Several hours later, the three of us sat in the Impala, Sam behind the wheel, me in the passenger seat and Dean still cuffed in the back.

"This thing is filthy," Sam glanced at the wrappers and trash littering the inside of the car.

"It's just a car, Sam," came Dean's reply from the backseat.

"'It's just a... car,'" Sam repeated, looking at his brother in the rearview mirror. "Wow. You really have gone dark."

"You have no idea."

"You know what, Dean? I saw what happened back there. You could have killed that guy, and you didn't. You took mercy on him."

Dean scoffed at that, shaking his head.

"You call that mercy? Imagine you spend your whole life hunting down the guy who knifed your father. When you finally find him... he whips you like a dog. How do you think that feels? That kid's gonna spend his whole life knowing that he had his shot and that he couldn't beat me. That ain't mercy. That's the worst thing I could've done to him."

Dean leaned forward then, putting his hands over the seat to get right up close to Sam as he said his next words.

"And what I'm gonna do to you, Sammy... Well, that ain't gonna be mercy, either."

He looked at me, giving a wink before sitting back against the seat in satisfaction.

---

Sam put me in charge of chaining his brother up in the dungeon while he retrieved the consecrated blood. That was probably the best and worst decision he could have made, because although the demon went willingly to the chair in the center of the Devil's Trap, the comments didn't stop the entire time the chains went on, starting with his arms.

"We trying out something new, then, huh? Kinky..."

I briefly caught his emerald gaze before moving to the other arm and putting the clamp tightly around that wrist as well.

"Come on, you know you want to. I can't move, you have full control of the situation."

I swallowed, kneeling to place more chains on his ankles.

"Haven't you ever fantasized switching positions? This could be your one chance to try it."

I rose to my feet, moving around the back of the chair to place the final chains around his torso.

"Then again, you probably couldn't pull it off. You're such a good, needy little bottom. I bet you don't have it in you to top."

My cheeks were burning as I finished up and started for the door.

"Oh, come on, Alexandra. We have some time before Sammy shows up. Let's have some fun."

Swallowing hard, I turned back to the demon who sat smirking in the chains.

"Get over here and ride me all night long."

---

Sorry, I got carried away again. I told you everything I include is relevant. And it was all night long, by the way... Anyway, moving on...

---

The next morning, Sam walked into the dungeon, holding a cooler filled with blood bags. I was leaning against the wall to Dean's right, by all the torture tools. Dean's lust filled eyes left me and hardened as they met the other Winchester's.

"Really?" he demanded.

"For what it's worth, I got your blood type."

The demon scoffed, rolling his eyes at the response.

"Sam, I know you think you're gonna fix me, but... did it ever occur to you that I don't want to be fixed? Just let me go live my life. I won't bother you. What do you care?"

His eyes once again made their way over to me before looking at his brother again.

"What do I care?" Sam repeated, splashing holy water and beginning to chant in Latin.

"You think I'm just gonna sit here like Crowley? Getting all weepy while you shoot me up? Well, screw that. I don't want this!"

"Yeah, I pretty much figured that out," Sam turned away and got out a syringe and one of the pouches of blood.

Dean's gaze was back on me, but his words were directed at Sam.

"You don't even know if this is gonna work, do you? You know I got a hell of a lot more running through me than just demon juice."

"Mark of Cain, got it," came Sam's uninterested response as he filled the syringe about halfway.

"That's right," Dean confirmed, winking at me.

I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, looking away as I heard the demon's low chuckle.

"Buckle up," I heard Sam say.

"Sammy... you know I hate shots."

"I hate demons," came the response.

I looked over as Dean's eyes flashed black for a second before Sam splashed him with holy water. While his skin burned and he was screaming, the younger brother plunged the needle into the elder's arm. As he injected the blood, a groan escaped the demon's lips.

"Look, we got a whole bunch of these to go," Sam said softly. "You could make it a lot easier on yourself."

The emerald eyes widened as the man in chains continued to grunt and groan, the blood already beginning to take effect.

---

I had been banned from entering the dungeon once Sam caught on to Dean's lustful glances and my red cheeks. However, that didn't stop me from listening from the other side of the hidden door.

"I know what you did when you were looking for me," Dean was taunting Sam. "I know how far you went. Crowley told me all about it. So let me ask you... which one of us is really a monster? Hmm? Starting to come back to you now?"

Turns out, Sam had helped Lester out when it came to the demon deal. He had met the man while at a bar, Lester drunk off his ass and spilled all the details about how his wife was a slut, sleeping with some guy with tattoos, who had kicked him to the curb. So Sam planted the idea of making a deal in the depressed man's head.

"You were trying to get a twenty on Crowley and me from any demon you could snag," Dean continued. "But Crowley didn't want to be found, and no one showed when you summoned. But you found a way, didn't you, Sam?"

Sam had led Lester to the crossroads, buried the box himself, before going to hide in the shadows. On his word, Lester began to read the Latin from the piece of paper Sam had given him. However, when the demon showed up, Lester made the deal to kill his wife before Sam could even begin to negotiate for information. And so he resorted to torturing the demon, although she didn't tell him anything.

"Oh, and so you know," Dean added, "I killed Lester myself. And that wife married the tattoo guy."

There was a loud bang, and I assumed Sam had slammed his fist on the table.

"I never meant-" Sam started.

"Who cares what you meant?!" Dean cut him off. "That line that we thought was so clear between us and the things that we hunted, ain't so clear now is it? Wow. You might actually be worse than me! I mean, you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and his soul. Nice work."

Dean's screams echoed through the door, and I was certain if I was upstairs like I had been instructed to be, I would still be able to hear it. There were a few beats of silence a moment later before I heard Dean's voice once more, softer than it had been before, but still containing the same fiery passion.

"Let me ask you this, Sammy: if this doesn't work, we both know what you got to do to me, right? You got the stomach for that, Sam?!"