Fic: Right Where You Belong (always by my side) Part 2

[majestic_duxk]

Part 1

It didn't take them long to arrive. Out of all the heavenly dicks it could have been, it was his least favourite.

"I see you finally claimed your useless whore."

Sam sat up slowly, feeling his power thrum though his blood, darkness filling the room. He was pleased to note the way both angels flinched.

"You wouldn’t be referring to my beloved consort as useless would you, Uriel?"

Zachariah tittered. Sam ignored it. Dean was his whore. Uriel, however, hissed, holy wrath in his gaze.

"I did not give you permission to use my name, demon scum."

Sam stared straight back.

“You are here because I allow it, angel. Permission can easily be removed.” He allowed his rage glance across their grace, before settling, seating himself on the throne once more. “Insult my brother once more, and Zachariah will leave alone.”

Sam turned his attention to his nails, watching Uriel out of the corned of his eye. Zachariah was doing his best to calm the enraged angel. Sam smiled, and noticed a trace of Dean’s blood from earlier. How foolish to let it go to waste. Ensuring both angels were looking at him, Sam slowly sucked his finger into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around the slender digit. His body responded just to that little taste of Dean.

His hand drifted down, brushing his erect cock. The twin sounds of disgust were delightful. With a fond little squeeze, he turned his attention back to the intruders.

“I am surprised to see you though. You obviously know what occurred, and that it’s too late. Dean is mine. All mine nothing that you or Michael do can change that."

Sam allowed his satisfaction to permeate the air. It increased as Uriel and Zachariah flinched back.

“Castiel…”

Sam’s laugh rang out. “Castiel? You think one little angel can take Dean from me?”

Zachariah spoke up. “He’s rescued Dean once before. What makes you think he can’t do it again?”

Sam stood. This game was over. These two didn't care about Dean. They didn't care about Castiel. They wanted to niggle and nip, to ascertain for themselves that Dean was taken.

"I think you know the difference, Zachariah. Last time Dean was the Righteous Man. This time Dean is all mine. That makes a great difference, don't you think?"

There wasn't much else Sam wanted to say.

"You are not welcome here. Inform Heaven that any attempt to rescue Dean will be seen as an act of war. And I will act accordingly."

The angels disappeared leaving nothing but the Boy King in a foul mood.

He didn’t need to deal with this shit. This was his fucking wedding day. Snapping his fingers, Sam exited the throne room.

--oo--

Reappearing in the bedroom, Sam paused to take in the pretty picture Dean made. He was still on the bed (of course. It was enchanted so he could only leave it with Sam's permission). Dean hadn't noticed him, too busy glaring at his hands.

"Dean, present yourself."

Dean jumped a little, before bringing his body back into tense alertness. A sneer crossed his face.

"Present myself? What the fuck does that even mean?"

Tilting his head, Sam narrowed his eyes and stared at his brother. Dean shifted under the gaze. It reminded him uncomfortably of Castiel. And Cas! What was Cas doing? Why wasn't he...?

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by a firm finger hooking under his collar, pulling him forward. Sam looked angry now.

"You will not think of another while in my bed, Dean."

Dean lowered his head submissively, but glared at the blue silk. It wasn't like he'd meant to. What was he supposed to think about after all? Sam? All that did was make him angry!

Sam had undressed at this point - the old fashioned way – Dean needed to think about things, before seating himself on the bed, back firmly against the headboard. He pulled Dean until his ass was firmly pressed against Sam’s interested cock, Sam’s arms wrapped loosely around his brother. Dean went to break Sam's hold, but Sam just tightened his arms.

"Your place is in my arms, pet. Or wherever I wish it to be. I see that the claiming ceremony hasn't really taught you that." Sam chuckled quietly. “Not that I expected it to. That wasn't for you. That was for my Hell Spawn. Making a point, if you will."

While one hand grasped Dean across his chest, finger idly stroking Dean's nipple into peaked prominence, the other slid down his side, stroking the long lean line of his hip.

"Heaven and Hell know that you're mine, Dean. You though… you’re stubborn enough to need a repeat lesson.”

Sam felt his bad mood evaporating. He was looking forward to this. He had been for a long time.

--oo--

However, it would be nicer if Dean was a little more involved.

Dean lay against him, stiff and unyielding.

"I don't understand where the attitude is coming from, Dean.” Sam couldn’t help the whine in his tone. “Even top side you were mine. I don't know if you noticed – you were never good when it came to me – but I always made sure you had a mark, like this one," Sam pressed his finger into the bruise on Dean's neck, "so everyone would know you were taken. And everyone knew, Dean. Did you ever wonder why Jo suddenly stopped flirting? Why Bobby left us alone?"

Dean reddened and gritted his teeth. Fucking brilliant hunter he was. He hadn't realised until... until when? Yesterday? How long since had he even spoken to Bobby? Fuck his life. This was... what was even...

He didn't even notice the soft hands stroking down his side, the quiet, sweet nothings whispered in his ear. He didn't need to, not really. Sam always soothed him. He shook himself. No. That wasn’t how it was now. This wasn’t Sam. And he was in Hell.

A deep sigh cut through his thoughts.

"I see you’re still uncertain. That's okay. Dean." The words were said kindly. "By the end of tonight you'll remember where you belong."

--oo--

"First things first!" The words were bright and peppy. Before he realised it, a leather ring was being fastened around his cock. It matched his other… jewellery. Sam was a fucking patronising bastard.

"Sam! What the fuck?"

Sam squeezed Dean’s balls a little, rolling them in his hand before tugging – just this side of pain. Dean's breath hitched and his cock jumped. Fuck. Sam still knew every little thing that got him hot. He squirmed away, but rather than letting him free, Sam's hand following, tugging and pulling and –

"Sam! Stop! Please!"

Sam didn't. "Here's the thing, Dean. You are mine. You are also exceptionally stubborn," Sam dropped a kiss on the top of Dean's head. "So I know it's going to take a lot of teaching. But don’t worry, Dean. I’ll enjoy it very much,” he purred. “And the lesson right now? Everything about you belongs to me. From the top of your head, to the tips of your pretty little toes. Your thoughts, feelings. Your love. Your cock? It's mine. Your ass? Mine. Your pleasure? Mine too. If I get pleasure from pleasuring you, then that's what I'll do."

Dean was panting now. Sam hadn’t stopped caressing him, and he’d been hard since Sam fucked him in the throne room. This? This was just a tease.

"Please, Sammy, take it off!"

Sam's hand paused, and Dean heaved a sigh of relief. Only to moan in distress as his hand moved to his cock, palm sliding over his leaking tip.

"Take what off, Dean?"

"The ring! Please, Sammy – take it off or…or stop." Dean wriggled frantically. It wasn’t a normal cock ring. It – along with every fucking thing in this mother fucking room – was imbued with Sam’s essence. Every fucking thing in that room danced to Sam’s tune. (But not Dean. Dean wasn’t ready to admit that yet).

Sam didn't stop. Instead he lectured. "From now on, unless you have explicit permission, you only come with my cock in you. I could be cruel, pet, and say only with my cock in your ass." Sam's hand continued its leisurely tease. "But I know you love sucking cock as well. But not just any cock."

Dean gasped as Sam's hand tightened. "From now on, just me, Dean. Not that you'll have much chance in Hell." Sam's hand gentled again, continuing its tortuous journey. "No one here will touch you. I'll destroy them if they do."

The words were all the more frightening for the conversational tone.

"Oh, and you will come just on my cock, Dean. From now on this little thing,” and Sam pulled at Dean’s cock, “is out of bounds for you. For now I'll trust you not to touch it. But, Dean? I'll know."

Dean was barely listening to Sam. His poor, overstimulated cock jerked and throbbed in Sam's hand, Sam cruelly cutting him from any relief.

"Sammy!"

There were tears in that voice, Sam thought happily. He stopped his ministrations, bringing two fingers to Dean's mouth. "Suck."

Grateful to have Sam's teasing hand removed, Dean did just that.

Sam stroked his pet's hair. Dean had always been a slave to his body. And now that Sam owned Dean's body, that meant Dean was his slave.

--oo--

Sam held Dean in his arms, allowing his pet to calm, for his shivering to stop, before quietly reminding him, "When I entered our room, I asked you to present."

Dean shot Sam an uncertain look. What did that even mean, ‘present’? Hesitantly he offered Sam his wrists, cringing as he saw the leather cuffs. Sam smiled, and pulled Dean’s wrists to him, kissing his palm just above the leather.

“That’s good, Dean. But not what I want. You need to turn around and present your ass to me.”

Dean froze. What the fuck? What the actual fuck?

“Sammy…” He started, but found himself quickly manhandled into position, on his hands and knees, ass facing Sam.

“Instant obedience. No arguments. I know you can do it, Dean.”

Sam sat back and looked at his brothers’ gorgeous ass. Round and so biteable. Dean used to hate him biting it (hurts to sit down, Sammy. You’re too rough!), but it was his now.

With that happy thought in mind, Sam peeked in Dean’s head. Dean was somewhat shocked and horrified. Well, that was to be expected. Still thought he could “save” Sam. Still thought Castiel could save him – Sam scowled at that. But most annoyingly still the stubborn, unbroken Hunter.

Sam considered. Was that what he wanted? His brother pliant and obedient, yet completely broken? No… no he didn’t want Dean completed broken. Just… obedient and pliant. And willing. Ok, so maybe a little broken. He still wanted some of Dean’s feistiness ,though.

Perhaps a little humiliation? Dean had not liked being naked in front of the Demon Court. (Not that it mattered. Dean wasn’t going to be wearing much ever again.) And in his embarrassment he’d, what? Not fought him as hard? Sam warmed to the idea.

“You look lovely, Dean. But I know I gave you something else earlier. I think you should show it to me.”

--oo—

Dean stared straight at silk sheets, feeling tears of shame pool in the corner of his eyes. This was wrong. Wrong in every way that mattered and a few that didn’t. Why was Sam doing this? Even after that very public… event… Dean couldn’t, couldn’t believe that Sam really thought he owned him. That was just to make a point. To Hell.

“But I do own you, Dean.”

“Goddammit, Sam! Don’t read my mind!”

He didn’t turn, but he felt Sam’s gaze on him. Could even hear the unspoken response.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was sharp.

“Riiight. Obey your master, Dean. Spread your legs for your master, Dean,” he muttered under his breath. Inhaling sharply, he shuffled his knees apart. It felt terrible. Fucking terrible. The plug filled him, and it moved. He could feel it dipping and rising as his ass clenched and relaxed. When his feet were about a foot apart he paused. Surely Sam could see everything?

“Wider, Dean. I want to see that emerald sparkle between your cheeks. I want to know that even with your legs spread like a whore – my whore,” he added voice like a silken caress, “you are filled with my very essence.”

Sam let that sink in, before adding. “Plus, I thought you were a man of your word. Do you expect me to keep mine when you don’t?”

With a start, Dean realised he had forgotten his promise. His… obedience… for the safety of his friends. For Bobby, and Cas, and the others. This is just the beginning, he reminded himself. Sam’s still mad about the running off thing. Give it a while (he hoped a little while. He really hoped a little while), and Sam would relax, and then he and Sam could talk about this. But in the meantime…

Taking a deep breath, Dean did as Sam demanded. If he didn’t spread his legs Sam would do it for him, and that was somehow worse. He inched his legs apart, until he felt his ass cheeks spread, the air cool on his exposed flesh. His balls hung heavy and low. And Sam could see everything. Every fucking thing. The thought sent a blush to his cheeks – both sets.

The weird thing was? This was nothing new. Sam had already seen everything. He’d willingly got down on his hands and knees while Sam lovingly licked him open. He’d done that without a blush too…

He’d had a long time to get over his embarrassment. Despite his initial reticence, they'd been lovers a long time. Since Sam’s 18th birthday. And at Sam’s instigation, now that he really thought about it. Dean didn’t remember wanting his brother as a lover. And he didn’t remember when that had changed. He’d loved Sam. Always loved him with a deep and abiding love. Sam had been his everything. His responsibility? Yes, but so more than that. His life. Dean would have gladly given up his life to protect Sam.

But the older Sam got the less he needed Deans’ protection, the more he wanted, well, more. Certainly more than Dean wanted to give. He recalled Sam at 15, asking Dean to kiss him. Dean had refused, of course. What kind of monster kisses their 15 year old brother? So for the first time ever, Sam had not gotten his own way. No amount of begging would shift Dean, and so Sam had sulked for weeks, unbearable in his rejection.

But somehow between then and Sam’s 18th birthday, things changed enough that Dean found himself on his back giving his ass up for his brother.

And he couldn’t complain. At the time. At the time he’d wanted it. And the sex had been great. Little Sammy, big enough to grab him and push him around and fuck him just right. That hadn’t changed.

But now, casting his mind back, when had agreed? He could recall Sam’s breathy little request that Dean please show him. He wanted his first time to be special, to be perfect, with his brother. And somehow… Dean had agreed. The problem had never been that Sam was male. Hell, Dean had been around the block a few times, it was true. And even back then he had been equal opportunity.

But he’d always been the one to take care of his partner– whatever type of sexy body was is in his bed. He prided himself on being a generous lover and taking care of whoever made their way into his bed. So when Sam had quietly request that Dean help him, show him, that’s what he had expected with Sam. To sweetly usher his brother in to adulthood.

He never could explain why – or how – things had changed that night. One moment Sam was beneath him, Dean leisurely exploring his mouth the next… what had happened next? Brow creased in thought, the images cleared in Dean’s mind:

…Dean’s mouth dipped to suck a bruise on Sam’s jaw but before he could mark his little brother he found himself on his back, Sam’s hands holding him down while he marked up Dean’s throat.

…Sam pulling Dean onto his knees, opening him up with his fingers and tongue.

…Sam fucking into him, telling him this was it, he was Sam’s now.

…Sam collapsing on top of Dean, not even bothering to pull out before he curled around him in bed.

Now that was strange. Dean had never recalled the incident with any clarity. Even at the time it was just… how it was. And since then, it wasn’t something he’d thought about for. Since then, Sam said bend over and Dean did. And that was odd too.

Dean caught sight of Sam’s smug expression. Dean felt his own darken in return.

"All along it’s been you? You somehow… fuck! You planned this?"

Sam’s smug smile broadened. "Haven’t you been listening to me, pet?” Sam shook his head mockingly. “Oh yes, Dean. I planned this. I wanted this. I wanted you. And nothing on Heaven or Earth was going to stop me. And Hell?" Sam laughed. “I had Hell on my side.”

Dean grunted. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? And what was he supposed to do. Sam was right. He hadn’t listened. And now? Even now he couldn’t help but cling to that last, faint hope. The collar and cuffs… sure he was trapped in them. And Sam said he wasn’t going to take them off. But Sam changed his mind all the time. Lost in his thought, Dean’s didn't realised Sam’s hand had moved until he pushed on the plug.

"Ah – Sam! Don’t!"

"I believe you're missing the point, Dean."

The problem, Sam decided, was that his claims on Dean were external. Dean had been in many uncomfortable situations before; he knew how to ignore physical discomfort. The cuffs, the collar, fuck, even the cock ring could be ignored. Dean didn’t equate his bonds as being related to Sam. Sam needed to fix that.

Of course Sam could fuck Dean. And he most certainly would. His come would slowly change Dean, moulding him into the perfect pet. And given time, Dean would become attuned to Sam's every want and desire.

But that was a slow process.

Too slow.

Sam eyed Dean's ass, the emerald glinted at him. It warmed him, knowing that even now his seed was filling Dean. He would never stop plugging him. It felt good, satisfying, knowing that Dean was full of him.

But he also had other options. Faster options.

"I wasn't going to permanently mark your skin, Dean. At least, not yet. It’s an intimate act. It generally involves trust… Where you take what I give, Dean. You accept and welcome it. I wanted to be a celebration of our mutual bonds, however…” Sam heaved a disappointed sigh. “However I think you need a very physical reminder of who is your master."

And, Sam added quietly to himself, he needed the security of knowing where Dean was at every moment. That Dean was safe from everything that Heaven, Hell, or anything in between could throw at him. Huh. Those angels had disturbed him more than he realised.

Dean snorted. "What? I’m your fuckin’ lap dog now, Sam! Are you telling me a collar isn't enough?" Dean shifted his weight and pulled at the collar. The tags rattled but the clasp didn’t even budge. Fucking demon magic.

"No, a collar isn't enough. Now be quiet." Sam put enough power behind the word that Dean was forced to still his tongue. Sam could get used to that.

Palming Dean’s ass, he spread him further. Reaching between Dean's cheeks, Sam toyed with the plug, before pulling it out in one smooth move. Although Dean clenched his hole quickly, he was spread wide enough that some of Sam's come dripped out and onto the bed.

"Oh, bad boy, Dean." Sam was delighted. "Don’t you remember what I said? You take everything I give you. You need to lick that up now."

He didn't need to see Dean's face to know it held an expression of disgust.

"Seriously, Sam? Isn’t that a little gross even for – ow!"

Sam rained a series of firm spanks down on Dean's ass. He paused to admire his work - it was a rather attractive shade of red now, with rivulets of come coating Dean’s thighs.

“Don't get side tracked”, he reminded himself. He could spank Dean's ass red every morning. But now was obedience training. That was more important than personal gratification.

"You obey me, pet. Without question. Now, do it, Dean."

Clenching his ass cheeks together in an effort to not spill any more, Dean slowly shuffled around, until he was face to face with Sam’s come. He eyed it warily. Luckily there wasn’t much. But still… he couldn’t keep the revulsion off his face. What the fuck was Sam thinking? He could deal when it was fresh from the source. He even liked sucking Sam’s cock, although he liked Sam on his knees sucking his more. But this… this was…

“Now, Dean.”

Blanking his mind, Dean dropped his head and lapped at sticky liquid. He did his best to ignore Sam’s hot gaze.

--oo--

Sam squeezed his cock firmly, containing his orgasm. At some stage, when they had time, he was looking forward to coming all over Dean. Bound spreadeagled on the bed as Sam laid stripe after white stripe all over his body. Biting back a moan, Sam winced as he took himself very firmly in hand. He still had to mark Dean, and that could only happen when he was buried balls deep in Dean’s ass.

Another wave of arousal and excitement hummed through his body. This was it. This moment was years in the making. All the lies and promises, the deals and demons. It had all come down to this moment, when he would finally claim Dean as his.

If Dean had looked, he would have seen Sam’s eyes glowing gold with power.

--oo--

Heady with excitement, Sam laughed out loud. Dean went to raise his head, but Sam just pushed him face down onto the silk.

“Stay, Dean. Do. Not. Move.”

Sam put power into his voice. He felt the sigils on the cuffs and collar vibrate with his energy.

Dean shifted, the leather moving unpleasantly against his skin.

“Sammy…?”

Sam’s hand was on the back of his head, fingers hooking under the collar and drawing Dean’s head back. It pressed against Dean’s throat, and he swallowed uncomfortably. It would be so easy to slit his throat in this position…

“Oh no, Dean, no. You still don’t understand. There is no out for you.”

With those words Sam took Dean’s mouth, claiming it as his own.

--oo--

Dean didn’t want to like it. Sammy’s touch had always made him feel good. And now? His cock throbbed – and just from a kiss? What was he, a fucking teenager?

No… No. He was a fly caught in his spider’s trapped. Was it all magic, Dean wondered, even as he leant into the kiss.

Luckily – or unluckily depending on how you looked at it, Sam pulled back. His tongue swiped across Dean’s lips, before dropping to the bite mark made when he – Dean’s thoughts quickly scattered. He didn’t want to think about it. He’d managed to avoid thinking about being publically… fuck! What was wrong with his brain?

Sam used his mind reading trick again. “In the Great Hall? That was just the first part of this ceremony. It opened your body to me, readied you. I was going to wait, let you adjust to me, my power, naturally. But it’s better this way. No one – no angels, no demons, not even you will be under any illusions. Now, I know you’ll try to be good, Dean. Bu let’s make your obedience… easy.”

Without Sam touching them, his wrist cuffs moved together, until his hands were bound at the small of his back.

“Fuck! Sam!” He couldn’t help the panic in his voice.

“Shhhh. It’s ok, Dean.” Sam was still licking and nuzzling at his throat. One had stroked along his back, pausing to pull at his cuffs. “I like seeing you like this. It makes me happy. And soon… soon my happiness will be your happiness.”

And Sam bit Dean again, the new bite mirroring his mark in the Great Hall. Even as he felt the Sam’s teeth break his skin, Dean struggled. Off balance as he was, he only fell forward. Without Sam’s hold on him, he would have face planted in the bedding. As it was. Sam lowered him gently, until his curses were muffled in the silk sheets.

“Good boy.”

Sam daubed his finger tips with blood, before beginning to draw the Mark of the Boy King on his chest. Dean’s wound ceased bleeding before he had finished – that just meant he had the pleasure of biting it again. Dean’s hitched breath and shaking body were delicious.

Once it was completed he turned to the mirror. Perfect. It was perfect. Moving to the side of the bed he pulled a silver knife out of the drawer.

Green eyes studied it. Sam tossed it in his hand. Catching it blade side down. He opened his palm, showing it to Dean.

Nothing.

“Just in case you were thinking of trying to hurt me,” Sam offered conversationally. “Of course it can cut me,” and Sam dragged the knife down his arm, enjoying the cool of the blade. “But only if I want it to.”

Turning his attention to Dean’s back, slowly and carefully adding his mark, drawn with his blood.

Sitting back, he traced the lines with his eye. Even now it seemed to glow. Perfect.

Tossing the blade back in the drawer, Sam sat back on his heels, admiring the pretty picture Dean made. He noted his come pooling between Dean’s thighs. He really should have put that plug back in. Still, not to worry. There was plenty more where that came from.

--oo--

Although his eyes were shut, Dean could feel it as Sam practically prowled around the bed, observing him from every angle before coming to rest directly behind him.

“Your ass is still nice and loose from earlier,” Sam observed. “My come looks good dripping from you.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “But I like it when you’re plugged up. I don’t know how we’re going to get around this.”

Running a finger between Dean’s spread cheeks, Sam gently pushed his come back in.

As Dean’s shivering intensified, Sam allowed the sense of self-satisfaction to swell, before carefully lining up the two marks. Despite the distance, he felt a little flare of heat between the two. They wanted to be joined.

--oo--

The thing on Dean’s back seemed to pulse, nipping at his skin trying to… to what? Consume him? He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of it. He didn’t like the way Sam was gripping his hips again. He didn’t like the way Sam’s cock nudged at his hole (and fuck! He’d probably leaked all over the bed! What was Sam going to do about that?), and he definitely didn’t like the stretch and burn as Sam slowly slid into him. It felt different this time…

“It’s ok, Dean. It’s ok. You bear my mark this time. It can feel me.”

It could too. The nipping seemed to stop as if it was waiting.

Sam took his time, slowly sinking into his brother, until he felt his balls brush against the curve of Dean’s ass.

“This may hurt a little,” Sam warned, before pressing himself flat against Dean’s back, pressing the bloody markings against each other.

--oo--

Dean’s screams rang in Sam’s ears as their blood merged and melded. Sam’s power seemed to have a mind of its’ own, throbbing mine mine mine as it raced through Dean’s body, carving itself into his very bones, his very molecules.

So weak as to almost be silent, Dean’s body said yes in return.

--oo--

Sam was exultant.

“Do you feel that, Dean? My blood will always call to yours.” Sam licked at the top of Dean’s collar, tasting saltiness. “And yours, sweet pet, will always answer.”

Beneath him, Dean’s body seem to burn as Sam’s claim solidified on Dean’s skin,

“Soon,” he whispered. “Soon it will all be over.”

Dean didn’t respond. He lay lax and unresponsive in Sam’s embrace. Sam could feel the heat from Dean’s skin, could feel how exhausted his pet was. But Sam needed to see.

“Sit up, Dean.”

Dean just moaned. He didn’t want to even think about moving.

“Sit up, Dean.”

It was an order Dean and couldn’t refuse. It was like his body had to obey. Dean’s mind wasn’t on board, but right now he was too exhausted to fight. And he fucking hurt.

He slowly shuffled to his knees, presenting his back to Sam.

Dean was perfect, Sam decided. Although… With a flicker of a thought Dean’s cuffs released, and although his shoulders jerked, Dean’s hand stayed exactly where they were.

“Good pet. But I can’t see my mark. Hands by your side.”

Although he was slow to obey (on top of everything else Dean’s arms must have been aching from being in that position for so long, not to mention Sam’s weight on top of them), he did as Sam asked.

--

Sam stared at the marks on Dean’s back and shoulders. He could feel his pulse, Dean’s pulse racing through it. It was a mix of their blood. Now he was part of Dean, and Dean was part of him.

It was old magic. Deep magic. Blood magic. Dean wasn’t marked by Hell – Dean was marked by Sam.

Reaching forward, he touched his hand to the marks he felt his power pulse through Dean’s body.

He’d done it. He’d done it! Dean was his. He finally owned him body and soul. And he would never let him go.

--oo--

A year and a day after Sam had taken the crown, Heaven smiled. Well, most of Heaven, Michael allowed, glancing at Castiel’s drooping feathers. The Boy King had done more in a single year to decrease Hell's influence on Earth than hundreds of years of fighting Heaven’s armies.

The Righteous Man was a small price to pay for peace on Earth, and in Heaven.

And if Dean's first day was any indication, Heaven and Earth would be spared Hell’s touch for a very long time.