So I watched My Bloody Valentine today and, oh my word, I ship Hannstiel so, so hard! Especially the idea of Tom being the demonic, dark part of Dean that Castiel left in Hell when he gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, but somehow clawed its way out.

Anyway, this is my first attempt at Hannstiel, but hopefully there might be more to come if this goes down well! ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or My Bloody Valentine. Sob.


The soft flutter of wings calls Tom's attention from the body, broken and bloodstained by his feet, a gash cut right down her middle. He turns, wiping his hands on a rag, to face the angel. His angel. Castiel. He regards him with a smirk, smug and indulgent.

As always, Castiel gazes at him with eyes narrowed into a look of disgust and hatred, but Tom knows. Tom knows that it's all just a mask, a front to hide the arousal, the want, the need. Castiel loves him just as much as he loves Castiel, he just hasn't figured it out yet. He glances over Tom's shoulder, at the body. Pretty, little thing - not as pretty as Castiel, though - wanted to be an actress someday. The angel's big, blue eyes find Tom's green ones and Tom licks his lips, head canted to the side slightly.

"Hello, Tom," Castiel greets him, his body rigid and his tone business-like, and Tom's smirk widens into a grin.

"Hi, Castiel," Tom replies, loving the way his tongue rolls over the angel's name easily, "Was wonderin' when you were gonna show up," he says, taking a step towards him, "How long's it been?"

Castiel's gaze never leaves him and he'd be lying if he said that didn't send a thrilled shiver down his spine, to have the angel's undivided attention like this, "Not long enough," Castiel replies sharply, glaring back at him.

Tom pouts, "Aw, baby, don't be like that," he says, spreading out his hands, "If you wanted me gone, you shouldn't have saved me from that explosion down in the mines."

"You are a part of Dean and-"

"But I'm not him, though! I'm not St. Dean, Righteous Man or whatever dumb shit you're calling him these days," Tom hisses out, inches from Castiel, "I'm the thing that you left to rot when you pulled him outta the Pit."

Castiel says nothing and Tom grins.

"You wanna know what I think, Castiel?" Tom whispers in his ear, his hot breath tickling his skin and making something stir low and deep in Castiel's abdomen, "I think you saved me 'cause you know I'll give you what he won't."

He sinks to his knees then, eyes never straying from Castiel as he mouths at his half-hard cock through his slacks. Despite himself, Castiel lets out a low keening moan, his hips bucking forward instinctively, eager for more. Tom chuckles, getting to his feet.

"Knew it, baby," he whispers, teeth grazing Castiel's earlobe, "Just fuckin' knew it."

"I have to get back," Castiel says, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Tom pulls away then, walking to the dresser, his back to Castiel although he watches his angel's reflection in the mirror as he says, "Back to them? Back to him?"

"The Winchesters need me," Castiel replies calmly.

"Yeah, the Winchester brothers. Don't fuck with me, angel. You and I both know this is all about Dean, Dean, fuckin' Dean," Tom growls, smashing a fist through the mirror and the glass cracks then shatters, showering the dresser with shards and leaving his knuckles bloody.

"Tom," is all Castiel says. All Castiel can say.

Tom turns, smirk playing on his lips, "You know what? Go on back to Dean, 'cause I know you'll be back, Castiel. Sooner or later, you'll come running back - back to me - because you'll realise that he doesn't love you like I do. That he'll never love you like I do."

Castiel squares his shoulders defensively, "Dean cares about me a great deal."

Tom scoffs, "Whatever you say, angel," he hisses out, "In the meantime, though..."

With lips curved up into a grin, he picks up something from the dresser and hands it to Castiel. The angel swallows as he looks at the pink, heart-shaped box with 'Be Mine' scrawled across the front in loopy, elegant script. He knows what's inside, the blood's already seeped out through the box and stained his fingertips bright red. But Tom's watching him eagerly and so he lifts the lid carefully.

Castiel is sure to keep his features impassive as he stares at the human heart, nestled comfortably in the pink, satiny folds of the box's interior. A corner of Tom's mouth quirks up into a smile.

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby."


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