They call me the Anti-Christ

excuse for the lack of boxes... lj style sucks

For 50prompts: Table 4 - Sam Winchester ( Table behind cut )

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For un_love_you: Sam/Ruby ( Table Behind Cut )

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For 15_song_titles: Sam/Bela ( Table behind cut )

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For charloft: 100 Days of Summer ( Table behind cut )

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When he was deep inside, it wasn't about lust. Feeling himself buried to the hilt, two legs wrapped around him as he tested to see how far he could go... how far she'd let him... it wasn't because he wanted her.

There was no power play here. His back, her back - didn't matter. The slap of skin; the sliding; caress; slick and heat; It had it's own power. Magic. It brought him into the moment and made him forget about the world.

Nothing existed but the tightness around him, urging him to take and give. There may have been love, but in the heat of the moment he didn't think of it. It was a means to an end. A sharing of pleasure and hinted with an edge of pain.

Only those who got this close knew there was a hell hound behind those puppy eyes. A beast who had been whipped so many times and needed to find some release. His heart was too pure to hurt others, but in this act, it was felt.

Thrusts that rocked more than just the body under him. Teeth. Bruises that appeared for days afterward that kept a soreness that reminded them for days of that night. Feeling his skin tighten until the darkness seeped out in gasps and growls as he took.

Sam...

Hearing his name from another's lips kept him grounded and getting lost in that dark side. Hazel eyes watching pleasure vibrate off his partner. Soft breaths in his ears, moans that vibrated his skin as he broke out in sweat. Fingernails gripping his skin as he gave.

This wasn't something he wanted. He needed this. A moment where he could balance the light and dark in him. A moment of focus and clarity.

A moment of love, hate, and everything in between that just grew until it exploded behind his eyes and he collapsed into waiting arms that slicked his hair back and whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

A moment where he could just be without judgment or punishment. The fate of the world didn't rest on his shoulders, just her hands squeezing out every ounce of him until there was nothing left to give.

A moment in which he was everything.

Nothing.

Sam.

Also for Serena's requested kiss on the forehead

It was a rainy day and the traveling circus - as Sam was getting used to calling it - had found a hotel to take over for the night. All he had heard was something about strip poker game and Sam had snuck out the door and found his room.

There were days he realized that he was probably the only sane person in this group. He had stopped counting the amount of Deans and Sams that flocked to the inter-dimensional aura that surrounded Serena, and instead just put a tag on his real brother so that he could find him in the crowd of clones.

It was around 11:30pm that Serena walked into his room, looking at Sam and then the television. "You realize that when you don't hang out with the others, you make them think that you don't like them."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "There's enough Winchester in that room to bring the world to it's knees. Missing one won't really make a difference."

"Yeah, but you should hear the things they say about you." Serana sat down next to Sam. "I swear, they gossip more than the girls at school did, and that is saying a lot."

"You have any examples you care to share?"

"Nope. You want to know, you have to come back and ask them yourself."

Sam leaned forward, dropping his voice down a bit in register. "What about if I torture you for information?" One hand slid up along her rib, a teasing tickle.

Serena tried not to laugh and pushed his hand away. "Dino won't let you torture me. The moment I cry for help, he'll have you backed up against a wall..."

"Oh really?" Sam smirked and flipped her over on the bed, pinning her to it while looking down at her with a very evil grin. "Of course, he'd have to get past the salt line. That's plenty of time to torture you." He started to tickle her again until Serena was screaming for him to stop over her laughter.

"Alright! Alright! They're talking about you having a cyberspace lover and how you have sex with your computer!" she said breathlessly.

Sam smirked and leaned down to kiss her on her forehead. "See, now that wasn't so bad. And rest assured, i do not have sex with my computer. That would be too messy, and after cleaning up after Dean that one time, I refuse to go through that again."

"What one time?" Serena asked, her eyes showing she was interested in getting some inside Dean gossip.

Sam licked his lips and smirked. Oh, Dean was going to kill him, but what the hell? It'll be fun seeing his reaction. "Well, this one time..."

It was on the third day that Sam found her knife. Dean had gotten them to safety, hiding them from humans and angels alike until they could get their bearings. Bobby knew where they were... vaguely. They didn't need him to get involved in this at the moment.

Dean had left to get them some things. Sam... hadn't been very mobile in the time since he had been dragged from the nunnery. Dean had barely gotten him to the car, then into the bed. He had slept for almost a day, so worn out and emotionally drained that he had just hidden under the rough motel blanket and tried to ignore the world.

But all they had right now was his... Ruby's car. The few things that he had in it, which wasn't much in the way of clothing or toiletries. Just a few weapons, his laptop... not much else.

He had hoped to find himself at least a clean pair of underwear in his bag as he dug around, but instead his fingers came across the handle of her knife. Holding it for a moment, he sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought.

( . . . )

ooc: for 50prompts # 7: Tabula Rasa (Blank Slate).

Sam Wesson sat in the library, his pen tapping a fast beat on the desk while he was looking through a stack of books. Researching. Trying to figure out where he was going to start in this madness of becoming a "hunter".

The Ghostfacers' website only gave so much information. The internet itself offered a lot more, but unless you know what you were really looking for, it was almost impossible to find real facts. This elusive "hunters network" didn't seem to have made it to the technical age, apparently.

So he was on his own to figure this out. However, it just didn't feel "right" doing it alone. Hell, it was probably dangerous to do it alone. Who would have your back when it got down and dirty?

Sam kept thinking of the guy from the office - Dean Smith. But the guy had turned out to be a total douchebag and chose the safe and comfy lifestyle for being in the field. And then a day later was trying to piss him off by saying Sam's real last name was Winchester and that his life wasn't real, but his dreams were.

And of course pulling a bunch of people in on the gag too.

( . . . )

ooc: takes place in wayward_au verse concurrent to this.

Sam stood in the hallway, watching the people pass him by. He had stopped trying to get their attention days ago, knowing that they couldn't see him. No one could. When they saw him, all they saw was the broken body that lay on the bed in ICU, machines working to keep it going.

So this is how Dean must have felt that time he was in the coma...

He had told Dean to destroy his body, but because there had been a faint heartbeat, he hadn't. Dean couldn't do it, and now Sam knew it was just going to stay there until some demon came along and decided to do a bit of recycling with the AntiChrist.

But now that his body was stable, he wasn't fizzing in and out anymore. That had been weird, seeing the maw of hell opening up before his eyes, trying to pull at him before the doctors got his heartbeat going again and he returned to his land of limbo.

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Title: Cutting at the Heart and Soul
Author: likely_evil
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt Used: 50prompts: Table 4.10 - Flesh
Pairing/Characters: Sam Winchester, Alastair, Lilith
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Sorry. Just like playing with the pretties.
Warnings: Following a major character death.
Notes: takes place in greypicketfence verse after this post.

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You can't hold back the screams, Alastair had told him his first day on the rack. You may think you're brave. That you're noble. But everyone screams. Listen to them, Sam. Join in the chorus and maybe I'll be gentle.

Sam had rolled his eyes to the demon with the knife. Lilith stood off to the side, a demented smile on her face. He could see her now, not the children that she inhabited. Instead it was the form she saw herself as, the sulfur acting as flesh in this dimension.

Any other time, any other person, he would have thought her beautiful. Beyond his reach even. But he knew better, and just hissed as the knife cut deeper into him.

( He didn't scream until the 23rd cut... )