Devilc's Den 2.0

Title: Introductio in Analysin Daemonium Infinitorum pt 5
Fandom: SPN-FNL
Pairing: Sam/Tim (Sam/Tim/Dean in a few places)
Rating: Adult (Here there be smut!)
Length: 50k words

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Author's Note: This is the cleaned up master version of a story I began writing for MiniNano back in November 2007. Sam Winchester is racing against time to save his brother Dean's life, and he's got Tim Riggins along for the ride ... and a bit more. ;)

The plan was to finish it and post it before the end of S3 of SPN and S2 FNL -- obviously that didn't happen.

Thank you to tartysuz and ixchel55 for their swift beta.

Legalese: SPN and FNL are copyright their respective copyright holders. This work is a labor of whatiffery, not a labor of lucre.




Sam wanted to pull Tim into more research, but Dean argued that could wait until they got rolling. Instead, he said it was time that Tim got a quick and dirty lesson about the art of knife fighting.

And, considering how often they pulled knives or had knives pulled on them? Dean was right. Tim needed to learn this.

As with anything physical, Tim proved to be a fast learner. By the time Dean called a halt to the lesson, Tim, while by no means an expert, had the fundamentals down to the extent that Dean felt comfortable enough to hand him a knife to carry. Tim's eyes grew huge when Dean thumbed it open, revealing its wicked looking reverse S curve and serrated edge.

"This, Tim," Dean said with a sharp smile, "is the Spyderco Matriarch. It's strictly a hit and run weapon. So, you pull this and you slice, and you dice, and then you run like hell. Okay?"

"Okay," Tim nodded solemnly as he accepted the blade with an almost awed expression on his face, carefully turning it over in his hands a few times before he clipped it to the waistband of his jeans.

As soon as he got a chance, Sam pulled Dean aside. "Dude, that's your back-up knife."

Dean shrugged, "Nah, I still got that Harpy tucked away."

Sam blinked at that. Dean loved that knife. It was out of production and a rarity to begin with, and though Spyderco made a bigger version called the Civilian, Dean preferred the Matriarch because its smaller size made it easier to conceal. Also, he'd won it hustling pool. The Harpy, with its serrated hawkbill blade was also a very good defensive knife, and actually suited for a bit of utility work because it had been designed as a fisherman's utility knife, good at cutting lines and fouled nets unlike the Matriarch, which was designed for one thing only -- to lay flesh open to the bone. And although Dean dug the Harpy (because it was the knife used by Hannibal Lecter to disembowel several of his victims) it was his second favorite knife, not the beautiful-as-it-was-scary Matriarch.

"What?" Dean asked, frowning at him.

"It's just ... I know how you love that knife." So, why are you giving it away? "Why not give Tim the Harpy?"

Dean shrugged. "I figured he deserved it. That he'd like something special. Hell," he grinned, "I've never had to use it, so maybe it's lucky that way, and Tim's gonna need luck a whole hell of a lot more than I will."

"Fuck you," Sam hissed.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "No, but that's what you've got Tim for."

Fuck fuck fuck! "It's not -- you asked -- he's not just --" Sam sputtered.

"Whatever." Dean spun on his heel and walked away.

Sam sank down to the edge of the porch and buried his head in his hands.

~oo(0)oo~

"So, um, packing, " Tim said as he looked around the room he used to share with Landry. "How much stuff should I take?" He ran a hand into his hair and idly scratched. "I mean, it's not like I have a whole heck of a lot of stuff ...."

"The essentials are clean undies and socks."

"Yeah, I get that," Tim replied, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "But, like two of everything else? Three?"

Sam sighed. "How did you pack when your brother kicked you out?"

Pause.

Tim broke the silence with a strange sort half snort-half snicker. "I didn't. I was so fucking pissed off at him, so ... shocked, that I just grabbed my backpack and crammed stuff in." He paused. "Half of it was dirty."

They all laughed.

~oo(0)oo~

There was no trip to the laundry room that night. Between learning the fundamentals of knife fighting, packing, and going over every inch of the Impala with Dean, and maybe just excitement and nerves, Tim went out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. On the other side of him, Dean followed shortly after.

As he stared up at the ceiling, mind rolling over and over, Sam didn't half mind. Sure, sex would help him fall asleep, but tomorrow night, there would be a bed, and, like Dad had said, "Hunger is the best sauce."

~oo(0)oo~

"So, I guess this is it, then," Tim said after he slung his bag into the Impala. He scrubbed his hands a bit nervously on his jeans.

Bobby smiled fondly at him. "Bet the three of you are looking forward to having real beds again."

Everybody laughed. (And thank goodness Tim didn't look at him or Dean.)

Tim hugged Bobby, then Tyra, laughing and blushing when she ruffled his hair. He dodged Landry's outstretched hand and pulled him in to a bear hug, squeezing tight as he mock growled at Landry to treat Tyra right.

"I promise not to treat her like you did," Landry wheezed when he got his breath back. "Scout's honor." A zinger, but said in good fun.

Tim smiled and said, "Damn right, you better."

As Sam said his goodbyes -- Dean impatiently revved the engine a few times -- Bobby and Landry assured him they'd keep looking for anything that might save Dean, and Tyra whispered in his ear, "You take good care of Tim."

"I will," Sam whispered back. "Promise."

Just before Dean put the car in motion, Tim leaned out the window and called, "Hey Landry, good luck with that troglodyte you're building!"

Landry facepalmed and shook his head.

Tim cackled triumphantly.

"You -- you mean -- you've been just yanking my chain?! All this time?!"

"Yup, every chance I get, Lando." Tim shot him a shiteating grin.

"Bastard!" Landry laughed.

And on that note, Dean finally pulled away.

~oo(0)oo~

They pulled into a motor court 500 miles later.

Dean chucked his bag in the room, freshened up in the sink, ran a fresh coat of speed stick over his pits, and said that he was going to grab a bite to eat, and maybe shoot some pool or play some darts at that bar back down the road, and that he'd be back later.

Sam stopped him at the door. "Um ... you don't want to ...?"

"Nah," Dean murmured, shaking his head. "I'm not in the mood. I might see if I can find a girl later, but you and Tim? Go on and have an excellent time." He leered at Sam. "I'll call before I come home ... or call to let you know if I'm not coming home." He shut the door behind him.

Tim came bare-chested out of the bathroom a moment later. "So, what now?" Pause. "Where's Dean?"

"Out."

A tiny smile flitted across Tim's lips. "Oh. How about sex and then some pizza?"

Sam's mouth opened and closed several times before he could sputter, "Yeah." And then he snickered.

"What?"

"I've just ... I don't know that many people who are so direct about it." He laughed again.

Tim smiled wickedly and sauntered over, jeans riding low on his hips. "You can't just expect people to give you things in life, Sam. You gotta ask for what you want. Or sometimes, you just take it." He paused and his eyes raked over Sam. "I'm dying to know what all of you looks like."

Sam hooked his fingers into Tim's belt loops and pulled. "Me too." And he kissed him the way he'd been longing to all day.

Tim started walking, backing Sam up, pushing him towards the bed, and when Sam finally laid down on it, Tim climbed on top and kissed him long and lush. "God," he said when they broke for air, "if you had told me two years ago that I'd be out of Dillon, on the lam from the law, busting ghosts, and making it with a guy?" He snickered.

"Yeah, me too." Sam laughed back as he tangled his fingers in Tim's hair, cupping the back of his head, pulling him in. "'Cause, if you had told me that I'd go for a steady thing with a guy ...?"

Tim grinned down at him and dove in for another kiss.

~oo(0)oo~

To Sam's surprise (and delight) Tim wanted to take it a bit slow and savor things.

And, dear God, he was good. Sam laugh-groaned inwardly at that. Tim just did these amazing things with his hands and mouth, seemed to have a sixth sense for sex. (A sexth sense?)

"Are you sure you haven't had a whole string of boyfriends?" Sam said in raspy voice when Tim lifted his head from doing incredible things to Sam's nipples.

"No, it's just J --" Tim caught himself and pressed his mouth shut.

Sam looked at him an arched an eyebrow.

"Just Jason," Tim said, voice strained. "Only a few times ... he wasn't a boyfriend. He was -- he's my best friend."

"Then I suppose there's a long line of lovely ladies to thank, or maybe it's all just your dirty mind I need to thank." Sam put a bit of lightheartedness into his voice, hoping to keep the mood from changing to something darker.

The wicked little glint flicked back on in Tim's eyes. "Both. I'll show you, if you like."

"Oh, I'd like. A lot."

Tim chortled wickedly and went back to work on Sam's body, mapping, exploring, asking what was good and doing it, until Sam felt like a steel rail.

"Tim," Sam choked out as that hot, knowing mouth nibbled along what Tim called "the happy trail", "we're going to have to do something soon here, because I can't hold back much longer." He hissed and clenched his teeth as Tim licked him from root to tip.

"What do you want me to do?"

Sam felt himself blush. "Can we ... like we did in the truck that day?"

"Sure," Tim replied, not seeming the least bit put out by the request.

"It's a kink I never knew I had." Sam felt he needed to explain.

Tim smiled. "It's cool."

"It's just --"

"Sam. You like it. I don't mind. It's just sex. Don't ... overthink it." Tim shrugged.

("It's just sex." But what if I want more than that? )

Tim climbed back up -- dropping a few kisses along the way -- and laid next to Sam who rolled and straddled him, shaking and groaning when Tim reached up and closed his hand around him. "This is going to be so much better without that armrest digging into my kidneys."

Sam laughed.

"And, I can see your face. See what happens when I do this --" Tim flexed his hand "or this." He swiped his thumb several times rapidly over the tip, before sliding it down to tease at the edges of the crown. Sam closed his eyes and hissed through clenched teeth it was so good.

"Don't hold back, Sam. We don't have to be quiet anymore," Tim said in a smoky voice.

So Sam didn't.

He knew he would never be as wild and unrestrained as Tim, but he let loose, and watched as the fire in Tim's eyes flared up in response to what he was doing to Sam, which in turn made it even better for Sam -- it was a perfect feedback loop -- the twitches, the gasps, the words, the sounds between them, building higher and higher until Sam couldn't keep it in any longer and came all over Tim.

Panting and shaking slightly, he crawled down to start licking Tim clean.

(Sam had tasted his come once, as a teenager, just to satisfy basic curiosity. He half couldn't believe that he had cleaned his come off of Tim the first time -- it had been something done on a whim. And now? This time he would close his eyes so he could pretend it was Tim's come he was licking off.)

Tim's hand stayed him. "Do that thing with your finger," he whispered.

"You liked that, then?" Sam asked archly.

"A lot" Tim said in a velvety tone. "I had no idea that things ...." Pause. "You know I'm going to do it to you sometime, right?"

"Sure," Sam replied and reached his hand to Tim's mouth, hissing inside when Tim sucked them in, tongue swirling as wickedly as ever.

A few moments later, Tim was the one hissing as Sam circled the opening and pushed his finger in to the first joint. "Good?"

"Uhhuhdon'tstop," Tim spoke in a breathless rush.

Sam teased him several times, pushing into that tight heat only as far as the first joint, until, as he bent to finally start lapping at Tim's belly, did he finally drive it all the way in. Tim gave a bone-deep groan and spread his legs as Sam began slowly pumping his finger in and out.

When he had finished, licking Tim's fluttering belly clean, Sam slid down and took that hot, seeping cock into his mouth, driving in deep, causing Tim to arch and shout. Sam rolled his tongue over the head, savoring the salty bitterness of it, drinking in the smell of Tim, vibing on the way that Tim clenched that heat around him. A constant stream of broken gasps and groans and oh pleases and oh Sams issued from Tim's mouth, and Sam wished to God that he could see the expression on Tim's face, because he knew it had to be one of utter rapture, utter wild and unrestrained beauty. Spurred on by Tim's fiery responses, Sam quickened the pace of both his hand and mouth, causing Tim to cry out almost violently as he arched and fisted the bedspread. That tell-tale full-body tremor followed in less than a minute and he got no more than a frantic, "Jesus, Sam!" before Tim bucked hard and came.

He didn't quite get his face away in time.

Grinning, Sam wiped his chin clean with the back of his hand and looked up to see Tim looking down at him with a dazed, shaky smile.

"Jesus, Sam, that's ..." Tim rasped. He shook his head. "Like doesn't begin to cover it."

Sam smiled and crawled back up the length of Tim's body to lie next to him and began idly trailing his fingers through the fresh come on Tim's body.

Tim looked at his hand, looked up, smiled, and said, "What is it with you and come?"

"Don't know," Sam murmured, kissing him softly on the forehead. "It's a brand new kink. Must have something to do with you."

Tim kissed him softly on the cheek. "Right. I'm going to shower. You call for pizza."

"What, no shower sex?" Not that he could at the moment, but given some time, like say, a long, steamy shower? He could. It had been awhile since Sam had wanted to or even had the chance for twice a night.

"Have you ever had sex in a shower?"

Well, no, he hadn't. "Jess and I had one of those Roman tubs."

"That's different. The shower is lots of fun until somebody loses their balance and splits their head or lip open." Tim paused and then grinned wickedly. "It's a cool place to get things started, though."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. Next time they got gored up? Oh yeah, victory shower.

Tim shut the door. "Extra cheese!" he yelled through it.

Sam sighed and pulled his clothes back on before he called.

Tim emerged a few minutes later in a cloud of steam and a white towel and ... God, nobody should look like that. It was like seeing Michelangelo's David come to life.

"I was thinking about you, something I want to ask," Sam began.

"Shoot," Tim said as he removed the towel and wound it around his head before reaching for his clothes. "What'd you get?"

"Everything but the fishes." Sam took a deep breath. "So, how cool are you with this? I mean, it wasn't exactly easy when I figured out that ... I mean, I never talked about it with Dean growing up, or my dad -- especially not my dad -- and Jess had no idea, so --"

"Am I freaking inside?" There was a strange edge in Tim's voice. "Nope. Outside of about ... 4 or 5 people, I don't really care what other people think about me. Pretty much I do what I want and they'll think what they want. I mean, I'm a Riggins, right?"

Sam thought about that, the loaded way he'd said "Riggins". "Yeah, I think I get it." One step up from a doublewide -- he'd seen that look, that attitude, all too often growing up. And it had made him work all the harder to prove that he was something different, something better. Dean on the other hand? Water off a duck's back. Apparently Tim, too.

Tim shrugged, picked up the remote, turned on the TV, sprawled on the bed, cycled through the channels, didn't find anything to catch his attention, turned it off, stood up, and started pacing aimlessly. Sam pulled out his laptop. "You interested in doing some more research?"

"Not particularly," said Tim who had dropped to the floor and started doing pushups. "But start reading what you find to me."

Sam rolled his eyes, muttered under his breath, and began with a short newspaper article from the Trinidad Times Independent about mutilated cows and missing sheep in Las Animas and Baca counties.

~oo(0)oo~

When the pizza finally came, Tim had several questions about the case. Was it weird that it was sheep and cows? Why not horses or pigs, too? Would a guard dog be enough to run a chupacabra off? What if it was some other kind of creature?

It's not like he became a Landry level motormouth, but Sam felt encouraged knowing that Tim had paid attention during all those push-ups and sit-ups.

Also, it was a good sign that he could listen to some pretty graphic details about the kind of damage done by various creatures -- even look at a few pictures online -- and not get squeamish or grossed out. He kept right on eating pizza. A Hunter couldn't afford to have a weak stomach. Of course the real test would come when they got into the field, especially if they discovered a shape shifter or revenant's lair.

~oo(0)oo~

The phone rang.

"You decent?" Dean asked, a smirk in his voice.

"In a manner of speaking," Sam deadpanned.

Dean laughed.

"We just had a pizza."

"Oh, is that all?"

Sam smiled and said, "For dinner, yeah. You coming back in?"

"Yeah," Dean grumbled. "This town is pretty dead." Pause. "You still got any pizza left?"

Sam's smile got even bigger. "Nope."

"Jerk."

"Take it up with Tim."

"I just might have to." A knock came at the door.

Sam opened it. "I can't believe you were just outside the door. Lemme guess. You had your ear to it?"

Dean gave an evil smile.

~oo(0)oo~

Sam thought that bedtime might prove awkward, but Tim climbed in, spooned up behind him, kissed his shoulder, and settled in, his breath warm and soothing against the nape of Sam's neck.

Sam stared across the gap between the beds, the room was dark, but he could make out Dean's face in the dim light. He looked at Dean looking at him, the expression on his face soft, unguarded, pensive. Dean held his eyes for a moment, then his "Sammy, you're an idiot" grin flashed across his face and he rolled over.

Sam sighed.

Tim snuggled deeper.

~oo(0)oo~

Ruby slouched against the hood of the Impala, her hair almost unnaturally golden in the light of the ...

Wait. Where was the sun?

"Yeah, it's kind of freaky to see things all lit up but there's no shadows." She grinned wolfishly.

"No sun, either. What is this?" Sam looked around. I looked like their motel, but it was ... off a touch.

She shrugged. "Astral projection."

Sam stroked his chin in thought. "I thought it was more like starlight."

"The sun is a star, Sam."

Oh ... that made sense. "Okay, but why not just show up in the real world?"

She winked at him. "I'm miles away, working on a different project."

"Oh, and how's that going?" He put more than a hint of flipness in his reply.

Ruby idly twirled a lock of her impossibly perfect hair around her finger, studied it for a moment, released it, and said, "These things take time."

Sam clenched his teeth, forced himself to at least act calm, and said, "And Dean's running out of time."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Believe me, I know."

"So why are you here?" Sam crossed his arms. Ruby had helped in the past, but still, she was a demon, one of them, and something about her never failed to irritate him.

Her plastic smile grew wider, her tone became almost simpering. "Just ... checking up."

Sam woke up with a jolt, gasping.

"Whuh?" Tim muttered sleepily.

"Just a strange dream."

"Hmmn." Tim rolled over and Sam spooned up around him. The warmth of Tim's body and the smell of his hair -- soap and something else that Sam could only label "Tim smell" -- washed over him, soothing him.

He drifted back into a dreamless sleep, and woke more refreshed than he had in quite some time.

---
Part Six.