil genius.
*smirks and goes back to reading*
no subject
Date: 2011-09-11 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-31 03:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-31 06:24 pm (UTC)