FicWad

Sam laughed to himself, staring down at the twitching body of the girl. She was crying, trying to get away from him. Sam knelt down and licked his lips, teeth resting on the bottom for a moment. "Oh, Dean." He whispered to himself. "If only you could see this." He chuckled quietly.

The girl, Shannon, according to her name tag (yuck, Wal*Mart), was crying. Her face was unbelievably scratched. Thin nicks, but there were a lot of them. She deserved to be ugly. She had to be, because she couldn't be as pretty as Dean. Nobody could be. Her hands were bound and they were tied to the bottom of a pole. Her ankles were bound too, and her clothes were mostly near gone.

"Dean..." He laughed quietly, holding the knife up to Shannon's chest. "You're a pretty girl, Shannon. You'd be even better...even prettier with Dean here." He said quietly, gazing at his prey with half-lidded eyes. "Too bad...Dean's shootin' for the other team." He mumbled, slowly drawing the knife down her chest, making a paper-thin cut. He watched as the drops of blood slowly pinpricked out of her, sliding down her laboriously breathing sides. She tried not to move, but had pretty much given up on struggling. Her cheeks, now a mix of pink with blood and tears. And oh god, everything stung.

"Dean, Dean," He laughed to himself. "Dean's gonna find you, 'kay? But by that time, you're gonna be dead." Smile, smile. "So you're gonna be a good girl and not say anything." He pressed a bit harder with the knife by her bellybutton, and Shannon let out a cry of pain, as Sam lowered his lips to kiss that bloody stomach.

Dean stalked towards the back of the dark house, his gun poised in front of him. He glanced around, checking the back door, then opening it, and sneaking in. He felt apprehensive, tighing his grip on his gun. Dean quietly walked across the kitchen and down the hallway.
"Sammy," Dean whispered, his voice bouncing down the hallway. He got to the last bedroom and kicked the door open. He froze, his breath catching in his throat.
His gun dropped from his numbed fingers.
"Sammy....what have you done," he gasped out, his eyes darting around the room, seeing all the blood and gore and Sam standing over a bleeding girl.
Sam hesitated when he heard Dean's voice, turning around and smiling. "Hullo, brother. I missed you." He cooed, softly, moving over to Dean, eyes flashing and a smirk on his face. He kissed his brother with his bloody lips on his cheek, arms sliding around Dean's shoulders as he kicked the gun over to the wall and away from Dean's hands.

He laughed, softly then, cheek nuzzling Dean and smudging the blood on Dean's cheek. "Just look what I did, Dean," He murmured, eyes flashing again as he licked Dean's ear lightly. "She's dieing." His voice was giddy as he said that, as if a child who'd just gotten candy. "She was a bad, bad girl. Not pretty. Not like you." His hand moved up to pet Dean's hair fondly, an odd gesture for Sam. Well, usually odd.
Dean jerked back, his eyes wide with confusion and pain. He pulled Sam's hands from his body, and shaking his head. Dean turned to the girl on the floor, everything he's known being thrown into his face. She was too close to death to save.
"Sammy....,why," his voice was hoarse and his face went slack. He scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands hard. He looked back at Sam, his eyes full of pain and rage.
"Why? Why do this Sam," he yelled, anger taking the place of his confusion, he reached into his jacket pulling out a vial of holy water, "Or is this a possession?!"
Sam laughed softly, pulling away from Dean and going towards the girl again. He knelt by her, bringing his gaze away from Dean. He smiled at the girl, running his hand over his stomach. "Not possessed, Dean. You can...see that for yourself." He whispered softly, petting the girl's bloody stomach.
He laughed again. "You'd know if I was possessed, wouldn't you, Dean?" He asked, pulling his hand away from the girl and watching it, dripping. Laugh. The blood dripped on the floor by him, and Sam was captivated. "Holy water won't do nothin' for me, Dean." He warned, smirking.
Dean breathing became irregular and harsh. He looked at the girl then Sam, then back at the girl.
"I can't let you continue this," Dean reached into the side of his boot and pulled out his hunting knife. He stalked towards Sam, knife clenched in his hand. He pushed Sam out of his way and stabbed the girl in the chest. She gasped, shuddered then died. Her blood stained his hands and the front of his shirt. He let go of the knife and shut her open eyes. He a numbness settle over him until he felt nothing.
"What do we do now Sam," he whispered, lifting his blank eyes to look at Sam.