Author's Note:

Welcome to "The Stars Will Guide Me Home", written by ME. The prompt & parts of the plot came from PythonSnake55, beta'd by GOTHPANDAOTAKU

The prompt was to write this: Just wondering if you ever thought of doing a story kinda like Fall of Darkness except Sam the hunter finds Dean the demon who's weak yet still aggressive, Sam takes him to his safe house to interrogate him, once he regains his strength Dean, who is attracted to Sam breaks free and hunts Sam and then asserts his dominance over Sam, almost kinda like in season 10 of Supernatural?

We then discussed for a while, and the outcome was: demon!dean, hunter!sam. Sam's on the hunt for a special demon, someone close to lucifer (who's still in the cage). He tracks down a demon nest and finds a caged Dean Winchester. Lucky him, the demon's weak and hurt ... Sam takes him to his safe house to interrogate him. Then ... Dean escapes ...

WARNINGS: unrelated!wincest, Dean!34, Sam!30, slight dub!con, mentions and high likely graphic description of rape & attempted rape, graphic adult content (sex) ahead, bottom!sam, top!dean. This story happens to be VERY VERY DARK at the beginning. Though, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel – and it's not hellfire, folks.

Oh ... and there's quite some hurt Sam Harvelle in this story – and I mixed some disease into it to spice things up a bit ...

Onto the story:

~*DW & SW*~

The Stars Will Guide Me Home

CHAPTER I

Sam squirmed in his bindings, where he lay strapped down on an examination table – a special examination table. He was naked and covered in blood, the cool metal beneath him easing some of the aches and pains, though the hard surface did nothing for his back. Whenever he shifted, he felt the slick fluid – blood and other liquids he didn't want to think about – smear over the metal and his skin.

He felt too weak to even try to escape anymore. Hell, when that bastard had first got the drop on him, he had wished he'd killed him right there. But nope. As all demons, this one wasn't any different. Killing Samuel Harvelle would've been too easy – too fast. Too painless. There'd be no fear, no terror – nothing he could wallow in ...

It wasn't the pain, that caused his tears to stream down his face mercilessly until he was drained and just sobs and whimpers were left. It wasn't the torture, which made him cry his hunter's-heart out. Sure, each cut and punch hurt like hell and he wished he'd die, well knowing that the demon wouldn't let him – not now, maybe not for quite some time.

What made him shiver and tremble each time the door to this shithole of a dungeon opened, was, that Alistair was going to do something far worse to him.

Like now.

Sam couldn't stop the agonized cry, which ripped from his throat, as the demon let the iron shackles snap open, taking torn skin with them. Without a word, nor giving Sam time, he wrapped his fingers up in the hunter's hair and pulled him up and off the table, shoving him face first into a wall.

Before Sam could make out what was about to happen, he found himself cuffed against a brickwall, with his feet and hands extended, making him look like a perfect human X.

The hunter knew what would come next. It was inevitable. Alistair wouldn't show mercy, no matter how bad he'd beg him to end this ...

"You scream so pretty for me, hunter.", the man purred into his ear. "I'll make you beg. Make you TAKE it. You hear me? - And when I'm done with you, boy." He chuckled. "I'm gonna throw you out on the side of the road. Let those animals take care of you. - Nothing but road-kill, hunter."

Suddenly there was pain. Hot, white, searing pain, lancing from his bottom straight up his spine ...

Sam's eyes snapped open, an agonizing scream dying on his lips.

He was panting.

His clothes damp with sweat.

Salty sweat mingled with sour tears.

He stared at the wooden panels on the ceiling and swallowed a sob. It was the same ... every damn night. He knew it wouldn't end. Not until he was dead. Until ALISTAIR was dead.

At least that bastard in the basement would volunteer information. He would know where Alistair was ... where he'd be. A demon, who called himself Dean Winchester. Man, this poor bastard he was possessing. Sure, Dean Winchester was,what his driver's licence said, a mechanic from some noname-town somewhere in Kansas. Not that it really mattered. Nor that he was thirty-four and had his whole life in front of him ... At least it didn't look like anyone would miss him, a giant plus for Sam.

The Dean Winchester they knew was dead – or would be in the end – anyway. Not after the injuries Sam had inflicted on the demon's vessel these past few days.

Though, Sam knew – whatever this lying bastard was trying to make him believe – it was fake. All of them were the same. He hadn't met one of those creatures, who weren't lying, abusive, fear-loving bastards. And this DEAN sure wasn't any different.

So why should he feel sorry for hurting something like him?

This was about revenge. - About bloody, torturous revenge for what had been done to him.

He'd find Alistair, and he'd make him pay. He'd make the nightmares, the bastard planted into his mind, stop.

Sam still couldn't forget Alistair's words, before he pushed him out of the white SUV to leave him behind at the side of the road – just as he had promised:

I've something better for you than ending up as roadkill. I'm going to make you regret each day of your future life. I'm going to come for you. In your dreams. In your head. I'm going to do things to you, Sammy-boy. Things you can't imagine ... I'm going to make you take your gun and blow a hole in your skull, hunter.

This had to end. He couldn't go on like this anymore. Either he'd find this bastard and kill him, or he'd truly put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.

No alcohol, nor any medication would help free him from that bastard. Not ever. The only thing sleeping pills would do was hinder him upon waking up ... he'd be caught in his dreams for way too long without any chance to snap out of it or at least wake up afterwards.

And he'd remember every single detail then. EVERYTHING ...

Nowadays he found himself blacking out more often during the days too. He was inattentive during hunts and that had nearly cost his life a couple of times by now. Well, not just his life. If it was only about dying, fine. He could handle THAT. But the fact that some werewolf or fang could turn him into a monster? No thanks. That wasn't how he wanted to end up.

Now that Sam was wide awake, he didn't think about getting back to sleep anytime soon. A couple of hours every couple of days had to be enough. He could sleep later on – when everything was done.

~*DW & SW*~

Sam stood before the mirror in the bathroom and stared at himself. He looked like shit. Cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes and a bit pale. Well, nothing a hot shower and a cup of coffee wouldn't change anyway.

With a heavy sigh, he opened the small cabinet and took one of the four pill-bottles out, eying the prescription patch intently for a very long moment. Actually, he could stop all of this by just not taking his medication. He could go into the bedroom, tug himself into layers of blankets and could try to relax. Since it didn't really hurt, it wouldn't even be really painful either ... It would just sting a bit, he'd start to shake, his breathing would turn erratic until his lungs wouldn't take it anymore.

Hell, he had TRIED. - Actually he had tried to do it a couple of times so far. But he never had the balls to pull through. Who would want to suffocate slowly? It could take minutes ... even an hour or two ... who knew?

A bullet to the head was faster though and without the chance of going back ... Then again: Dying wasn't what he actually wanted. At least not yet. He still had enough strength and will to fight it.

Sam dropped one of the small pills into his right palm and swallowed it dry. Gladly he just needed them when he started to feel weird ... like right the fuck now (Not that this was what the doctors had said to him. Actually they had no clue what was going on and couldn't even put a name on whatever sickness he had – but the pills obviously worked and Samuel Harvelle was grateful about THAT.)

The tightness in his chest, the dizziness, the tingling pain ... It would all be gone again in about fifteen minutes.

When he was done in the bathroom, he headed downstairs and into the kitchen and made himself a pot full of instant-coffee. Black with sugar, since there wasn't any milk left.

This was quite a big house though. It had a second floor with bedrooms and a bathroom. In the first one was the kitchen, a storage, living room and the door into the basement.

Sam eyed the contents of the fridge warily. Two bottles of beer, three slices of bread and a lonely egg ... well, there was still peanut butter and jelly somewhere in the cupboards.

Hadn't he gone out for groceries just yesterday? ... Nope. Yesterday he spent the whole day in the basement. And the day before? ... When was the last time hee had something to eat anyway? He could vaguely remember dropping by a dinner before he settled down in a motel to prepare himself for going into the nest.

... Four days ... Sam huffed out a breath. It's been four days since the last time he ate. He NEEDED to get out and pick up groceries or mother nature would do its work on its own. - After he paid a short visit to the basement at least ...

Eating the three slices of old, dry bread with the single scrambled egg and mustard wasn't a good idea after all. His stomach screamed for more – though there was nothing. The peanut butter was empty, so was the jelly.

Sam hurried up to get dressed in a fresh pair of jeans – the only one left and picked a shirt that didn't smell as bad as the rest.

Seemed like he hadn't done laundry either ...

He ran a palm over his face and shook his head.

Sam grabbed the demon-killing-knife from the kitchen counter and stuck it in between his belt and jeans. Bracing himself, he went through the door of the basement and down the stairs.

~*DW & SW*~

The demon seemed wide awake, glaring at him as he watched him coming down the stairs.

From one prison into another one. The hunter just didn't know what he had gotten himself into. Snatching him from those bastards. Taking him here – on a damn freaking hard loadbed of some rusty old pick up without a blanket or something. The hunter was at least as much of a monster as he was ...

He would've laughed his ass off two weeks ago, if someone would've told him that a hand full of black-eyed bitches were going to get the drop on him and that a hunter would get him out of there to torture some information out of him.

Shit, he'd laugh his ass off right now, if it wasn't for the gravity of his situation.

That man truly held his life in hands – at least for now. He couldn't deny, that he was going to punch the living shit out of this guy as soon as he got free. - Which actually was just a matter of hours, since his strength was nearly back to hundred percent.

There was no way in hell a damn human was going to hold him captive like this – slicing him up and yelling at him, THREATENING him.

He wasn't the bad guy here. Well, maybe he was. He had done some pretty bad things and was about to do some in the near future too – like ripping that hunter's throat out and let him choke on his own blood.

Yeah, that sounded good. Real good. So good, that a dangerous grin formed on his lips, when he took in the lousy appearance of the hunter as he stood before him.

All tall and broad shoulders. Though, Dean could tell that the man wasn't sleeping a lot – maybe even not eating properly ... he'd be an easy game.

Sam wanted nothing more than to wipe the grin from the bastard's face. Though he managed to keep his composure like a pro. There was no way he'd give the demon satisfaction in any way.

"Looks like you don't sleep well, Sasquatch," Dean said – his voice rough and gravely. "I could help you with that." A sly grin formed on the man's lips.

Sam kept his stare casual. "I'll pass."

Dean chuckled and sniffed as he shook his head. "You look like shit, boy."

"You didn't look any better when I left you last night." Now it was Sam's turn to grin. It was true. Dean had been beaten to hell. His face swollen, his body hurting. And now, there was nothing left but dried blood. Not a single bruise, nor a cut was visible on his freckled face.

"Touchè." The demon leaned back a bit and shifted, twisting his wrists in the ropes, securing his arms on the back of the chair. "Otherwise you're feeling good? I mean ... no tingly feeling in your gut? No headache?"

Rather confused, Sam stared at him for a moment longer, before he walked over to the table on the far side of the room.

"Now I'm disappointed. - Thought you'd use this sweet knife of yours again?" Dean nodded towards Sam.

"I don't think I'll need it this soon," he gave back mumbling, while he eyed the hammer for a long moment.

Nope. He wasn't up for this shit today. The demon wasn't going anywhere. And he was exhausted and starving. Besides ... the bastard's taunting wasn't something he could take today without regretting it afterwards.

He might even stab him with his knife and then he'd have to track down another one. And Sam wasn't sure if he'd have the strength to do so ... not anymore.

Dean pursed his lips, as he took in the hunter's profile. The man seemed less enthusiastic than yesterday night. He even seemed pensive ... and kind of hurt. For a short moment, the demon thought to feel sorry for the guy. The hunter looked like someone had killed his puppy ...

Nope, this wasn't going to happen. No one tortured Dean Winchester and got away with it.

After another long minute, Sam turned back around towards the stairs and went back upstairs, leaving a completely stunned and utterly confused demon.

Dean twisted his wrists again and shut his eyes to concentrate on the task at hand.

The water-pipes squeaked above him and he grinned. He simply LOVED these old houses.

A drop of water fell to the ground, where the outer circle of the devil's trap had been drawn. After a few seconds, a second one fell, and the chalk started to show first signs of dissolving ...

... to be continued

It's beta'd now :)

So bear with me and my mistakes, okay?

Hey, and while you're on it ... what about leaving some BACON?

You guys know how bad I want them & how they keep me going.