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Sex Addict
folder
Supernatural › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
7,876
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Supernatural › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
7,876
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Skeletal Hands and Persistent Wood
Author Note: So umm I got a review telling me to continue and so it’s lucky I just finished this chapter… anyways we kinda learn what happened to Dean and we solve the mystery, now all we have to do is find out what’s gonna happen between Sam and Dean… heehee
Skeletal Hands and Persistent Wood
Sam was dumbstruck to say the least. Dean had just openly ignored their recent display of desire. Now the last time was understandable because it had been the morning after, but this! This time it was just a few seconds after they had practically dry humped each other! No, Sam wasn’t going to play this game any longer.
“Dean! How can you just ignore this!? It’s obvious that something’s going on that you won’t tell me! When did all this happen?!” Sam was sure, that is if he was interpreting the look on Dean’s face right, that he was finally going to get his answer.
“I-It happened after we fought that succubus,” Dean said with a resigned sigh. “You were knocked out when I killed it; it put some sort of hex on me.”
Sam just gaped at his brother trying to grasp the concept. A succubus putting a hex on someone, that wasn’t possible.
“Dean, that’s not possible. Succubi don’t have the ability to maintain a curse on someone if they’ve been killed.”
“Sam a hex is different then a curse, or somewhat. A hex is just forcing a problem that the victim already had, subconsciously, to the surface, or making it too big to ignore. Because they use the victim’s energy instead of their own, they can maintain the hex even in death. My problem already existed, just not on such an extreme level,” Dean’s gaze was averted from Sam and he was studying the ground so intensely Sam was sure his brother was going to burn a hole in the carpet.
“But what exactly is your problem? ‘Cause I’m sure you didn’t have a problem getting off before the hex, did you?” Sam was totally confused, Dean was hiding something and he was going to extreme measures to hide it.
“I-I can’t tell you what it is Sam, I’m not entirely sure myself and I won’t tell you something like this unless I’m sure. And no I didn’t have this problem before the hex, or it was small enough that I could ignore it…. Can we just focus on the case right now? I promise I’ll help,” Dean said with a sigh and turned to his duffel bag so he could find some clothes.
“Yeah, ok,” Sam said it even though he knew that it wasn’t ok to drop something this big like that.
“So you said we’ve been looking in the wrong time eras and that we should go back farther? How far back do we need to go? The 1600’s? How do you know we need to go farther back, how do you know we just haven’t been looking for the right signs?” Dean had gone into full hunt mode and seeing him like this made the knot in Sam’s chest loosen a little.
“Well we hadn’t really found anything so I start doing every like odd date where we almost never check because anything big would’ve been mentioned a few times instead of just once. So I’m in the records section and I realize that a lot of these records aren’t really about the city but most of them are about the founder of the city. In fact I haven’t been looking back in the mid-1800’s that much because most weren’t about the city.
“Then I realize that maybe the demon, haunting or whatever happened to come around way before the city’s actual founding. Cidade Vermelha da Argila wasn’t even here until somewhere around 1915. So I went back to the records of the founder, which were more like his journals, and I started looking in the odd dates of diaries. When I’m looking I come across and interesting entry during 1903. Here I photocopied it so you could read it,” Sam handed over the piece of paper, the words were faded and hard to read, and he reached into the Wendy’s bag for his food, handing the bag to his brother.
Dean read:
‘I had been sleeping soundly near the fire but I remember waking to an odd rustling sound coming from the tree near mine and Mike’s camp. Remembering the sound that had awakened me I looked up into the tree and listened harder, a low gurgling moan reached my ears and, thinking it might be a wild animal about to attack, snatched up my rifle. I turned to wake Mike but he was nowhere to be seen and his sleeping bag had been torn to shreds. Then something hit my shoulder with enough force to send me spinning across the ground, I blacked out. Upon waking I found the brutally mangled corpse of my friend Mike Cusas. Still being night I hoped the creature that had slain my friend would come back so that I could slay it, as I walked closer to Mike’s body I heard that same gurgling moan as before. I quickly stopped moving and trained my shotgun on the tree, where the sound seemed to come from. There I saw the most terrifying sight I had seen in all my life, the tree itself seemed to move and its branches seemed to grope blindly in my direction. Terror made my body freeze and I waited far from the murderous tree that had killed Mike. For now I am sure it was what did for the body had no lacerations like an animal would do, no it seemed it had been crushed by the giant constrictors I had seen in the exotic jungles. But when the sun began to rise, the tree no longer creaked and groaned; as soon as the rising sun’s rays hit the tree it ceased it’s movements with a great shuddering sigh. The murder is now under inspection and I have been released from jail for only, as I had said before, a gigantic snake could have done such damage though the police said it was highly unlikely that any such creature would be anywhere near here, and if so they would’ve gone after easier prey. I went into a small Indian village a few days near the site of the tree and questioned them to find out what they knew. I learned that the area near the tree had been treated as taboo for decades; also I learned from records that within a period of fifty years twelve men had been found dead under the same tree in the same condition. This struck me as incredibly odd and I talked to the chief of the tribe who told me of one of the tribes most told legends... The origins of the legend were based on a tribal priest about eighty years earlier, a man named Ubo, who suddenly went insane and started a campaign of terror on the region. Many people were waylaid by him and strangled to death for no reason at all. At last the warriors and chief head out to hunt Ubo down. They trapped the killer beneath the tree one evening during a storm, just when the chief had given the order to kill him there was a flash of lightning. The tree was struck and so was Ubo, he had been standing with his back to the trunk, when the warriors recovered the charred body they noticed the hands were missing. They dare not look in the storm, so the hands were never found. I find this whole experience one of the most horrific things that I’m sure will ever happen within my life.’
Dean looked up from the gruesome tale with a look of disgust, setting his food down on the table and pushing it away.
“So you think it’s the tree that’s killing people?” Dean asked.
“Yup, I think the lighting that hit the tree and Ubo somehow like combined their spirits or something along those lines. The fact that the tribe just left Ubo’s hands there doesn’t help any either, if the hands weren’t disintegrated that is,” Sam was scarfing down his burger causing Dean to gag.
“So… is this evil tree the one in the park or something?” Dean was pretty skeptical, that tree would’ve been around 183 years, possibly more and, though it’d happen before, it just seemed unlikely in this place.
“Yeah, they in fact decided not to tear down the tree, considering what had happened there; sorta making it a memorial place for Mike Cusas. Even though the founder was against leaving the thing up the others thought it would be nice to have a park with a historical tree and a memorial all in one. Idiots,” Sam rolled his eyes, “So I figure we just go in there and burn the cursed thing down… though that might be a little dangerous. I don’t know, I thought you could figure that part out.”
Dean groaned, “Great, leave it up to me to burn down a town’s favorite plant! I mean how am I gonna tell them that they have a killer tree in their park? Maybe we can leave right after and not tell them, but burning down a tree in the middle of the night would attract some attention… maybe we could cut it down and drag it out of town to a place where we can burn it with people finding out…”
“Sure Dean, whatever you want,” Sam said, pitching his voice low and husky as he made his way to the bathroom.
Passing by his brother, Sam leaned over his lap to reach the photocopy, ‘accidentally’ brushing his hand on the inside of Dean’s thigh. Sam closed the door with a smile, hearing Dean mutter angry curses and the tell tale squeak of the chair as he shifted on top of it.
TBC…
Skeletal Hands and Persistent Wood
Sam was dumbstruck to say the least. Dean had just openly ignored their recent display of desire. Now the last time was understandable because it had been the morning after, but this! This time it was just a few seconds after they had practically dry humped each other! No, Sam wasn’t going to play this game any longer.
“Dean! How can you just ignore this!? It’s obvious that something’s going on that you won’t tell me! When did all this happen?!” Sam was sure, that is if he was interpreting the look on Dean’s face right, that he was finally going to get his answer.
“I-It happened after we fought that succubus,” Dean said with a resigned sigh. “You were knocked out when I killed it; it put some sort of hex on me.”
Sam just gaped at his brother trying to grasp the concept. A succubus putting a hex on someone, that wasn’t possible.
“Dean, that’s not possible. Succubi don’t have the ability to maintain a curse on someone if they’ve been killed.”
“Sam a hex is different then a curse, or somewhat. A hex is just forcing a problem that the victim already had, subconsciously, to the surface, or making it too big to ignore. Because they use the victim’s energy instead of their own, they can maintain the hex even in death. My problem already existed, just not on such an extreme level,” Dean’s gaze was averted from Sam and he was studying the ground so intensely Sam was sure his brother was going to burn a hole in the carpet.
“But what exactly is your problem? ‘Cause I’m sure you didn’t have a problem getting off before the hex, did you?” Sam was totally confused, Dean was hiding something and he was going to extreme measures to hide it.
“I-I can’t tell you what it is Sam, I’m not entirely sure myself and I won’t tell you something like this unless I’m sure. And no I didn’t have this problem before the hex, or it was small enough that I could ignore it…. Can we just focus on the case right now? I promise I’ll help,” Dean said with a sigh and turned to his duffel bag so he could find some clothes.
“Yeah, ok,” Sam said it even though he knew that it wasn’t ok to drop something this big like that.
“So you said we’ve been looking in the wrong time eras and that we should go back farther? How far back do we need to go? The 1600’s? How do you know we need to go farther back, how do you know we just haven’t been looking for the right signs?” Dean had gone into full hunt mode and seeing him like this made the knot in Sam’s chest loosen a little.
“Well we hadn’t really found anything so I start doing every like odd date where we almost never check because anything big would’ve been mentioned a few times instead of just once. So I’m in the records section and I realize that a lot of these records aren’t really about the city but most of them are about the founder of the city. In fact I haven’t been looking back in the mid-1800’s that much because most weren’t about the city.
“Then I realize that maybe the demon, haunting or whatever happened to come around way before the city’s actual founding. Cidade Vermelha da Argila wasn’t even here until somewhere around 1915. So I went back to the records of the founder, which were more like his journals, and I started looking in the odd dates of diaries. When I’m looking I come across and interesting entry during 1903. Here I photocopied it so you could read it,” Sam handed over the piece of paper, the words were faded and hard to read, and he reached into the Wendy’s bag for his food, handing the bag to his brother.
Dean read:
‘I had been sleeping soundly near the fire but I remember waking to an odd rustling sound coming from the tree near mine and Mike’s camp. Remembering the sound that had awakened me I looked up into the tree and listened harder, a low gurgling moan reached my ears and, thinking it might be a wild animal about to attack, snatched up my rifle. I turned to wake Mike but he was nowhere to be seen and his sleeping bag had been torn to shreds. Then something hit my shoulder with enough force to send me spinning across the ground, I blacked out. Upon waking I found the brutally mangled corpse of my friend Mike Cusas. Still being night I hoped the creature that had slain my friend would come back so that I could slay it, as I walked closer to Mike’s body I heard that same gurgling moan as before. I quickly stopped moving and trained my shotgun on the tree, where the sound seemed to come from. There I saw the most terrifying sight I had seen in all my life, the tree itself seemed to move and its branches seemed to grope blindly in my direction. Terror made my body freeze and I waited far from the murderous tree that had killed Mike. For now I am sure it was what did for the body had no lacerations like an animal would do, no it seemed it had been crushed by the giant constrictors I had seen in the exotic jungles. But when the sun began to rise, the tree no longer creaked and groaned; as soon as the rising sun’s rays hit the tree it ceased it’s movements with a great shuddering sigh. The murder is now under inspection and I have been released from jail for only, as I had said before, a gigantic snake could have done such damage though the police said it was highly unlikely that any such creature would be anywhere near here, and if so they would’ve gone after easier prey. I went into a small Indian village a few days near the site of the tree and questioned them to find out what they knew. I learned that the area near the tree had been treated as taboo for decades; also I learned from records that within a period of fifty years twelve men had been found dead under the same tree in the same condition. This struck me as incredibly odd and I talked to the chief of the tribe who told me of one of the tribes most told legends... The origins of the legend were based on a tribal priest about eighty years earlier, a man named Ubo, who suddenly went insane and started a campaign of terror on the region. Many people were waylaid by him and strangled to death for no reason at all. At last the warriors and chief head out to hunt Ubo down. They trapped the killer beneath the tree one evening during a storm, just when the chief had given the order to kill him there was a flash of lightning. The tree was struck and so was Ubo, he had been standing with his back to the trunk, when the warriors recovered the charred body they noticed the hands were missing. They dare not look in the storm, so the hands were never found. I find this whole experience one of the most horrific things that I’m sure will ever happen within my life.’
Dean looked up from the gruesome tale with a look of disgust, setting his food down on the table and pushing it away.
“So you think it’s the tree that’s killing people?” Dean asked.
“Yup, I think the lighting that hit the tree and Ubo somehow like combined their spirits or something along those lines. The fact that the tribe just left Ubo’s hands there doesn’t help any either, if the hands weren’t disintegrated that is,” Sam was scarfing down his burger causing Dean to gag.
“So… is this evil tree the one in the park or something?” Dean was pretty skeptical, that tree would’ve been around 183 years, possibly more and, though it’d happen before, it just seemed unlikely in this place.
“Yeah, they in fact decided not to tear down the tree, considering what had happened there; sorta making it a memorial place for Mike Cusas. Even though the founder was against leaving the thing up the others thought it would be nice to have a park with a historical tree and a memorial all in one. Idiots,” Sam rolled his eyes, “So I figure we just go in there and burn the cursed thing down… though that might be a little dangerous. I don’t know, I thought you could figure that part out.”
Dean groaned, “Great, leave it up to me to burn down a town’s favorite plant! I mean how am I gonna tell them that they have a killer tree in their park? Maybe we can leave right after and not tell them, but burning down a tree in the middle of the night would attract some attention… maybe we could cut it down and drag it out of town to a place where we can burn it with people finding out…”
“Sure Dean, whatever you want,” Sam said, pitching his voice low and husky as he made his way to the bathroom.
Passing by his brother, Sam leaned over his lap to reach the photocopy, ‘accidentally’ brushing his hand on the inside of Dean’s thigh. Sam closed the door with a smile, hearing Dean mutter angry curses and the tell tale squeak of the chair as he shifted on top of it.
TBC…