Title: Sammy's Protector
Series: Storms in Hell Arc (Antichrist!Winchesters Verse)
Word Count: 2,514
Theme Song: Alice in Chains - Confusion (Link to song on my profile)
Warnings: graphic torture, wincest, teen!chesters, possessive/protective!Dean
Summary:At a party in the palace of Hell, Dean shows everyone the depth of his ferocity when it comes to protecting his Sammy.
A/N: Part of my pre-Footprints on Earth arc to my Antichrist!Winchester verse.
It wasn't often that there was a social event in Hell, but when there was everyone came out for it. Pandemonium earned its name with these very events. Demons teamed and streamed in and out. The roof, the balconies, the stairs, the nooks and crannies and closets; there wasn't a single place not occupied by a demon or another parasite of Hell's making.
So, obviously the Winchesters had to be in attendance. It wasn't fitting for two of Hell's most powerful creations to be absent from the festivities. John forced his boys to go and they weren't all that happy about it.
This was another one of those boring things they had to go to because the council thought it was a good idea. They would have rather watched the lightning storm that had started out over the geysers.
"Now try to have fun, boys." John said as parting words before he disappeared into the crowd leaving his sons to their own devices.
Dean sighed and looked around with a mixture of annoyance and unimpressed superiority on his sixteen year old face. There were bodies writhing against each other in the corners, piles of gyrating bodies here and there. He could see circles of demons partaking in recreational drugs and others torturing damned souls with an audience.
It was all normal entertainment for a party such as this, but Dean was not in the mood. He'd much rather be watching the storm or studying with Sam.
"Dean, do we have to stay?" Sam asked from next to him, his nose scrunched up in distaste as he watched a couple start sucking each other's blood. "This is boring."
Dean glanced down at his twelve year old brother and lifted a hand to stroke through his long shaggy hair. "We have to stay for at least a while." He answered. "Come on, I see a couple of games of poker and black jack. Let's go gamble. I'll teach you how to count cards."
It was two hours later and Sam had cleaned out the five demons he and Dean were playing. He had a nice pile of torture tools and weapons for his winnings –seeing as there was no other currency in Hell. Dean was lounging next to him with a proud smile on his face.
"How did you get so good at Texas Hold'em, Sam?" Dean drawled as he puffed on a joint and stroked a caressing hand up and down his little brother's back. "I didn't teach you that."
Sam grinned over at him as he waited for the cards to be dealt again. "I know a lot of things you didn't teach me." He said slyly as he leaned over and fitted his lips over Dean's sucking the smoke from his mouth into his own before blowing it out of his nose.
Dean's lips pulled into a grin at his little brother's actions and he slipped his stroking hand up to cup the back of his neck and pulled him in to deepen the kiss, their tongues tangling together wetly.
It was true. Sam knew a lot of things Dean hadn't taught him. And Dean had great fun discovering every one of them.
There was a clearing of a throat and the boys pulled apart to find the other demons staring at them with a mixture of desire, lust, disgust, and discomfort on their faces.
"Your move, your highness." The only blank faced demon said by way of explanation for his interruption.
Sam flashed him a smile before pulling away from his brother and taking a quick peek at his cards. His face was once again a mask of neutrality as he slid a set of fish hooks and what looked like a melon-baller to the center of the table with all the other bets.
Dean smirked and took another hit off his joint before he passed it to Sam as the bets went around the table once again. His hand had gone back to stroking slowly up and down Sam's spine, the heat of his little brother's skin soaking through his shirt to seep up Dean's arm.
He suddenly wanted to get the hell out of there and take his brother back home and lock them both in their room.
"Hey, Sammy." He drawled as he killed the joint and tossed the roach to the marble floor. "I'm going to go get a drink." He slid his hand up to cup Sam's neck once again and pull his brother to him until he could press a possessive, heated kiss to the skin just bellow his ear.
"I'll be back in a sec."
Sam turned to nuzzle his nose against Deans, a small smile on his lips. "Of course."
Dean released him and stood up from his cushion on the floor to saunter over to the fountain where the drinks poured out in continuous streams of alcohol. It was pretty much all there was at these parties anyway.
He plucked one of the overly gothic and ostentatious goblets off the table and dipped it into the spout that was spitting out some sinfully good scotch. He took a sip and almost moaned. Man, it was good to be in Hell sometimes.
On his way back to the little gamboling corner of the ballroom, Dean saw something that almost made him drop his scotch and stumble to a stop.
There was a demon -an ugly, sleazy motherfucker- crouched next to Sammy and touching him. The demon had a hand with long black nailed fingers stroking down Sam's cheek in such a proprietary way Sam might as well have been a pretty toy instead of one of the Princes of Hell.
Sam jerked away from the touch and looked at the demon with a mixture of fear and disgust on his face. That was when the blood in Dean's veins began to boil and his eyes flared with acid green light. Nobody touched his little brother, his Sammy like that. Nobody.
He was behind the demon between one blink and the next and the other demons sitting at the poker table were watching with apprehension and eagerness. There was going to be some blood, they could tell. They were thirsting for it.
"Such a pretty little boy." The demon was murmuring to an increasingly disgusted Sam. "I bet you taste so, so sweet. So good."
Sam was scooting away from the demon when he caught sight of Dean behind him and his entire posture relaxed. His big brother was here. Nothing bad could happen to him now.
"Get away from him right now and I won't carve every vein from your body with my fingernails." Dean's voice, a dead warning, sent a wave of silence through the entire room. Even the groups writhing in ecstasy in the floor had paused to watch.
The demon must have been completely idiotic, or new, because he just turned and stood with a challenging smile on his slimy black lips. He was taller than Dean by a couple inches, but that didn't mean anything. Dean was the strongest creature in that room and it seemed that everyone except this very dead fucker knew it.
Sam scrambled to his feet as well looking wary and a little bit scared, his hazel eyes flicking from the large demon to his bother. "Dean?"
His brother lifted a staying hand and Sam quieted, he'd never seen Dean like this before. There was absolutely no emotion in his expressive green eyes except rage and danger.
The demon didn't seem to see that he was definitely not the biggest predator in their stand off. "You can have him after me." He said with a gleeful grin, his long fingered hands rubbing together eagerly. "But you will have to wait your turn."
The other demons in the room twittered at that and watched enraptured by the spectacle before them.
Dean was not, however, amused at all. His eyes hardened. "Nobody touches my brother." He said, voice dead and flat. "Nobody, but me."
"Too bad." The demon sneered down at him. "I take what I want, when I want."
And that was the end of it. The demon didn't even see it coming. One second he was standing tall and towering over his opponent and the next the shorter boy had lifted a hand, face still blank with fury and he was on the ground writhing in unimaginably pain.
"I said," Dean's words echoed over the demon's screams, "nobody touches my Sam. Nobody."
He flicked his wrist and the demon was thrown to the table with the goblets. They went flying and the demon remained pinned, his eyes wide with realization and fear.
Dean just walked toward him with steady, slow steps, his gaze never leaving his prey. "You have touched what is mine. You will be punished by my hand and you will remember this lesson." He intoned, the words falling to blanket the room and thicken the air. "I am your Prince, your Lord, Dean Winchester and you have trespassed against me. You and all those that are watching will not make the same mistake twice."
The tools Sam had been gambling with lifted from the poker table and floated leisurely toward Dean. He plucked a paring knife from the bunch without turning his eyes away from his victim and made the first cut on the demon's chest, filleting his left nipple from his breast.
The demon's eyes grew wide with the first true pain he'd felt since he'd been reborn as a spawn of Hell. He started to scream and cry and beg, but Dean continued on impassively. The demon's repentance didn't touch him and Dean was making an example of him. For those that coveted his brother and had entertained thoughts of acting on their fantasies.
No one touched his brother. No one, but him.
The melon-baller, the hooks, the needles; he used them successively, carefully carving more and more of the demon's flesh away to fall in bloody heaps on the marble floor. And everyone watched in utter silence.
No one had really paid much mind to the fact that the Winchester boys were actually part demon. The other demons tended to discount them as half human and too soft, too kind to really deserve the honor of being Spawn of Hell. But this, this display of utter possessiveness, cruelty was not what they would have expected from the boys they'd all watched grow up in a realm where things did not grow.
It was unsettling that they'd all, every one of them had been underestimating this young half human boy.
Dean carved away the last strip of muscle covering the demon's rib cage and smiled. His face was flecked with blood and his eyes were glowing acid green. He shoved a hand between two ribs and gripped the heart in a tight fist before he yanked it free.
The demon began convulsing and shrieking loud enough to be heard all the way at the geysers. Dean relished in its agony.
He lifted the still beating organ so that the demon and his audience could see it. "Do you see this?" He asked in a relatively mild voice. "This is your heart that I hold in my hand. You don't need it to live, but it gets mighty uncomfortable without it beating in your chest, doesn't it?" He asked as he squeezed the organ in his fist and stared at it as if it were a particularly interesting bug.
"Dean." He glanced over his shoulder to see his father watching the display with a bland face. "I think you've made your point."
Dean's upper lip curled in a silent snarl, but he didn't turn all the way to face his father. The majority of his attention was still on his screaming victim. The sound was actually getting quite bothersome. He flicked his eyes back to the demon for a moment, "Silence," he ordered and the demon's mouth was still open, but no sound came out.
Looking back at his father, Dean tossed the heart into the air and caught it with a blood soaked hand absently. "He touched Sam," was all he said for an explanation.
"I'm aware." John answered, his eyes not leaving his son. He wouldn't admit it, but sometimes the fierce protectiveness Dean had for Sam scared him. If his eldest could reduce a demon, new and naïve or not, to a quivering, crying mass because it had touched his brother then what else was he willing and able to do when he put his mind to it?
"But it's time you finished this." John continued. "I taught you better than to play with your food."
Dean sneered at him. "I wasn't planning on eating him." He glanced back at his silenced victim. "Just torturing him a little bit."
John felt an amused smile tug at his lips. "And so you have, but I believe that you've been neglecting your brother." He nodded his head toward his youngest who'd been watching the spectacle and sipping at Dean's discarded goblet of scotch, waiting patiently for his bother to turn his attention back where it belonged.
A slightly sheepish look flashed over Dean's face before he turned his head and looked at his little brother for the first time since he'd begun his impromptu torture session. "Sammy?"
Sam gave his brother a warm smile and stood from his seat to stride over and stand in front of Dean. "It's okay. I just want to spend time with you now." He reached up with his free hand and curled it around the back of Dean's neck pulling his brother down to brush a forgiving kiss over his smiling lips.
Sam tasted blood and Dean and when he pulled away his eyes were darker and his impatience increased.
"Would you like his heart, Sammy?" Dean asked after he'd given his brother's bottom lip a tender lick, the heart beating in the palm of his hand as he held it up for inspection.
Sam flicked his eyes toward it and wrinkled his nose. "No, that's alright. I'd really rather not."
Nodding his head in satisfaction, Dean tossed the heart to land next to the demon's thrashing head. He picked up the paring knife and stabbed the organ straight through the center to the wood beneath, pinning it to the table.
"Alright, let's go home, Sammy." He turned back to his brother and stroked a bloody hand over his cheek and through his hair tenderly. Sam closed his eyes to savor the touch before opening them again and smiling.
"This party sucked anyway." He said before twining his fingers with Dean's and turning toward the doors to the ballroom.
John Winchester watched his blood stained boys saunter out of Pandemonium with their hands clasped tight and thought that should they ever truly get it in their heads to take over the throne –though it has always been rightfully theirs- that any demon that opposed them had better pray for a quick, if not painless demise.
End Sammy's Protection.