SPN. Del infierno que quemó. PG-13. Dean/OMC, Wincest implied.

Title: Del Infierno Que Quemó

(From The Hell That Burnt).

Author: ravenfilatoff

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam/Dean implied, Dean/OMC

Rating: PG-13 (bad words).

Spoilers: Nah. Just the 'Master Plan'.

Warnings: Past lifes, death!fic (blink and you miss it), eh, guess that's it.

Summary: What freaks you out is being sure that you've never met him in your life and yet feeling your heart beating with recognition.

Note 1: my first english fic (being spanish my main speech) and first Supernatural/Wincest fic! (I feel dirty but I know I won’t be alone in hell—even my mom likes it!) hope you enjoy and I apologize for any errors.

Note 2: crack!fic, seriously. I just wrote without anything planned. Sort of like.. practice and after having a really good dream about my boys + a The O.C. star xD, if you want details about it, read note 3 at the end.

Disclaimer: If they were mine.. clothes wouldn’t exist in the show. Or Jo for that matter.

You see his eyes and nothing more afterwards. So dark and deep and suffocating and they call you with its shadows and promises of nights full of fire and sweaty backs, hands entwine and mouths fighting for domination.

Sam asks you if you know him.

What freaks you out is being sure that you've never met him in your life and yet feeling your heart beating with recognition.

That can't be, cuz you don't swing that way of the road, never have, for more tempting some past offers have sparkled your interest. The guy slides his fingertip for all the spiky beard of his chin and man you thinks, aren't that really huge hands. Then you try to shut down your brain after that inappropriate leak, cuz your little brother is connecting his gaze now with that stranger too and yeah, there it is: his pouty lips bitching about you ignoranting him for one nice piece of ass.

Again.

"Do you know him or not?"

The guy moves his limbs up and away from the bar before you can open your mouth, and you bite your lower lip instead. Damn. He's tall too. Almost the same height as Sam's and why is that such a turn on?

"Fine, you're too busy eye-fucking him to answer me, then I'll see you in the damn motel." You barely register the words, the hurt hazel eyes and the draging of Sam's chair. The guy is sitting alone now, three tables away and the proximity is squeezing your chest like the most delicious of the pressures.

The guy connects his black eyes with yours again and—

-and then you know.

You realize.

This man is not a man at all.

I was made for you. I was send to you.

I'm gonna protect you.

You shook your head but his voice is just getting louder and louder inside your pounding skull. You feel warm and safe like a treasure, not surrounded by evil like you suppose to feel because this thing is not human, not alive—and you kill its kind—You should—

I told you, I was made for you. Of course I'm not human.

"G-Get out." You don't how you ended up in this stinky hallway, you were just trying to get the hell out of the bar. Out. Out of his brain, out of this place. Out of his life. "Leave me alone, you freak." Why do I know you? You want to ask. How is it possible to know you—to believe in your words even when I also know that this is the first night you have spent in this earth?

There is no answer of sorts.

Just blackness.

Like its warm piercing eyes.

".. Dean." Sam jumps out of the crappy bed in the mere sight of the stranger carrying his brother like a lady in distress from those stupid romance novels (has the guy fucked Dean already?) and when the stranger takes one step inside Sam comes back to live to snatch away his brother from those arms that shouldn't look they belong around Dean's vulnerable body. "Who the hell are you? What happened to him?"

The moment Dean is give up in Sam's arms, the misterious stranger dissapears in the thin air.

Technically, you were re-made for him by a father’s wish. Then ordered to watch over him and protect him from the demon's aftermath.

Whatever that’ll be.

You met him once. He was sixteen and he saved your life.

He doesn't even remember you.

Then again, that was centuries ago. Can’t exactly blame the guy.

You smile. Dean even in this time-line is.. so fierce, so protective and so—so full of love. Of agony and hurt too, but love is still his main fuel of surviving, of protecting, of bearing the responsibility that was put upon his shoulders.

Samuel's here too. You admit you're surprise by that fact.

Considering that in this century he's Dean's little brother when in yours they'd.. well.

Considering they destroyed each other in front of your eyes.

You're begging, as you watch Sam's gentle caress against Dean's pale cheek, that this time all will be different, that this time love will thrive and not evil—not Samuel's destiny instead of Dean's hope.

You beg. Even when you know that'll never be enough. Even when you know that you were send here because Samuel will make the same mistake again and you're here to be Dean's armor in the way you could’t be last time.

You will beg until the next new moon, when your second visit will be done.

--

Crack!fic I tell ya!

note 3: Wouldn't be awsome if Adam Brody joined Supernatural to be Dean's demon!hot lover? drool