Disclaimer: Don't own - just playing in somebody else's sandbox.
Summary: Samuel understands hate, he's lived his whole life feeling it for so many different reasons, his childhood, the demon that took his mother, his father, John, the world that tried to keep him and Dean apart. But nothing he's ever felt compares to the hate radiating from his brother right now.
There was a burning running through him, anger so intense that it bordered on madness, an all-consuming hate that pulled him from his regenerative sleep.
Samuel’s eyes snapped open, his senses on alert and scanned the room expecting to see someone standing at the foot of the bed. Instead, other than him, the room was empty.
And yet the feeling of hate boiled within him, spiralling his emotions higher and higher until he was certain that someone was going to have to die to ease it.
Slowly he sat up and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and then his tattoo pulsed. Dean.
This anger, this all-consuming hate wasn’t his but Dean’s.
Quickly he pushed to his feet, cringing slightly as the wound in his chest twinged and made for the closed bedroom door.
Something was very, very wrong.
Dean was no stranger to hate, Samuel knew that. Anything supernatural, well almost anything, he amended silently as he reached for the door and caught the action reflected back at him in his peripheral vision from the mirror over the dresser to his right. He doesn’t hate me.
He could admit now, at least in his own head, that until they had gotten the binding tattoos that the cynical part of him had been worried that Dean’s affections had been a charade. A simple act to get close to him, to gain his trust and then do the job John had set for him all the years ago. And even though Dean was a proficient liar and a con man because of the way they were raised, even he wouldn’t have been able to fake his emotions enough to hide the truth from Samuel, thanks to their tattoos, if it had sickened him every time he had gotten near him.
Instead they had gone a long way to ease Samuel’s worry. All of Dean’s emotions were no longer just in his eyes, which as far as he was concerned could be faked if a person had been raised to live life telling most people whatever story was needed to either convince them to spill their secrets or keep them out of jail, but now rode the link between them. Love, sadness, curiosity, occasionally anger and, on the rare occasion, confusion had been directed at him but never hate. Not that Dean ever tried to hide that particular emotion from him but it was never directed at him either.
Nor was it now, at least he didn’t believe it was, except that this time it was so all consuming that it was difficult to tell. All he knew for certain was that it was so strong that it was possible it was going to kill his brother with the intensity of it.
He threw open the door, knowing he couldn’t let that happen. He hadn’t torn apart the world, cut ties with everyone who had ever cared for him but Dean and risked his own life facing off against his father just to lose his brother now.
With the door closed the voices had been low enough that they didn’t disturb his sleep and even now, on the upper floor of the house, he couldn’t make out what was being said but he recognized the tone.
Apparently Dean wasn’t the only one pissed off.
Quickly he moved down the hall but forced himself to take the stairs at a sedate pace. It would do him no good to go rushing into anything, especially where his brother was involved and he had no idea as to what to expect. He needed to protect Dean but he also needed to let his brother exert his own will, prove to the demons of the Legion that he didn’t hide behind Samuel. They would never fully accept him but it would go a long way in buying him some respect.
“Listen you pathetic, little meat suit...”
Then again. He thought as Dean cut off the rest of Marcus’ insult. “Who you calling pathetic?”
“I always heard you Winchesters were the best but so far I haven’t seen anything to be impressed about.”
He walked into the room just in time to watch his brother shove the taller and heavier man away from him. “Yeah? Well I could say the same. You had one job Marcus, one! Find the hunter who shot Samuel and you couldn’t even do that.”
“In case you forgot meat suit. There was a lot going on at the time.” Samuel watched the side of the demon’s face twist into a sneer. “Perhaps if you hadn’t stayed cowering by your unconscious brother and helped out, we’d have him.”
It was doubtful that even Marcus’ keen eye could have caught the subtle shifting of Dean’s body as he prepared to lunge and Samuel figured it was time to make his presence known. It was one thing for Dean to prove that he wasn’t an easy target; it was another thing to start with one of the generals of Samuel’s legion.
Pushing down the instinct to get between them, he leaned up against the door jam and cleared his throat.
In a different situation it would have almost been comical the way they both stilled and then turned their heads to look at him as one. Except that he could clearly read the lust for blood in Marcus’ black eyes and the intense feeling of hate still ran the connection between him and Dean. At least now he had a fairly good idea who his brother wanted dead.
It dug at him and solidified his worry about his brother’s emotional state when Dean didn’t instantly come over to him and prod at the wound under the gauze and wrappings circling his chest.
He forced his own concern down, he couldn’t show weakness in front of his legion either, especially if it was one as strong as Marcus was and shifted his gaze back and forth between them.
“How long was out for?”
“Two hours, four minutes.” Dean answered instantly.
It eased some of his worry, at least his brother wasn’t so far gone in his hate that his natural need to take care of his little brother had been consumed by it.
Samuel nodded slowly, “If I heard correctly, the individual or individuals who set the bombs and took a pot shot at me got away.”
Dean’s glanced flickered toward Marcus and he sneered as he fully turned to face Samuel. “Seems your boys weren’t up to the task of tracking down a few hunters. Too busy slaughter civilians.”
He pinned Marcus with his glare, “Is this true?”
Moving the survivors had been for completely selfish reasons, he wouldn’t shy away from that fact. They would be the ones to carry the truth about what had happened in this hamlet to the nearby towns and he was under no illusion that word wasn’t somehow making it from town to town under his control. But in one moment of freedom, Marcus and the demons under him had undermined him. The horrifying truth that freedom fighters had actively and with malicious, ensured the destruction of the hamlet would be lost under the greater horror that unarmed and unresisting civilians had been slaughtered by demons yet again.
Son of a bitch!
“In the confusion some innocent meat…” Marcus stumbled to a halt at Samuel’s warning glare. “Townspeople may have, inadvertently, been caught in the crossfire between us and the resistance fighters.”
Dean snorted and Samuel echoed it silently. It never failed to amaze him just how little the demons respected him. After all the killing he had done of their kind, both before but especially after he had accepted his role as their leader, that Marcus thought that by softening his voice and lowering his eyes respectfully that Samuel would believe that it had been an accident.
“Inadvertently my ass!” Dean snarled as he spun back towards the demon but before he could make a move towards him, Samuel flicked his wrist and Marcus was pinned to the wall beside the front door.
“How many are dead Marcus?” He spat as he slowly stalked forward.
The demon narrowed his eyes and glared defiantly at him. “Don’t know.”
In his mind’s eye he could see his hands on the demon’s chest pressing him harder into the wall and grinned darkly in satisfaction as the plaster cracked behind the other man’s body.
He tilted his head, “How many did you personally kill?”
He ground his teeth, “Don’t know.”
He glared at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Dean any idea?”
His brother came to stand beside him, “Can’t say.”
“Was it enough to satisfy your blood debt Marcus?”
The demon’s eyes flashed, “When this world burns the way hell does and each and every pathetic meat suit is dead, only then will it be satisfied.”
Samuel nodded slowly, not in the least surprised by the response. When it was all said and done, each and every demon only had one true goal in mind, destroy what they couldn’t have. The world of mankind would never truly be theirs, truthfully it would never truly be Samuel’s, his father had seen to that, but he would control it, with or without their help.
“So this is your reason for going against my will then.” He muttered thoughtfully, not bothering to make it a question since the answer was obvious. “I should kill you for that.”
Marcus snorted, “You could but you won’t. You’ve burned through too many of us higher-level demons. You need me to control the others.”
Dean growled in disgust, “Where was your control a couple hours ago?”
“No one was speaking to you meat suit.”
Samuel let it go when the demons referred to the humans as meat suits, knowing it was simply what they saw them as but Dean wasn’t just another human and Marcus knew it. “Watch you’re tongue Marcus.” He warned softly, “You don’t need it to do your job.”
“He slaughtered the townspeople, Sammy.” Dean spat as he continued to glare at the pinned demon. “There was an ambush waiting for you. I’d say he’s failed at every job you’ve given him so far and deserves to lose more than just his tongue. Not to mention…”
Samuel noticed the first sign of fear in the demon as he jumped in quickly to cut Dean off.
“Who said it was my job to ensure that this town was clear?”
His brother turned to look at him, “Was it?”
“His and Andy’s.” He admitted low, for the first time realizing that he hadn’t seen Andy since they had arrived in town. In hindsight he was pissed off with himself for forgetting about one of his father’s special kids but he had been more concerned with Dean’s expected freak out and planning how he was going to deal with the surviving townspeople. “Speaking of Andrew. Where is he Marcus?”
He wasn’t stupid, something more than not clearing the town and killing civilians had happened while he was out. Something that had driven Dean to the black hate he was radiating now. Samuel wanted to know what it was and if it had something to do with Andy’s absence. And he wanted to know now.
“He went to check the outskirts of the town one last time shortly after you called to say you were near the town limits.” He allowed slowly, “He took a couple demons with him.”
Suspicion settled heavy in his mind, perhaps it was only coincidence that there had been an ambush where there shouldn’t have been and Andy was missing. Not that Samuel suspected Andy of being involved in it, out of all the surviving special kids; he was the one that Samuel trusted most. He was too weak to control the demons on a mass scale and too scared of Samuel to side with any of the others against him. Or at least he seemed to be.
“Have the demons he took with him returned?”
It was looking less and less like Andy had any hand in the ambush. The unfortunate reality was that that probably meant that he had either been killed or taken by the hunters. Somehow he didn’t think he’d been taken.
Andy might be weak in comparison to the rest of the special kids but he was still powerful compared to regular humans.
Demons he could sacrifice, there would always be more, but special kids, especially kids he could easily control, was a very limited supply. I should have just let Marcus and his crew take this hole apart. He thought darkly.
He had let his eyes drift while trying to weigh the cost of losing Andy verses the gain he might receive from moving the survivors to other towns, especially after Marcus’ impromptu hunt but he still caught the demon glance towards Dean and smirk at him. He didn’t need to hear his brother’s answering growl to know that he was still missing something.
It was instinct alone, from years of learning all of his brother’s subtle tells, that had his arm shooting out and grabbing Dean’s bicep to stop him from lunging at the pinned demon. He didn’t do it to save Marcus any pain but something else had happened while he was out, something that was driving Dean mad with his hatred. He could practically taste his brother’s desire for the demon’s death.
The muscle beneath his tightly clenched fingers rippled as Dean tensed but appeared to fight down the urge to pull away and Samuel’s demon half responded to it.
He swallowed down a moan, reached out and ran the tips of his fingers of his free hand along Dean’s clenched jaw, not surprised that his demon half was aroused by his brother’s murderous intent. He forced his need down and focused instead on his desire to know exactly what it was that was driving the black hatred that was riding the link between them before he lost Dean to it.
He allowed his human side to rise a little, just enough to calm his own need to rip and tear his answers out of both of them and pulled until Dean’s back was pressed against his chest.
“What happened while I was out?” He breathed into his ear while pinning Marcus with his glare.
Other than his heaving chest as he tried to contain his anger, Dean was still against him. “Other than his monumental fuck up in ensuring this town was safe for you?” He spat.
“It wasn’t just my responsibility…”
“What else?” He asked softly, unmindful of his fingers caressing across his consort’s chest.
Surprisingly Dean’s already tense body snapped tighter. “While you were unconscious…”
“I’ll kill you.” Marcus snarled and for the first time since Samuel had pinned him to the wall, he began to struggle against the power keeping him there.
“Silence.” Samuel commanded and smiled maliciously when the demon’s growling and snarling instantly cut off, even though his mouth still moved. “Go on.” He beseeched softly, nose pressed against the curve of his brother’s ear.
It served a dual purpose, he wanted Dean, wanted him now thanks to his Demon side but it was also as a bid to try to get him a little distracted for his consort’s sanity. Anger that black, hate that intense, was not healthy.
The movement of his hips pressing back against him was probably unconscious, “And all hell had broken lose, everyone else was running all over the place, demons and townspeople alike. Except for Claudia, the hunter, she was standing in the same spot that she had been in when everything started.”
Dean twisted his head and met his gaze, “She was laughing, thinking you were dead. I shot her.”
He felt a cross between shock and elation course through him. His brother had shot a human being and not just any human but a hunter.
He managed to tamp his feelings down but not before he saw something flicker in Dean’s eyes and knew he had felt it. “And?” He pressed, hoping to forestall the freak out he was sure would come.
“He,” he turned back to face Marcus and jutted his chin towards the demon. “Came stomping over, whining about his blood debt. I told him you’d been shot and I could see that he was considering finishing you off himself.”
It didn’t surprise Samuel in the least and if he had had time to think about it when he had woken up, he would have foreseen this revelation coming. But Dean didn’t understand the way of demons yet, didn’t know that to rise in the ranks, it wasn’t experience but taking out those above you that did it.
If further surprised him that he was actually still breathing and knew that he had Dean to thank for that. Therefore he would leave what was to happen to the demon in Dean’s hands, not that he had any disillusion as to what Marcus’ fate would be.
“What do you feel should be done to him for his transgressions my consort?”
He watched Marcus continue to struggle, watched his black eyes lose their shine as he tried to centre his power to use to break free and swallowed down a laugh. It was useless, he had a fallen’s power, his father’s, and even if the demon was strong, he was still only a demon.
“What I want is him dead.” Dean hissed, “But since that’s not possible then I want him back in hell for as long as possible.”
Samuel chuckled and raised his right hand, palm out. “Who told you it wasn’t possible.”
He tilted his head so that he could watch Dean eyes as he traced the outline of Samuel’s arm to his hand.
“Sammy?” He whispered softly but there was excitement coloring his voice and threading through his hatred along their link.
Samuel shifted his eyes back to stare at the pinned man and imagined grasping the oily black smoke writhing within. He pictured his own power sliding down his arm to curl around his fingers and thread through the black ooze.
Marcus’ head snapped back and his mouth opened on a silent scream.
“Sammy?” Dean whispered low.
“Watch.” He breathed and slowly began to curl his fingers inward to make a fist.
Bright flashes of reddish gold light, almost like small bursts of lighting, danced up and down the body of the man Marcus had decided to ride as Samuel’s power began to rip the demon’s essence apart. He grinned darkly at the display as the body inadvertently jerked within his hold and his head whipped back and forth.
He curled his fingers into a tight fist and flicked his wrist sharply.
The power within him responded immediately. With a loud crack that echoed through the near silent room, save for Dean’s heavy breathing and Samuel’s controlled breaths, the man’s head dropped forward to hang awkwardly to the side as his eyes rolled up and the power dancing along the body faded away.
“Jesus Christ.” Dean murmured, awe tinged with fear loud in his voice. “Marcus is…?”
“Dead.” He confirmed easily and let his arm drop to curl around Dean’s waist, uncaring as the body fell to the floor with a hollow thump.
His brother rested against him, “How?”
The first tendrils of worry started threading through him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to show Dean but he wasn’t ready for the conversation he was sure was going to follow. “I pictured tearing him apart and it happened.”
“Demons can do that to each other?”
He snorted, “Obviously.”
Dean twisted in his arms until he was facing him, “I…I…holy shit Sammy! I knew you were powerful to be able to control Hell’s legion but,” he shifted uncomfortably and glanced away while worrying his bottom lip.
This was exactly what he had been concerned about, Dean might claim to be his and willing to accept him for who and what he was. But Samuel was a different person than the man he once was and perhaps that was finally sinking into his brother’s head, just how different. An almost debilitating sadness began to well up in him, drowning out his demon side, “But?”
Fear slithered along the link between them helping to dull the constant burn of hate that was still curling with his brother. “I kind of thought that it was fear of Azazel that truly kept the legion in line.”
Irritation flashed through him and he fought to tamp it down. No matter what he had accomplished, before or after his fall, no matter that he controlled the legions of Hell, he would always be the little brother. Which meant in the eyes of his older brother, he would always need someone to help him along. Three little words would dispel that myth but he hadn’t shared that particular revelation with anyone yet and wasn’t ready too.
Instead he released his tight grip on his emotions and felt Dean stiffen against him as his annoyance rode the link between them.
“Sammy.” He muttered low, his voice not quite apologetic but as close as he was probably going to get.
“One day I’m going to explain a few things to you.” He swore quietly and worked to let his irritation fade. “But for now we have more pressing matters to deal with.”
Dean’s inherent curiosity peaked and he raised a questioning eyebrow. “Such as?”
“Such as,” he pulled Dean with him as he walked backwards away from the stench of death that was starting to become overwhelming as it began to emanating from the corpse. “I get the hate coming from you for Marcus…”
Samuel’s tattoo pulsed at the mention of the dead demon as Dean’s jaw clenched and he sneered.
“Yeah that.” He tightened his left arm around his brother, to indicate the tattoo on his wrist as he settled his back against the far wall of the living room. “But he’s dead, brother mine and yet you’re still practically vibrating with your hate. Why?”
Dean grabbed his hip with his left hand and squeezed tightly while he lifted his right to rest lightly against the gaze pad over his heart. “Someone tried to kill you Sammy.” He hissed low, his voice dark.
He actually pictured knocking his head against the wall at his back. He should have known that Marcus wasn’t the only one he was after. It was kind of a reassuring to know it though and went a hell of a long way to easing the little fear he still harboured that Dean was only with him biding his time waiting for the perfect opportunity to kill him. Somehow he didn’t think that his brother could fake this kind of hate towards another person, especially someone who had tried to kill him, if his ultimate plan was to take Samuel’s life.
He couldn’t help the little self indulgence, “And?”
“And I want to find him.” He snarled low, his fingers twitching against his chest. “And kill him.”
He managed to swallow down the smile but knew that some of his glee leaked through their link.
Dean’s eyes narrowed in response and he growled softly, “You make fun of me for this demon boy and I’ll kick your ass. Don’t think I missed you turning away from the crowd this afternoon. You knew there was an ambush the whole time.”
His fingers clenched in the gaze pad but he didn’t yank it away. “You risked your life for what?” He demanded, “For a chance to catch more hunters? It was a stupid risk!”
His brother’s fear and anger slammed into him and he had to take a breath, so intent on not letting his seething hate drive his demon side to acts of blood lust that he wasn’t prepared for it.
“It would have been foolish not to expect an attack.” He slid his hands under Dean’s t-shirt and rubbed along the small of his back, trying to soothe him. “But I didn’t know for certain. I caught a flash of light out of the corner of my eye and I turned to see what it was.” He shrugged, “I’m not omnipotent Dean, one minute I was expecting an attack regardless that I had been assured that there was no one laying in wait for us and the next I was waking up.”
He remained still and tried to keep his face as open as possible while Dean searched him for the truth.
Finally his brother’s tense body relaxed slightly, “No more grand gestures then.” He warned low. “You’re right, you’re not omnipotent. From now on, you want to address a crowd, then you do it in a more control environment.”
A part of him wanted to rebel and demand who his brother thought he was but culled the urge. He knew who Dean was, big brother, protector, lover. He had a right to demand certain things and in his consort’s mind, any way to protect him was within his right.
He nodded, once, acquiescing, “What else would it take to calm you?”
There was no hesitation in his response, “The shooter’s head on a platter.”
He grinned, not really surprised by the answer but pleasantly pleased all the same. He believed that if Dean wasn’t there to kill him then one of the main reasons that he had agreed to become his consort was because somewhere in the back of his mind, he was harbouring the hope that he could convert him. What he didn’t seem to realise was that with every step he took, every thing he agree to, like accepting that the hunter and the two murders needed to be sacrificed to Marcus and wanting to hunt his former allies, brought him closer and closer to Samuel’s side. And who would Samuel be to deny that?
But there was one thing left to be done before he could indulge his brother.
“There are still some survivors?”
Dean snorted, “Maybe half of what there was this morning.”
Half? It seemed Marcus had had himself a good time while Samuel was indisposed of, but he wasn’t the only one. It appeared that there were a few more demons that needed to be culled from the herd.
“Where are they?”
Samuel pushed away from the wall and gently pulled away from Dean’s embrace. “Come on, I need to find a shirt and then we have to go see to them. Get the relocation I promised underway.”
He turned and stared back down the hallway towards the stairs.
“Wait. You’re still going through with it?”
He didn’t want to, there was the potential for it to all blow up in his face thanks to Marcus and the others but he had promised Dean that if his brother didn’t fight him handing over the three conspirators to the demons that this is what he would do. And as much as he rather renege on that promise and would have if it had been made to anyone but Dean, he nodded as he started up towards the second floor.
He heard his brother start to move towards the stairs.
“And then, once that’s taken care of, we have a hunt to start.” He tossed over his shoulder.
Samuel grinned darkly as grim satisfaction slid to him through their link, even if it was tempered with caution.
He stepped into the bedroom and headed towards his duffle bag at the foot of the bed. Gingerly he grabbed it and dropped it on the bed.
“We need to see if we can find out what happened to Andy.” He looked over at Dean, leaning against the doorframe. “And see if we can’t find a trail for my would be assassin.”
Dean’s eyes darkened and his hate burned bright in both his eyes and the link. A cruel smirk slid onto his face, “I’ve missed hunting.”
Samuel turned his face away and started to dig through his bag, grinning, darkly, for his own selfish reasons.
One step at a time.