Title: Oprah versus Leno
Fandom: Pairing: Supernatural: Demon!Sam/Evil!Dean
Concrit: Please. If you spot a typo or a grammar glitch, feel free to tell me in comments.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: There's a hunter on Oprah. Dean is not happy. Sam has things in hand.
Previous chapters: Part of the Medlar!verse (Medlars: Fruit ripened by their own corruption.)
Notes: Written for merihn's prompt at comment_fic, Supernatural, Sam/Dean, hiding, in the Memory challenge.
Oprah versus Leno
Dean threw the remote across the room, not even flinching at the sound of shattering plastic as it hit the far wall and disintegrated into a thousand tiny shiny shards. Sam was pleased to see his brother getting stronger every day; he'd recovered from his little stint in hell and was fast becoming fitter, stronger, sharper than he'd ever been.
"Jesus, Sam, don’t you get it? There was a hunter. On Oprah! Since when has the plan been to advertise our existence on national TV? There must have been something you could have done, or had done, to stop him opening his mouth in front of the cameras and shining a fucking great spotlight down on our heads."
The soda can in Sam's hand crumpled like tissue paper as he curled his fingers into a casual fist.
"Why, Dean? So we can keep hiding? We've been skulking about in the shadows all our lives, and I'm sick of it. Every good memory I have is tainted with lies and half-truths; having to play at being less than who I am in case someone sees. Do you know what I remember the most about my first day at school? You. Not Dad; he was off somewhere hunting something, not that either of you told me. You packed me a lunch, PB'n'J and Cheetos, walked me to the gate and then you told me that I wasn't to let anyone know that Dad wasn't around right now."
With a flick of his wrist he sent the soda can flying into the wastepaper basket under the desk in the corner.
"We kept all those secrets, Dean, believing we were protecting the innocents, and that might just be the biggest lie of all. The littlest kids can tell you about the demon under their bed and the monster in the closet. They know there's inhuman evil out there. But they grow up, and suddenly they don't want to believe shit like that exists so they start denying it; they start denying us. We were never protecting the innocents, Dean, we were letting them hide behind wilful ignorance. They didn't want to know, and we made it easy for them."
"Okay, I get that, I guess, but… Dude, Oprah?"
Sam's grin was wide and wicked and made Dean's heart skip a beat.
"One of Bobby's buddies is set to appear on Leno next week, and yeah, I could've stopped him, and maybe the next one and even the one after that. But there's no way we can find them all before one of them gets the word out. And sure, whoever it is that gets their face on TV is gonna get laughed out of town, but it's only a matter of time before people start to wake up to what's really going on. Then they'll find the clip on YouTube and suddenly there's a run on salt and every other damn thing that got a mention."
Unfolding himself from the corner of the sofa, Sam rose to his feet and stalked purposefully towards Dean, savoring the quick rush of pheromones his actions provoked.
"You should have listened to what Billy had to say, Dean, you really should. It was a work of art, all misdirection and almost-truths. You know I'm good at those. We got our version of events, of rituals, of protections, out before the real hunters could, and on Oprah too - a real coup. Now, no matter what they do, they'll come off as Johnny-Come-Latelys, having to deny our truths before they can propagate their own."
Sam chuckled and took another step forward, bumping up against Dean and nudging him back against the wall. Leaning down a little, he licked a stripe up Dean's neck, simultaneously sliding both palms around the deliciously firm cheeks of Dean's ass.
"I'm kinda hurt that you didn't trust me to take care of this," he whispered, directly into Dean's left ear. And then he sucked the fleshy lobe into his mouth and bit down slowly, hard enough to bruise, to draw blood.
Dean groaned, tilting his head back to expose his throat in knowing surrender as his hips bucked up against Sam's.
With a short sharp snap of laughter, Sam lifted him easily, wrapping Dean's legs around his hips, pinning his brother to the wall with his height and his weight and his hunger.
"You're starting to enjoy that too much."