Title: The wolf bait (previously published at my AO3 account)

Rating: NC17, Warning for non/dub-con (not between Dean and Stiles), torture and underage

Pairing: Soulless!Sam/Stiles, Stiles/others, Dean/Stiles

Summary: Cross-over between Supernatural and Teen Wolf. Alternative timeline during Supernatural season 6, while soulless Sam were in the search for alphas. Samuel Campbell hears some rumors about a Hale alpha and a true alpha. The hunters catch two regular werewolves and a human side kick. Alternative timeline after Teen Wolf, 2nd season: Erica, Boyd and Stiles are caught not by Gerard Argent, but Samuel Campbell. Dean learns about this and he's not happy.

A/N: This is a first for me. My first attempt at cross-over. First Teen Wolf. First 1st person point of view.

Special thanks for Anonymonimus for betaing the last chapter of the story. The remaining mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

The room gives me the big time heebie-jeebies; only the smell is enough to turn someone back. Even though they practically live here, The Campbells don't seem to spend any time on cleaning. Okay, I don't do much cleaning either, but you cannot find freaking blood stains in my room, and definitely not anywhere on my baby.

I try to be quiet; waking up the whole compound would do me no good. However, the building seems to past its expiration date sometime in the last century and everything I touch whines. As if the constant complainings of the floor isn't enough, there are chains -fucking chains, man, what the fuck?- hanging everywhere. They are all heavy duty, some rusty, some have suspicious looking grime stuck to them. I do hope they are the only source of this smell and I won't see anything more disgusting on my way.

Finally, I'm getting closer to the light source and Sam is standing right under the naked bulb. I swear he looks even bigger since he lost his soul. He's facing the opposite direction so I can't see his face, but I can tell his hands are busy with something right in front of him. Before I can get closer to see what is it that he's busy with now, his head is thrown back with a loud groan. Oh, God! I know that groan. I have heard it enough to a lifetime. So, my soulless brother is again having some fun time. Jeez Sammy, take a break, dude. I have always known that the kid was not getting enough when he was with his ever-lasting. Now, he's trying to catch up the lost time.

In any case, Sam emptying his balls to some girl's mouth doesn't really require my attention. Although, it is kind of strange that he, now, grew some sense of privacy and hiding in this disgusting place to have some. God knows how many times I had to explain him that it is not okay to show your ass to your own brother and it all fell into deaf ears. Maybe he's finally getting into it with someone who can appreciate privacy. That would be a first. In any case, I better get back to the motel and get some shut eye.

Yeah, I should, but this feeling doesn't let me. Why do I have this dreading feeling in my gut? Something feels wrong here, like something terrible is happening, I just know it. I don't wanna think about how my brother having sex might mean bad news. He wouldn't force himself into a girl… Would he? Sammy would never… but this ain't Sammy, now, is he? If he's using my brother's gigantic body to fucking rape a girl, I swear I'd…

A whimper… That's a whimper coming from whoever is giving the bj to Sam and that doesn't sound right.


Huh! Who would know? Apparently I just caught the Robocop unaware. He looks like my brother in that millisecond. Eyes open with surprise, hair disheveled… Makes me miss him even more.

"Dean? What… What are you doin' here?" He at least puts his dick in his trousers. Pinocchio is learning.

"Couldn't sleep, heard something and wanted to-" I can't finish my sentence because that ain't no girl who was giving Sam a deep throat. It's a boy, a kid actually… "What the fuck, man!?"

I ran to the kid without waiting an answer. He looks so weak, so scared. There are bruises in every part of his body. He's been tortured. Bruises makes him look even more naked… and God I can count his ribs.

"Hey, hey… It's okay." I take of my jacket to cover the boy and he flinches… He fucking flinches when I put some clothes on him and I lose my mind at that moment. Without realizing, I find my hands on Sam's collar and I am yelling. "What the fuck you're doing you sick pervert? Is this what you do on the side? Are you praying on kids now, Sam? Is that it? Now, you're a rapist too?"

"Dean, calm down. I can-"

I don't let him finish his fucking excuses, use all the power I can gather and push him back to the bloody table. The kid looks at me even more scared now and whimpers again. He is crying; his tears are mixing with his saliva and snot Sam forced out on his face.

"It's not rape. He wants it, aren't you kid?" Sam talks back to me while cleaning his bloody nose onto his shirt's cuff.

Of course, the kid doesn't answer. His eyes are jumping between me and Sam and I can tell he's looking for the least painful answer.

"Come on, Stiles. Tell my brother how much you want to be with me." Sam continues with that emotionless voice which makes my teeth hurt.

Surprisingly, the kid comes to life. He crawls to Sam and hugs his feet.

"Please, please… Please don't send me back there. I wanna blow you. I'll give you the best, please… please…"

And Sam looks at me victorious. He actually believes that this scene could prove his point. That I would look at this tortured kid who's begging for my brother's dick and would say something like 'Oh, sorry Sammy, my bad. Go ahead.'

I don't even try to reason with the soulless dick and instead lift he kid up. He's shaking under my hands.

"He's not gonna hurt you anymore. I promise." I know it's not gonna build confidence right away, but I do hope it'll help some. "Now, tell me. Where do you think Sam would take you?"

He looks at me with that honey brown eyes that looks three size too big for his skinny face. I can see his fear in those eyes. He doesn't trust me, why would he? So, I turn to Sam,

"What is it you're threatening the kid with?"

At least, he recognizes the threat in my voice.

"The interrogation room."

I have no idea what an interrogation room is; but I'm not gonna ask the king of liars to explain it to me.

"Take me there." I ask instead.

The kid whimpers more loudly now, but I know it's not gonna matter even if I keep telling him he's safe. I hold him from his shoulders instead. He is very fragile and I have hard time figuring out where I can touch him that would hurt less. He walks with me after Sam towards an even darker corridor.

It's not exactly a room, more like a dungeon. I can see a girl and a boy suspending from the ceiling. I knew Samuel and his gang was doing something sketchy; but did not expect this. What are they doing, supplying kids for pedos? The kids look in terrible shape. I run to free them, but Sam stops me before I reach their bindings.

"They are not kids, Dean." He might see the question mark on my face because he continues before I ask him, "They're werewolves. And the wires are alive, electricity is the only thing that keeps them from turning."

I just can't comprehend what he says. The first thing comes to my mind after hearing the word 'werewolf' is, "It's not full moon."

"Huh." Sam actually smirks, the shithead. "You still take dad's journal to the heart, don't you? He wasn't always right, Dean. You should've learnt this by now."

He turns to the power source and turn down a dial. And suddenly the boy grows fangs around the gag in his mouth. I can't help but jump back.

"The fuck!"

"See, he's a were." Sam is gloating and turns the dial up. The boy, the werewolf, whimpers in pain.

I am not sure what to think. Now that the wire is alive again, the boy doesn't look like a werewolf. He just looks like a kid. A kid in pain.

"Why are you doing this, Sam? If he's killing people you should end him, not torture him."

Of course Sam has an answer for everything nowadays. He explains me with ecstasy that not all werewolves are like the ones we saw before. Apparently, those are the weak, bottom of the totem pool, gone feral weres; and they are the minority: Omegas. Sam tells me everything he learnt from the great hunter Samuel Campbell. How most of the werewolves can control their shift, live in packs and stay away from trouble. I watch how his eyes are shining when he talks about how much stronger these weres are, the betas, how hard to recognize and catch one. He's so Gad damn proud of himself. If I didn't see the kids hanging on chains like a piece of meat, I'd be convinced that he has done a great job.

"So, you're telling me these kids didn't kill any human. And they can control their shift, so they most probably won't kill."

Finally, the robo-Sam realizes that there is a weak point in his logic. Or most probably he just realizes that I have a problem with it.

"Look, Dean. We need them for information."

"I'm sorry… Are you… Did you just tell me that you guys are torturing teenagers for information?"

"I… Samuel said-"

"What about…" I stop and look back the kid kneeling behind us, "What's your name, again"

"Stiles" the kid whispers. His eyes are dancing between my feet and the weres hanging on the chains.

"Thanks." I turn back to the robot in my brother's body, "What about Stiles. He ain't no were, right?"

"We thought he was, but no, he's just a groupie." Sam explains.

"Why are you torturing him for, Sam? And don't lie to me."

"The weres aren't talking. Their pack bond is still strong; it might take some time until they do. However, Stiles did."

As if on cue, Stiles starts crying. His eyes are full with tears and the way they fall down on his cheeks without a sound coming from his mouth breaks my heart. I don't know why I expected something better from Sam. After all, he turned me into a vampire to use me as a bait. What I don't get is why the hell Samuel is doing this; all of this.

"What is the question?" I ask Sam who is watching the electrocuted teens with pleasure.


"What is it that you want answers? What question you ask them?"

"Oh… I'm not sure… Samuel…"

Before he continues his lies, I stop him. If he doesn't want to share, I can force it out of him. But I gotta take these kids out before whole Campbell clan comes back.

"Listen to me, Sam. Listen carefully. I know your robotic brain cannot see the wrongness here; but this is the definition of wrong. Okay? You gotta trust me in this. We're gonna let these kids go, okay?" He looks like he's gonna protest, so I insist. "Dude, remember, the moral compass."

Sam finally agrees and turns down the electricity. I take the kids from the chains and cut their bindings. The girl falls down on the ground. She looks weak. I can see they were starved. The boy looks better. He jumps to the girl's side and hugs her.

"Sam, you took the girl; I'll carry Stiles."

The wolf-boy, however, doesn't let Sam to get closer to the girl. His fangs are out and he's hissing like a wild cat. I actually don't blame him, after everything they have been through.

"Okay, Sam won't touch her. Can you carry her, or you're gonna stay here and wait for the rest of the gang to come back?"

The boy lifts the girl as if she weighs nothing. She most probably doesn't. I turn to Stiles. The kid looks at me with large eyes, still not recognizing what's happening.

"Hey, kid! Can you walk?"

He just nods and starts walking close to the weres. When a kid decides he's better off with monsters, it's time to reconsider the definition of the word monster.

It is surprisingly easy to guide the kids to Impala. Of course, if I understood what Sam said correctly, Stiles gave them some important information. It's not really a difficult guess that Samuel is away to put that info in some use. While driving I ask the kids where to go and they don't say anything.

"I'm trying to give you a ride to your family." I try to explain.

"Upstate New York." Sam answers when they don't respond. "We found them in New York City, but the pack is apparently in some frozen suburbs.


I was plain stupid. There isn't any other explanation. The only good part of this whole mess is that Samuel is a bigger stupid. Neither he nor I stopped for a moment to think that this skinny little kid could play us. As hunters, we should know better; the appearance is deceptive. Still, we did not expect this skin-and-bones kid to outsmart seasoned hunters and send them to a completely bogus alpha-hunt while being tortured. I'd say Samuel deserved what he got. And, the kid had no reason to trust me, so of course he played me too. However, what I didn't get is why those two weres left the kid behind while they run away. The way the boy stayed closer to them, I thought they were friends.

Oh, Sam got really pissed when the weres jumped out of the car and lost in the middle of nowhere. I think he was going to take his frustration out of the kid, Stiles, but he had enough self-preservation to stop before actually hitting the boy. But, now I gotta listen to his plans and all. He always used to love listening to hear his own voice a little too much; now, without his soul, he is in love with himself.

"You know what, Sam. I just don't care. And I don't understand why you do. You guys were torturing the kid… A kid.. no-monster, non-psycho… A kid. You think there has to be another reason for him to lie." I finally got up from the table, my back cracking all the way to my neck. Damn, I am tired. "I'm off to bed. Humans need sleep." I whisper the last part.

While I walk to the room, I feel the boy's eyes on me. He pretends to sleep under the blanket, but I can tell that he's listening. He is one smart cookie. I gotta figure out what to do with him, but it has to wait until this shit storm blows away. Samuel is not gonna be happy to turn back empty handed.


It is scary that I don't even realize I do this anymore. I just found myself with my blade on Stiles neck when I woke up.

"Jesus, kid! You have a death wish?" I took my blade back, carefully sliding over the kid's skin. His eyes are big… I mean bigger than normal. He looks terrified. "Why would you sneak upon a sleeping hunter?" I ask again, after giving him the bottle of water to help with his panic.

He drink couple of sips. I can see his heartbeat from his jugular, it's erratic. I feel bad for scaring him. It's like kicking a kitten, seriously.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. It's just a reflex for me. It's a necessary thing for survival for those in my line of work." I try to explain. His eyes are checking me, testing my words, testing me. If I was a bit closer, I could hear the wheels turning in his head.

Instead of answering, he reaches back and place the bottle on the ground. There is something odd, something off on his moves now, but I can't really tell what. When he turns back, I see that he's checking me again; checking where I'm looking. His expression is different now. A strange playfulness on his eyes, he slides closer.

"I felt lonely." He whispers before biting his lower lip and giving me a seductive look. When his long fingers find my abs, I wake up from the shock.

"What the hell?" I hold his hand and keep it away from me. "The hell you doing?"

"I wanna suck you, please?" He begs… really begs while wetting his lips with his tiny, pink tongue.

He is good, I have to give it to him. I would have believed he was sincere if I have not studied the exact moves in front of a mirror in the past. Though, I should confess, he is better than me.

"Stop the act, kid. I'm never gonna touch you like that."

And just like that, all his sluttiness flies away. He is back to the scared, skinny kid… but still sitting on my bed.

"What do you want?" I ask, trying to put all my tiredness and frustration into my voice as much as I can.

He bits his lips again, but this time it is a reflex. He's weighing over his options. And finally he decides to share his problem with me.

"Can I sleep here, please?" And that's fear in his voice. I raise up an eyebrow instead of asking aloud and he continues, "I… I can't sleep there. I… He scares me."

He is afraid of Sam. He is so scared that he thinks giving me sexual favors is a better option. Fucking— I breathe in slowly. Getting angry is not gonna solve anything now.

"I won't let him hurt you, don't worry." I try to relax him, but my words help only as much as I hoped: none.

He moves skittishly off the bed, but before taking a step away he turns and begs again.

"Please, I haven't slept so long."

Damn. Either he is an excellent actor or… Or what, my brother tortured and raped him for days and he really couldn't sleep. Fuck, sometimes I want to beat a soul into Sam.

"Okay." I pretend to be reluctant; as if I could refuse him in this situation. He jumps in, probably afraid that I might change my mind. "Keep your legs on your side." I grumble, just to soften the mood. I'm not sure if it helped.

Of course I cannot sleep. How could I. But I don't get up either. Stiles just fell asleep and I don't want to wake him up. I can't really fathom how he could feel safe with me. After all, it was the hunters that kidnapped and tortured –and raped- him; I am a hunter too. Even if he thinks extremely rationally for his age and concludes that not all hunters are douchebags –hopefully a true statement- why would he trust a stranger? Why would he feel safe enough to sleep in his bed? Why would he offer a blowjob? To a man whom he doesn't trust enough to tell where he lives, no less. Even though these questions make me really curious, they are not the important ones. The most important question is what the hell am I going to do with him? He is too old for a safe haven leave.

I should have left him in a sheriff station on the way. I was actually gonna, but then Sam offered the same thing and I just couldn't. It had to be a bad idea if Sam was so anxious to do so. Although I can't see why it is a bad idea; I am not gonna discard my gut feeling. Also, there is a chance that Samuel and his gang can come looking for the kid with an extra vengeance.

The kid suddenly turns in his sleep and I find myself under his libs. Jesus! He is, like, made out of only arms and legs. His head is turned towards my chest and I can see his eyes rolling under his eyelids; he is dreaming. He looks like he is just gonna talk in his sleep, his hands are moving too now and I realize it's not a dream, it's a nightmare. He is panicking for God knows what and before I could stop myself, I hug him.

"Shhh… Everything is alright."

He wakes up and his eyes find mine in the dark, I could see the deep fear residing in them. It is mixed with shame and self-hatred too and I exactly know what causing his nightmares.

"It wasn't your fault." I whisper in his ear. Because someone has to tell him, to this kid. Because he would never tell himself until it is too late, until he is all grown up and can understand why there is something called 'statutory rape'. Until he looks at the kids at his current age and see that that's what they are: kids. But, then, it will be too late. He will end up adding more and more damage on the way; increasing his emotional baggage too much to carry without the help of violence mixed with liquor. Unless… unless someone tells him now. Tells him again and again; tells him repeatedly, relentlessly until it can penetrate to his arrogant teenage brain that he is not the one who can control it. That he is not that strong, and it is okay to be not to. "Believe me, kid. It wasn't your fault."

Maybe Stiles is actually a lot smarter than I gave him credit for because the kid hugs me with his too long arms and starts talking; his face mushed into my shoulder. Or maybe he is not that smart, 'cause look at me. I am so not the person he should look for help. On the other hand, his choices are me or the soulless body in the next room, doing God knows what.

"I… I offered them." He says. He doesn't have to explain what he offered. "After the first few times, I mean. At the beginning it hurt too much, I couldn't even imagine offering. But later…" His voice turn something ugly; twisting inside his throat so that coming out something between a whisper and bellow. "And sometimes they refused and… I was so upset that they didn't take me. I begged them… I begged them as long as they allowed… begged and begged…"

From the way his voice deforming, I could tell he was about to lose his dinner. So, when he is actually turning to do so, I am ready with the trash can on my hand. He keeps barfing and apologizing at the same time. Jesus! That's one messed up kid and I have to remind myself that leaving the kid alone at this moment is not a good idea; not that beating Sam like a pulp is gonna help anything anyways. Samuel, on the other hand… that's one son of a bitch that I wouldn't mind giving a nice, long beating. Maybe using some of the tricks I got from Alastair; put them in a good use.

When he is done, Stiles is shivering like crazy. I sit him down on the bed and give him a glass of cold water. The kid can't hold the glass, his hands are shaking too much for it, but with some help he slowly drinks some of the water.

"Next time, remind me washing my mouth first." He says after a while. "I feel like I swallowed whatever I threw up." He says, visibly forcing himself to smile.

And since I am overdone my capacity with healthy advice and shit, I let him change the subject.

"Wanna take a shower? No hot water, but you look kinda disgusting, dude." He looks disgusting. The sweat coming with nightmares always smells worse and I am not even counting the barfing in the middle of the room either. "Come on, I heat up some water on the stove to warm it up a bit."


I wake up to delicious smelling coffee, with sun heating up my legs. I overslept, not surprising considering how little I could sleep yesterday night with a PTSD teenager on my bed. The smell of coffe leads me to the kitchen and I catch the kid making breakfast.

"How do we have coffee?" I ask. This place barely has electricity enough for the lamps.

"I found this stovetop espresso maker on the shelves. Seemed clean. You want some?" Stiles answers me with expecting eyes.

The coffee is not half bad, considering God knows how long it has been sitting in this cabin. Actually, it's not bad at all. God, I missed this.

When I open my eyes, I see that Stiles is staring.


"Nothing…" He answers, turning back to the cooking. "I'm making omelet with whatever I found in the kitchen." He stopped for a second for a snicker and continued. "I mean, whatever I found and not 10 years passed the expiration date." I realized he's pointing the trash bag next to the trash; but it's hard to tell. His hands are everywhere. "Yeah, filled that bag and some. The thing is you can never tell with expirations dates, some are really playing too safe. Did you know that we throw away tons and tons of perfectly safe food every year just because of the wrongly determined expiration dates? But again, I think it was safe to assume no cheese should smell that bad without opening the package."

"Stiles!" I can catch the speed of his monologue.

"Yes?" He looks at me wondering. I try to make my point without speaking, 'cause he's doing enough talking for five people. "I shut up, now. Got it."

It's safe to assume he is used to be shut down.

"Sam's out?" I ask, and not because I feel bad about being rude to him.

"He left for running I guess." Even though he tries to mask it, his voice trembles slightly talking about him.

"So, now you can talk then; tell me what happened." I ask him.

He doesn't for a while; until he put some decent food on two plates.

"Look, I… It's not like I don't want to go back. I really, really do. I mean. I have… My dad… he's probably going crazy now. And… I have friends… But…" He stops, pats his eyes. "I can't. I can't bring my dad into this, you know? What if…"

"Okay. I understand, you want to protect your family." Do I understand? "Tell me about Samuel then; what does he want?"

"Why don't you ask Sam?"

"I'm asking you!" I try to intimidate him to answer, but no avail. Note to self: cleaning up someone's puke eliminates your scariness in their eyes. "He doesn't know, okay."

"He's your brother, right?" Stiles asks instead of answering. "And Samuel is your grandfather."


"How do I know you're not playing the good cop. Your whole family is messed up dude. I mean; I saw some psychos, real psychos but you guys… seriously… how do you even expect me to trust you? For all I know, Sam is back with Samuel and waiting for your signal."

The worst part is not that he's not trusting me. The worst part, he's talking with his mouth full of eggs… He is sharing his suspicions of me being a psycho while eating breakfast. But, fair is fair; he has no reason to trust me.

"Just tell me what the hell Samuel was asking you. See, if I am his man, you don't give me more information than he already has."

He doesn't answer right away; keeps packing food into his mouth, eyes locked on me. It is then I realize how hungry he must have been. We didn't stop for food or anything on the way and the kid must have been starving.

"He asked me for where the alpha was. Honestly, I think he has some wrong information, but I didn't correct; obviously."


"He was asking me where the pack is, where the alpha is, where the hell the true alpha is."


He stops eating for a moment to look at me.

"Aren't you gonna ask me where they are, or if I know where they are?"

"No, if I wanted to ask you that, I would. So answer my question; why Samuel is looking for the alpha?"

"He didn't tell me." He says but there is more.

"But you figured it out."

"I kind of did, but it doesn't make sense."

"Tell me anyways; I doubt you can surprise me kid."

"He's collecting them for a guy, Crowley. And I think he is a demon."


I watch him talking while he tells me all about demons and their powers. And how he figured out the big plan that Samuel kept secret from almost anyone.

"Except that douche, Chris, who by the way is possessed." His talk is totally distracting; he keeps squeezing random information in every other second, branching out from the topic on hand only to come back to it with an anecdote. His hands are moving all around, trying to make his point in that random information flow. Surprisingly, that flailing actually helps delivering his confusing message.

By the time he's finished his breakfast, he told me all about his theories of how Samuel is collecting alphas -not only werewolf alphas but alphas of all the creatures- for Crowley. Also about his suspicions on an ongoing search for information about Purgatory. And in between, I learnt that he's a high school student, no mother in the picture, a sheriff as a father, has a license –so, older than I originally thought- and became involved with supernatural bullshit when his best friend got bitten by a rogue alpha. He knows a pack of werewolves -and seriously, what the hell is with werewolves being all controlled and shit. He knows the alpha of that pack too; seems a little scared of him; but I sense that it's more of a residual act than real fear.

He poured too much information to digest in such short time and even so, he successfully managed to omit any detail that might give away his identity. A seriously smart cookie.

"So, you gonna tell me what's wrong with your brother. " he asks while shamelessly licking his fork. No idea where he packed all that food.

"How do you know that he's not just a psycho?"

"I don't know… he feels wrong, dude. But, he's not possessed either." I look at him with genuine curiosity; he saw Sam for a total of an hour max before I caught them. How did he figure that out? He continues reluctantly, "I'm not hundred percent sure, obviously."


"The other dude, Chris, his eyes kept changing when he's... you know." He stops abruptly.

So, demons' eyes turns black when they cum. I don't know what good this information do, but it's new. Another reason to look at your partner's face when you're at it.

"He's also a lot gentler... compared to the demons." Stiles continues, just to break my heart I believe.

"He... He lost his soul." I explain. "It's stuck in a cage, in hell, where he jumped into to save the world."

He doesn't reply for a while, just watches my face.

"You're not joking, are you? Of course, not." He smiles. A genuine smile. After all he's been through, he can still smile like this. A testament to his resilient youth. "Holy! A cage in hell?"

I don't want to talk about it, so I just nod and continue on my coffee. But he doesn't let it go, of course, he doesn't.

"I assume he was a good person before, like you."

I can't school my face fast enough to disguise my surprise. Am I a good person? After everything I did, in hell or in this world. Am I really? Even if I am, why would he consider me as such? Just because I didn't leave him under torture? Is this what the requirement of being a good person came down to?

Luckily, he doesn't stop to consider my reaction and continues.

"I mean, who would jump into hell to save the world? Definitely not psychos. Right? So, his soul is in hell now? Does that mean he's actually in hell? Considering hell is real and -heh it took me to meet a demon to really believe it. But if it is real, it's where your soul goes for punishment right, not your body. So, he's actually in hell, your brother." towards the end, he too realizes that what he's saying isn't exactly polite conversation material and his volume drops dramatically before finishing; then continues, "Sorry, you obviously know it better."

He has no idea.

I can see that he's dying to ask more questions. He, literally, can't stand still, rocking in the old chair. I don't let him though.

"So, Stiles. Do you have any plans on going back? Or wanna join the hunting business?" There is no way I'd keep him with us, but maybe Bobby can find a place to send him.

"Of course, I do. I mean, I can't leave my dad like that. He's probably worried sick, even after hearing from Erica that I'm alive. So, I will go back. I just, you know, don't want to lead the hunters back home." He stops for a brief moment. "Also... he'll take me to hospital if I go back now and... and..." His voice dropped lower and lower at the end of his sentence.

I know what he's afraid of. He doesn't want his father to learn about the rape. So far, I didn't get the impression that his father would look at his experience and get angry at Stiles. However, you can't really tell with fathers. Sometimes, not even with your own father. What makes them tick and all.

Whatever the reason, he wants to wait. And I can't really bring myself to push the kid to the curb. I feel responsible for what he's been through. As he said, one was my grandfather, the other was my brother…

"I give you a week. Then we'll leave you at a Greyhound station with some money. I suggest you go directly back to your father."


The thing about the best-laid plans is that you cannot go without them. Going after anything -demon, monster of the week, anything- without a plan means, generally, suicide. However, the plans, unfortunately, go awry often. In my experiences, almost always. I'm not really sure if it says more about my planning ability or my luck. Probably a bit of both.

It wasn't as if I planned each and every detail of how to send the kid back home. No. But I had the general idea of using his 'google-fu' –his words, not mine- skills for a few days while waiting in the cabin; dissecting his memories from the compound. Learning more about the sane werewolves in general. Then, when he's more comfortable, driving to Chicago to leave him in a crowded bus stop. Easy, right? I thought so too; but it did not even take a week for this simple plan to go awry. Samuel's gang busted us.

Now, moving in a god damn van, I try to think of a way out, but our chances don't look good. They got Sam pretty bad, he's still lying unconscious with scary amount of blood trickling down from his head. The bastards didn't even secured him; his body keeps moving with every single bump on the road. Chris, who is the only one in the back with us, is pressing his fucking foot on Sam's abs, to keep him somewhat steady.

Stiles looks like a mess. The non-stop talking boy that I started to get used to in our time together in the cabin, is gone. He went through, what I think, a panic attack when they first loaded us in this disgusting van. When Chris put an enormous gag into his mouth, before closing the door. Now, his eyes are empty, his gaze locked at Chris' foot.

I got a few kicks during the ambush, but nothing to cry about. Even though I sent three black-eyed demons to ether, I'm still on the corner of the van, all bundled up like a newborn.

"Where do you take us, Chris? Can I call you Chris? Or is there an older name you prefer. Satan's bitch, maybe?"

Chris, as I expected, laughs at my ridiculous attempts at questioning. He simply spits whatever the hell was in his mouth on me first, then, just shakes his shoulder instead of an answer.

"So, Samuel is not giving you more info. What is it, you're working under a human. Oh, no. Under a hunter actually."

"Do you want me to take you under me, Dean? Or maybe the kid?" Stiles pushes himself further back into the walls of the van upon hearing the threat. "He's nice." Chris continues, his eyes slowly go through every inch of the boy's trembling body. "Probably not as loose as you are, huh? I kinda miss him."

"I'm gonna kill you. Mark my words."

"Yeah, yeah… Sorry to burst your bubble, but Winchester name ain't that scary anymore."

Things don't get any better when we arrive their bunker. This isn't the Campbell compound; there is not familiar faces, no hunters that I can plead to. And damn… It smells disgusting. The air is cold inside, heavy too; like when old houses with good insulation stay closed too long. I have no idea where Sam is. They dragged him like a bag of meat to who knows where.

There are creatures in small rooms, cages actually. Like, a fucking zoo. Samuel or Crowley -probably both- collected monsters here like a backstage of a freaking circus. The monsters locked up in them look in a pretty bad shape. There is a genie girl without hands; her creepily short limbs covered with a dirty, bloody rug. In the next cage, there is a rugaru without his freaking jaw. His bloody tongue is wobbling down towards his chest, making horrific, gurgling noises. The next cage's occupants are so bloody that I have no idea what they are. They can be humans for all I know. All of the creatures are bloody and looking so miserable that I actually feel bad for them. Stiles is whimpering behind me, and I don't wanna think about the things going in his mind. Can I dare hope that Samuel has a freaking line; that he will stop at torturing his kin? Don't really think so.

They push us into one of the closed cages, more like a federal prison cell than a zoo cage. Before shutting the door on us, Chris holds Stiles chin, pulls out the gag and gives him a wet kiss.

"Don't worry baby, I'll be back for you as soon as I'm done with this urgent shit."

When he shuts off the door, it is pitch black in the small room. I move towards where I think Stiles is, judging his location by listening to his whimpers.

"Hey, Stiles. We're gonna get out of here. You hear me." I need him awake and alert when the opportunity rises. My bound hands find his head in the dark. "We both are, okay?"

He speaks after a while; placing his head onto my shoulder.

"I was a virgin before."

"Hey buddy, don't think like that."

"I'm scared Dean, I'm so scared." He starts crying. "Chris... He's really bad... He hurts, man, he really, really does."

I tell him that we'll leave, get free; that no one will hurt him; tell him some stories of me and Sam escaping some impossible situations. All the while trying to get the cuffs open. It's not an easy task to pick a lock with a stray piece of wire when you can't even see your hands. By the time my hands are free, Stiles' whimpers are lessened. He might be even sleeping for all I know. It sure has been more than an hour since I heard him making any coherent words.

"Give me your hands." I ask, not wanting to scare him unnecessarily by touching him unannounced. "I'll open your cuffs, then we'll look for an opportunity to escape." When he doesn't answer, I hold his head. "Stiles, be strong for me, huh boy?"

"Before that, I... I need... Can I ask you something?" He whispers.

"What is it?"

"Chris, he's always too harsh and-"

I don't let him finish, "Don't worry about it now. I'll free your hands, and you'll be at your best, ready to run, okay?"

"You don't understand, Dean!" He suddenly yells, frantic, "Believe me, I can run faster with my hands tied than with a bleeding ass." He inhales deeply. "Can you please help me open up? It's been a while since he left, he can come anytime. He... He never, he never does any prep. It'll kill me, he'll kill me, Dean, kill me. Please..."

What can I say? When I think rationally -very rationally- he's right. It is kind of a priority. But, on the other hand…

"We don't have... Just spit? "

"Better than nothing, that's what I'd get from him. Dean, I know it's too much to ask, but I'm begging you, please."

He is begging.


Nothing feels real or right in this utter darkness. He definitely doesn't sound like the 17 years old boy joking with me this morning. Maybe, it is the urgency and despair in his voice that makes him sound older. Maybe, it is just me; not wanting to think of him as a kid at this moment.

It doesn't really matter. This is something needs to be done now. It ain't for fun and kicks. Stiles needs this. Compartmentalize, Winchester! No room for doubt, shame or guilt here. They are for later. When we're all safe and sound, have time for a little hunter's helper.

I find his hips with my hand, the top of his sweats. They are actually mine; the kid had no clothing for his name when we found him. It's easy, pushing the fabric down. They are too big for him; always sagging low, revealing the top of his bubble butt whenever his shirt not covering it over. His skin is cool to touch, the concrete floor sucked all his warmth. He whispers a soft 'Thank you' that I can barely hear.

When my finger finds his hole, he almost jumps. The surprised sound he emits reminds me the ages ago, when I was doing this to myself. Because I learnt the hard way that leaving the prep to the guys who would get off of a kid is never a good idea. Not good memories. It never is, getting ready for something you dread. I do know that pushing my finger in him is the best thing I can do to Stiles right now. That the risk of not getting him ready for what's coming is too high. I know it from very painful experiences. But knowing this, any of this, doesn't make it any easier.

"I want you to do it, Dean. Please. I know you'll be gentle." He begs, probably suspecting that I changed my mind.

I can almost see his bambi eyes in my mind, the big, begging eyes.

"Okay. Ready?"

I spit on the fingers of my other hand and bring them next the ones touching Stiles. Aiming isn't easy when I can't see shit; on the other hand, I'm not sure I could force myself doing this if I could see him.

He's so warm there, especially compared to his freezing butt; and gives a loud hiss when my middle finger enters him.


"It's okay." He whispers, but his grunts tell me it's not.

It really is not.

He's tight. And warm. And it starts to feel like something it really shouldn't. It's so quiet here that I can hear my finger moving in his asshole. I want to talk, to say something just to have a noise other than this awkward squishy sound; but what can you say in such situation? It's not like I have never done this before, but in all those times speaking dirty was the way. I can't talk about the big meat he's soon gonna get in his ass, now, can I? Jesus!

He gets dry before I can push my finger to the second knuckle, predictably. Saliva makes the worst lubricant.

"I'm gonna spit some more, okay?" I say and bring my mouth as close to his ass as possible without touching him.

It works for a while, so I keep doing the repetitive motion. By the time I have two fingers in, Stiles is moaning softly, and I have a sick boner that would lead me directly back to hell.

"Bring your fingers to my mouth." He scares me speaking suddenly in the ongoing silence. "Yours is dryer than... there was a saying for this." His voice has that innocent curiosity. As if we're watching the news, or something equally mundane.

"Dryer than a nun's cunt." I answer before thinking.

"Oh..." He sounds heart broken. "It wasn't what I was looking for, but yeah, I guess that works too."

I might put it out very crudely, but he is right. The last three times I tried to spit, it really didn't help at all. I hesitate before taking my fingers out; then decide not to switch them. They may be nasty being where they were, but they aren't dry like my other hand, so...

"Fuck!" Instead of spitting on them, Stiles sucks my fingers into his mouth and it feels so good that I momentarily forget that he's not an adult. "What... Stiles, what..."

Instead of an answer, he humms around my fingers. Then, lets them go; all slimy and wet.

I pull my fingers back. And even though I really wanna stop and talk to him about it, I sure don't wanna lose the little lubrication I got. So, I push them right back into his channel and this time he gives a slightly louder sigh. I stop myself before claiming that he's ready. He is not ready at all. He still has hard time getting my third finger in. Nowhere slick or loose enough to let a larger appendage to slide in without tearing up. I decide not saying anything instead; focusing on the job at hand. But before my heartbeat goes down to normal levels, Stiles starts twitching.


"Sorry! Oh, I'm sorry, but you're… you're making me hard." He answers, shaking. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry. But I couldn't… you know… last week… your brother was everywhere in the cabin… and I couldn't do it… and now… oh God! I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Stiles." I answer, after getting hold of my voice. "It's okay."

"Is it?" He whimpers. He fucking whimpers. "You know I wanted to do this, Dean. With you, I mean. " He whispers as if giving away a big secret. As if I couldn't read the hero worship mixed with teenage hormones in his eyes during the week we spent together. "They all taking something from me. I just... I wanted to have it with someone I want."

"Come on, Stiles-" What? What am I gonna tell him. That he's too young… while my fingers in his asshole.

"I was fantasizing about you. I'm sorry." He confess with the most fragile voice that no one older than five can possess. "Is it bad that I enjoy this?"

"Of course not."

He asks me few more times to wet my fingers and I let him suck them. Not only I let him suck them, but I press my other hand on my treacherous dick, and fucking enjoy it. Because the kid is hoovering my fingers and he's moaning and I'm only human, okay? And this smell… You'd think it must be repulsive. No, sir; not to me. It reminds me dirty truckstop crappers. It smells like a promise of hot food, like letting go. Yeah, it's not a nice smell; but it brings the memories. Reminds me burly men showing affection, asking me to call them daddy. Not all the memories are good, some of them are disgusting, really; but somehow it's enough to make me incredibly horny. It's dirty and vile and when you add into the mix how Stiles is moaning like I'm actually fucking him… how he's humping back to my hand every time I press on his prostate.

"Please, please..."he begs. I know what he's begging for. And I know how hard at his age to control himself. And the thought itself should stop me from enjoying this. That if he wasn't this young, he would definitely not want this. Probably.

But he begs so miserably... I know he's trying to jerk off, but can't, with the way his hands are bound.

I don't think about it much. It's not like what I'm doing is any less invasive. I reach between his legs and hold his dick. He makes a gurgling sound as soon as I touch his prick. Keeps begging something unintelligible after that.

He has girth, fills my hand like a man would. And I'm so grateful for that. He's so wet with precome that I feel stupid not using it earlier as lube. The noises he makes, God! Every time my fingers pass his node, he's gagging for it. And I'm salivating like a dog. Like an old and nasty one.

He's throbbing in my hand, so ready to shoot. I can't help myself, I gotta taste him. This smell gets in my head. I pull back my fingers and he whimpers some complaints. It all stops when my tongue touches his hole. He's more delicious than I expected. His hole is soft, silky soft and fluttering under my mouth. I suck at his opening, while pushing my tongue in where my fingers were. I push my face into his skin, knowing too well what the combination of soft lips and hard beard does to him.

I push open his butt cheeks as much as I can with one hand to create more room for myself and go town on his ass. It's been way too long I've done this to anyone, let alone a man. And I missed it dearly. I can't help nibbling at his entrance. I hold that thin layer of skin between my teeth while flicking with my tongue. And he shoots in a minute, like the teenager that he is.

I collect his come as much as I can, and push that into his ass too. He needs all the help he could get.

I stop myself from cumming though. He's, now, as ready as he could get, and I have no excuses to do anything else to the boy. Instead, I pull him in my lap and hold him until he stops shaking. He's soaked with sweat, so much that when I run my hand between his hair, water droplets rain all over us.

"Does it always feels this good?" He asks, voice still shaking.

Instead of an answer I place a kiss on his forehead and squeeze him a bit tighter.

"Let's work on that lock now, shall we?"


Regardless of how often he makes me mad, soulless Sam again proved his ability as a hunter again. I wish he could have made it to my cell ten minutes ago, before Chris took Stiles. It doesn't take too long to find him; his screams are quite distinguishable in this maze of a building. In matter of minutes, I find him strapped to a table with Chris bending over his naked body. When our eyes meet, Stiles starts smiling.

"Why the hell you're laughing?" Chris asks, confused with the sudden silence of his victim.

"Dean Winchester is behind you, meatsack." Stiles answers; his teeth are gritted with pain.

I don't wait for Chris to turn and see me. I plunge the knife into his back, feeling the shock waves pulsing through his body in a silent scream. It feels invigorating when he falls down, with a very satisfying thud.

"I knew you'd come, Dean." Stiles says; his voice and hands shaking hysterically. His eyes are Bambi wide again, shining with tears he shed under Chris's ministrations. He talks as if I saved him before he suffered under the demon's hand; but I can see the blood trailing from the side of his lips. "I just knew it." He continues ecstatic while I cut through his bounds.

"Can you walk?" I ask while checking him for any serious injury.

"I'm okay." He says; he means it too.

"Let's go, kid."


I stand under the hot water, waiting for it to remove the stress from my sore muscles. It wasn't an easy drive from the compound to the motel. We drove fast and without breaks for more than 24 hours. And even though I let Sam drive for the last half of it, it was still very tiring.

The water feels incredible. I already cleaned all the grime and sweat off my body; I'm just enjoying the water pressure now. Not in that many motels you can have a nice water pressure. Sometimes there is not even enough hot water. This one is truly a gift.

To be honest, claiming that the water is the only reason I'm spending extra time in the bathroom would be a lie. I'm –me, Dean freaking Winchester- I'm afraid to go back in the room. When I got us two rooms, it was my intention that I'd stay in one room with Sam as usual, and Stiles would stay in the other. Honest. However, when we were carrying the bags inside, Stiles asked -using his Bambi eyes too, mind you- that if he could stay with me instead; claiming that he's afraid of sleeping all by himself. As if staying with two hunters helped him any the last time Samuel's gang got us.

Still, I couldn't say no to his begging eyes. Sam mumbled that he'd prefer to be alone anyways and didn't even wait for my answer. Now however... now, I'm afraid that I might end up doing something I'd definitely regret later. I'm not sure how or if I can control myself with the boy. A knock on the door finally cuts through my thoughts.

"I'm going to the mini Mart across the road, you want anything?" Stiles asks with a timid voice. As though asking for something naughty. Or, that might just my mind being deep in the gutter.

"Get me Twizzlers." I yell. Then, I remember that he doesn't have any money, "Get a twenty from my pocket!"

He's still out when I finally get out of the bathroom and lie down on one of the beds. Eventually, he returns quietly, locking all three locks on the door.

"You found what you looking for?"

"Yeah, but no Twizzlers."

"It's okay. It's a bad habit anyways." I turn under the blanket, and add, just to sound friendly, "The water's nice."

"I know I stink dude, don't worry." He laughs. His voice is all carefree again. How this kid can bounce back from the traumas he faced, I have no idea.

I'm almost asleep when he comes out of the bathroom followed by a heavy cloud of steam and the nice scent of shower gel. I'm not surprised when he stops next to my bed.

"Is it okay…?" He asks coyly.

I know I should send him to the other bed. Or at least I should pretend to be asleep. I don't do either. I turn towards him, raising my head from the pillow to look at him. He's naked. Completely. The lights from the bathroom are shining on the parts of his body that are not completely dry. He looks like a wet sin. His eyes, those freaking Bambi eyes, are shining with the reflection of the light and I can't say no to him. Not today. Not after getting him all wet and ready for a fucking demon. Not after he hugged me tight, thanking me for saving him. Not after almost losing him in that God damned bunker.

Instead of an answer, I lift the blanket to let him in. He's still warm from the water. He's stayed in there for a long time. I can't think any more about what he was doing under the hot water because he crashes his lips against mine. He opens up fast; letting my tongue in. He's so eager to please that it's impossible not to think about his age.

However, thinking about his age doesn't stop me. I let my hands roam over his wanton body, pressing my fingers into his shoulder blades. I wish I didn't have calluses on my hands so that I could feel the softness of his skin even better. His inexperienced hands rest on my shoulders; fingers clasping and relaxing spasmodically. He's moaning as if I'm already fucking him; pushing his hips to mine, seeking for more of everything.

I stop kissing him for a moment and look at him. He seems so fucking young lying like this. His reddened mouth stays open as if that upturned, tiny nose of his can't get enough air. He looks at me with reverence. And I hate myself for what I'm doing to him.

"You're gorgeous, Stiles." I declare. Just as I expected, his cheeks turn pink. It has been so long that I've kissed someone who blushes due to a simple compliment... I'm ruining this kid's innocence; that's what I'm doing. "Truly gorgeous..."

"You're not bad on eyes either." He says, still with the same reverence. His fingers trail my cheeks. I realize he's tracing my freckles. I'd be furious if it was anyone else, but with him it feels different; it feels nice. "You know I want you, right? I want you since the first night that you told me 'no'. I just... Dean, please..."

I drag him beneath me and kiss him again. He's pliant, letting his limbs move easily, spreading up those long legs to accommodate my body between them. When I travel my mouth down on his chin to that long neck, he grunts like I'm entering him.

"Jesus…" He moans, grinding his erect cock against mine through my boxers. "Oh, God!"

"We're not in a hurry, baby" I tell him while placing little love bites around his collar bone. "I'm gonna take my time with you." I'm gonna enjoy his body for as long as I fucking can.

"I'm- Oh god! I'm okay with that plan but- Fuck! I don't think I can... I can't hold it-Fuck!"

"Don't have to. I'll get you through as many orgasms as you want." I tell him after licking a line from his neck to his right nipple. "You just let go, Stiles. I'll take care of you." I whisper against his nipple.

He's so sensitive everywhere. His nipples, both of them, not only the one I'm working on, are erect - asking for more. He's always asking for more. He's covered with goose bumps everywhere I touch. When I bite his nipple, he rises up to push himself even more into my mouth, and I just go to town on that nub. I hold his hips tightly against the bed, not letting him hump me and I suck his tiny nipples like I meant to.

He keeps his hands on my head, grabbing my hair. But, he doesn't pull me up to free his skin. On the contrary, he rubs my head to his chest. I'm sure I'm giving him a hell of a beard burn. But hey, he's asking for it. And I'm the old sleaze giving it to him.

When I'm done with his nipples, he pulls me up to his mouth and dives in. I gently suck at his tongue, keep the strong muscle sliding between my lips. He's on the edge, I can tell. One look at his dick tells me he's gonna shoot soon with or without any help from me.

"I want you to come in my mouth, okay?" I ask him.

He nods, but I'm not sure if it's because he heard what I said or it was just a blanket nod for everything I ask.

I slide down over his lithe body, putting my face right on top of his twitching, pretty dick. I might not enjoy dicks in general, but I can tell that he has a beautiful one. It's a bit on slender side just like his body. However, it's longer than you might expect from a boy of his size. The head is all dark, significantly thicker than the rest of it and glistening with pre-come. One single vein -not a monstrous looking bulging one, but a slightly visible one- is circling around the whole shaft, giving his dick a screw-like appearence.

I lick his shaft, following the vein to reach to the top. When I suck the head, sliding it pass my lips, he gurgles. His hands fly back to my head, but he doesn't push or pull. He just hangs on my hair and breathes loudly.

I don't play any more cause he's right on the edge. I suck him in slowly until his dick touches to the back of my throat. It's been a long time since I did this to anyone, so I'm a bit rusty. I cannot deepthroat him like this, not with his length, not in this position. Not that Stiles cares at the moment. I hold rest of his length tightly in my fist and hum around his dick. He blows right away. His body shakes with the power of his orgasm and he screams. Not too loud, but probably loud enough that Sam's gonna give me the stink eye tomorrow.

I hold him in my mouth until the twitching stops. Then I slide him back out, licking the head clean. He's probably too sensitive right now 'cause he pulls my hair begging for me to stop. I move up to check on him. He looks wrecked and absolutely delicious. His face is red hot and his eyelashes are clumped up with unshed tears.

"You okay?" I ask, holding his face in my hand.

"Kiss me?" He asks instead.

I lower myself slowly to oblige. He apparently bit his lips through this ordeal, they are more plump than usual. He opens up again and licks away his taste from my mouth.

"That was amazing…" He claims after few deep breaths.

"We can stop if you want." I tell him, really hoping he won't say yes.

"Hell, no!" He replies quickly. Then he whispers, barely audibly as he gestures the brown bag on top of the nightstand. "I bought lube and condoms."


"If you want. I mean-"

"Of course I do. You have no idea how much I want, Stiles. Don't you worry about me, you just... you just tell me if you're uncomfortable with anything, okay? Any time, just, tell me." I tell him while moving him on top of me, in 69 position. "You don't have to do anything, okay. Just enjoy." I tell him after removing my boxers and right before biting on where his legs meet with his ass.

He rubs his head on my dick in an effort to close his mouth. He's not successful. I don't care if he makes noise or not anymore. He looks gorgeous from this angle. His dick is half-erect, dangling down towards my chest together with his hairless balls. He smells like just soap right now, but I know I will soon reach to his essence.

I place big, wet kisses from both sides of his ass, kneading the soft flesh in my hands. He has a thin layer of peach fuzz over his butt. Hairless twink! It looks more like a girl's ass to be honest. I keep my tongue circling around his pink hole without actually touching it. And, God! He's begging with his hips. He somehow manages to take in my cock to his eager mouth. Not too deep, only the head, but that wet softness feels crazy good. He doesn't suck, can't suck the way I currently touch him, so he just holds it in while whimpering around it.

"Watch the teeth, okay?" I remind him before giving a long wide lick to his asshole. It twitching under my tongue; not too much different from yesterday. Quivering, the tight little muscle invites me in. I keep licking and sucking his hole, not giving him any time to rest.

"You can come like this, Stiles?" I ask him after a while, when I push the tip of my finger in his hole. "While I'm rimming you, while I suck your asshole, lick inside you, tongue-fuck you...? Can you come just from that?"

He keeps trying to hump my chest, but I hold his hips high to keep him still. Only the top of his dick can touch me; leaving a sticky, wet trail behind it, partly poking, partly tickling... and that in itself feels awesome. When I push my tongue into his ass, he chokes on my dick.

"Careful, Stiles. Don't forget to breathe." I warn him before continuing.

He's so warm inside - like a fucking furnace. And not having a demon threat makes it so much better this time around. I push one finger in slowly next to my tongue, feeling the rigidness of the bone next to all this smooth muscle. Damn! He's so soft! I could eat him until he comes, but I have other plans. It's been a while I had any action, so don't wanna push my stamina. I keep my finger in and reach for the tube Stiles pointed minutes ago. I pour a generous amount over my hand and keep working on his hole.

"You're gonna be so open for me that you'll just suck me right in, won't you baby?"

He doesn't reply and gurgles around my dick again when I push in the second digit. The lube isn't the edible kind so I can't keep rimming him. However, his dangling balls are not covered in lube yet so, I just let them fall in my mouth instead.

"Oh god! God! I'm gonna come if you keep doing that!"

"How many more times you can?" I ask, reconsidering my plans.

"Ummm...once, I did it five times. In an hour."

"Good then. Come whenever you want."

I use one finger from each hand to play with him; sliding them in and out, sometimes together, sometimes in opposite times, gently pulling them to the sides to open him up more. He's seriously grinding into my chest now and if he put a little bit more weight into it, he might give me cardiac problems.

This position reminds me of different activities and suddenly I just want him to fuck my mouth. I reach for one of the pillows and place it under my neck, cranking my head back, opening up my throat completely. This is something I haven't done in almost fifteen years. I still remember the panic and pain from the last experience, but somehow I crave about that feeling - the letting go of the control in such an absolute way.

"Stiles, I want you to fuck my mouth." I tell him, "Just be careful, when you come, come either deep in my throat or in my mouth; no in between."

"Oh, God!" He whimpers when sliding his delicious cock into my mouth.

He slides in and in. I can feel the way he passes through my windpipe, all slick with his pre-come and my saliva. It's good that he's not overly thick, or I would be gagging for sure. Even now, he's pushing my limits. But, God! I love this! I even love the way his balls covering my nose, limiting the air I inhale. I love the way he slides. I love the noises he makes. I love feeling him twitching in my throat, feeling the thick head of his cock opening a way for itself, forcing the soft muscles of my throat to make space. I love that I can taste him in the back of my gullet.

I use two fingers from each hand to open him now, and Stiles is going crazy on top of me. Even through all his excitement, he's so gentle that it's unbelievable. He keeps it slow and soft, or as soft as any throat fucking can be. Every time my fingers touch something special inside of him, he jerks, losing his control, he rolls his hips causing his dick to poke to the every part of my throat. He's making the most beautiful vibrations with his mouth, right on top of my dick. I can feel him drooling on me.

I'm salivating like crazy. He's fucking the saliva out of my throat, bringing out more from the depths of my body with his every thrust. It's too much for me to be able to swallow and it mostly drools out, sliding down to my eyes, to my hair. I love a wet blow job and if Stiles likes it too, it must feel like heaven for him now.

Suddenly, he pushes in with a lot more force, and then he keeps himself inside. I can feel him throbbing, feel his come leaking down my throat. He stays in for few more moments and then slowly tries to pull back. I don't let him though. I press my lips stronger and suck him on his way out. He makes some complaining noises, his fingers pressing tightly on my legs. When he's finally out, I hold him steady using my fingers inside his asshole and lick the tip of his dick.

"Please, oh, please Dean!"

I let him go and he falls like a bag of potatoes on my side. I rise on my elbows to look at him. His eyes are closed; those girly eyelashes fanning his pink cheeks. His face is so relaxed that he looks like he's melting into the bed.

"You okay?" I ask, after waiting a minute or so for him to breathe.

"Never better." He answers, finally opening his Bambi eyes. "Dude, dude this was- whoa!"

"We can stop if you want. If you're tired."

"I want you to come too." He says watching my dick with curious eyes. "I… I really want that."

I move around to face him. "I would love to fuck you now, if that's okay with you." I whisper to his ear. I can see his exhausted dick twitching from the corner of my eye.

"Yes, please." He replies, his eyes stuck to mine.

I turn his pliant body back against the mattress face down, and place two pillows under his hips. He turns his head to look at me. There is so much admiration in his gaze that I feel like I'm conning a virgin. Not so different from the truth I suppose. But, God, he looks delectable spread out like this.

I gently bend his right leg to make his ass more relaxed.

"I trust that you'll tell me if anything is too much, okay Stiles?" I ask him while putting on the condom, smearing it with more lube. "If you want to stop completely or have a breather. Just tell me. I know many other ways to enjoy ourselves if this is not okay."

He bites his lips to cover up a groan and nods. Of course he nods. I'm sure if I wanted to hogtie him and use my belt on him, he would still nod because he's desperate to please me. Because he doesn't even know what is normal and what needs negotiations. Because he probably didn't even get to the second base before all this started and he wants to compensate for his inexperience. And I should stay clear of him, protect him from perverts like me. However, that bubble butt looks so inviting, I lock the door to my conscience and lead my dick to the inviting hole.

He starts humping the pillows under him. Even after three orgasms. Jesus! He is young.

"Try to push your ass out - just like that… Good boy. Fuck, Stiles! You look so fuckable right now..."

He listens to every word I mutter, inviting me in with his every move. I hold the root of my dick and push inside him. I keep pushing slowly, until I'm snugly fit in his tight channel.

"How you feel?" I ask him while bending over to steal a kiss from his wet lips.

"Good, I'm great actually." He whimpers, his voice is controverting his words.

I don't insist, but I stay bended over a bit longer and kiss him some more.

When I pull my dick back, he makes the most beautiful noises and starts begging.

"Yes, Dean! Yes, please!"

He turns his head back to the bed and I suddenly want to watch his face. I hold his bent leg and slowly move it to the left, turning his whole body around my dick. Lying face up now, he looks at me with shocked eyes, not believing what just happened.

"Let me know if it's too much like this." I tell him while drinking the new view lying in front of me.

He places his hands on the headboard behind his head and carefully pushes his hips toward me.

"Fuck! Baby!" He continues to gently fuck himself on my dick, rolling his hips slightly. His eyes are locked with mine and I enjoy watching how his eyes burns with desire. His cock is fully erect again, gently rolling over his tight abs with his every move.

I can't hold myself steady any longer and bend over to claim his lips - those wet, bitten-red, inviting lips. He opens up easily again, letting me fuck him from both ends, with my dick and tongue. His right leg bends over my hips, pushing his heel to my ass; trying to speed up my thrusts. But, I have a different plan. While drinking his innocent kisses, I keep long dicking him; very slowly.

I know exactly when I jab his pleasure-button inside 'cause he squeezes me like a vise with a grunt. I roll my hips to push further into that same point.

"Come on, come on, Dean. Please, come on..." he begs.

"Tell me - what - you - want." I ask him, emphasizing every word with a sharp snap of my hips. "Tell me exactly what is it that you want." I repeat because apparently I can't be satisfied until I've completely destroyed his innocence.

I put my weight on his hips to stop him from moving and suck the biggest hickey on his neck to encourage him to confess.

"Dean, please, come on."

"You want me to stop?" I ask and stop everything. That is except the twitching of my dick inside him.

"No!" He claims, trying to push me up in order to be able to move his body. I don't let him though. He's powerless under me and that feeling turns me on even more.

"Then, tell me. I wanna hear it from you. I want you to talk dirty to me, huh?"

He pulls my hair to raise my head and looks right at my eyes.

"Fuck me." He says, blushing. Such a debauched pleasure I gain from his embarrassment. The pervert inside me rejoices.

"I'm fucking you, baby. My dick is right inside your asshole. That's the definition of fucking." I explain to him, while stealing little licks from his exposed neck.

"For God's sake! Don't stop? What do you want me to say? Don't stop fucking me? Fuck me harder? Faster? Let me come?"

I can't control my dick when he asks permission to come. I push into him, balls deep.

"You wanna come?"

And my smart cookie understand me very well.

"Please, Dean... Please let me come. Please, please."

I rise up and watch him writhe beneath me. His dick is purple again. I raise one of his legs to my shoulder and open the other one side ways. I start fucking him like I mean to; holding his hips to pull him against me to meet my every thrust. I keep hitting his prostate with every move. And Stiles lets it go. He's frantic, thrashing his body, trying to hold onto his dick; but I don't let him.

"Raise your hands up!" I order him and watch his submission with a twisted glee.

He keeps begging me, but I don't give him permission. His orgasm is mine. Watching his dick jumping left and right with my every thrust, I feel my own orgasm building. My balls lift all the way up and I'm ready to pop. I remove my right hand from Stiles hip and touch the top of his dick with my fingernail. I run my nails gently over his over excited organ and he gurgles. He pushes his hips up so much that he looks like he's gonna fold in two. He's going to have half-moon shaped marks on his dick, he's pressing that hard up to my hand. Then, he ejaculates. This is his third time and he hits his chin with his come, fuck! He convulses around me, twisting and screaming in bliss. He's beautiful when he comes.

I can't watch him any longer though. While he's still enjoying his afterglow, I hold him again and fuck him like there is no tomorrow. I wanna pop in him. I actually wanna come in him bareback, watch my seed leaking out of his pink, fucked out hole. I want to fill him up, destroy him and build him back again. I pull his upper body up and hug him tight. His body jumps on my lap with my every thrust, a bit like a rag doll. I bite his shoulder when I come, holding him so tight to me that I can feel his heart beating in my chest. I feel like I'm coming for hours.

After I gain my senses back, I gently let him down. I fall down next to him; don't have enough energy to even remove the condom. We both breathe deep and loud. I enjoy his warmness next to me.

After a while, he speaks with a hoarse voice, "I think you ruined my future sex life."

His words cause alarm bells to ring in my head. I jump to a sitting position and check his body for any damage.

"You alright?" I'm panicking, God damn it. The weight of what I have done to his young body fills my heart with so much guilt that I have hard time breathing.

"Dean! Calm down, please!" He holds my hands with his own; his long fingers massaging my wrists. "I'm okay, more than okay. I just..." he closes his eyes as if reciting a prayer, "This was an over the top experience. I mean, I watched porn like any young American, and this - dude, this was God-mode sex even with porn standards. No one is gonna reach to your level again. I'm gonna play in the easy-mode after you."

Even though I don't need to hear him praise my techniques; I enjoy it nonetheless. I heard it before, many, many times, form various partners. It's something I do. If Sammy - the one with the soul - heard it, he'd say something about compensating for emotional closeness or something sissy like that. I don't care what the reason is. I like to see my partners glowing after sex.

"Sex is different with everyone. It doesn't have to be like this to enjoy it as much." I tell him, sharing the years of wisdom with the recent ex-virgin.

The look he gives me says bullshit loud and clear.

"When you add your feelings in the equation, what you feel with every action is completely different." I continue, "Believe me, you're gonna have lots of great experiences. And it hurts me to say this, but you're gonna have better."

"I'll believe you when it happens." He says with a huge yawn.

I can see bruises are forming on his body. I can count my finger marks around his hips, his neck is decorated with hickeys and teeth marks. He must be exhausted. I force myself up to the bathroom and bring him a towel. He accepts it with gratitude and cleans himself superficially. Before plopping on the bed I grab a bottle of cold water to share with him. I watch him drink, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down invitingly. After everything that's just happened, he still makes me inexplicably horny.

I pull him to my chest, feeling his naked body nestled close to me. We fall asleep like that.


I wake up with a sweet soreness cruising my body. I'm half over Stiles body, my left leg is circling his hips, and my head is nuzzled close to his nape.

It must be late, the sun is way up high, shining its light through the cheap motel curtains. I don't wanna get up. Or more truthfully, I don't want to leave this bed because I know that when we step out of this room, I have to let Stiles go. I should limit the damage I inflict on his psyche. I can't let this go any further. However, when we're in this bed together, it still feels like the last night never ended.

My dick is saluting the idea - poking Stiles' ass. He responds with a sleepy grunt. If I feel sore, I can't imagine how he's feeling. I didn't go easy on him last night. I don't think I should fuck him again. I'm sure he'd say yes, but it would hurt him, for real. And, there's one thing I couldn't do yesterday and I want to do. I don't think I can let anyone else do it to me other than this scrawny kid.

I move to the bathroom to empty my bladder and use some mouthwash. I find orange juice and snickers in the mini-fridge and sit back on the bed, next to my sleeping beauty. After finishing one of the bottles and one chocolate bar, I start poking Stiles.

"'Morning, sleepy head." I wake him up while sprinkling kisses all over his back.

He slowly turns his head toward me. His eyes are barely open with crusts on the sides. And funny enough, it looks cute on him.

"Can't we sleep more?" He asks, probably using the same tone as if he were talking to his dad.

"It depends on how you want to spend your morning." I answer playfully, nipping on his shoulders.

His eyes opens up large due to my insinuation. His face lights up with a grin.


"Up to you" I tell him trying to reach his lips.

"I have a morning breath in epic proportions, dude. Let me visit the bathroom first."

I let him get up. He groans loudly when he straightens ups.

"I feel like I got beaten up all night long."

"Close enough." I joke with him, slapping his bubble butt. "Hurry up."

I lie back and start prepping myself when he's in the bathroom. There is a chance he might not wanna do it, but just in case I want to be ready. He stops frozen when he enters the room. I watch him between my knees. I watch him staring at me when I push the second finger in.

"You… you wanna bottom?" He asks timidly. His eyes focused on my fingers in my hole.

"Unless you don't wanna." I reply, trying to force another finger.

He trips on his feet and slumps on the bed, arms flailing everywhere.

"I never thought about it." He says avoiding looking at my face. I know he's lying, but I don't mention it.

"Recharge with chocolate and juice if you want. I'm almost ready."

I'm not actually ready, but I want to feel it, I want it bad. I'm not gonna let anyone else do this to me anytime soon, so I want to feel him days after this fuck.

He shakes his head and gets closer to me.

"Not hungry. Not for food anyways." He explains, his stare finally leaves my asshole and looks at my face.

He looks gorgeous. Pretty, beautiful and fuckable. And my mouth waters just looking at him. His hands comes closer to mine, caressing my legs and my butt. There is hunger in his eyes that's almost not fitting to his youth. It makes something deep in me warms up just by seeing his strong desire.

"Put on the condom?" I lead him; I can't wait any longer.

"Are you sure you're ready?" He asks while trying to open up the package. "Last night we did this part for hours for me."

"I like it a bit rough, but it won't be too much. Believe me." I stop fingering myself. I turn to face down, raising on all fours. "If you don't have any preferences, I'm voting for the doggy style." I tell him while turning my head to check his reaction.

His eyes are straight on my ass and he's drooling a bit. "I... I haven't done this before."

"It's instinctual. Just push in and then rock your hips. I'll let you know if you're doing anything wrong." I tell him, trying to keep my impatience hidden.

He nods, his face is serious with concentration; it's a cute look on him. I feel his long fingers on my hips, then his cock is poking at my hole. He pushes in so gently that I want to fuck myself back on him.

"I'm not gonna break, Stiles. You can push harder... If you want."

He breathes something inaudible and pushes himself deeper in one thrust.

God! How I missed this burning sensation, having another person in me, filling in the parts that I wasn't aware was empty.

"You can move whenever you're ready, baby" I tell him through my gritted teeth.

"Look at me, can you look at me, Dean?" He asks. I turn my head to catch his eyes. He holds on to my hair with one hand, "Make noises." He continues, "I love hearing you."

I release a grunt in order to please him. He starts rocking in and out slowly. I roll my hips to help him hit my prostate. When I feel the thick head jabbing it, I let him know with a moan. A loud moan. Stiles clutches to my hips, and finds the best position to hit the same spot again. And again. And again. I love the way his balls hit mine, the way his groin presses into my ass, the way he pulls me back on his cock.

He's fucking me nice and proper, but I'm afraid he might finish early. I want to come while he's still inside me. I try to reach my dick to bring myself to completion, but his thrusts are too strong for me to keep my balance on the soft bed. He hits my prostate in every other push and sometimes slides his dick right over it just to drive me fucking crazy.

After a while I can't take it any longer and I prop myself onto my knees, carefully keeping him inside me.

"Sit back, slowly... slowly." I order him.

He listens to me like the good boy he is and I end up sitting between his legs. He hugs me tightly with one arm around my abs and his other hand finds my nipples to tease. I'm not sensitive like him, but it still feels nice being paid attention like this. I grind my hips on his dick to pull him in even deeper. As a response he twist my nipple harder between his fingertips.

"I'm not gonna hold much longer, Dean." He whispers after a while. His voice giving out how much he's struggling to keep himself in check.

I reach under myself to hold his balls in one hand. "This should help, but tell me if it's too much." I pull his balls down in the sack, away from his body.

When I move up and down like this, I put pressure on his balls. I try not to pull too much, but his grunts tell me I'm not successful.

"You want me to let them go?"

"No, God! This feels so fucking good." He moans. "Keep doing it, don't stop."

With his permission, I start fucking myself on his dick to my heart's desire. My legs start burning, matching to the sensation in my ass. I finally reach for my own dick. With one hand I'm pumping myself to ejaculation and with the other I'm pulling Stiles' young balls to keep his at bay. Suddenly, he slaps my hand on my dick away and replaces it with his own. Those long fingers circles around nicely, pressing a bit harder on the tip. He spits on my cock for lubrication, but doesn't move his hand. He's holding his fist for me to fuck into. With each move I'm fucking myself back onto his dick, and forward into his fist. It's so good that I want to scream.

He pinches my glands and that throws me over the board. I drop my head back to Stiles' shoulder and enjoy his ministrations on my body. He keeps jacking me of softly during my ejaculation. Then, he pushes me down. My hands can't keep me up, so I let my head fall on the bed and open myself up. He doesn't take long and comes with a moan. He lies on top of me, not pulling out of my ass.

"Was this a goodbye fuck?" He asks after a while.

"Come here." I shift under him to lie down face up and pull him up on top of me. I let my fingers roam through his hair. "This isn't something we can continue." I explain after kissing him on top of his head.

"I know that. I mean even if you decided to come to home with me, my dad would definitely shoot you."


He smiles genuinely, "He hasn't had a chance to threaten anyone yet. I felt he was almost going to once - to the girl I took to the formal."

"Threaten a girl for your honor?"

"You haven't seen Lydia Martin, so it sounds obscene." He explains with a mock anger. Then, he becomes serious again, "She's really scary. And I've been madly in love with her since third grade. Madly. I had even had a 5 year plan." When I laugh involuntarily, he sighs. "I know it's pathetic. And she didn't even know who I was for the longest time."

"Are you over her now?"

"Don't know... I think she's always gonna be important to me, but..."

"You don't have to swear off women, you know." I tell him. When he shakes his shoulder, I continue, "You're my first partner with a penis in about five years."

"Yeah? So... You're what, bi?" He asks curiously, placing his chin to my chest.

"Nah, I wouldn't call myself that. I mean, most of the time I'm not interested in men at all." I bend my neck to kiss his nose, "Unless they're exceptionally good looking."

He laughs heartily and falls back to his side.

"You are aflirt."

"I'm hungry too." I declare before getting up. "Wanna share the shower?"

I watch him running after me with gusto.


Watching Stiles and his dad hugging is intense. They hug so tight that for a moment I'm afraid Stiles is gonna get hurt. Sheriff hugs him as if he wants to wrap him tight enough to protect him from the world.

During the week we passed together after the bunker, Stiles told me about his life in Beacon Hills. Honestly, it freaked me out at first when he told me how it was him and his dad after losing his mom. I was afraid to hear a story of an absent father. Later, from what he told me, I got that their relationship is not like that and looking at them, I can feel it too.

"I'm okay dad, I swear, I'm okay." Stiles keeps repeating, but sheriff is understandably frantic. "Dean saved me from them, I'm okay. Hey, Dean!" I hear my name.

Stiles is trying some sign language for what I believe means come closer. I step next to them, holding my hand for a shake but the sheriff doesn't even try it and he hugs me instead.

"Thank you, son." He says even though he doesn't look that much older than me. "Thank you for bringing him back to me."

"Don't mention it, sir." I reply. The guilt of what I had done to his son is eating me alive.

It's then that I feel the hair on the back of my neck rising. When I turn, my hand on my gun, I see a brooding young man running towards Stiles. I'm sure he's not human, but Stiles looks like he knows him. I thought the guy was going to hug Stiles too, but he stops suddenly. Listening to their conversation, I understand that he's Derek, the young alpha who Stiles was sure who couldn't find out where Sweden was on a map, let alone the Purgatory. Moments after that, someone else tumbles down to Stiles's side. This one is a kid of his age; must be Scott. They are speaking loud and without a breath. I have no idea how they can understand each other.

I focus on this Derek dude instead. The way he's looking at Stiles reminds me a little bit too much of my own stare; filled with adoration and guilt. Stiles didn't mention anything happening between them, so I guess it's only platonic for the werewolf's part. There, a monster being better than me.

The sheriff's hand hasn't left Stiles' shoulder during all this time. I don't know if I should talk to him about the danger his son is in. Or maybe I should talk to the alpha? Finally, I decide to leave that to Stiles. He might be young, but he's smart enough to ask for help. Especially when the danger doesn't concern only him.

I don't want to leave him; got used to his presence during the last two weeks. He reminds me of the innocence in this world. I'm afraid that, without him, I'd become too much of a hunter and lose my humanity. Having him around was almost like having Sammy back with me. The voice of reason and conscience. Okay, Stiles is not big on conscience like my Sammy did, but still. He's more human than what I have become after all these years in the business.

"I've got to go, Stiles." I announce, "You take care of yourself."

He leaves his father and hugs me instead.

"Thank you, Dean."

"Don't mention it, kid." I ruffle his hair, "Don't lose my number."

"Good luck, bringing your brother back." He whispers into my ear. "I'm sure you'll find a way."

I turn back after waving at the small crowd around Stiles. When I'm about to get to the Impala, I hear a young girl talking to whom I assume is her father, "I thought the Winchesters were just a myth."

This is a one strange town.