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03 January 2015 @ 04:29 pm
Army of Cain (Darkness Is Coming) - Blood Ties - Chapter 4  

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
Rating: R
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: Crowley realizes he sent his assassins after the wrong target.

Warning: Descriptions of sexual activity and general weirdness ahead. Ye have been warned.

Chapter 4 – Peep Show

Crowley leaned forward in his chair, intent on taking in every detail. He was not about to turn away now.

Shit happened. Nobody knew that better than the King. Shit happened and you either folded your tents and gave up the game or you rolled with it. Deals didn't always go according to plan. Part of being a salesman was knowing how to improvise, being able to think on your feet.

"I see you, Squirrel," Crowley murmured to no one in particular. "I see you, you ungrateful sod."


The red light pulsed as the shock wave reached outward, kicking up dirt and leaves as it rolled across the ground. The light turned in on itself, became taller, man-shaped. It faded away, leaving the source, the new Cain, standing in the center of a circle of crumpled bodies. The corpses were dried out husks, mouths stretched wide in agony, eye sockets burnt black holes.

Dean's eyes shone pitch black, then shifted back to green. The Mark of Cain flared up, its fiery outline visible underneath the right sleeve of Dean's black leather jacket.

"I'll kill her! I will!" The demon leader pulled the Fae woman in front of him even tighter. Her feet barely touched the ground.

"Dude. You're not gonna kill her." Dean pulled the First Blade from his back waistband.

The end was short, efficient, and brutal.

The last demon never had a chance. Dean was suddenly there, nose to nose with him. The instantly recognizable sound of the First Blade slicing into flesh came over the speakers, followed by a gasp, the last surprised intake of breath from stolen lungs. The camera lingered on Dean's face. The fading orange glow from the demon's death made him look totally Other. Oddly enough, Dean looked bored by it all, as though he couldn't wait to finish this and go back to boozing and bad karaoke.

Several screens were still active, the body cams showing ground level angles of the woods and the dark sky above. Camera one moved sideways, went out of focus, and then the picture sharpened.

The team leader stared blankly into the lens. His eyes were dull brown, his face slack, lifeless. The camera moved upwards, further back, then tilted down a little. What looked like the top of an arm and a shoulder wearing black leather was clearly visible at the bottom of the screen.

Dean Winchester was in the picture, right beside and a little behind the deceased demon. His left hand came up and pushed into both corners of the dead one's mouth. The corpse smiled, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk with a mouth full of nuts. Dean looked into the camera and smiled, wide and bright. He pursed his lips and blew a kiss.

Technician one sputtered. "Was that -did he just-"

"Bastard took a selfie," Crowley growled.

A loud thump, and the body camera and the dead one hit the ground again. The camera tilted away this time, a worm's eye view of grass and tree roots.

The King of Hell sat back in his chair. All of the minions in the room stared at him, fearful but trying not to show it.

"Well then," Crowley said pleasantly. "That tape is eyes only. Namely my eyes. No one else. If any of this leaves this room I'll have your guts for garters. Do I make myself clear?"

Everyone nodded.

He was all too aware of the fact that there were other factions in hell who would be very interested in a Knight of Hell, even a rogue one.


Crowley snapped his fingers. Fletcher came apart at the seams, a cloud of thick black smoke that immediately faded out into wisps of dead grey smoke.

True, poor old Fletcher hadn't been the bearer of bad news, but sometimes one just had to make do. Minions like him were a dime a dozen.

"Ah, that's much better." Crowley smiled.

Blondie looked like she'd be a good lay. A pleasant way to pass the time later. And the three techs were talented nerds with a flair for technology. They had been accomplished hackers topside. The lead tech was a major player in the Sony Pictures hack on behalf of North Korea. He was struck and killed by a hit and run driver after the first online leak. He was a keeper, and so were the others. Crowley hated to needlessly squander resources like that.

The techs sat in their chairs and stared at Crowley like a trio of puppies. They awaited further orders, so Crowley gave them: "Send a retrieval team topside to get the body cams and whatever else we can salvage. Leave the rest. The last thing we need down here is more dead meat."

"Yes sir."

The King crooked a finger at Blondie. "C'mere, darling. I didn't get your name."

"Marion, sire," she said brightly.

Crowley rose from his chair. "Come with me and we'll discuss your ah, upward mobility."

Marion bowed her head respectfully.

The King of Hell was displeased with the results of the night, but he was determined not to show it. He needed further stress relief, and Marion looked very capable. He wasn't in a bloody mood now, just horny.

During the short time he'd spent with Dean Crowley supposed that even though the eldest Winchester brother had the Mark and the abilities of a Knight of Hell he just didn't have the will. Howling at the moon was fine, but there came a time when enough was enough.

Crowley realized now that he should have taken a firm hand with Dean from the start. Not doing that was a big mistake.

Not making his newly minted Knight of Hell come to heel like a good hound was another.

Damn those Fae, Crowley thought. I went after the wrong one.


Dean picked up the First Blade and wiped it off on the team leader's pant leg. He stood up and slipped it into his back waistband.

Camille padded over to where Morgan's curved dagger lay, picked it up by the handle with her mouth and brought it back to her mistress. Morgan's color was better and her eyes brighter. The wounds in her skin were already healing, even though her clothing was still torn. She carefully held the dagger in her right hand. The wolf crouched down and snarled when Dean turned and looked at them.

He wasn't the least bit intimated. He walked over, leaned down and held out his right hand. "Come with me if you want to live," he said solemnly.

"Huh?" Morgan and Camile blinked, then looked at each other, confused.

Dean sighed and shook his head. "Work with me, will ya? I've always wanted to say that for real."

Morgan nodded. "As you wish." She gestured with her hands and the dagger disappeared. Camille relaxed. She walked around Dean, slinking along more like a big cat than a wolf. She rubbed against Dean's legs.

Dean raised his hand again and this time Morgan took it. She rose to her feet gracefully. Dean pulled her to him, wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Now what am I going to do with you two?" he rumbled.

"What indeed," Morgan murmured as she stroked the left side of Dean's face. "I believe the three of us could think of something."

Dean leaned in. He wasted no time capturing her soft full lips. The taste of exotic fruit flooded his mouth and he was determined to take his time. Morgan opened her mouth to him immediately and Dean accepted the invitation. There was nothing sweet or slow about that kiss. Morgan obviously wanted to be the dominant one, but Dean clearly had other ideas. He overwhelmed her with his tongue and his very talented mouth.

Finally Morgan moaned softly into Dean's mouth. She became more pliant, more submissive. She ground her hips into him, wanting more.

Dean nibbled at her lower lip, swiped his tongue over her skin. From what he could tell, that remarkable taste was in her skin, not just her lips. He reached out with his mind and loosened the top of her dress. It fell away around her shoulders. No bra; she didn't need one. Her breasts were erect, proud, already perky from the cool night air.

Dean leaned down and wrapped his tongue around Morgan's right nipple. Her back arched as his mouth moved in slow circles. Morgan's fingers shook as she ran her fingers through his hair.


"Wait for me," Camille grumbled. The air around her shimmered silver as she released her wolfskin and shifted into her womanform. She was totally naked. She nimbly climbed up on Dean's broad back, stretched past him and kissed Morgan deeply on the mouth.

Dean lifted his head, growled wordlessly at her. He reached out and grabbed a handful of her short blonde hair and pulled her back to him. She was as light as a feather, had no problem maneuvering around him. Dean soon discovered why: Camille had wings. Leathery ones the color of her pale pink skin. They beat slowly as they kept her aloft.

He was too aroused to be amazed. They were Fae, after all. This was going to be a night to remember.

Camille slid her right arm around his broad shoulders. She opened her mouth and welcomed Dean's kiss. Unlike Morgan she didn't try to dominate or compete with him. She tasted differently from Morgan, more like cinnamon, but like Morgan Dean couldn't get enough of that taste. He hooked an arm around Camille's waist and held her close.

Morgan pulled the collar of Dean's leather jacket and his tee shirt down, kissed a path from Dean's shoulder up his neck.

He was already incredibly hard. Dean didn't care that they were in a dark clearing with dead bodies scattered all around. He'd had sex in stranger places. Right now he had too many clothes on. The air around the three of them throbbed with heat and sex.

Yeah, Dean thought, right here, right now-

A flicker of movement. Twenty feet away in the darkness. Dean looked up.

Bird. It was a damn bird. Some kind of brown hawk sitting in a tree nearby, watching, its head cocked to one side. Dean didn't know exactly what he was looking at. He did know he didn't like the looks of the damn thing, especially when it startled when it realized he was looking right at it. Last time he checked, normal birds didn't do that. The air around the bird glowed with a faint purplish black shimmer. It was glamour of some sort.

He'd never seen that around a normal bird, either.

Both Fae tensed up. It was only for the merest second, but Dean caught it. He sensed it, felt it in their skin.

"Don't stop..." Camille moaned. She hovered in place, her wings beating in quick strokes as she pushed her body against Dean's, begging for more friction. There was no space between the three of them.

Morgan climbed up on Dean's body. She rubbed the side of her face against Dean's jawline, then nipped and sucked at his earlobe. "Dean? Please?"

Dean ignored them. He reached back, put his hand on the handle of the First Blade. He grasped the Blade, then pulled it out halfway.

Camille sucked hungrily at his lower lip. The Mark of Cain flared up, red hot and angry. The Fae pressed into him on opposite sides; Dean was still incredibly horny. The combination of two simultaneous rushes, murder and arousal, made him lightheaded. His skin felt stretched too tight, too small for his body. The weight of his clothes pissed him off.

Adrenaline sizzled along his nerve endings. The urge to kill won out. Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously, then flickered to pitch black.

The bird moved. It took off in the opposite direction with a snap of its wings, a fast moving blur among the shadows. Dean tracked it with his eyes. It was moving away, not towards them.

"Damn," Dean whispered.

Morgan wriggled up against Dean. She licked a long stripe up his neck. "Ohhh...you have such beautiful eyes...green or black..."

Camille pushed her bare foot between Dean's legs. Her nimble toes brushed against his cock, slow touches that were absolutely maddening. Dean's erection came roaring back as the Mark became quiet again. Camille undid Dean's fly with her toes.

He pushed the Blade back into place, released his grip on the handle.

Morgan leaned in. Dean allowed her tongue entry and his skin tingled all over as her taste flooded his mouth. The only conscious thought he had was fucking her, fucking Camille, fucking and tasting them long and slow. His body screamed for release, but he had just enough presence of mind to wrap all three of them up in his power and then concentrate on where they were going. They couldn't stay here. He was done with the great state of Texas.

Dean Winchester, Morgan LeFay and Camille vanished. There was no one left alive in the clearing to watch them go.


Kujan fled through the woods. Stupid stupid STUPID! she screamed at herself inside her head.

The spot between her wings prickled. She imagined sharp bone slicing into that space, opening her up from behind.

Getting killed would serve her right. She should have known better. She'd underestimated the demon after all. Kujan had heard rumors about the Knights of Hell, she'd heard of Cain, but she never really believed any of it. A lot of Other beings were prone to wild exaggerations, and many of the ones she knew used lies as their stock in trade. This was the first time she'd ever seen a Knight of Hell in action. The first time, and it might have been the last.

This Knight seemed too pretty, too soft to be any danger to her. She thought that even as she hovered over the woods and watched him kill the other demons one by one. She hadn't felt any fear of him until she looked into those black eyes and saw her death there. He was dangerous, all right. His handiwork was all around, torn and cooling flesh scattered like so many dead leaves all around in in the shadows of the woods.

A few more feet, and nothing happened. Kujan rose atop the treeline. Knights of Hell couldn't fly, could they? She hoped not. She rather doubted it. The Winchester demon had a canine trueform, blond and furry, with curved black horns. No wings that she could see.

Kujan felt a tingle of disgust, this time directed not at herself. The sounds they made were disgusting. The way they allowed him to touch their bodies was unseemly. She hated this bastard on sight, even more than his freakishly tall younger brother. She'd been careless, but that was understandable. It was the shock of seeing that beast with his hands all over her mothers.

Filthy, dirty canine.

Another moment passed with no incident, and she grew more confident about her chances.

Knights of Hell didn't have wings after all, or if they did, this one was too busy to give chase.

Kujan relaxed. She spread her wings and soared higher.


Next week: Morgan and Camille show their gratitude. Dean meets his duplicate selves. And so begins the Army of Cain.
Current Mood: amusedamused
Current Music: Only the voices inside my head