He's Good and He's Bad and He's All That I've Got (Part 1/3)

[runedgirl]

Title: He’s Good and He’s Bad and He’s All That I’ve Got
Author: runedgirl
Artist:   midnightsilvers
Other Pairing: Sam/Dean/OFC
Rating: NC17
Warnings/Spoilers: show level violence
Summary:Chuck punishes Sam and Dean by turning them back into their worst versions of themselves, Soulless Sam and Demon Dean. He just never expected them to keep hunting anyway - or to give in to impulses they'd never admitted to.

Art: Ao3





It didn’t happen like it did the first time. For one thing, Dean hadn’t been walking around with the Mark of Cain on his arm for months, fighting against its dark pull, only to succumb to the end of Metatron’s blade and die in his brother’s arms… and then wake up a demon. This time, one minute Dean and Sam were mustering every bit of bravado they had to go against Chuck, and then Dean woke up flat on his back on the floor of a motel room and Chuck was nowhere in sight. Neither was Sam.

And Dean felt… weird. It was familiar, but he wasn’t sure from when or how he knew it was familiar or what was even different. That became clear really quickly when he staggered into the bathroom and turned on the light and went to splash water on his face, however. His own face stared back at him, but it was hard to assess his own expression because his eyes were jet black.

Hallucination, he thought, blinking rapidly like that would clear this up, make it a temporary problem. He splashed water like he planned and dried his face with a towel and hesitated before opening his eyes, saying a little prayer out loud to no one because Chuck sure as hell wouldn’t help, but when he finally looked again there was no denying the inky blackness staring back at him.

“Chuck, you motherfucking bastard!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Dean wanted to believe it was just a trick—Chuck turning his eyes black with some stupid god-level illusion—but there was a gnawing in his gut that said this was real. He remembered this. The way his blood seemed to run hotter through his veins, his heart pounding so loud it was almost audible. Run fight fuck kill, run fight fuck kill, the familiar mantra was starting up, not too insistent yet but it was there, and he remembered all too well just how loud it could become. Last time, he didn’t succeed in ignoring it either. This was bad.

Fuck. Where was Sam?

Nothing ever fully beat the need to know that out of him, even when he was a demon the first time and stalking around the bunker with a hammer. He wanted Sam, needed to be close to him. He didn’t know then, and didn’t know now, whether he would have brought the hammer down and taken his brother’s life or… or done something else. He’d tried not to ponder it since he’d been cured. Whatever he wanted specifically, he wanted Sam. That much never changed.

His phone rang and he jumped a foot, demonic hypervigilance kicking in.

“Fuck. Sam?”

“Yeah, who else would it be? Dean, where are you?”

Sam sounded infuriatingly calm.

“I’m at some motel—I think the one around the corner from where we were. But listen, there’s something I should tell you.”

“Tell me when I get there,” Sam said, and hung up.

What the fuck? Dean swore out loud, because Sam was just that infuriating. Well, fine, if he didn’t need a heads-up, maybe Dean would just show him what a jackass he was—with a right hook to that infuriatingly cut jaw.

Shit. And then what? As much as the idea of laying into anyone, Sam included, sounded fantastic, Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with all this alone if Sam walked away.

Weirdly, his head was a little clearer than it had been last time. Maybe the absence of Crowley’s bad influence.

There was a knock at the door, and Dean jumped again.

“Open the door, Dean,” Sam said in that same infuriatingly calm voice. Well, Dean thought, just wait until Sam saw what was waiting for him on the other side—he wouldn’t be so calm then. Dean smirked thinking about it, sauntered to the door, and threw it open.

“Heya, Sammy,” he said, making it as smarmy as he could.

Sam narrowed his eyes, regarding Dean like he was looking at a museum specimen. “Huh,” he said, and walked in and shut the door behind him.

“Huh? That’s all you got to say?” Dean felt positively insulted at Sam’s lack of fear—or any emotion whatsoever, for that matter.

“Chuck made you a demon again,” Sam said, stating the obvious.

“Ya think? What gave it away, Sam? The size of my dick?”

Sam looked down, narrowed his eyes again, then looked back up. “It doesn’t look any different.”

“Are you kidding me? What the hell is wrong you with, Sam?” Dean felt like he was in opposite-world. Why was he, the demon, more concerned than Sam about whatever the hell was going on here?

Sam frowned, then pushed his stupidly long hair back behind his ears the way he did when he was puzzling over something. “There’s nothing wrong,” he insisted, but he still looked confused.

“Oh, there’s definitely something wrong. Why aren’t you freaking out? I’m a demon, Sam, aren’t you just a little bit upset about that? Or, I don’t know, maybe afraid of me?”

Sam cocked an eyebrow, brow still furrowed. “No,” he said. “I don’t seem to be. Huh, that’s… unusual.”

“Ya think?” Dean’s exasperation bubbled over, and he grabbed the lamp off the nightstand and threw it across the room. It shattered with a satisfying crash, glass fragments flying, and that felt good, so he grabbed the mirror above the bureau next and gave it the same treatment. That’s when Sam’s hand wrapped around his wrist and slammed his arm down on the bureau so fast Dean didn’t have time to stop it. The flash of pain made Dean see red, but Sam got right in his face, still eerily calm.

“Don’t do that,” he said, making it sound like an order. “You’ll get us kicked out of here, and we need someplace to stay while we figure this out.”

He didn’t say “Calm down,” but he may as well have.

Dean growled. Literally. Nobody likes to be told to calm down, and demons like it less than most. Sam kept Dean’s hand pinned and bit his lip, pondering.

“I think I’ve lost my soul,” Sam said finally. “Again.”

Dean’s rage ratcheted down a notch while he took that in, staring at Sam’s implacable face as he tried to remember what Sam being soulless looked like. It only took a minute before he realized that it looked exactly like this. “Shit,” he said, and Sam let go of his arm.

“So,” Sam said, tossing his duffel on one of the beds. “Chuck turned you back into a demon and me soulless. Making us relive some of our worst times?”

Dean just blinked at him, still seeing red around the edges from the slowly receding rage.

Sam regarded him with suspicion. “Are you going to try to kill me, or are we going to be able to work together to deal with this?”

Dean crossed his arms, petulant. “I don’t know. I’m a demon, Sam. Killing is what we do.”

“Not strictly true. When you were a demon before, you had some control over yourself. Admittedly, not a lot. You did come after me with a hammer—but you didn’t manage to do any damage.”

“Because you didn’t let me!” Dean protested, because if Sam was annoying before, he was a thousand times more annoying now.

Sam scratched his chin, big brain working. “Go kill something that needs killing if you want, just not me. I’d prefer not to die before I have a chance to figure this out.”

“You’re infuriatingly logical, you know that? I should kill you just because you’re so fucking annoying. You’re like one of those… Mr. Spocks!”

Sam shrugged, seemingly impervious to Dean’s insults. “A Vulcan,” he sighed, long-suffering.

Dean clenched his fists so hard it started to hurt.

“If you’re going to try to kill me, tell me now, because that means I’ll have to work solo on this.” He looked up at Dean, and the determined look on his face was one Dean had seen a zillion times, starting with Sam as a chubby two-year-old defiantly refusing to open his mouth to eat carrots. Fuck.

“You’d leave?” Dean blurted, though he didn’t mean to. Demons had no fucking impulse control. He was fairly certain normal demons didn’t care one way or the other whether their soulless brothers stayed with them or took off, but when had Winchesters ever been normal?

“I’d prefer not to,” Sam said, like he was reading the phone book and not talking about abandoning his brother… again. “But I’d also prefer not to die.”

“Fine, fine, I won’t kill you,” Dean muttered, kicking the bureau with mirror shards all over it in frustration. “Against my better judgment.”

Sam nodded, like that was fine and not at all insulting.

Neither of them had any idea where to start looking for that asshole Chuck, and sitting on their hands was not going to work for Dean, so they decided to continue the hunt they’d been on before Chuck plucked them out of there and picked a fight. Sam was absolutely fearless, and Dean could smell the vampires they were hunting from a half a mile away. The element of surprise and Sam’s ferocity ensured that none of them knew what hit them. Sam beheaded one and Dean beheaded another, the two of them swinging their machetes in perfect unison, because apparently becoming a demon or soulless didn’t take away their ability to stay in sync. Dean tore another apart with his bare hands for the fun of it before ripping off its head; he turned around to gloat to Sam about how badass he was, just in time to see the fourth vamp slam Sam up against the wall and bare its fangs.

Time slammed to a crawl, everything happening in slow motion, as Dean launched himself across the space between them, both feet leaving the floor and his fist catching the vampire’s jaw just as its teeth had almost closed on Sam’s throat. The two of them went flying, leaving Sam still upright and openmouthed, and then Dean ripped the vamp into pieces so small they could barely find enough of its head to make sure it was truly severed.

“That was a bit of overkill, don’t you think?” Sam asked when it was over. But he held out a hand to Dean where he was crouched on the floor, red from head to toe and still panting.

“Saved your stupid ass,” Dean retorted, and Sam shrugged in acknowledgment and pulled him to his feet.



“I forgot that not having much fear can make you careless,” Sam said by way of explanation. “I won’t forget again.”

“You’re welcome!” Dean yelled at him, and punched him in the shoulder for good measure.

Sam wrinkled his face, finally looking annoyed, and Dean counted that as a win.

“Fine. Thank you,” Sam said.

“Too late for that!”

Sam shook his head, like he was disappointed in Dean for being an impetuous child. Dean stalked out to the car and left Sam to do the cleanup in retribution.

He only just remembered to put down a towel before he sat on the leather. Demon or no, his Baby was his Baby.

Sam came out a while later, only a few spots of blood on him, wiping his hands clean on a shirt he’d taken mostly intact from one of the vampires. “So it looks like we can hunt together pretty well,” he said, stating the obvious.

Dean huffed and started the car. It felt good to have her beneath him, purring and growling and badass. “Looks like,” he agreed, and guided her toward the highway.

Sam had to run interference to let him sneak into the motel so no one would have the shit scared out of them by a grown man covered in blood.

“Take first shower,” Sam graciously said when they were inside, but Dean suspected that was mostly because he was dripping on the rug. Not that they’d be avoiding extra charges on the stolen credit card anyway, thanks to the shattered mirror and lamp, but whatever, Dean would take it.

Adrenaline was still blazing through him as he turned the spray on as hot as he could stand and stepped under, letting it sluice the blood and gore off him. The adrenaline and the kick of violence had his dick hard enough that he could feel the pounding of his heartbeat there as acutely as in his chest, and Dean wrapped his fist around it, pumping himself to a climax so intense he shouted his way through it. He had only just turned off the water when the door opened and Sam stalked in.

“Think you were loud enough?” he demanded, and Dean stopped whatever he was about to say back when he saw the look on Sam’s face. Gone was that infuriating passive stare; Sam’s eyes were dark and dangerous, his jaw set. As Dean stood frozen, Sam stripped off his clothes—and fuck, his cock was as hard as Dean’s had been. Sam stood there, unashamed, looking at Dean looking at him, then took his dick in his hand just like that and started stroking himself.

When Dean still didn’t move, Sam huffed and shouldered past him, turning the shower back on and stepping in.

He jerked himself off like it was his fucking job, silent as he spurted against the tiles, but he didn’t tell Dean to leave, so Dean didn’t, half in and half out of the shower and still wet and naked.

“You don’t mind me watching,” Dean said when Sam finally turned the water off.

Sam shrugged, like it was no big deal, grabbing a towel off the rack to dry his miles of bare skin and wild hair. “Whatever floats your boat. You always were a perv.”

Dean smirked, because compliments from Sam were still appreciated. “And you were always hung up and vanilla.”

Sam tilted his head, regarded Dean. Then the corner of his lip turned up just slightly. “That’s what you thought,” he said, and bent to pull on his jeans.

Dean was too surprised to think of a witty comeback, so he gave Sam the finger and went to bed.

Neither of them needed to sleep much, so they hit the road at four a.m., before anyone discovered the appalling state of the motel room, Sam researching while Dean drove. They debated contacting Cas but decided that he wouldn’t be quite as chill about their current states of being as they were.

“We’re on our own to figure this one out,” Sam said, and Dean liked the sound of that.

“You and me, Sammy,” he agreed, and he thought maybe Sam almost managed a smile.

Part Two

Comments

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Dean smirked, because compliments from Sam were still appreciated. “And you were always hung up and vanilla.”

Sam tilted his head, regarded Dean. Then the corner of his lip turned up just slightly. “That’s what you thought,” he said, and bent to pull on his jeans.

Dean's about to see a whole different side of Soulless, I'm thinking!

It's fabulous to revisit these guys. :D