Lost Months - What Evil!Sam Did on his Summer Vacation Meme

[pushkin666.livejournal.com]

 

 

So, welcome all to the LOST MONTHS - What evil!Sam Did on his Summer Vacation Meme 

"Time waits for no man and hell is not renowned for it's patience.  Supernatural may be on hiatus, but that's no reason for the boy king to rest on his laurels.  With season four rapidly approaching, we need to know.  Just what has Sammy been doing with his summer vacation?"

Warning:   There are likely to be spoilers here for the end of Season 3 but I would hope most people have seen it by now.

This isn't just about Evil!Sam but also can be about  Possessed, Dark or just plain Bad Sam .

This is also an open meme so it can be gen, het or slash, and is more than likely going to have wincest in it, so if that squirks you probably best to steer clear.

However, we hope that you enjoy this and give us your ideas of what you think Sammy has been doing on his Summer Vacation.

**************

 When posting  please provide rating, and if a pairing what it is
 

Comments

Owned, Sam/Dean, R

[pushkin666.livejournal.com]

Owned. Like a pet. A pet at the side of his brother's throne. A throne resting upon the bone ground floor of hell.

Dean kneels on the velvet cushion, keeping still and silent. Not that he has a choice.

"Although his tongue had uses ..." Sam told him. "He was sick of hearing Dean bitch and whine about his position, and the time he spent in Hell waiting for Sam to rescue him."

That was before Sam cut his tongue out. Sam's eyes shining as he listened to Dean's cries, drank in his pain.

Sammy was the last word that Dean spoke.

Even though Sam entered Hell to save Dean it was for his own benefit. Now he is master over Earth and Hell and Dean is owned. The months Sam spent apart from Dean has brought his power to the fore and now he controls it, controls those around him. The Boy King has come into his own.

Dean is a trinket to be shown off but he's also a warning to the demons. If Sam can enslave and mutilate his brother what will he do to the rest of them?

Re: Owned

[siubhlach.livejournal.com]

I love your evil!Sam. He's so bad.

Verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry nice

Re: Owned, Sam/Dean, R

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

*cries* ugh with the tongue-cutting. But nice touch with Sammy was the last word that Dean spoke.

*shivers delicately* I... well, not like, but you know, it's good. And evil.

Re: Owned, Sam/Dean, R

[tahirire.livejournal.com]

I was trying to read the ficlet but I kept getting distracted by your icon. O_o

Well done, very ... evil. *shudders*

Poor ... everyone.

Re: Owned, Sam/Dean, R

[eboniorchid.livejournal.com]

Goddamn, that's twisted and wrong but kinda pretty in a wrong way, 'cause I just love evil!Sam, even when he's a very mean brother. Ah sigh.

Re: Owned, Sam/Dean, R

[passionstorm.livejournal.com]

*hisses, but in a good way* Damn.

The tongue cutting and the whole pet thing to begin with. Jeez. Dark and twisted. Lovely.

Re: Owned, Sam/Dean, R

[poemwithnorhyme.livejournal.com]

Mmmm...just great! Even with the dastardly tongue-cutting, XD

Re: Owned, Sam/Dean, R

[tazzles.livejournal.com]

I love when you write Evil!Sam. Love that Dean's last word was Sammy (although, what else could it be? ;) ) and that Sam was evil enough to be able to hurt Dean. Kinda hot in a scary fashion.

Three drabble series: Black, White, Red (Gen, PG-13)

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

Black

Sam wakes up in the point zero of unspeakable loss. His eyelashes are glued together with soot, his palms raw and blistered. The power is still rolling under his skin in waves.

Everything is black and charred; trees and cars and porch swings, rivers of pitch where the roads used to be. The skeletons of houses stand like soldiers in a battlefield; already dead but refusing to fall.

Beside him, Dean lies whole and untouched as if sleeping. Sam picks him up and starts walking.

There are bodies amongst the wreckage, burned beyond recognition. Sam passes them without a glance.




White

Winter is thick on the ground when Sam wades into the field. All he needs is privacy and some time; the location doesn’t matter. Hell is everywhere.

Sam sees it everyday in the pale unmoving features of his brother, the fragile transparency of his skin.

He is making a doorway of bone and blood, forcing his way in with stone symbols and sulphur and grief sharper than the knife in his hand.

Dean is not dead. Dean is not alive. Sam is whatever he needs to be.

There is no pain, only relief. Around them the snow turns rapidly pink.



Red

Hell is grey and dizzying like sleet in the Impala’s headlights, full of shapes that twist and tear.

Amidst the shifting shadows Sam burns, like a beacon in fathomless night. No one can touch him, no thing can stand in his way. His blood cuts a path like a scythe, streaming down his face and arms in crimson rain.

It’s the price of love; humanity bleeding away drop by drop.

Sam hears Dean’s heart clearer than his own now, feels the beat of it in his chest. Ahead there’s a fire that matches his, a soul big enough for two.

Re: Three drabble series: Black, White, Red (Gen, PG-13)

[pushkin666.livejournal.com]

Oh shivers. I love these, particularly the first one although I'm also partial to the blood imagery on the last one as well.

Re: Three drabble series: Black, White, Red (Gen, PG-13)

[tahirire.livejournal.com]

OOOOH. I like them all. :-)

Torture and all that is fun and everything, but I like to think that if Sam goes darkside, he still wouldn't ever hurt Dean. So I really enjoyed these.

If other people get hurt in the process ... well, I guess I'm ok with that. :-)

Re: Three drabble series: Black, White, Red (Gen, PG-13)

[eboniorchid.livejournal.com]

This is gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous. I really love the imagery with the skeleton houses, snow turning pinking, and blood like a beacon like a scythe cutting through the darkness. *draws dark sparkly hearts*

Re: Three drabble series: Black, White, Red (Gen, PG-13)

[passionstorm.livejournal.com]

Beautiful, all of them. Well done!

Re: Three drabble series: Black, White, Red (Gen, PG-13)

[siubhlach.livejournal.com]

Oh, hon, you shame me. These are just gorgeous. I love the imagery; beautiful and disturbing all at once. Very nice!

Re: Three drabble series: Black, White, Red (Gen, PG-13)

[poemwithnorhyme.livejournal.com]

Oh, I love how you write! It throws you into the world, makes you feel it, just wonderful!

Gen - Ice Cream Parlour, PG

[pushkin666.livejournal.com]

Sam pushes the last of the containers into the cupboard and closes the door.

He stands and groans softly at the pain in his back. Who would have thought after everything he'd done over the last few years, and particularly the last few months since Dean was dragged into Hell that running an ice cream parlour would be such hard work.

Granted this wasn’t just any ice cream parlour. This was the best goddamn ice cream parlour this side of hell. He looked around in satisfaction at the gleaming tables, normally filled with demons; chatting, eating ice cream and wanting to be in the presence of their new lord.

Out of all of the things he'd demanded from them after entering Hell and agreeing to lead against Lilith, allowing them to bring theirs and now his Apocalypse to the Earth this was not something the demon generals were expecting.

Oh he requested the standard things. Dean, sane and unbroken at his side. Bobby and some of the other hunters to be allowed to go free and unmolested.

Vengeance against Lilith and any other that harmed his family.

But never in their wildest imaginations had they though an ice cream parlour would be on Sam's list.

Sam looked over the counter to where Dean sits happily eating a multicoloured chocolate covered ice cream concoction.

Most people would never know but Sam has always had a deep unhealthy lust for ice cream. Oh most of the time he eats as healthily as he can, unlike Dean. But he loves ice cream. Has done ever since Dean took him to his first ice cream parlour when he was just a small boy. He'd been wide eyed, captured by the look of the ice cream, the sauces and toppings. His love and lust stared there and it has never waned.

At Stanford the freezer in his and Jess's apartment was always full with tubs of different ice cream, a lot of them home made. The sex after Jess bought him his own ice cream maker had been ... phenomenal and she'd not been able to walk properly for a couple of days after.

So yes, this is something he's always wanted, that's lurked at the back of his mind. A wistful dream of an ice cream parlour filled with so many flavours and toppings that your mind would swim trying to remember them all.

If he can't have it when he runs Hell when can he? So here he is the proud owner of the only ice cream parlour in Hell. A souvenir left over from his summer vacation.

Sam takes off his apron, fill a bowl with ice cream and another with cherries and walks over to join Dean.

"Here," he says putting the bowls on the table. Sits down.

Dean glances up at him and smiles, before reaching for the cherries. Sam was at first amazed at how well Dean dealt with Sam taking over Hell but then he figures the months Dean spent there had ... calmed him down a bit. Dean had shaken his head and slapped Sam around the back of the head when he saw the ice cream parlour for the first time, but Sam knew that Dean understood. That this was something they'd shared between them, a remembered colour from the often greyness of their childhood.

Re: Gen - Ice Cream Parlour, PG

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

Hee! I like that. It's sort of fluff in hell... Also, of course Sam secretly dreams of running an ice-cream parlour. This explains so much.

Mile-Marker | Evil!Sam/Dean | R

[saavikam77.livejournal.com]

My first Evil!Sam fic. I... think I like this... ^_~

* * *

This wasn't the first body Sam had disposed of since Dean had been savagely ripped away from this world. Wasn't the tenth. Wasn't even the hundredth. Sam had lost count somewhere between two-fifty and two-eighty. And that was probably a good five hundred ago. Not that he cared.

In fact, Sam had stopped caring with the first neck he'd snapped. Damn them. Damn them all for daring to come between Sam and his brother/lover/soul-mate/everything. He'd have gladly torn the entire population of the northern hemisphere limb from limb if it mean getting Dean back.

Armies of hunters/demons/witches had tried to keep him from Dean, and armies had failed. In the end, they all wound up dead, their blood adding its stain to Sam's hands, browned with the constant washing of it.

What was better, he'd found that he liked it, after a few dozen killings. Of course, the seeds for that revelation had been sewn long ago, but it took the breaking of the last vestiges of his humanity for him to see and realize his full potential. Dean's death hadn't just been their tragedy, it had been his personal salvation.

Once he managed to cut his way through the armies at the gates of Hell and reclaim his brother, his throne would be waiting for him to claim it as well, the Legions of the Underworld ready for him to command them. Dumping this nameless, faceless body was just a stepping stone, a numberless mile-marker on the road to his destiny.

* * *

Re: Mile-Marker | Evil!Sam/Dean | R

[pushkin666.livejournal.com]

For a first evil!Sam fic that's fantastic and it sounds like something that could happen as well, if Kripke loved us that is.

And the last line is a killer.

[specialagentldy.livejournal.com]

Damn, poor Dean!

[pushkin666.livejournal.com]

well you know ... Let's be honest Dean can get awfully annoying at times.

[pushkin666.livejournal.com]

*shivers*. Love this line He’s Azazel’s own son by thick, scalding blood, and it leaves him with power like dark smoke shifting restlessly inside him.

Forsaken, Sam/Dean, R

[siubhlach.livejournal.com]

Since the first one I wrote is over 2,000 words and needs a readthrough before it gets posted, lets just go with this one for now. Written for the prompt "Forsaken"


He never meant for this. He just wanted to save his brother. He just wanted Sam to live, to have all the chances and choices he’d been denied for so long. He’d never thought, never considered, never imagined what it would do to Sam. How Sam would feel every single day knowing that Dean was in hell. Knowing that Dean was suffering, screaming, dying a thousand deaths over and over again.

He’d never realised how much he meant to Sam.

He realises it now. Sam brands it into his skin every day; sometimes with sharp blades that slice and paint into his skin, sometimes with bruising fingers that leave dark marks blooming against Dean’s pale skin, sometimes just with words, sharp consonants and soft vowels imprinted onto a trembling hip or a fluttering pulse that cut deep with invisible wounds.

Dean welcomes them all. He deserves everything Sam gives him.

And Sam gives him everything and more. He’s a coiled serpent, deceptively calm but fast and deadly when he wants to be. Since the day he marched into hell with his eyes blazing and energy snapping round him like electricity, since he obliterated Lilith with little more than a heated look and a flick of his wrist, since he forsook the light to embrace the dark in a single-minded quest to reclaim his blood, he has denied Dean nothing.

That’s not difficult. Dean doesn’t ask for anything.

He gives though. Whatever Sam needs him to be, anything Sam needs him to do, he never questions. He’s turned his back on everything they ever were and anything they had the potential to be to follow his brother down the path he’s chosen. He kills for Sam, he hurts for Sam and he corrupts for Sam. He’s betrayed old friends and abandoned old loyalties without so much as a second thought.

Anything to make Sam happy.

They’re not like they were. Before they were brothers. Before they were equals. Now…now, Dean belongs to Sam. His will is Sam’s and Sam uses it. His mind is Sam’s and Sam manipulates it. His body is also Sam’s and Sam takes that. He lays claim to Dean with hot lips, tight fingers, sharp teeth and a slick tongue and Dean lets him. He welcomes the aches and the bruises; he craves the weight of Sam’s body pressing him against a bed, a wall, the floor. He lives for the intimacy, the sharp and clear moment of connection when Sam’s world narrows to nothing other than Dean.

Dean’s world has never been about anything other than Sam.

This is what they are now. Dean sacrificed salvation for Sam. Sam forsook salvation for Dean. They’re both eternally damned.

But they face damnation together.

Re: Forsaken, Sam/Dean, R

[tahirire.livejournal.com]

*gapes*

This ... is made of awesome. *thud*

Acceptance, Bobby,Sam, PG-13

[tahirire.livejournal.com]

Today's the day. You can feel it in your bones.

You suppose you oughta get ready somehow, call somebody or somethin', let 'em know you ain't gonna be around anymore - but there's no need, really. They'll all know what happened to you - if any of them are still alive to care.

So instead you just wait inside your overstuffed living room, like a caged animal. You could run but it just ain't in you. You don't even sit under the Key, and you wonder just what made you decide to offer up your life like a dog.

The sky got dark a couplea hours back, and you guess that's when you knew for sure he'd be comin', but really, you knew it the second your hand closed around the barrel of the Colt. The moment you took it from the hunter who died trying to keep its location secret.

That poor bastard had no idea you'd turn right around and hand it to the one person he'd hoped would never find it.

Truth is, you'll give it to him when he arrives. You'll hand it over without a second's hesitation, no matter how much of the country has burned, no matter how much innocent blood he's spilled in his frantic search.

You'll give the Colt to Sam, even if he kills you for it.

Because no matter what Sam's become, you know what he's trying to do. You know what it feels like inside to lose your family, and even if you ain't a damn Winchester, not really, that boy is your kin plain and simple, and truth is, you got hurt almost as bad as he did when Dean was ripped away.

Hell, if you had that kind of power, you'd probably be out there doin' the same damn fool thing the boy is doin'.

When he shows up, he doesn't talk to you, he just holds out his hand. Ozone leeches the oxygen out of the air around him, and you can't help but see the darkness creeping through the whites of his eyes, but you don't care.

You hand it over, and his hand burns you, heats the gunmetal red, but you don't say anything. You just look him in the eyes, tryin' to tell him best you can that you understand, even if it ain't O.K.

Even as your blood runs red across the worn boards of the floor, you hope he makes it. Because if Sam saves Dean, then maybe - just maybe - Dean can save Sam, too.

Good luck, son. Be careful.

[spae.livejournal.com]

It's not something he's proud of; the ease with which he slides toward damnation now that Dean isn't there to stop him - now that Dean's damned.

What can redeem Dean now? He sold his fucking soul, damn him. It's not like that actually looks good on the resumé ... and doing it for Sam, so Sam can be in this craphole where Dean isn't, so Sam can live, when Dean's suffering eternal damnation ... for Sam.

Fuck that.

It's not right. It's not the most sane Sam's ever been. It's the most fucking determined though.

He'd thought losing Dean via Trickster was bad. He couldn't really remember that now.

Sam gives Bobby the slip, breaking out of the D-cuffs and triple-sealed room the man had locked him in, slashes his tyres and leaves in the only working vehicle left on the lot.

He doesn't know where he drives to, but when he stops he knows this is the best place. And then Sam opens his mind.

Darkness bleeds out of him until he can see beyond the world he's always known, until he just knows where Dean is and he wants him back.

Dean's alone. Naked and alone and in pain. He's hoarse, and broken. One day is like a thousand, after all. He's seen no one and nothing all this time and all his thoughts are bent on eiter pain or what he could have - should have, would have - done, had he time over again ... Dean hates himself, and the one good thing he had is gone, long gone - and although it's almost lost all meaning, he screams "Sammy!" defiantly into the void, mourning his own loss, but fighting it with all he has. Where are these 'rulers in hell' he heard so much about, with their petty threats back when he was alive? He's just so impotent here ... nothing to rail against, nothing to fight ... nothing to fight for. He screams again, just because. And then the void looks back.

Sam can see him, and there's a split second where everything is just wrong as Sam folds space and time, and then it's back, except Sam has three things he didn't have before.

He has one naked, broken Dean.

He has one enraged Lilith.

And he has a kiss to take back.

In two strides, he's between Dean and her, wrapping Dean in power as he uses that same darkness to draw Lilith in.

The air stinks of sulphur and ozone, crackling around Sam as he draws sigils in the air with his mind. They hang there for a moment, before he moves Lilith into them, burning them onto her until her eyes dim and she quakes.

"Mine, bitch," he whispers. "You had some fucking balls." And then he kisses her.

And whatever physical form she had falls apart. Dissipates into the ether wihout recourse to oily black smoke. Just gone. And Sam wonders if now it's time to draw that darkness back in, seal it back inside where it lived before ...

Sam turns back to Dean's unconscious form, and he picks him up.

Dean's eyes open and struggle to focus; panic in them and his abortive movements.

"Mine," Sam growls to the things he can see beyond - watching like jackals. And though Dean relaxes in his arms with a sigh, one hand gripping the front of Sam's hoodie, they don't back off.

"Mine," he says again, and his darkness flares wider, burning those who come too close until the rest cower and retreat further ... seems like he'll need to keep it a while longer, at least ...

[tahirire.livejournal.com]

OOh. Can we have this for real? Please? *makes puppy eyes at Kripke*

XD

Catalyst Sam/Dean R for dark visuals, I suppose

[passionstorm.livejournal.com]

Catalyst.

His brother's screams mingled with his own as the bitch watched on. Scalding power, so hot he prayed it would seal his soul to his brother's and send them both spiraling into the Pit.

But every day he wakes to emptiness, physical and emotional. Some days he catches his hand sliding to the other side of the bed, reaching for someone that will never be there again. Months go by and the old habits don't fade, they burn him from the inside and eat at whatever humanity he has left. The humanity, the fragile innocence that was Dean's to protect. But his brother is long since dead, a year and a failed attempt at resurrection behind him.

Sam stands at the Gate, eyes blackened and the smell of ozone lingering around him. He doesn't need the gun that the hunters destroyed weeks back to get into Hell. He's Azazel's son by blood and it's enough. The doors come down at a crash of thunder and his own earth shaking roar.

Hell hath no fury like his and he'll draw every demon's cries to him in an unholy chorus to sate the dark blood coursing hotly through his veins. Some try to flee from the carnage they realize is going to befall them, but none do. His power grows with every one that is torn asunder and his body thrums with the glory of it.

Descending into the very heart of the blackness that worms it's way into your being, he finally comes upon a guard standing between himself and his prize.

"Move away." it's a boom in the murky pitch that swirls about them.

A laugh from the figure that stands to it's full height and towers over the younger Winchester. "Many have tried to take the Master's prizes over the ages. Who do you think-"

He's cut off by a charred hand reaching out from a cell made of chains and rotting corpses still twisted in their death throes. A shard of bone that has part of an arm still attached is shoved through it's throat and ripped outward with a low snarl. Sam cants his head, a smirk dancing across his lips as that power reaches out and the cage that held what's most precious to him disentegrates.

Dean backs away, eyeing him like a rabid animal, green eyes filled with something close to madness. Tendrils of power wrap about him and he bats at the air as if he could keep it at bay, blood still dripping from his hands after his last kill.

"Shh."

He seems to calm once Sam's arms are around him and folds into the embrace, breathing in his scent like he's trying to place it to memory.

"Sammy?"

"Who else?"

"You came." It's a breath of relief.

"You knew I would." says Sam, kissing him with unbridled passion and need, his dark power flaring out in a maelstrom, destroying demons and the damned alike; levelling Hell about them.

(Mistakes are mine. Blame insomnia. If you tell me, I'll fix them. Comments sate the monster in my head)

Re: Catalyst Sam/Dean R for dark visuals, I suppose

[kat-lair.livejournal.com]

Oh yes, I do so enjoy the image of Sam storming the gates of Hell and just levelling the whole place... Well done!

Darth Winchester, pre-Sam/Dean/Gen, PG13

[pushkin666.livejournal.com]

“I hate you!” Sam pouts at Dean over his glass.

Dean sighs and throws him a look. “Jesus, what the hell did you do whilst I was away? Other than go Dark side on me of course.”

“Huh?” Sam stares, his brain trying to catch up with him. . He has no idea what Dean is talking about. But then he has drunk a lot of beer tonight. Dark side?

He looks uncomprehending at Dean. Dean sighs again and waves his hand at him, gesturing at Sam’s clothing.

“Dark side. You know – all Sith Lordy.”

Oh now he knows what Dean means. He sniggers into his beer. If Dean only knew what Sam had actually done to get him back from hell, the people killed and alliances made? Dean really has no idea what Sam is capable of.

But its Dean’s fault Sam is feeling brain dead at the moment. For some reason, maybe in an attempt to distract Sam he thought he’d get Sam drunk tonight.

Sam knows Dean is still having issues with the way things are now, how Sam looks. Sam glances down at the light sabre attached to his belt. He doesn’t need it but its fun to direct his power through it, to watch the colour shimmer when he turns it on, the sound as he moves it. He doesn’t really understand what Dean’s problem is. Dean loves the Star Wars films, well the original ones so he shouldn’t really have an issue with how Sam looks. That Sam wears a long black cape, carries a light sabre and goes by the name of Darth Winchester shouldn’t matter to Dean. He does know however that Dean is jealous of the light sabre if nothing else.

Sam even killed George Lucas for Dean. Dean was always complaining about how awful the new films were, how they insulted the original movie.

Dean should be lucky that Sam hasn’t gone Jabba the Hutt on him, hasn’t dressed him in a slave girl Leia outfit. His eyes narrow as he stares at Dean over the beer.

That’s actually not a bad idea; Dean on a collar and lease, in a leather and metal bikini ...

Re: Darth Winchester, pre-Sam/Dean/Gen, PG13

[passionstorm.livejournal.com]

He does know however that Dean is jealous of the light sabre if nothing else.

Of course he'd be jealous over that! LOL! This was great, seriously, it rocked! Darkish fluff to lighten the darkness that is haitus.

Sweetest Torture, Sam/Dean, R

[siubhlach.livejournal.com]

And now for my second attempt, written for the prompt 'Ritual'...

...which is far too long for comment posting, so it's over at my journal:

http://siubhlach.livejournal.com/26717.html

Re: Sweetest Torture, Sam/Dean, R

[pushkin666.livejournal.com]

heh. goes to read *grin*