#samcrossroadsdemon

Sam swallows hard, struggling in the grip. When the demon doesn’t even budge, he momentarily stops trying to twist away. “What do you care? You’re a fucking demon. I want to make a deal - you should be taking advantage of me.”

His nostrils flare. “No, thank you. I get no satisfaction in bargaining with drunken, slurring fools.”

“I’ll give you anything.” Sam’s desperate, reaching up to grab the demon’s face. “Do you - do you wanna fuck? I can do that. I’ll let you --”

“Seriously, Sam? You’ve been messing around with a crossroads demon?” Dean’s angry, his eyes black as he snatches the front of his brother’s shirt. “Are you fucking stupid?”

“Oh, and like you’re so different now,” Sam spits, batting at Dean’s hand. “Don’t touch me.”

Dean does let go, but he’s still in Sam’s space. “Did he fuck you?”

Sam smirks, his face twisted cruelly. “Yeah, Dean. He did. And I enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

Dean slams his hand against the wall. “Sam, what the fuck?” he hisses. “He’s using you!”

Sam flinches when the hand hits the wall. “I’ve known him for a long time. Don’t make assumptions.”

Dean swallows hard. “I just –”

The emotional turmoil of the past few months hits Sam all at once, his eyes filling with tears. “You - Dean, you made it clear that you don’t care about me, okay? And I needed someone.”

“I do care about you,” Dean replies quietly, reaching up to touch Sam’s face now. “I love you, sweetheart, and I’d do anything to protect you. Which is why I haven’t wanted you near me.”

A tear rolls down Sam’s cheek. “That’s stupid, Dean. You know that we’re stronger together.”

Dean wipes it away, and leans into kiss Sam’s lips - soft, chaste. “I’m sorry I yelled, darlin’.” He pulls Sam into him. “And I’m sorry you felt the need to get…that kind of comfort from someone else. I just - I don’t want the cure, Sammy. Not right now, anyway.”

Sam leans into Dean, breath puffing out softly against his neck. “Dean…I want to save you. For once, I want to be the one to pull you from the fire.”

Dean’s fingers stroke through Sam’s hair. “You –” He pauses, his voice soft. “You will, Sam. I know you will. But we have bigger fish to fry right now, okay?”

“Dean, I –”

“Sammy, please. Please just leave it alone for now.”

“Take me,” Sam growls. “Just take me! It’s a damn good deal and you know it!” He throws the whiskey bottle to the ground, watching it shatter as the remaining contents bleed into the earth.

The crossroads demon regards him coolly, only blinking when bottle smashes on the pavement. “Well,” he says softly. “I never expected this level of tantrum from a renowned - and feared - hunter.”

Sam steps closer, hands closed into fists, buddy shaking and humming with adrenaline. “I’ll do anything,” he replies. “Anything.”

The demon’s eyes flick from black to blue. “Anything, you say?”

“Anything.” Sam swallows hard, the smallest bit of hope swelling in his chest.

“What if I want to put you on your knees, Sam Winchester? What if I want to use your mouth until you’re gagging and crying?” The demon pauses, letting that sink in for a moment. “Has anyone ever told you how utterly pink your lips are?”

The hope in Sam’s chest sinks, but he doesn’t flinch. “Then I’d let you.”

YES! OH, MAN. This is so similar to how I have it played out in my head!

I NEED TO WRITE THIS FIC ONE DAY.

“Hello, Sam. I see that you look…unkempt, as per usual.” The crossroad demon’s eyes flash red as he frowns at the younger Winchester. “I thought I told you to get your act together before you summoned me again.”

Sam smirks, one corner of his lips lifting. “And I thought I told you to kiss my ass,” he hisses, though his speech is slightly slurred. A drags a hand through his messy hair and glares at the man. “Now make a deal with me.”

“Absolutely not.” The demon’s jaw tightens. “I told you - I will not make a deal with a man so drunk that he can barely stand.”

“Do you think this is some kind of joke?” Sam growls. “Huh?” He takes a wobbly step forward, worn shoes sliding on the gravel.

“No. I do not. Which is why I do not wish to make a deal with you.” He pauses, and then softly says, “I can help you. Get sober, that is. When I was a human…a long time ago…I had addiction issues. Just like this.”

“I’m not an addict! Shut the fuck up!” Sam’s eyes are watering though, the truth ringing in his head and causing his eyes to burn.

“I am going to take you back to your room,” the demon says slowly, as if speaking to a child. “You will have an Advil and a glass of water and then go to bed. When you wake up, I will take you for breakfast. We will discuss the proper way to get my attention.”

Sam’s chest aches and burns, his whole body suddenly feeling hollow. “How could I possibly trust you?”

The demon extends his hand towards Sam. “I am Raziel.” When Sam doesn’t offer to shake his hand back, he drops his hand. “Please. Let me help you.”

Sam lowers his head. Does he really have anything to lose? “You get one chance,” he finally replies hoarsely. “And the moment you fuck it up, I end you. Got it?” He moves to turn away, but stumbles.

So the demon takes him back to his hotel and takes care of him.

… crushes their lips together and tugs the demon’s hair to make him open his mouth. He’s desperate, breathing through tears and biting back sobs by biting the guy’s tongue. And the demon kisses back, takes his fill of the hunter’s pain and pushes their bodies together. Stupid kid is so hung up on a dead man, and the demon wonders how broken he is, how much he’s willing to do in the name of his own brother.

-

"I want to make a deal." Sam's eyes are dark, red-rimmed from drinking - from crying. His whole body is shaking. There's blood on his lips from an earlier bar fight.

The crossroads demon - a handsome man appearing to be in his late twenties/early thirties, looks the human up and down. He runs a hand through his wavy blonde hair and meets Sam's eyes. "No," he says simply, a slight English accent, his red eyes flashing.

"Why don't any of you sons of bitches want to make a deal with me?" Sam screams, smashing his fist into a nearby wall. His knuckles start to bleed.

The demon approaches Sam cautiously, eyes homing in on the blood. He reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out a handkerchief, gently taking Sam's hand.

Sam flinches. "What are - "

He carefully wraps Sam's hand with the cloth, tying into a loose knot. His fingers linger on Sam's skin. "Listen to me, Sam Winchester," he says softly. "Sober up first and then you can come back. I don't make deals with drunks."

Sam swallows hard, staring down at the hand still holding his. He doesn't know what to say.