Title: ARMY OF CAIN (DARKNESS IS COMING) - BLOOD TIES
Author: silver ruffian
Category: Twisted Dark AU
Characters: Demon Dean, Sam, Morgan Le Fay, Camille, Castiel, Hannah, Crowley
Pairings: Demon Dean/Morgan Le Fay/ Camille
Warning: Major Character Death in later chapters
Summary: Demon Dean encounters legendary Fae sorceress Morgan Le Fay one fateful night. She gives Dean the ability to duplicate himself. Later Dean falls victim to Sam's containment and summoning spell. Which Dean is which? The captured Dean undergoing the blood cure, or the Dean leading the others in the assault against Sam, Castiel, Hannah and the other angels in the bunker?
Up Now: Dean unwillingly accepts the gift of the Fae. He comes face to face with his doubles. He is no longer just the new Father of Murder. Demon Dean Winchester is now the founding father of the Army of Cain.
Chapter 5 – FOUR DEGREES OF SEPARATION
Romero Beach Bungalows
Island Elegance Suite
Sanibel Island, Florida
The three people lying on the wooden deck were as still as statues. The morning sunlight outlined their naked bodies in shades of gold.
Dean lay on his back, relaxed, eyes half lidded. He was sated, at least for the moment. Sleep was a human weakness he was no longer burdened with.
Morgan and Camille snuggled into him on either side. He experienced twin tracks of sound and vibration, one layered over another: their heartbeats, slow, measured breathing, the shushh of their blood as it flowed through their veins. Beneath that, slightly louder, was the constant rush of ocean waves under the deck at his back.
All the stories he'd heard about having sex with Fae were true and then some. A human male would have been overwhelmed. Dean wasn't. He'd had threesomes before, when he was human, but nothing like this. They'd tasted and explored every square inch of each other's bodies for ten straight hours. Dean was more than ready for another round, totally up to the task, but right now the sunrise warmed his skin. The Fae were both sleeping and for the moment he was content to simply lie there.
If walls could talk the Island Elegance Suite would have some wild tales to tell.
They'd started on the front porch, then stumbled into the living room onto the couch. During the haze of body heat, hot breath, shed clothes and a tangle of arms and legs (sometimes not entirely human) they broke the the king-sized bed in the bedroom, then wandered into the bathroom. Things got wet and even wilder in the spacious shower and tub.
Dean couldn't remember exactly how or when they reached the deck.
The suite was the furthest one out, with the deck situated away from the other over water bungalows. Going commando out there meant they put on quite a show for the gulls and the dolphins, but Dean wouldn't have stopped if a Royal Caribbean cruise ship had pulled up alongside and everyone on board whipped out their smartphones.
Morgan's heartbeat sped up. Camille stirred on his left. She rested her arm and her chin on Dean's belly. Dean opened his eyes as Morgan kissed him on the lips. It was a light peck. Dean wanted more.
"We would like to properly thank you for saving us." Her eyes shone in the sunlight, various shades of purple and silver.
"Really?" Dean drawled, amused. "Having nonstop sex isn't gratitude?"
"Silly Knight. Of course not." Morgan slowly licked the shell of Dean's right ear. He shuddered at her touch. "That was pleasure. What we propose will be gratitude well earned. A precious gift."
"That wouldn't be the magic that Crowley wanted from you?"
"Part of it, yes. We've forgotten more magic than most Fae nowadays can ever remember."
He was feeling pretty damn sure of himself. After all, he was a Knight of Hell. He had the Mark of Cain. Just what could these Fae give him, other than a good time in bed? Dean shrugged. "Sure. I'll take it. What is it?"
"What do you want in your life, Dean?"
Dean scowled. Damn. This wasn't what he'd expected. Fae sex magic, now that was something he definitely could appreciate. This sounded suspiciously like feels, which could most likely lead to a damn chick flick moment.
"You had a family once. Your brother and your father," Camille said wistfully. She traced the outline of Dean's concave belly button with her index finger. Dean Junior stirred a little.
Dean batted Camille's hand away with his right hand. That wasn't the kind of friction he was looking for.
All this talk about family seriously pissed him off. He had a new life now, and he didn't want to be reminded of the old one he'd gladly left behind. He pulled his arms away from them and sat up so suddenly the Fae drew away from him.
Dean looked from one to the other and shook his head disgustedly. "Seriously? You're gonna ruin good sex with this emo crap?"
Morgan didn't blink. "You're immortal now. You are a Knight of Hell with the Mark of Cain. Do you really want to squander that time, those abilities, drinking, singing bad karaoke? Camille and I believe there is much more inside you than that."
The smile Dean gave her was sharp enough to cut. "If I wanted Dr. Phil, I'd go get Dr. Phil. You don't know a damn thing about me. I'm outta here." He stood up.
Morgan's dark dress formed around her as she rose to her feet. Camille followed suit; the white dress she wore was shorter, knee length. Dean knew what that meant. They planned on talking at him until he was bored stupid, instead of taking off those stupid clothes and screwing his brains out. The good feeling in his skin faded away.
"We can give you your heart's desire, Dean. What you really want and need."
He turned towards the double doors of the suite. He had absolutely no desire to rehash his past human issues with two Fae bitches who probably already knew the answers anyway. There was absolutely nothing they could say that would make him stay. Time to get his clothes and go.
"Your brother will capture you in two days time," Morgan called out to his broad naked back.
He stood there quietly as Morgan waved her hand over the deck. A large circle five feet across appeared. Its surface swirled with many colors that lightened to a silvery mirror finish.
Dean scowled as he turned around halfway. He stared down at the scrying mirror.
An image appeared. The Impala sat beside a rickety looking wooden cabin in a wooded clearing somewhere. The location came instantly to Dean. Somewhere in Hendricks County, Indiana, practically parallel to Lebanon, Kansas. Demon GPS was pretty damn sweet.
He walked over for a closer look. The voice that drifted out of the mirror sounded weird.
"You will need a photo of your brother."
It was two voices at once. The first was male. Deep and rough. The second, layered over the first, was female, high-pitched, nails drawn across a blackboard.
"The more recent the better. The blood is most important, but the image adds another layer. It will help bind the spell to the subject even more."
Morgan made another pass with her hand. The image darkened, then brightened again.
Sam Winchester sat at a wooden table inside the cabin. The man who sat opposite him had some kind of fugly driving him. His clothes bulged upwards as the darkness inside him rolled underneath his skin. Parchment covered in spiky black writing and sigils lay rolled out over the table between them. Sam sat hunched over the parchment, staring intently at what was written there as the witch reached out and pointed to this symbol and that.
"You stupid bastard!" Dean's voice deepened to an impossible bass rumble as the demon aspect inside him rose to the fore. His eyes blackened. The Mark of Cain burned fiery hot underneath his freckled skin. "Why the hell couldn't you leave me alone?"
Camille stood quietly, staring at Dean's face as the elder Fae worked her magic with another hand gesture. "The witch is named Zatkesis," Morgan murmured. "She's very old. Very powerful."
The weird voice drifted out of the mirror: "A syringe full of your blood will be sufficient, Samuel. You need to add something personal from your brother. Something that touched his skin would be best."
Sam nodded. "I have his hair brush. And his razor. I kept them after..." Sam took a deep breath. His mask slipped, exposing the grief he kept hidden. The witch stared at him, fascinated. Just as suddenly Sam composed himself, pushed the emotion he felt back deep inside him. "I kept them after he died," he said stiffly.
Zatkesis leaned back, disappointed. "Good. Do you have a place to keep your brother after he comes back to you?"
"The demon dungeon in the damn Batcave," Dean growled out loud. His voice drowned out Sam's reply, but it was obvious Sam's answer was the same.
Sam sat back in his chair, his face curiously blank. "My brother has the Mark of Cain. He's a Knight of Hell now."
The possessed one pursed his lips. "I know this."
Sam's lips firmed into a hard line. "What I mean is, will this work on him? Will it bind him and bring him to me? Because if it doesn't..."
The witch smiled. "There is no need for threats, Samuel, veiled, obvious or otherwise. I have told you before. Your brother is a demon now, but he was human before this. It will work. The ties of blood and family still bind the two of you, no matter what he's turned into."
Sam nodded. He pulled the parchment to him and resumed studying the writing.
Dean slowly settled himself. His eyes turned green again. He stood there quietly, taking it all in, his head tilted slightly to one side.
Morgan spoke softly. "Learning the spell takes two whole days. Your brother will leave the cabin at midnight tonight. I estimate you have less than 24 hours at most, probably less, but make no mistake, Dean, he will acquire you. After that he will attempt to cure you. "
"How the hell do you know all this?"
"You could say a little bird told us," Camille declared proudly.
A large brown bird of prey alighted on the roof of the bungalow, right above the door leading back into the suite. Its head and neck were a lighter shade than the darker brown and black of its body. The bird strutted back and forth, glaring at Dean with peculiar yellow eyes that flashed darker purple. It obviously didn't like him much. The air around the creature shimmered with glamour.
"This is Kujan." Morgan smiled at the newcomer. "She is our daughter."
"Your daughter?" Dean quirked an eyebrow at Morgan and Camille. "Both of you?"
"Yes." Camille nodded. She and Morgan both looked quite proud.
The black eared kite stopped. She cocked her head to one side and stared banefully at Dean, then opened her black bill and screeched at him, loud and long.
That amused him so much he grinned at her, which only pissed her off even more. "I picked up on the family resemblance. You two knew I saw bird butt here out there in the woods."
Bird butt? Kujan crouched with her head down. She flashed her eyes at Dean, spread her tail feathers in an obvious display of anger.
"That's why you climbed all over me back then. You thought you could distract me and lead me around by my dick."
Camille shrugged. Morgan didn't say anything.
"How'd she know to follow Sam?"
"We asked her. For the last six months we've heard a lot about you and your brother." Morgan smiled slightly. "Everyone here is at odds with our own people."
Kujan huffed indignantly and ruffled her feathers, as if she totally disagreed. She resumed pacing back and forth on the ledge above the door.
"It's always good to have allies, if not friends. We didn't compel you to come after us." Camille shrugged. "We couldn't. You rescued us of your own free will."
"Free will is a purebred bitch," Dean muttered.
"So it is." Morgan nodded gravely. "You may as well know, your brother Samuel maimed a man for the witch. He took his left hand, condemned him to die with her mark carved into his skin. That was payment for the spell."
"No surprise there. Sammy always was an obsessed bastard." Dean's eyes narrowed as he studied the witch. He nodded. "Yeah, she's good. The place is heavily warded. Otherwise I could go in and take them both out."
Kujan stopped pacing back and forth and stared at Dean.
"So you would kill your own brother?" Morgan said quietly. Neither Fae gave no sign of what they really thought about that.
Dean scoffed. "Damn right I would. He won't back off. And I don't need saving. Now he wants us to be brothers again. To hell with that. I'm through with that freak show."
Camille approached Kujan. "Hello again, little one," she whispered lovingly. Kujan backed away from Camile's outstretched hand and launched herself into the air with a snap of her wings. She soared upwards.
Dean watched her go.
A flutter of wings, and Kujan split into a flock of fifty identical birds. They curved upwards into the bright sunlight, a shifting band of brown and black feathers.
"Sonofabitch," Dean whispered. "How did she do that?"
Camille stood in front of the door leading back into the suite. Morgan faded into view right beside her.
"Now, you're gonna tell me what you're really up to." Dean filled his right hand with the First Blade.
Morgan laughed. "Really?"
"Damn right you are."
"There's the matter of our gratitude. And your gift."
Dean snorted. "Come on. How fucking stupid do you think I am? You're not doing this out of the goodness of your hearts. Whatever this gift is, it's got strings attached. You want something from me."
"Perhaps," Morgan purred. "Do you trust us, Dean?"
"If you play me, I'll kill you."
Camille laughed. "Of course not."
A rustle of feathers from behind. In his mind's eye Dean saw Kujan swooping in low over the deck, her wings spread, her wicked black talons extended before her. She was all in one now, and it was clear she intended to tear into Dean from behind.
Without turning Dean raised his left arm in that direction, his fingers curved, clawlike. Kujan squawked as she slammed into the leading edge of the bubble Dean threw up around her. She was caught in mid-air, suspended above the deck. Startled, she began to flail about. She separated again, into thirty birds this time. They exploded out of her body and pushed uselessly against the trap.
Camille started forward. "Don't hurt her -"
Dean raised the First Blade. Camille stopped. "Then tell me about this gift."
"There's not much to tell. The gift is yours now. Whether you want it or not." Morgan smiled brightly.
He didn't notice what else was happening until it was too late.
A tickling sensation underneath the soles of his bare feet. Dean glanced down. He stood in a circle of shimmering purple light that wasn't there before.
Damn Fae magic. His muscles seized up. He couldn't move. Symbols rose up out of the light, black lines, interlocking circles, circles within triangles filled with brilliant colors, magenta and cyan, silver and gold. As Dean watched the symbols crawled over his instep, his ankles, flowed up his body.
What the fuck was this?
The Mark of Cain flared up, fiery metallic red.
Dean's eyes flashed from green to black as he took a halting step forward.
The Mark pulsed. Dean lurched forward another step.
"Goodbye, Dean." Morgan and Camille winked at him. They faded out. Gone. He could no longer hear the frantic beat of Kujan's wings.
The cords in his neck, the veins in his arms and legs bulged from the strain. The Mark stuttered, weaker this time. He couldn't walk out of the circle of light. The sigils continued their relentless march upward, past his legs, hips and stomach.
Dean swayed on his feet. The glow of the Mark faded.
The symbols reached his chest and shoulders, then flowed up his neck, chin and jawline. They pushed their way in past his lips. He drew in a breath and that only pulled the colors deeper inside him. The damn things surged past his cheekbones, pushed in past his eyelashes.
He blinked moss green. Pitch black. Magenta. Cyan. Deep purple. Ruby red. Dean's heartbeat thundered inside his head, fast and panicky.
The colors mixed together inside his skull.
Everything inside him went quiet. Then everything exploded.
His head rocked back. The forces inside Dean raised him up on his toes. He was unable to stop himself. His arms fell limply to his sides. Dean was held there, suspended, barely touching the ground. The skin on his back grew uncomfortably tight. He gasped as his back muscles spasmed.
Colors blazed underneath his freckled skin. He jerked forward as something pushed out of him from behind.
Then twice more.
After the fourth spasm the colors faded away. His knees buckled. Dean collapsed heavily onto his hands and knees, a puppet with the strings cut. His breath rattled in his throat as he drew in great lungfuls of air. A flicker of pitch black in his eyes, then back to green.
Dean knelt there catching his breath, panting like a dog in summer. That moment of weakness quickly passed as the Mark flared up again. The rush of adrenaline and power that flowed through him was so strong it warmed his skin, tightened his muscles. The feel of the Blade in his hand made him feel better. Oh yeah, he was going to show Morgan and Camille exactly what he thought about their stupid gift after he hunted them down.
Still clutching the Blade Dean rose to his feet, but his knees wobbled and he fell forward. He threw his left arm up; his palm smacked flat against the door. His knees felt like rubber.
The Mark pulsed, more slowly this time, as though it realized its mistake by juicing him up too soon and was determined not to repeat that error. Dean leaned against the door, gripped the handle of the Blade and forced himself to breathe deeply until his heart slowed down and his breathing leveled out.
"Well," a male voice called out from behind. "Aren't you a handsome devil."
The Mark flared up again, glowed hot and steady. The Fae bitches obviously called in reinforcements after they left. Big mistake for them. Good for him.
Dean growled to himself as he gripped the First Blade tighter. He smiled wide and feral as he turned around.
Now which one of these sonsofbitches was going to die first?
Dean took one look and stopped short.
The scrying mirror was gone. So was Kujan.
But he wasn't alone on the deck anymore.
Four men sat in a loose circle behind him. They were naked. Four pairs of identical moss green eyes boldly stared back at him. The one on the far left winked. The double on the opposite end gave Dean a thumbs up.
Broad shoulders. Wide green eyes. Bowlegs. Dark blond hair. They were his mirror image, right down to the spray of freckles across their noses, the inverted anti-possession tattoo on their chests, the Mark of Cain on the inside of their right arms.
The Dean in the middle smirked at him. "Is that the First Blade or are you just happy to see us?"
Dean was speechless, for one of the few times in his entire life. Everything inside him, the Mark of Cain, the bloodlust, everything came to a sudden, screeching halt.
TBC next week
Current Location: Still undisclosed and secure
Current Mood: content
Current Music: Only the voices inside my head