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They were both different. Sam knew that. After everything that happened to them, he could feel it; that danger underneath, that desire to see blood, to feel bruises and pain. It shouldn’t be a surprise that they eventually found themselves sliding into this weird relationship. More than brothers, more than blood. Not gentle, or good. It felt almost like they were punishing themselves with each other.
Some days, it was bad. Real bad.
Like now.
Blood was everywhere. Smeared over their skin, and on the bed. Dripping from Sam, from all openings. He felt ripped open, torn apart like he was nothing but an object, and God, did it feel good. Bad, but good.
Dean leaned over him, face sweaty and flushed, blood streaked across his face in the shape of a hand, from Sam trying to push his lips away, wanting to be free but also wanting to be held down and forced to take it.
“Fuck,” Dean murmured, squeezing his eyes shut as he fucked into Sam, brutal and quick. The bed moved with them, and Sam couldn’t help but glance to the bedroom door to check to see that the jarring noise of the squealing springs didn’t bring Cas running.
They definitely weren’t alright.
But they didn’t want Cas to know that.
“Dean,” Sam began, eyes widening as he saw a shadow in front of the door.
Dean growled, his hand flying out. Sam flinched as a harsh palm covered both his nose and mouth, forcing him quiet and back down into the mattress as Dean fucked even harder, deeper. Sam could feel his flesh tear, allowing more blood to ease the penetration.
His stomach flipped, balls drawing tight as he tried to breathe. He made little whimpering noises, couldn’t help it, eyes rolling back before he forced himself to focus back on Dean when he felt fingers dig painfully into his skin.
“Fucking slut,” Dean husked, smile twisted into a dark smirk. “Always knew you were a dirty bitch that wanted to be bred.”
God, but that got him going like nothing else.
Sam moaned, high and frantic, hips snapping up to get more. Needing more.
He glanced towards the door as he heard it open.
Dean didn’t look back, but if possible, the vicious smirk became even more sharp. “Didn’t take you for the peeping Tom kind of guy, Cas.”
The angel said nothing, simply stared at them with intent blue eyes.
It made Sam want to shy away, trying to turn his head and curl up.
Of course, Dean didn’t let him.
His fingers grew even more tight, bruising, before sliding down to grip at his mouth and chin, and force his head back towards both him and Cas, who stood frozen behind Dean’s shoulder by the open bedroom door. Sam could now breathe, which he did immediately, thankful to have air in his starving lungs.
Dean’s other hand, which had been wrapped loosely around his throat, flew up to grip Sam’s hair, roughly yanking his head back to expose his throat.
The sound that escaped Sam should have made him beyond embarrassed. And it did. But it also made his cock jump and leak like crazy.
“See that?” Dean told the staring Angel softly, eyes locked on Sam’s expression. “He wants it. He wants me. Only me.”
Sam didn’t know where Dean was going with this. He watched as Cas’ eyes narrowed.
“So, no need to rescue the princess from the big bad wolf, Cas.” The way that Dean said the angels name sent a warning shiver through Sam, made him wonder why Dean would ever speak like that to a person who was so close to them, that they considered him to be a part of their family. “Not that you can, with how weak you are,” Dean continued, fake compassion in his voice. “You think the little grace you have left will be enough to beat me? The very grace that I collect for you from other angels, just because Sammy wants you to stay alive?” He smirked, finding amusement at whatever expression Sam had. “Ya know, Sammy coming to me and begging me to keep you alive was like his dying last wish. How sweet that he wasted it on you and your continued existence.”
Cas chose to ignore Dean in favor of looking at Sam. The weird thing is, instead of looking disgusted or repulsed, he instead looked like he was almost begging Sam to listen to him. “Sam-“
“Sam,” Dean mocked, “Sam, Sam, Sam. Always about poor little Sammy, huh?” Dean then smirked down at him, but his eyes looked weird. In the shadows, they almost looked like they flickered between green and black. “But now it’s about us. And he’s mine. For good.”
“Sam, Dean’s not who you think he is!” Cas began to say, suddenly frantic, trying to move to them. For some reason, he was having trouble. “He’s a dem-“
“And that’s my cue to cut this little pow-wow short,” Dean interrupted, showing teeth in a smile that looked more like a flash of teeth before releasing Sam’s hair and raising his hand.
He made a motion as though swatting a fly, and Cas flew back out the room, hitting the wall of the corridor so hard that it dented. The door slammed shut on Cas’ slumped over bleeding form, desperate blue eyes the last thing that Sam saw before the door blocked him from sight.
Slowly, Sam turned his eyes back to Dean.
Dean, who’s eyes were pure black and grinning like it was all a game.
“Man, way to ruin our fun, huh Sammy?” Dean teased, still with one hand over Sam’s mouth and chin, while the other slowly tucked a strand of long bloody hair behind his ear. “But don’t worry, I know how much you like the guy, so I won’t kill him.”
Sam didn’t know what to say.
“Aren’t I a great older brother?” Dean said idly, now playing with Sam’s hair. “I mean, I even let him continue to stay with us because you asked so nicely.”
He hurt.
“I’m a great older brother. Right, Sammy?”
He couldn’t breathe.
“I know,” Dean said, as though Sam had answered. “I’m the best.”
He couldn’t move, no matter how he tried. And he was beginning to realize that he’s been in this situation before, countless times. Cas’ wide blue eyes begging for Sam to come to his senses before being forced out of the room by Dean, who wasn’t-
“But man, I love the way Cas never gives up on saving you, Sammy,” Dean continued, darkly amused. “He must love you a lot!” He then started laughing.
-human.
Sam could only stare up at the monster that was his older brother, and know that the cycle was going to be repeated again, and again, and again, as long as it amused the demon to continue it.
“Now, back to our game,” he heard, before Sam’s mind was smashed into, forced to erase what just happened, and manipulated to think that everything that was happening was normal for them.
The last thing he remembered was black eyes, and the strong, pungent taste of demon blood dripping onto his lips and tongue.