hellfirecondo: (Hungover Sam)
[personal profile] hellfirecondo
Title: The Worst of It
Author: Lily, [livejournal.com profile] annabeth_fics
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Jo
Warnings: ANGST. rapefic. evil!Sam. language. vomit. h/c.
Spoilers: BUaBS
Notes: So I was reading angsty fic by [livejournal.com profile] kroki_refur again and this is what resulted O_o Maybe I shouldn't read her angsty fic...
word count: 1472
Summary: But that's not the worst of it.
Disclaimer: Day 43. Still not Kripke.

And how high can you fly
with broken wings

~Aerosmith "Amazing"

There are certain things that are burned into Sam's brain in such a way that he just can't dislodge them. One of them is the memory of the light going out in Wandell's eyes when he slit his throat, or the way his blood felt tacky and warm on his skin. Or the fact that suddenly his body was a dead weight, all the fight gone out of it, and his eyes were staring up at Sam but they were blank and empty and therefore not really staring because how could Wandell see anything anymore after Sam had so heartlessly stopped his breathing?

Sam remembers that often in his dreams, and when he wakes up he's got a headache and his mouth's so dry he can hardly breathe. But that's not the worst of it.

There are moments when the taste of menthol cigarettes will fill Sam's mouth and he wants to gag, the memory of swinging a glass bottle directly at someone's head overwhelming and powerful and fucking sickening. But that's not the worst of it.

Sometimes Dean will turn and look at Sam just so and Sam remembers the look in his eyes when he asked Dean to kill him. The way Dean's voice broke on the words I can't. I'd rather die. Or the way it felt to take the butt of the gun and strike the back of Dean's head with it, the way it looked to watch Dean crumple to the ground, sprawled and broken-looking. But that's not the worst of it, either, because Dean can take care of himself and Sam's pretty sure he's hurt Dean worse than that emotionally.

No, Sam can't really explain why murder doesn't feel as awful to him as the other thing he did when he was possessed. Those other things are sort of muzzy, but the rest of the experience is crystal clear, like the demon Meg really wanted Sam to feel present for what he attributes as his most atrocious behaviour. Because he remembers Jo best of all.

She had looked tired, but still pretty; her hair was a little frizzy from the dampness in the air and she'd been taking beer bottles off tables when Sam came in. And Sam remembers the speech, how he trampled on her feelings for Dean, how he offered himself to her in return for telling her about Dean's silent rejection. One of the worst things about that speech, for Sam, was that it was all true -- Dean really didn't feel that way for Jo, really did think of her more as a little sister. But Sam -- the true Sam, not the possessed Sam -- would never had told her that, especially not in that manner. Or at least, that's what Sam wants to believe.

Sam remembers the exact moment when Jo started to clue in to the fact that Sam wasn't acting like himself. He remembers clearly the look in her eyes, the way her anger diffused into fear, the realisation that she was all alone with a guy who was acting like a psychopath. And then--

Sam feels sick every time he thinks about what went on after that. The way she felt when she was struggling in his arms, crying out, Sam, no, please. The way he slammed her wrist into the bar, shattering the beer bottle, and then manhandled her, rubbing her up against his erect cock, overpowering her because he was so much fucking bigger and stronger and oh, God.

And then he slammed her head against the bar and knocked her unconscious, and maybe that seems like the worst part, maybe she doesn't remember, but Sam does and Sam knows it gets much, much worse.

Sam is repulsed by the fact that at the time, Jo seemed awfully pretty, limp and unconscious, her hair a little sticky with blood, her lips pale, her eyes closed and therefore no longer accusing. But the demon Meg inside of Sam wasn't finished. Sam watched, unable to control the outcome in any way, as the demon used Sam's hands to strip Jo naked, to stretch her out along the top of the bar, and that fucking demon didn't care about the glass still strewn all over it.

Sam wants to pretend that it wasn't him, that he would never have done what he did next, that he didn't do what he did next, but Sam can't quite be sure how much was the demon and how much was himself. What if Sam really is starting to turn? What if the demon was just acting on Sam's basest, deepest desires? What if it was Sam that wanted what came next?

Jo was boneless, arms hanging off the sides of the bar, breasts bare and slack on her chest, stomach moving only slightly with her shallow breath. Sam remembers saying, it didn't have to be this way, and maybe it did, and then he dragged her off the bar and tossed her onto the floor, and Sam unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, and his cock was red and weeping and fucking ready.

Jo was dry to the touch, she wasn't easy to penetrate, but Sam remembers slicking up his cock with his own precome and using it to lube her up, he remembers how the condom in his wallet stayed there and wonders, sometimes, if Jo might have gotten pregnant.

She was tight, unbelievably so, and Sam knows that she was probably either a virgin or very choosy with her favours; either way, she felt like heaven sheathing his cock, and he plunged into her again and again, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs, gripping her slender waist deliberately hard enough to bruise.

Sam recalls the way it felt to shove deep into her body and listen to the little moans she made even unconscious, and he knows it wasn't from pleasure. After awhile she grew wetter, and Sam remembers looking down at her body, watching the way her outer lips clung to his cock as he pulled out, like her body didn't want to let him go, even though Sam knows for a fact that had Jo been conscious she would have been fighting with all her strength. But the sight of those lips, swollen and red and shining, wrapped around his cock, haunts his dreams. And then he's coming, cock jerking, spilling into her and--

Sam wakes up so hard he's in pain and he's clenching his teeth, and the dream slowly unfolds in his waking brain, and then he's bolting for the bathroom and retching, tossing his entire dinner and probably several meals before that into the toilet. He misses a little, and Dean comes into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes and yawning, watching Sam with deepening concern.

"Whatsamatter, Sammy?" he asks, and his voice is a roughened growl. He walks over and pulls Sam's sweaty lank hair out of the way, helps position Sam better over the mouth of the toilet and just strokes down his back as Sam continues to lose his dinner.

When he's finished he feels like he's thrown up his toenails and his eyes are swimming and swollen, and his mouth is so fucking sour but thank God Dean's there with a glass of water and a don't swallow, just rinse, and that's great advice because even the water on his tongue exacerbates the nausea.

Dean helps Sam stumble drunkenly back to bed and teases, I must've missed the karaoke, and gone straight to the clean-up, but Sam's too tired and wrung out and sick to his stomach to really pay attention to the joke. But his cock's still hard and he's pretty sure Dean's noticed, but his brother doesn't say anything and Sam doesn't enlighten him. There's no way he can tell Dean what he did to Jo.

He's not sure Jo even remembers. She must've noticed the bruises, maybe she was sore, but she didn't wake up till he was tying her up, and Sam's pretty sure that's a blessing.

Dean might be teasing, but he's wonderful, really, he gives Sam some aspirin and helps him lie down, drawing the blankets up to Sam's chin and sitting on the side of the bed.

"What was the nightmare about, Sammy?" Dean asks, but Sam shakes his head gently and looks away. How can he tell Dean? How can he ever let Dean know that he not only raped Jo, but that he might have liked it, that he might even have wanted to rape her long before the possession?

Because what if that's what the demon did? What if she was just playing out Sam's most secret, cruel fantasies? How can Sam know -- how can he remember -- if the desires were there before the possession?

And that's the worst of it.



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