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Hunter

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The thing is, Dean grows tall like a damn weed.

His first real growth spurts hit at fifteen and by seventeen he's tall and already filing in, sleek but muscular in the way that makes the highschool girls fall all over him. Dean flirts, winks, and smirks and he gets himself a reputation for it, he takes the idea and builds himself an image. It's easier to go from place to place when it's more of a game, no one really knew him so why should he care when they eventually pack up and leave?

And they always do.

But Dean is a good soldier and he knows exactly what he should be; cocky in his youth, distracted by pretty girls, ok grades. For his father specifically, he's a crack shot and can run five miles without warning. He does as he's told and doesn't snap back or bulk at orders. Dean's the good son and he shaped that image over the years until he is everything that his family and society expect of him.

Whatever might exist under that he keeps to himself for the most part.

With a few exceptions of course.

He plays his role and then when no one's looking he sneaks off and relaxes for a bit. Usually while getting laid.

Dean's not ashamed that he has a preference for other guys. It's just something he knows his dad won't be keen on and that in general people won't like him for. It'll draw attention to him and if nothing else, Dean knows attention is never a good thing. People glance and then move on when there’s nothing interesting. If there is something worth a second look it means people are doing a double take, lingering, and they might see something Dean doesn't want them seeing. It's why he makes his grades lackluster, dressed like every bad boy his age and it’s why he doesn't make it obvious he digs men.

The whole point of this rant though is that growth thing.

For a long time Dean was small, petite and light, the whole nine yards of delicate. While being smaller was nothing but annoying for hunting and dealing with high school bullshit, there were certain perks about it.

Mainly, Dean's got himself a wee bit of a kink.

Guys his own age used to tow the line just fine, athletes and the like, larger builds that used their bulk to push him around. But after he hit his growth spurt Dean's as tall as most of them and usually he's got more muscle. It's a weird thing to be disappointed about, to hear Sammy bitch about his own size and feel a tinge of jealousy. His brother is compact; he doesn't catch attention and the majority of guys around the school loom over him. It's such a screwy reason to be jealous, but Dean can't help it any less.

So he finds men. Not boys his age but men. Older men who work labor or are just that fit. Typically these men have their own kinks and like fucking Dean hard and rough, making him beg for it. Dean gets used to it and even learns to like it, to want men to humiliate him while they pound into him.

Part of it ties into the fact the Dean doesn't get to be weak.

His little brother needs him strong, his dad demands it and essentially everyone else in their lives has come to expect it. So Dean carries the weight and grits his teeth and bares it.

The idea of being delicate or needing a gentle touch is ridiculous. Dean imagines that if someone ever tried to treat him like that he'd be freaked out. But having some huge guy over him, in total control of Dean feel good in a base way. For a few hours, Dean doesn’t have to think. There are no worries circling his head about his dad’s hunt or where their next meal will come from.

The more humiliating it is for him, the more in the moment Dean is. The more demanding the guy is, the less Dean feels like he needs to be the one running the show.

He’s not dumb, even in his most desperate moments Dean’s got a measure of control. A hunter can’t afford not too. Dean doesn’t let himself get tied up unless he knows he can get out. When he meets men in shady places Dean knows all the exits. Little things that might save his life but at the same time keep Dean from that final edge.

But Dean knows he can’t trust strangers.

So it becomes a twisted fantasy, of some guy making him, forcing him to give up control. In reality, Dean would never let himself get into that situation but in fantasy no one can judge him.

So to wrap this up, the main thing to take is that Dean likes feeling small and helpless sometimes. Not in a hand holding sappy way but something baser, something instinctual and feral. But after he shot up in height and started to bulk up from training, he doesn't feel that way much these days.

Dean misses it.

The next thing is Hellhounds, which are supposedly some of the meanest motherfuckers out there.

From what Dean can make of the respectable lore they seem on par with demons, even the weakest of them are capable of creating havoc akin to demon’s special brand of crazy. Thing is though, they don't cross hunter paths very often. Unlike demons who are drawn to evil and have a tendency to pop up to make a hunt that much worse or are off killing innocent people for the hell of it, Hellhounds have an actual mission statement of sorts.

They're responsible for the souls that have been sold to demons and the souls of the damned. Soul selling isn't something Dean knows a lot of, he's heard rumors of hunters desperate enough to do it and regular people messing in the wrong shit. But the thing is, if someone sells his or her soul there isn’t much to be done. You might fight off one Hellhound, but another will come, on and on until the job is done. They bring the souls to hell, done deal. Damned souls are the really fucked up people, not monsters but actual humans, the kind that go into a coffee shop and shoot twelve people just because they could. Serial killers and the like that aren't influenced by the supernatural but are actually just that evil all on their own. Hellhounds come for them too.

So a maximum security prison that has its own mental ward with all the worst of humanity tucked in it is going to have a few Hellhounds around. Most of the prisoners are on life sentences or on the chopping block so death is regular around there. It's essentially one of the best places to go looking for a Hellhound.

The other thing with Hellhounds?

Magic won’t stop them. Won’t even put a dent in them. You want to take a Hellhound down you got to do with brute force. Guns and knives in close range, there not easy to kill and the fact that they repel most magic makes it that much harder. But they can walk over wards and seals like their nothing, curses never affect them and pretty much every magic based monster gives them a wide birth.

The power they carry is notable, desirable even. So it’s a long-standing belief that a Hellhound’s blood can grant anyone similar abilities, the same magic immunity. Dean’s never seen any hard proof of it, Bobby said it was bullshit and there isn’t much he doesn’t know, but John Winchester wanted to check anyway.

So they’re camped out beside a maximum-security prison for the criminally insane trying to hunt and trap a Hellhound.

Dean is the good son and he plays his role but even he can see all the ways this is a terrible idea. He’s just grateful they left Sammy back with Bobby. The last thing he needed was having to try and keep an eye on the boy and help his dad stalk something that is very likely going to hunt them right back.

Hellhounds are impervious to most magic but it doesn’t mean all magic. There a few spells that work, but mainly those that will just let you see them. So they’ve got a thick coating of some magic mix crap under their eyes and Dean can feel it drying and pulling it at his skin uncomfortably. Still he sits tight, leaning against a tree, crouched low and watching a path that cuts through the forest line. The trees are spaced thin and the green belt is small, it’s a patch of forest the leads to a clearing and then fields in all directions. Dean imagines though that if anyone were to escape the prison they’d try to run here, thinking the forest would help hide them and go on longer than it does. He wonders idly if it was left intentionally just for that, to draw would be escapees in, unknowing their trapping themselves.

The EMF reader spiked along this path, signaling it's likely the place the Hellhounds travel by so John has Dean watching it throughout the day. Come night his dad takes over and waits for a Hellhound to show up. They’ve loaded the rifle with high caliber iron bullets and there are iron traps all over the woods. Between that John is hoping to bag a Hellhound. Dean is following orders, but none of it sits well with him. Nothing in the lore suggests that their mindless beasts. It does underline that they are vicious and primal but not dumb. If anything there are a few mentions of their intellect being potentially on par with demons, with humans.

Essentially Dean figures the entire thing is a bad idea but he keeps his mouth shut and follows orders. John wouldn’t listen to anything he had to say anyway. They've done dumber things and managed to make it out, this will just be another.

 

A crunch of dirt and leaves to his right makes him tense up.

It’s the middle of the day, the sun is out and everything. There was no ambulance rushing to the prison, no sirens going off. They’ve avoided the prison guards, kept a good distance away from the actual prison. Besides, Dean would have heard someone walking up. The woods have a thick floor made up of dirt, twigs, and leaves. You can’t walk in any careful fashion or light step and not make noise.

Dean had actually been having a good day too. He’d hooked up with a prison guard last night via a nearby bar, a massive guy that had fucked Dean into the mattress and left him panting for more. With his dad out all night, Dean had been looking forward to another round with the guy. He’d left faint bruises around Dean’s throat and every swallow ached and that in turn left Dean turned on.

He was clearly a messed up guy, but we've established that.

The birds aren’t singing anymore Dean notes absently with a soundless sigh. The squirrels are gone and there is a certain stillness in the woods that only a malicious presence can bring. No way is it not something supernatural. Dean hadn’t lived this long as a hunter to not know when some monster was lurking.

His phone is in his pocket, his father on speed dial. Likely though John’s sleeping, catching a few hours before coming to the site with Dean. During the high sun they figured there was no chance of a Hellhound coming around so Dean’s essentially just sitting around keeping an eye on the traps more than anything.

A low, inhuman growl sounds; it’s deep and gravelly with a strange echo to it, something fundamentally supernatural.

Slowly, Dean peeks over his shoulder and the area is clear but he doesn’t doubt for a second something is there. His rifle is loaded, but the safety is on, it’ll take a few seconds to flip it off and then get the rifle up to aim it at the invisible monster. The crap under his eyes is irritating and it doesn’t seem to be working, Dean can’t see anything but he knows it's there.

Another crunch of leaves sounds from his other side and Dean swears internally because of course there's more than one. There had been a few theories of pack mentality but no certain proof. Dean feels like the reason is because no one is dumb enough to go looking for Hellhounds and if they are they don’t come back.

“Hey puppy,” Dean croons at the empty air and figures he might as well go out fighting.

In a smooth practiced motion, he flips the safety and brings the rifle up to aim. There is a shifting of leaves a few meters to his right so he shoots at it. The gun cracks like thunder and Dean is certain the prison heard that. He spares a second of guilt for the guard who will be sent out to check, unaware that the place has bear traps set up everywhere, the painful kind.

Another movement to his left makes him swing the rifle like a bat and he actually connects with something. The weight of it knocks him back, but the unseen beast drops as well. Dean gets the barrel of the gun up and quickly fires a second shot.

He hears the whine of the monster and sees the leaves scatter as it falls; injured or dead Dean has no idea.

Technically he’s done what his father wanted. One Hellhound served up. If not dead then certainly hurt. But the reality is that Dean can hear the rustling of movement coming from three different directions and in the background he can hear the siren from the prison going. Despite the no-win scenario, he knows his dad will be pissed at him for leaving the prize but Dean wants to live so he takes off. He swings the gun to try and keep the Hellhounds away as he runs. The Impala is with his dad so Dean’s got no real mode of transportation or escape plan. There is nothing that can stop a Hellhound once its decided to chase and Dean’s willing to bet hurting and potentially killing a pack member merits a chase.

Sure enough, he can hear something following him and gaining steadily. The forest line is going to end in a few yards and then it's nothing but wheat fields. If he crosses that then there is an old farm house with an unsuspecting family. Dean figures if they don’t shoot him, a man running full tilt from a maximum prison for whack jobs, then he’ll bring death upon them via the Hellhounds who kill pretty freely when riled up. Dean can't bring that on them. More so when no one will survive either way.

With a curse and a prayer, Dean stops hard and yanks himself to face backward. He gets the rifle up and shoots at the closet movement. Two more bullets go before something hits him hard from the side. It’s like a brick wall in motion and it hurts as Dean goes down. The earth is soft but not enough that he isn't winded. The rifle is ripped from his hands and Dean can see it being picked up and crushed by an invisible force. Despite the lack of oxygen in his lungs, his hand jumps to the knife on his belt and he pulls it out, slashing at the air. It connects and Dean can see a black red splatter of blood before his forearm explodes in pain. He can see the gashes as they open, feeling teeth digging and biting into his arm. Something lands on his chest and slams him back into the ground. Dean grits his teeth and tries to buck the monster off but his best shove doesn’t even move it an inch. He’s pinned down but he reaches with his free hand, pulling the knife he keeps in his boot out and slamming it into the body he can’t see. The Hellhound snarls but doesn’t let his arm go, it’s jaw is grinding Dean’s bones and he swears out as pain floods his body. He can feel his bones starting to give under that bite’s pressure.

He doesn’t expect the monster to let go so when it does Dean jerks away. In a second he feels those same teeth close around his neck. Head tilted back he can feel the heat of breath and the slime of saliva on his exposed throat. Immediately he goes still and then sags after a moment. The teeth begin to dig down to bite and Dean knows it’s done. He lets the fight in him die out as he waits for the Hellhound to tear his throat out.

Part of him always knew he'd go out this way, a monster killing him.

But as Dean remains slack the monster doesn’t finish him. After what feels like an eternity, the teeth on his throat stop digging in. The hellhound releases Dean and he can feel its breath panting on his wet skin. In the distance the jail siren is ringing and the hellhound growls at Dean. He feels something push his shoulder and nip at his arm. The hellhound herds him to his feet and gets him moving. Dean is completely confused but if it means he gets to live Dean’s willing to play the sheep. The hellhound steers him past the house and the other hounds soon join, biting at his heels to keep him going and running at his side to control where he goes. Soon Dean’s running hard again, crossing farmer’s fields and thick woods. There’s a cliff edge with large exposed rocks that comes up unexpectedly and before Dean can stop he’s shoved over.

 

Dean comes to on the ground and the first thing he notices is the heat. Sitting up slowly he realizes he’s not where he fell. It's not grey stone and green plants around him. It's shadows of rocky cliffs and red dirt that’s warm to the touch surround him. The sky is pitch black with a strange red moon casting an eerie light. His head hurts but beyond that he feels fine, no aches from falling off a cliff which seems odd. His arm is still bleeding sluggishly, but it's not something that requires immediate attention.

He’s got no weapons save a tiny knife and no idea where he is.

The cliffs around him are jagged with caves throughout them, encircling Dean. There’s a narrow opening in one spot and the cliffs go up for ages, rivaling mountains with perilous drops. It’s an ominous and creepy place but Dean can see the tactic right away. There’s only one clear way in or out that’s highly visible and the caves offer shelter. The lowlight casts dark shadows and Dean can’t see into any of the caves, he has no idea what’s watching him beyond the certainty that something is. Dean’s in the main ground area where the cliffs all meet, a large oblong circle that’s made up of dirt rather than jagged rock. It’s a red clay type and Dean’s never seen anything like it remotely near the prison. He can’t think of any mountains nearby either. Wherever he is, it’s a hell of a ways from where his father is. Dean checks his phone but there's no signal.

A growl echoes from the shadows and Dean starts as something comes from the dark of one of the larger caves, a massive monster stalks towards him. The growl is familiar and Dean realizes he’s looking at a hellhound. It’s enormous, bigger then a bear and its skin is exposed, muscle and bone. It’s grotesque looking and terrifying with its red demon eyes locked on him. Long canines gleam as it circles him and Dean stays perfectly still, watching the monster watch him.

Dean slowly pulls his pocket knife out, a last ditch weapon. The hellhound snarls once at Dean and then charged him. Diving out of the way, Dean curses when more hellhounds start appearing, snarling at him. They hang back though, watching Dean and the big bad boss hellhound. So Dean throws himself at it, his knife isn’t much but it’s still a knife. The beast is scarred all over and Dean adds to it, getting a few slashes on its side and back.

But getting close enough means the hellhound can retaliate and it grabs Dean’s leg, teeth biting into his thigh as it yanks him off his feet and tosses him in the dirt.

Dean keeps his grip on the knife and when the hellhound comes close he swipes at it, going for its eyes. He gets a long jagged slice in, right down its face, but he misses the eye. The monster darts in and grabs Dean by the throat, shaking him once hard. The motion cracks Dean’s head on the dirt and it stuns him enough that he loses his grip on the knife, his one chance.

The hellhound’s tongue is lapping Dean’s blood from his neck, even as it bites down, slowly choking him. Panicking won’t help him, Dean has no time as the beast watches his face with its crimson eye. Going slack again Dean gives in. The hellhound bites harder and Dean gasps weakly for air, closing his eyes to block out this last sight before he dies.

When he closes his eyes the hellhound stops crushing his throat. It holds Dean there, waiting for a drawn out moment before dropping him. Dean crumbles to the ground gasping for air as the bites bleed sluggishly. Thankfully none of them are deep enough to cause serious bleeding. He can’t help but think it has to be intentional. There was just no way that a hellhound didn’t know the power of it’s own bite.

The boss hellhound circles, watching him keenly and when Dean looks at him, it lunges for him, grabbing his shoulder and shaking Dean, nearly pulling his arm from the joint.

Laid out on the ground, Dean rolls onto his stomach and struggles to rally his body for another attack. When it doesn’t come Dean looks at the hellhound again, this time it’s long teeth catch his gaze and the beast doesn’t attack.

Dean glances at its eyes and it charges.

Looking down, Dean knows enough about animals to realize he can’t meet its gaze. That every time he does he’s challenging it

Submission, he figures is what’s going to get him out of this alive, if there’s any chance of that. Dean’s more used to being cocky but this isn’t like the normal hunt. These are feral monsters more then anything and he knows he’s on borrowed time, that he should be dead already.

It’s unnerving when the beast walks right up to Dean but he keeps his gaze down. The hellhound circles him again as the others pace around them, watching the whole thing keenly.

It’s hard not to look when the hellhound moves out his sight and Dean can’t help but jerk when hot breath pants on his neck for a moment.

The first wet sound confuses him and then Dean feels the heat seeping into his coat and shirt.

“Oh fuck no,” he snarls and jerks away as the hellhound pisses on him.

Freaking pisses on him.

In an instant Dean’s throat is snapped up right under his chin, painfully tight again as he feels teeth dig into his already abused skin. Dean wants to fight, he wants to just be done with it, but more then that, he wants to live.

So he swallows once, its painful, and then goes completely slack. The hellhound shakes him hard, teeth tearing Dean’s skin and he can feel his blood running down his neck, but once again it's not a dangerous amount. When it lets him go it stands over him and Dean keeps his eyes down and throat bared. After a long pause the hellhound moves over him and lifts it’s leg again.

Dean’s on his back now and he flinches but stays there and let’s the monster piss on him. It’s searing hot, seeping into his shirt and the heat of it feels like it could burn him. Dean tries to focus on the feeling of it, the pungent stink, rather then the utter humiliation of the act.

Either one cause a stirring in his groin and Dean kind of hates himself for it.

Once it’s done the other hellhounds start to get excited. All of them are massive like grizzly bears but the first hellhound is the dominant and largest of them. They fight amongst each other but none of them growl at the boss hellhound, none of them meet its gaze either.

They come up close to Dean, sniffing and snarling at him as he stares at the ground and tries not to flinch. The main hellhound stalks around them and Dean can feel it watching him as the others sniff at Dean, nipping at him as they circle. One of them humps at his leg, hips rolling, and before Dean can recoil the boss hellhound has the other one off him and laid flat. A snarl and bite puts him in his place and the boss paces around Dean again, closer now, growling at the others. The bite he’s given the hound is a gaping thing that makes the other one limp and Dean knows for certainty now that a single bite like that could kill him. He also realizes he’s being kept alive for a reason.

It’s fucked up and Dean should be freaking out and planning a way out of this mess but something in him, some sick part of him reacts. Dean can feel the thrill course through him at the boss hellhounds utter dominance and he wants to be sick.

The hellhound shoves at him, moving Dean until he’s up on his hands and knees.

It’s obvious what it wants and Dean doesn’t know what to do as the monster sniffs at him. His chest is wet with its piss and he’s shoved forward when it noses his ass, pressing hard against Dean’s body. The first bite makes him yelp and the boss hellhound lifts a paw to hold him still. His teeth catch in Dean’s back pocket and he tears the denim with one hard shake. It shows the power in the beast that his pants rip like tissue paper, exposing Dean’s ass.

It’s claws rake down, tearing his jeans and briefs wider so that his skin is exposed, his ass and thighs are on display now. Dean flinches in pain, stinging scratches welling with blood along his ass and thigh. The boss hellhound snarls at him when he tries to reach back and check the new wounds and Dean goes still, he stays up on his hands and knees with his ass offered out.

The hellhound sniffs him again, nose pushing and Dean swears as the feral monster licks him. The wide tongue lapping over his hole and it’s fucked up that Dean likes it immediately. The hellhound’s tongue presses into his ass and Dean swears softly as it pushes into him. He’s still open and loose from the fucking he got last night and the hellhound's tongue is inside him because of it.

The other hellhounds are panting and pacing as the boss steps over Dean. It’s massive and loom over him, it’s underbelly brushing his back. It’s beyond fucked up that Dean’s excited, that his dick is filling out with what’s about the happen.

The hellhound jabs at him, a hard dick hitting his thigh. It’s huge and thick, slimy all over and Dean winces each time the beast shoves at him. It fucking hurts.

A hot sticky substance is drooling from the cock and it’s getting all over Dean. It’s slimy and he supposed he should be thankful for it. Because when the hellhound hit his asshole it slams into Dean viciously without warning, the slime is probably the only thing that kept Dean from tearing.

A choked cry is all he can manage as the beast proceeds to fuck Dean mercilessly, pounding without let up. The cock in his ass it too big and it hurts. It feels scorching and the slime all over it is running down his skin, over his balls and down his own cock.

Dean feels a well of shame when he realizes he’s hard.

The hound uses him; fucking Dean like it’s the only reason Dean exists and he’s on hands and knees under it getting off. He can feel every jarring thrust inside him, his ass clenching down as Dean swore and gritted his teeth. The power behind the slamming is throwing Dean forward, forcing himself to brace on his arms for every lunge to keep him from being fucked to the ground.

The boss hellhound grabs at his neck, teeth biting as it pulls Dean back and up. Forcing him to arch from the ground. His fingers barely touch the dirt as all his weight in on his knees and in the bite the hellhound has on him. Dean can feel blood dripping and he feel tears of humiliation burning as the monster keeps its brutal pace the whole time, bouncing Dean on its cock. It feels like the monster is exposing him, showing all the others how hard Dean is, that his own dick is drooling.

It’s not even done and Dean knows it’s the best sex he’s ever had.

When it lets his neck go, Dean drops to the ground. A paw on his back forces him to go flat, his chest pressed to the dirt while his ass is high. The hellhound just keeps going, even as his cock seems to grow. Dean winces as the discomfort and then chokes out a breath when the hellhound jams itself deep, pressing itself hilted into Dean’s ass.

It’s a whole new level of degradation as the hellhound rides him. The others are pacing and watching avidly, locked onto Dean as he’s violently fucked.

The base of the cock pounding into him was steadily growing and Dean winces as his hole starts to stretch too far. The paw on his shoulder is pinning him tightly and Dean couldn’t get away as the hellhound starts slamming itself intently, short jabs that are going deeper and deeper somehow. The thick cock is pressing and forcing its way into him and Dean can’t muffle a cry.

Dean can feel it stretching his insides, inflating within him until there was no room left to move. The hellhound pulls back to thrust and Dean cries out, struggles to shove back with him when it burns painfully. There was no more room for friction, they were locked together.

He can feel the pressure building up, something in his guts twisting as Dean clawed at the dirt. The hellhound was panting over him, holding still as its cock twitches in Dean’s asshole, pumping into him. It feels too hot and Dean’s sweating with it, groaning out as the hellhound looms over him, claiming and dominating him as it empty’s its load in his ass.

It feels too long until the monster pulls off. His body hurts, his abdomen feels like its pressing out of his skin, overfilled and near bursting. Dean cries out as the sudden yank, the cock inside him coming free after a second of painful resistance. It feels like Dean’s insides are going as well, his hole stretching too wide to let the massive thing out of him. In a sloppy smooth pull it comes free and Dean can feel a gush of seed pour after it, the pressure inside him letting up as the excess is pushed out. It feels scalding and Dean hates himself for how hard it makes him come. Ropes of his own seed hit the dirt and the hellhounds seem to sense it, pacing eagerly now.

Come that feels too hot begins to seep from his hole steadily, it’s thicker now and white lines make their way down Dean’s thighs. He feels like he’s gaping wide as he slumps to the ground on his side, panting for air and feel light headed and over heated.

A hot sensation hits his thigh and Dean blinks to see the boss hellhound standing over Dean, it’s leg raised up again. It’s pissing on him once more, a heavy stench filling the air as it urinated all over Dean’s thighs and ass. Part of Dean is just too drained to move but he knows a larger twisted part of him wants to stay right there and let it happen.

Tears blur his eyes in mortification as the hellhound pisses on Dean and then kicks up dirt like a dog, clumps of wet, blood and semen soaked muck raining on his body.

The boss hellhound looks down at Dean, red eyes boring into him and Dean doesn’t meet the gaze. He keeps his eyes down, feeling broken and hating that he likes the emotion.

The beast walks away a few feet and settles, lying out with a satiated grumble.

Dean jerks when teeth bite at him, not deep but little nips that are more startling then anything. The other hellhounds of the group bite at him and it makes Dean move, getting up to avoid them. Dean stumbles a few shake steps but his leg is torn up and giving out, making him fall.

The boss hellhound watches as Dean struggles to get up, pulling himself up against a boulder. Dean realized he’s bent over on knees a second too late when a hellhound mounts him.

It’s smaller then the boss hellhound but still a massive monster, the size of a bear with the powerful muscle. Dean hisses out when the cock pieces him, sliding right into his wet hole, sloppy seconds.

The monster’s dick is fat and it fucked Dean just as hard, giving nothing up as Dean grunted and struggles not to fall. His arms gave out quickly and Dean braces himself against the rock, half laid over it now as the hellhounds paws hold his hips, keeping him right there for every lunge.

The position made the beast’s cock hit Dean’s prostate right on and he jerked with every motion. The hellhound on him whined and the too hot spill started inside Dean. It felt overly full and Dean curses weakly as the hellhound holds him in place, making him take it.

Its cock is inflated like the first one but not as massively. It doesn’t stay like the boss hounds and when the hellhound lets go of Dean and jumps off his back the cock inside him comes free with a wet slurp and stinging burn. He immediately slumps down and slides to the dirt. The hellhound sniffs his ass and then trots off. It seconds before Dean feels the sting of another hellhound nipping at his hip.

“Fuck off,” Dean growls but the nipping turns into actual bites and Dean is forced to get up to avoid the pain of it. Weakly, he leans over the stone again and gets to his knees, knowing what the hellhound wanted. The beast is on him instantaneously and it thrusts at him, missing every time. Each lunge hurt and Dean swears out.

The boss hellhound was watching him still, staring Dean down as he tries to steel himself. Reaching back he grabs the hellhound’s cock and just lines him up. Better to just get it over with then the pain of every missed thrust.

The beast fucks Dean, dragging him back and forth on the ground as it enthusiastically pounds into his ass. He felt like a mess, like his asshole was a little more than a loose dripping hole. Dean tries to clench himself, but it only makes the hellhound on him slam harder. Dean cries out when it yanks its dick out of him and with humiliation Dean’s own cock jerks and come at the ache of it. The hellhound whines and tried to mount again but another snarl and chased it off before climbing on Dean himself.

The fucked up thing was it felt good. The air was getting cold now and the hellhounds were hot, warm skin and their come hot splatters that chased away the chill. When the next hellhound fucks him, its body is unbelievably warm and Dean finds himself struggling to press back against it for the body heat.

The monster was holding on tight, although there was no chance of Dean getting away from it. Maybe it didn’t want the others to push it off before it was done. Either way it was jackhammering into him relentlessly.

Dean can’t swallow a weak moan at the furious onslaught, which seemed to excite the hellhound more. After a good solid pounding the hellhound pulls off Dean, come running down his thighs in a slimy heap as another hurried in to mount him.
Hellhound after hellhound fuck Dean.

Eventually, he couldn’t get up anymore. No matter how hard they bit at him Dean just couldn’t move, he was barely conscious and covered in semen, dripping and drenched. With the last of the strength in him, Dean fumbled up on the boulder and rolled onto his back, laid out on the stone with his legs over the edge of it, spread wide in submission.

Everything felt hazy and Dean knew he wasn’t all there as another monster crawled onto him and he let it, felt the burn of it sliding into him and liked it.

The hellhounds seemed to come nonstop and Dean only remembered bits and pieces of the hours that followed. The emptiness and slick gush when one of them pulled off and then the hurried jabs of the next one. Dean recalled arching his back at one point, feeling stung out as he came, his own dick drooling only dribbles of come and because of the degradation Dean was suffering.

That he was reveling in.

He could feel their come running down his legs, soaking into his torn jeans.

Two more hellhounds mount him and Dean can feel something in him giving way.

Three more and he’s whining out with every shove. He’s half numb to what’s happening, but the rest of him is basking in it. Dean wraps his arm around the hellhound on him and hugs it close, encouraging it to use him.

“F-fuck,” his voice was hoarse and sounds strange among the growling of the hellhound pack. The boss hellhound is still watching Dean, keen eyes peering at him as Dean looks over at it but doesn’t meet its eyes.

Another hound mounts him and Dean cries out, he’s a bulky male and Dean can feel him inside his sore hole. It’s a painful burn that makes Dean want to come.

“Fuck m-me.”

The next hellhound mounts him.

Dean arches his back and comes dry with a sob.

And then the next.

He’s barely conscious as the monster slams over and over into him.

And then the next.

Dean has long lost count of how many have fucked him and he’s laid out on the stone, legs spread and dazed.

He finally loses consciousness while a hellhound is riding him.

Dean comes too with a hellhound on him and in him. It’s fucking him in lazy thrusts and when Dean blinks, looking around in a haze the boss hellhound growls. The one inside Dean pulls out and jumps off him. The sharp motion makes Dean slide down, his back against the boulder as he sags to the dirt. There’s a disgusting mess of slime and semen running down the side of the stone and it’s all over Dean’s ass, back and head now. Not that it matters since it’s long soaked into his jeans and shirt. The material is stiff and hard with it and Dean can feel his abused hole seeping with more.

His head sways as he struggles to hold it up and look at the beast. But even then, Dean doesn’t meet its gaze. If it were a demon or some more humanoid monster he would. But something about the animalist nature of the hellhounds has Dean reacting. Even as exhausted and fucked out as he is, what else can they do to him beyond death, he doesn’t look the boss dead on.

It sniffs at him; it’s long canines right by Dean’s face as it peers at him, he can feel it’s gaze.

Dean’s disoriented and everything is surreal to him. Blinking tiredly he barely finches when the boss hellhound turns and lifts its leg, pissing on Dean’s chest. When he’s done he walks away and Dean slumps to the ground, curling up and welcoming the bliss of exhaustion. He was a disgusting mess of hellhound come and piss, his body was covered in scratches, bruises, and blood. Dean’s exhausted passed any point he can recall and every part of him aches.

Slumped down in the dirt Dean’s mind tried to process what just happened, that these hellhounds just gang fucked him.

Dean doesn’t know what it meant that some part of him actually liked it.

 

Sam’s tired from a long day of classes, his psych professor is a dick and it feels like he’s out to get Sam. The lights aren’t on in the house, but he knows Jess is out with friends tonight. Unlocking the door, he steps in and pauses. Something feels off.

Raised by a hunter, even if Sam’s escarped that life, has made him sensitive to certain things. Sam eyes the empty hallway and notes the faintest of creaking from the worn floorboards. Listening intently, he can hear a the soft creaking of something moving around the kitchen. Sam slowly lowers his bag and reaches for the umbrella by the door, the only weapon.

He hears a scuffing sound, like nails from a dog scratching the floor. Creeping steadily, he turns the corner in the dark and sees two figures seated at their little kitchen table. One is slumped over and clearly tied to the chair and the other is relaxed and looking towards him.

Sam hits the lights.

"Fuck," the one figure flinches, shielding his eyes from the light.

Brady, a friend of Jess and Sam, is the other one that's tied up. His face is a mess of blood and gore, it’s clear he’s been beaten and tortured.

The other person lowers his hand and Sam finds himself staring at his dead brother.

“D-Dean?”

“Hey Sammy,” Dean replied, smirking up at him with the same bad boy charm Sam remembers. Except now there’s a dangerous edge to it, it’s not playful anymore. Dean’s just sitting there, but Sam is sure that if he wanted to, he wouldn’t hesitate to gut Sam. There’s something downright feral about him.

His clothing is normal, modern and clean but that’s it. His hair looks like it was cut by a knife and there are scars all over him, long gouges that wind up his arms and peek up the collar of his shirt, jagged marks on his face as well. His neck is scarred over multiple times and there’s a chunk of his right ear missing. The other has a tiny bone pierced through it, spiked ends looking sharp and painful.

Dean just sits there, like its normal, like he hasn’t been dead for years. Sitting there beside Sam’s badly beaten friend.

Part of Sam wants this to be a monster wearing his brother’s form, but something deep in him knows its not. This is Dean.

Nails click again and the floorboards groan but Sam can’t see anything. Still a chair moves as if bumped and Dean looks to his side, raising a hand to rest on something. A growl rumbles and Dean grins at whatever he can see. It’s a vicious looking thing, his smile, like a threat or a dare to come closer.

“Dean…what…what’s going on?”

“I normally ain’t one for gossip but you hear things kicking around in the pit. And you little brother are being set up for one hell of a mess.”

Sam just stared at him, glancing at Brady and wondering if he was even alive. There are endless open cuts on him, long slices on his face and arms.

Dean pats whatever Sam can’t see and he notices the gleam of blood on Dean’s knuckles. There’s something embedded in his skin, scar tissue healed over half inch bits of bone that’s been filed into sharp points. Sam realizes immediately that it makes Dean’s punch that much worse. Four claw like daggers cutting with ever hit.

“I don’t understand, I don’t…Dean you’re supposed to be dead. Dad said…what are you doing here, what mess? What are you…what did you do to Brady?” Sam feels confused and fumbling, not knowing how to react to something so surreal. His big brother is alive, but he's sitting there like nothing is wrong. Like he hasn't severely beat someone tied to a chair, defenceless.

Dean's watching the floor and Sam stares at him as he leans and scoops something up. It's smaller than the others and Sam can hear a low whine. Everything about the situation is bizarre and Sam would swear his brother is holding an invisible puppy?

“Sit your ass down Sammy, I ordered pizza and Chinese food, god I missed take out. Fucking raw meat for years. I would have killed a bitch for seasoning salt,” Dean grins and rolls his shoulders in a fluid motion as his sits forward. Everything about the way he moves screams predator.

“I haven’t cared about topside shit in a long time but you’re my baby bro and I felt like I owed it to you to at least warn you. Bitch boy here,” Dean gestured to Brady. “Is a demon. And he’s getting ready to torch your girl same way mom went out. I’m here to lay it all out for you and see if we can’t get you that happy ending you always dreamed of.”

Dean leaned back and smirked at whatever Sam’s can’t see and his eyes flicker red, a deep crimson that seems lit from within.

“God knows I got mine.”

Chapter Text

Dean’s not sure how much times goes by before he gets up.

His consciousness fades in and out, bleary moments of heat and pain before blackness, rinse and repeat.

The hellhounds ignore him now, laying about in the open and stalking off into the pitch-black caves, half hidden but the shadows. The red moon never moves, never drops or rises, it stays unmoving and so the darkness is also constant.

It also means Dean can’t figure out any sense of time.

But he is starving slowly, stomach cramped painfully and lips cracked in dehydration, his body sore all over and bleeding from the hellhounds rough mating.

There are bones in the dirt, a mix of species but mostly human looking bones. Dean wonders how many others have met the same fate as him, used and discarded like trash. He wants to get up, to do something but he’s so fucking sore all over.

The hours feels like their creeping by when the boss hound gets up and leaves. It’s the first time he has gone and most of the others follow. A handful remain behind, watching over and waiting. There’s a single way out, the cliffs meet and a narrow pathway leads out.

There are twenty-nine hellhounds in total. It had taken the last of Dean’s focus to count them all; they looked so alike, masses of muscle and bone, terrifying things with knife-like claws. There are twenty-nine of them, surrounding him, alert and on guard constantly.

 

The boss returns in a fury of dirt and snarling and the other hellhounds are wild, pacing around eagerly. Dean wonders if they have another victim. A cutoff scream confirms it and Dean’s laid out on his side in the dirt watching as they circle a woman.

She’s snarling at the hellhounds, swearing at them. Despite his weak body and fading conscious, Dean sees the black of her eyes and realizes it’s a demon they have.

It makes him less pitying when they rip her apart. Literally, yanking her limbs off and clawing at her flesh. It’s like a boring animal documentary, lions pulling a gazelle down and tearing into it.

But its real and is happening right in front of him.

Dean discovers he can still be nauseated, watching a human shaped thing being devoured, hellhounds drag body parts away and guard them, snarling at one another as they rush to eat.

The main part of the torso is being crushed by the lead hellhound and the others keep their distance. A single meal among twenty-nine is nothing though, it’s gone in seconds it seems. The beasts begin fighting over what’s left, vicious snarls and teeth snapping as they attack each other for a mouthful of meat.

The boss hellhound heads over to Dean and once he turns his back on the remaining meat, other hounds scramble for his left overs, fighting in a group as they gorge.

 

The alpha hellhound stands over Dean, looking down at him and even half dead, Dean doesn’t meet its eyes.

He feels week and dumb, ruled by fear as he stares at the dirt. Wet warm splatters hit his face, running down his dry skin and it feels like a balm on his lips. There painfully dried out, his tongue hurts and his mouth is bleeding inside. He licks at the wet on his lips and his body reacts, mind driving him to lick more of it.

The hellhound over him is dripping blood down its muzzle and Dean’s lapping at it. He want’s to be disgusted, repulsed, but everything hurts and despite this hell he’s in, Dean still doesn’t want to die.

The hellhound retches up chunks of meat, red blood clumps of what was a person, a demon, but still human looking.

Dean can feel the monster watching him and he weakly rolled onto his stomach, tears he thought all dried up come to his eyes, and Dean hates himself and he wants to puke.

Dean eats the meat. Bloody handfuls shoved into his mouth to alleviate the pain of his own hunger.

The boss hellhound watches him until he’s done and then it trots off satisfied, finding a comfortable spot to lie out.

There’s a trickle of water along the cliffs that surround them. With only one way in or out there would have to be a water source. Dean can hear the water running and the blood clings to his skin, to his lips and chin. It’s all over his hands and under his nails, dried up and cracking.

Dean hadn’t heard the water before but now it seems loud to him. His legs are shaky and he leans on the rocks heavily but he stumbles to find it. The water is murky and brown from the dirt but he drinks it eagerly, gulping it down desperately.

For the first time since he arrived Dean feels a semblance of strength seep into him. He doesn’t feel like the body in the ditch anymore.

There are shallow caves all over and Dean slumps into one, hidden in the darkness as he uses shaky hands to rip his jeans and bind his cuts and scrapes. His coat reeks of piss and blood in the worst way so Dean shrugs it off and leaves it in a corner. His shirt is just as bad but Dean needs to cloth to bind his neck as best as he can.

There is one way in and out. The hounds are watchful of what comes in but they care little when one of them leaves.

Dean pants for breath as he makes himself stand up again. All he has is his boots on, he can’t make himself put the stinking jacket on again, not even for modesty. It’s hard to walk straight, to keep up right but Dean tries his best. The boss hellhound looks over at him but he doesn’t react otherwise when Dean moves to leave. None of the other hounds pay him any attention.

Dean supposes that should have been a sign.

The cliffs part where they meet at the ground and there is a narrow opening that leads to miles of empty dessert. There’s nothing either way. No landmarks or signs of life. The cliffs melt into steep mountains that Dean wouldn’t dream of climbing even if he wasn’t beaten up, fucked up, and naked.

He stumbles back into the hellhound den.

His one legs gives out halfway and Dean has to crawl the rest of the way. He’s raw all over and weak, curled up in the shadows of the cave away from the monsters all around him. He feels hopeless with no way out, what the hell can he even do? The hellhounds are stronger then him, he’s got no weapons and he’s vastly out numbered.

Dean lies in the cave and tries not to think.

All he can hope is that his dad and Sammy are ok.

 

The other hellhounds ignore him and the boss pays him little attention. Dean sleeps mostly, trying to wake up from the nightmare. He has no idea how long it’s been, days, weeks, or months. The hellhounds will go out and come back dripping blood, licking their chops.

The leader looks for Dean then, he’ll sniff him out in whichever shadow he’s hiding in. The hellhound will look Dean over and then the monster will retch up meat. It’s rancid and raw, Dean’s stomach twists in disgust but hunger wins out every time. There’s nothing else to eat, just rocks and bones. No plants of any sort or small animals, nothing but what the boss hellhound gives him. Time goes by and Dean eventually dislocates from the revulsion. He stops thinking about what he’s eating, who it could be, and he just eats. Every time meat comes to him Dean’s been hungry for days it feels and he eats ravenously.  

It goes on and on. An endless circle of Dean sleeping and eating bloody meat.

Dean starts seeking the Alpha hellhound when they come back bloody. He’s hungry and his stomach is clawing at him, his mind focused on eating, on surviving. They don’t eat regularly, sometimes if feels like a few days and others it feels like weeks, Dean’s body aching for anything to fill it. Dean crawls up to the monster and licks at the hellhound’s bloody mouth, swallowing blood and catching the meat the hound retches for him. He feels like the human part of him is fading away. The hellhound is all he has at this point, all that’s keeping him alive.

Then the alpha hellhound stops feeding Dean.

He growls at him, snarling and not hesitating to bite Dean if he doesn’t stop pestering. When Dean’s certain he’ll starve, his ribs beginning to show, the hellhounds bring a live demon back. Dean hides in the shadows, watching as they tear it apart like the monsters they are, devouring it.

The alpha hellhound has the largest share and Dean crawls over to him, eyes downcast as he begs. The monster watches Dean, staring at the pathetic thing he’s become and after a moment he keeps eating. Dean nudges forward and the lead hellhound lets him. With the other hellhounds, he would have snarled and chased them off by now.

Dean doesn’t look at what he’s eating, he just eats, tough meat he has to chew and swallow frantically. The boss hellhound finishes before Dean, turning away and the others come diving in. Dean tries to defend his food but they’re big and brutal, biting his arms and snapping at him to chase him off. Dean ends up in the dirt with nothing, bloody and hurt as he limps to his caves.

The hellhounds start bringing more live prey.

Dean hides during the kill and then eats with the boss, watching the other hellhounds wearily as he scrambles to eat as much as he can. He glares at them, meeting their gaze and growling as he eats. When the pack leader leaves the others come in like vultures and something vicious in Dean reacts. He won’t die like this; he’s going to survive.

Dean is too hungry to give up his food so when one big dumb mutt charges him he fights.

Dean’s crouched and ready; he kicks the hellhound’s front leg out from under him and swings a bone like a club. It connects under the monster’s jaw and the beast stumbles, stunned. Another comes in and Dean swings at it, making them all jump back. They snarl at him and Dean doesn’t even think, he just snarls back, teeth bared.

He won’t die here.

He won’t.

He battles two more and their strong, too strong for him to take on but when one gets his neck in a death bite the alpha hellhound intercedes, slamming the other hound down and snarling as Dean rushes to grab the meat they were fighting over.

He bares his teeth at the fallen hellhound and follows the leader when he goes to lie down.

Dean has nothing but brittle bones and rocks to fight with and so he takes the favor of the lead hellhound for all he can. He sticks close to him and when he fights the others for meat he knows the boss won’t let him be killed. Dean is clawed and bitten up, cut and aching but he fights like an animal, clawing and biting. He uses long bones like clubs and stabs pointed ends like knives. After endless fights Dean is left alone to eat mostly but he’s always watching and suspicious.

 

The alpha hellhound minds the whole lot of them, if any of the other hellhounds fight too much he breaks it up as well. Dean watches them. For the first time, he starts to really watch the hellhounds. Normally he’d just look and feel resentment and hate but now he watches keenly. He looks for weakness in them and instead finds a strange camaraderie. They bite at each other but they don’t actually hurt one another, they fight but without intent.

Dean keeps to the caves or the alpha hellhound, watching the pack and learning them.

There are bulkier ones, nineteen bigger hounds that snarl and use their weight and size to fight. Nine are smaller and rely on speed, always darting around with a surprising grace.

Dean gnaws on a bone beside the boss hound, sucking the marrow from them as he watches a smaller male trick a male from his meal. The little one nips at his backside, biting over and over until the big male gets pissed and turns to chase at him, teeth snapping. His chunk of meat is left unguarded and another smaller male dives in for it, running off with the meal. The first smaller guy goes after him and Dean watches them share it, eyeing the bigger male who Dean can see visibly decides he doesn’t care enough and settles in for a nap.

The hellhounds have given Dean more attention since the boss hound started feeding him, more so when Dean started eating with them. They watch him from time to time but don’t really interact with him. It’s beyond stupid but it makes Dean feel lonely. The lead hellhound will give him attention, lick at Dean’s neck and paw at him when he’s bored. He clean Dean’s body, licking his bare skin as Dean gets used to constant nudity. The hellhound cleans his chest and groin, a warm wet tongue that makes Dean squirm even when it doesn’t go anywhere. Either way, he acknowledges Dean in general, lying beside him, touching.

It becomes weirdly important, being touched. Feeling a warm live body beside him. Dean sleeps curls up with the alpha whenever he can.

Dean tried it once with a smaller male and he got a snarl and lunge for it.

It bugs him. Dean’s got no way out, nowhere to go, and no idea what to do. His mind could go crazy if he thought too much about it, so he focuses on the pack. He tries to come up with ways to make them acknowledge him.

The smaller hellhounds intrigue him, they have to be fast and clever and Dean feels a kinship with them. He fights like they do, he tries to be fast and out think the heavy hitters. He collects rocks and bones to fling at the hellhounds, dirt to blind them so Dean can run off with the meat. The boss watches it all passively, most times he’ll protect Dean when it gets bad but when he stops doing that Dean learns to fling himself into the smaller caves that the hellhound bulk can’t get into.

A smaller hellhound copies the tactic and Dean sees a way to make friends.

He starts throwing rocks.

The bigger males will be eating and the smaller ones close by, watching. Dean will hit the bigger hound on the ass or in the head and when he jumps up to snarl the smaller ones will dart in and steal the meat.

Dean’s laid out on his stomach, idly trying to carve a point out of a large long bone when a hellhound sits with him.

The alpha hound is the only one who sits with him and it’s Dean that goes to him. A smaller make with two scars over his muzzle sits with Dean, his back paw just touching Dean’s leg. The hellhound dozes and Dean tries not to feel like he’s getting all emotional over it. 

Slowly he wins others over, some never take to him, but some are friendly enough when Dean proves to be useful in getting more food. They’ll rough house with Dean, rolling around in the dirt, pinning him every time. But Dean learns from the game, he wrestles around and figures out the best places to hit, where to kick and punch.

He pins a hellhound one day, something twice his size, his hands pressed to it’s throating keeping the air cut off as the hound fights him, Dean’s got a grip on him with his whole body though and they roll around in the dirt together. Dean refuses to let go until the hellhound whines.

The alpha hellhound knocks Dean off un-expectantly, a warning growl rumbling from him. Dean blinks up, he didn’t need any help, he had been winning.

“I’m fine,” Dean protests.

Then it hits him, the boss hound is telling him to play nice, that Dean is the one being too rough. Dean laughs and flops on his back, belly and neck exposed to the leader submissively. Dean won’t do it for the others but the alpha hellhound kept Dean alive, fed and protected him. Dean owes him and he doesn’t want to piss him off. So he submits freely to him.

Dean crawls over to the hellhound he had been tumbling with and pats it’s back in apology.

“Sorry buddy,” he soothes with a grin he can’t stop. Dean might be half their size but he’s not weak, he can hold his own. It courses through him, pumping in his blood and Dean feels good for the first time in a long while. Not since before he was brought there. It doesn’t occur to Dean until years later that a normal human could never match a hellhound, but by then the change was long over.

 

In terms of nudity Dean gets used to it pretty quick. There are no people to see him and he can’t afford to care what the hellhounds think, though they don’t give a fuck either way. He stays low to the ground and protects his dick because he’s fond of it. He never exposes his stomach and genitals during play fights. Still he gets kicked in the balls far too often and Dean lives in fear of getting castrated by an off chance snap.

So the next demon that comes in alive Dean doesn’t hide away. He can see the demon’s shock when it sees him but Dean ignores it in favor of getting a pair of bloody jeans in the mad scramble. Most clothing is torn into pieces but Dean manages to get the pants off in usable condition if extremely blood soaked.

They fit well enough and so Dean wears them, they help protect from scrapes and scratches too. Eventually, they get too dirty and ripped up, the water trickle can’t clean them enough and so Dean figures he’ll get the next demon’s pants and stops wearing them.

Two Scars, the smaller hound that first befriended Dean is curious about his return to nudity, sniffing at his ass. Dean glances at the lead hellhound he’s named Alpha but he doesn’t seem bothered as Two Scars licks at Dean’s bare thigh. It’s been so long since Dean had a mind for sex. But the wet warm tongue on him reminds him quick enough. Two Scars tongue feels good and Dean’s cock fills out. When the hound licks at that as well Dean shivers and comes.

The next time the hellhound sniffs at Dean’s ass he lifts a leg invitingly. It mostly a grooming thing, the beast is cleaning Dean rather than foreplay but Dean will take what he can.

But a rim job can only get him so far.

During a licking session Two Scars is on his side and so Dean turns so he is as well. A loose sixty-nine position. With a watering mouth, he presses his face to the hellhound’s groin, scenting the heavy musk of the beast.

Dean licks at his sheath, excitement jumping when a red cock begins to poke out. It’s slimy and tastes faintly of piss but Dean sucks at it eagerly. Two Scars jabs into his face unexpectedly, choking Dean as he humps. Pulling off and coughing Dean rolled onto his back and the hellhound jumped up, sniffing and circling him now.

Looking over at Alpha, Dean finds him disinterested and so Dean gets up on his hands and knees. Two Scars mounts him quickly and Dean grunts at the first hard shove. His ass is wet but Dean hadn’t thought to finger himself open first. He grits his teeth and jerks up at the first painful penetration. Two Scars doesn’t let him go though, jabbing harder and growl whining at Dean as he fucks him.

It burns but the friction is good, so good and Dean takes it all, hissing out as the hellhound knotted quickly. Two Scars jumps off too soon though and the knot yanks free. Dean cries out then, falling to the dirt and glaring at the dumb mutt.

“That fucking hurts,” he snarled and when Two Scars came looking for another try Dean kicked him in the head.

He crawled over to Alpha and slumped along his back, knowing the other hellhounds would leave him alone.

 

Still his own horniness wins out and Dean lets Two Scars fuck him again a few days later. Again the knot doesn’t take but it still feels good. Another smaller male wants a go and Dean lets him, grunting at the beast pounds his ass open. Afterward, Two Scars rims him thoroughly, getting him off hard as his long tongue pressed into Dean’s asshole. It’s a mess of semen, they pump a lot into him and other hellhounds will lick his ass when it seeps, grooming him. It’s all friendly but every time it happens Dean gets turned on and in no time a hellhound is on his back, slam fucking into him as he moans.

The hellhounds like sex, it felt good to them Dean learned. They’d fuck him if he went looking but if they were feeling lazy they’d just turn over on their sides and present their junk to Dean. He could touch them how he wanted, jerking them off, sucking them off, even fucking himself on their lazy cocks. It felt good but Dean vastly preferred more eager mates. The smaller males were usually game, Dean would wave his ass and lick at their sheaths and they would mount and fuck him.

Alpha never took an interest in him. He wouldn’t let Dean fuck himself on his massive cock either. At best if the hellhound was in a good mood he’d let Dean suck him, lips sealed and throat swallowing. The lead hound never slid fully free from his sheath but he was still the biggest cock. Dean’s mouth struggled to handle even half of it.

Eventually Dean spends his days rough housing with the hellhounds, fighting sleeping, and devouring raw meat and when he felt like it, looking for a fuck or sucking one of them off.

He lost track of days and eventually didn’t care about it. He lived among the pack and they didn’t care about time so Dean learned not to pay it any attention either.

Fight, fuck, sleep, and eat.

 

Dean doesn’t think much about life before the hellhounds. It just messes him up so his mind avoids it. He gets used to his voice being the only one he hears and he gets used to the possible cannibalistic aspect of his meals. He just gets used to it, telling himself he either had to deal with it or he died.

So he gets used to it all.

Alpha can communicate in a single movement, the way he tips his head or sits up can be a command or warning. A snarl or growl is a clear message, stop it, drop it, back off, depending on who its directed at and what they’re doing, it’s pretty clear to Dean most of the time.

So when the boss hellhound sits up one day, alert and focused on something, Dean notices. When he snarls at Dean, he scrambles but doesn’t know what to do. He’d just been lying there so Dean’s confused. Alpha snarls again and One Eye, a bigger male trots over to Dean, physically knocking him over and pushing him at a cave. Dean goes quickly and pressed into the shadows, hiding silently while One Eye lies across the opening, guarding Dean but not being obvious about it.

Something comes to the entrance of the den area.

All the hellhounds are alert, some growling and others hiding, each one intently aware.

A human figure with black smoke pouring off it walks into their home. Dean’s teeth bare at it. He doesn’t know what it is or why it’s there but it doesn’t belong. The hellhounds didn’t bring it so it doesn’t belong there. Dean can feel that gut reaction right to his bones.

“Hello, hello,” a male voice calls and Dean presses to the stones, feeling exposed and not liking it. It had been so long since he heard another voice. Dean’s naked and living like an animal, snarling and eating raw meat that could be other people. He feels a sudden punch of shame and is thankful for the shadows that hide him.

“Look what I have for you,” the voice announces and Alpha snarls at it. A handful of smoke twists into a black dog at the demon’s side. It’s half the size of the hellhounds and while it does have their red eyes it also has black smoke like fur. Dean is keenly aware that it’s somehow less. The other hellhounds are snarling at it.

“Don’t be like that now, your pure line is done with, if you don’t breed down, you won’t breed at all,” the demon tells them and then it walks off, the smoke bleeding and vanishing as the wind takes it up and away.

The black dog remains.

It whines at Alpha and the hellhound lunges at it, ripping its neck open and then tearing its head clean off.

The hellhound doesn’t eat it.

Dean’s never once seen the hellhounds pass up meat but none of them go near the corpse. They eventually stop hiding and creep back into the main area, all of them avoiding the dead thing.

Alpha comes over and sniffs at Dean, checking him over for a moment. He sniffs Dean’s neck and Dean bares his neck pressing his body to the hounds warm one, he rubs up to show his affection, letting Alpha lick at his ear and cheek to scent mark him. Alpha stares at the dead dog for a moment and then seems to shake it off, turning and trotting away, leaving the den abruptly.

Half of the pack goes after him.

Dean watches them go and then sits in the shadows of a cave, observing some of the hellhounds left behind as they drag the dead dog out of the den, leaving it along the entrance.

Dean waits until their settled to go look himself. The first thing he checks is gender and he finds a female. For the first time he notices the bones around the outside of the den are different. They’re all animal, all canine bones. Small skulls, not hellhounds but more like the black dog.

A hellhound growls at Dean, calling him back into the den’s safety and he goes, frowning at this new knowledge. There are hellhound bones in the den, skulls in the ditches that are slowly decaying back into the earth. Dean always thought it was harsh that the dead hounds just rot away there but now he takes note that they’re in the den, acknowledged in a way.

There is far more going on then Dean had expected, his mind is feral but it still makes the connections, examine the new issue.

Dean goes back into the caves, feeling watched now and wanting to hide for a bit. He lies down and thinks of the demon, talking about breeding. Clearly it wanted the hellhounds to mate with the black dog, which had been a female. All of the hellhounds in the den are male. Dean knows that much.

They have no one to breed with.

But why not bring a female hellhound if the demon wanted them to breed. Were there any females? The demon had said the line was done with, that they had to breed down so Dean guessed there was no female hellhounds left.

Someone came sniffing for him, a bigger male that the shadows hid too much for Dean to name him. He let the male sit with him in the cave, idly petting his head. It was smooth like skin, dry muscle and bone exposed.

Was he a sex toy of sorts for them? A warm place to stick their dicks? Dean turned the thought over in his head but found it lacking. Alpha didn’t keep Dean around for sex, beyond the first time he had never looked to Dean for a fuck. Those that did seemed to do it more for pleasure than anything, something that felt good rather than a breeding drive.

Dean went through it over and over, his mind trying to finish the puzzle.

They had hidden Dean, kept him from the demon’s sight. Dean was a secret.

 

It was a long time after the demon’s visit that Dean purpose began to come to light.

When the hellhounds returned one day Dean knew right away something was wrong. They were agitated and restless, the others left at the den getting up and pacing with them. Alpha came back last rather then his usual first and he was followed by one of the bigger hellhounds that Dean called Brute. He was tough but dumb as a rock.

Dean pushed his way among the hounds and caught sight of the cause of the agitation.

Brute’s back leg was nearly torn off, it dragged broken and disfigured. His back was filled with gunshot wounds, at least nine of the bleeding steadily. The hellhound gave a grunt and slumped to the ground, panting as it lied there and waited for death.

Dean scrambled to his side, hands moving over the wound, pressing on the worst of them. There were too many though. Dean could reset and bind broken limbs, he could stitch gaping cuts with sinew and bone needles. The hellhounds were smart enough to realize he could fix them and they let him. Dean was used to picking torn flesh clean and pulling it closed. For a time he thought it might his reason for being there, to help keep them in fighting condition.

But this wasn’t something Dean could fix, there was too much blood seeping and the back leg was too damaged.

Brute had always been slow-minded but he had never minded Dean, they’d gotten along easily enough despite Dean constantly nicking food from him.

The hellhounds were dying out Dean realized suddenly, with a jolt. The others were all watching, growling and whining as another of their kind died. Twenty-eight would be left, which was nothing. Even if there were more males somewhere, without females they couldn’t breed.

Alpha stepped forward, nudging Dean away and he went obediently. The lead hellhound was intent on Brute and Dean felt his stomach twist, as he knew what was coming, he just knew. Choking back a sound Dean watched Alpha jerk forward and kill Brute. A single bite to the neck, a snapping sound and it was done.

But then the lead hellhound tore a strip from Brute and chewed it. The other hounds started coming forward and tearing into the dead hellhound. Not in their usual vicious hunger, but they were still eating him. Dean felt horror fill him as Brute’s blood stained their faces, Alpha tore his rib cage and pulled his heart out, the organ still sluggishly pumping.

When the hellhound turned towards him, Dean ran.

He pressed himself in the furthest back of the deepest cave he could reach, breath choked as Alpha followed him calmly.

“No, go away,” he begged, pressing to the wall and closing his eyes in the darkness.  

Alpha pressed the warm organ to Dean’s face, growling around it, commanding Dean. Blood dripped hot and Dean tried to avoid it but the hellhound pressed insistently. Years of obedience made Dean open his mouth unwillingly, tears burning as he bit down.

Alpha kept Dean pinned in the cave until the entire heart was gone. He retched twice but the hellhound refused to let him stop, snarling and growling until Dean ate it all.

It was worse then the demon bodies.

Worse the thought of eating other people.

It was Brute, it was someone Dean had known, had played tricks on, stolen food from, laid out in the dirt and napped with, God, Dean had sex with the hellhound. He choked on his tears and bile, swallowing down the meat until it was gone.

Alpha left him there and Dean curled up, sobbing and feeling brokenly human. He didn’t want to leave the cave, he didn’t want to see what was left of Brute, he didn’t want to see the bloody hellhounds stained with his blood.

Eventually Two Scars came looking for Dean, he knew him by his whine. The male curled up with Dean, sniffing and licking his sticky face clean.

Dean tried to force it back up, tried to make himself sick but it wouldn’t come. He shook with the shame, sweat dripping down his brow.

Dean’s body burned hot enough for him to need water. It had always been warm, never once had he ever been cold in the red dirt with the bloody moon that never moved. Considering the name of the monsters that took him Dean had a good guess where he was. Still the heat had always been manageable but not it burned him. He dragged himself from the cave, staring at the dirt and refusing to look over to Brute’s body as he drank the water coming down the cliff. He gulped it and washed his bloody hands, wiping the blood from his face, neck and chest. The water only seemed to make it worse though, dirty water smearing it rather than washing it away.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered, wiping until his skin was raw and bleeding.

A hellhound came up to him and Dean knew it was Alpha. He stared at the water slowly trickling, wanting to hate the hellhound. But when the big male sniffed at his face Dean turned and let him pressing himself to its bulk for comfort. He curled up against him, taking the comfort he desperately needed where he could get it.

They settled by the water and Dean dozed off tucked against him. He woke with the whole pack curled up, pressed in close and touching one another. They usually laid out all over, spread out but they were all tight together. Dean wondered if it was because of Brute’s death.

The hellhound’s carcass was in his peripheral vision but Dean didn’t look at it. He drank some water and slumped back against Alpha instead.

 

Slowly the hellhounds went out again, more numbers than before, more careful Dean thought.

The ones that stayed behind clung to Dean, they trailed him like shadows and Dean thought maybe it was to be close has a pack but as they slipped back into the old behaviors he noticed they continued to follow him and Dean alone. The hellhounds were intent on him.

Dean puzzled over it as they went back to hunting and devouring. He took in every new aspect. They didn’t try to take his food being the obvious one. None of them every tried to steal Dean’s share. Alpha would eat and Dean would take what he wanted and he could just sit there and leave the meat on his lap and no one touched it.

It was bizarre.

If Dean offered it they took it quickly, reverting back to the normal ravenous hounds he knew but they wouldn’t take what he was eating.

Rough housing went on ever the same, Dean fought with the bigger males now, he could take them with speed and tricks. They wrestled eagerly and it got him turned on sometimes. Being pinned by the big males would get Dean excited, it was common for him to fuck after play fighting.

But the second No Tail tried to mount Dean Alpha put him down. He put the big male down hard, slammed him into the dirt and tore a chunk from his shoulder.

Fighting was normal but hurting him like that was weird. No Tail crawled away and Alpha snarled at them all, circling Dean and eyeing all the hellhounds that looked away in submission.

Then the bastard pissed on Dean.

It was surprising enough that Dean let him, a few sprays and he was done, warm piss dripping down Dean’s skin.

“What the fuck!”

He was disgusted but mostly his mind was reeling, going back to Dean’s first and only time with the boss hellhound.

The hellhound had scent-marked him then too.

Dean tested his theory once more, offering his ass up to another bigger male, Tooth, and Alpha again stopped the mating. Tooth had been eager too, right excited, more than usual. Alpha had slammed him down.

Dean frowned at the lead hellhound and slinked off to rest with Two Scars and Bitten, the smaller males sniffing and licking him but neither trying to mount him. Alpha watched him, Dean never met his gaze but he could feel the hound watching him, anticipating something.

Dean wondered what he was waiting on.

 

He sweated more, it dripped down his nose and Dean was constantly wet with it. Alpha was bringing back meat all the time lately, retching it for Dean even.

It was like a drug trip for Dean; he slowly felt more and more detached and pushed by something new, something beyond his own choices.

Two Scars tried to mount him one day and Dean kicked him off before Alpha could. He snarled at the hellhound, vicious and angry at him for trying like that.

Dean would pick, no one else would. No one would make him. Dean would die first.

It was twisted and confusing, Dean had done so many terrible things to live, he might have been eating other people for god’s sake, in order to keep on living. But now he was willing to die, to fight to the end rather than let just some hellhound on his back. Dean liked being fucked; he liked any of them on him normally. He wanted them fucking him.

But when Two Scars had moved over him Dean had felt a knee-jerk reaction, an instant and utter denial.

No.

Absolutely not.

So he shoved the male off and eyed the others, watching them all keenly and snarling if they seemed too interested in him.

Dean felt wrong in his skin.

He liked big strong males over him, making him take it, he loved that sort of thing. He loved the hellhounds fucking him. But now it made his lip curl and he swung at the ones who dared to even try.

Alpha was the only one to keep his distance. Once Dean started fighting off the other hounds he stopped interfering, just keenly watching Dean.

Dean could feel the monster watching him, following him, Alpha stopped leaving, other hellhounds would go out now. Dean was never left alone, always watched by the lead male.

He mostly tried to ignore him but Dean’s gaze would catch. Alpha was the largest of the entire pack, a good size bigger too. He was unquestionable the dominate male and he didn’t hesitate to remind the pack that. They started fighting more, snarling and scrapping more and more. Very few picked fights with Alpha but if they did it was a quick fight and they would limp away whining.

He was the strongest of them and despite his years as the leader of their pack he was whole, scarred but without any great mauling’s or limbs mangled. He was not only strong but also clever to avoid injury.

Dean’s mind circled that thought over and over, that of all of them; their lead hellhound was the best of them. It sat in his brain, seeped in, until Dean found himself watching the hellhound just to admire him, he felt like a schoolgirl with a crush almost.

Still Dean would growl if he got too close, the wild thing inside him not ready, still waiting.

 

And then he woke one day, sweat soaked and panting, thighs wet with a strange slick as he whined out. Dean was in a shallow cave, lying on his side and he came too slowly, fighting off sleep. Blinking his eye lazily he rolled on his back and felt his cock throb and everything in him need. God, Dean had never wanted to get fucked as bad as he did right then. If was more than just wanting it even, he needed it. It gnawed at his insides like hunger would, a building pressure like when he was holding his breath, Dean required it.

The boss hellhound was at the entrance of the cave waiting, watching Dean intently.

For the first time since he arrived Dean met his gaze, stared right into his red eyes and he felt himself shiver, his hips rolling absently.

Alpha scented the air, panting as he stood up, his cock hanging halfway out from his sheath, ready and eager.

Dean rolled onto his belly and the hellhound was there, licking his ass, pressing his tongue in deep as Dean moaned. He shoved back, chasing the wet sensation as he rolled again and got on his hands and knees. Alpha was relentless, his tongue lapping eagerly, rough and demanding.

He licked Dean’s thighs, chased the slick on him and he nipped at Dean’s skin, little jolts of pain pleasure that made Dean whine and rock his hips.

“Come on, come on,” he hissed, over excited as the hellhound stepped over him. Dean was scrambling back, lifting his ass and trying to get them lined up.

Everything would be ok if he could just get that cock in him. Not any dick either, just this one, just the alpha male, the leader. Dean gritted his teeth to fight a sob as the hellhound lunged into him, burying his thick cock into Dean with a single powerful lunge.

Alpha was so much bigger than Dean, a true monster looming over him. His claws left scratches on Dean's stomach as his wrapped a paw around Dean to keep him in place.

Dean clawed at the dirt, snarling as Alpha fucked into him. He was soaked and slicked up, sloppy feeling even as he shoved back and rolled his hips desperately.

Dean felt out of control, wild and unpredictable as the hellhound fucked him, biting at his neck, pointed canines scratching his skin as Dean grunted and took it all. When Alpha licked at his face Dean licked back, tongue running over the monster’s mouth. He felt a rush of viciousness that made him unexpectantly bit the hellhound's muzzle, a bloody gouge that made him grin viciously as he fucked himself on the cock in him. Alpha didn't seem bothered by it, mouthing at Dean's neck and leaving his own marks. Dean had never thought much about the taste of blood but now it tasted good, it stirred him up and turned him on.

His ass was stretched so wide, pummeled over and over by merciless strokes, the beast was perfect. Dean was certain they would conceive, Alpha was too perfect to now be able to breed him.

Outside his lust rising forefront, Dean recalled something inside him lighting up, understanding why he was there, of why he matter so much suddenly making sense.

But then he was coming and Dean couldn’t think beyond the cock in him, throbbing steadily as it filled out, the knot expanding rapidly. They locked together, the hellhound over him panting as Dean’s ass milked him, took his seed hungrily. Dean hung off his knot, an enormous thing inside his as that wasn’t going to come out until it was done. Dean rubbed his face in the dirt and licked at the blood on his lips, content to be bred.

The hellhound growled over him and Dean could see others by the cave entrance, watching and whining. A snarl from the Alpha sent them running off.

Dean knew the beast wouldn’t let the others have him, that he would be the only one to breed Dean.

They mated frequently, Dean’s body demanding it over and over. He lay out in the dirt of the den, his ass pumped full. Stretched out on his stomach Dean parted his thigh when Alpha nudged him, giving him more room to lick Dean’s out, cleaning him meticulously. The other hellhounds watched but none of them had tried anything, Alpha hadn’t given them a chance to, he never left Dean alone.

 

Eventually, the burn faded out and Dean spent his time hungry and tired.

 

He knew he was pregnant; it made no sense and yet perfect sense. Dean wasn’t a female and shouldn’t be able to have children but it fit into everything the hellhounds had done, into what they needed.

A breeder.

Eating Brutes heart had changed him somehow. Dean wondered if the gangbang from his first arrival had been part of it too. Either way, his belly grew heavy and the pack was tripping over them selves to feed him. Scrapes and bones, the fresh kills, Dean was never hungry or without company. At least four hellhounds were always will him, laying with him, grooming him over and over, licking Dean’s skin and resting their head on his thigh as he pet them idly.

Dean felt content, he had a full belly and there was no danger around. He stretched out and yawned, feeling lazy and happy with his lot.

When Dean felt like it, he sucked a hellhound off, rolling them onto their sides and coaxing their cock out, hot mouthfuls of semen tasting delightful on his tongue. Dean let them ride him as well, the beast fucking into his ass eagerly. He got wet when he was excited now, giving off a scent that had the whole pack paying attention. It made Dean feel like the pretty girl in the room. He laughed at the thought, feeling so crazily out of control, rolling in the dirt naked with a pack of hellhounds and liking it, loving it.

Alpha checked on him and stayed close, scenting and grooming Dean. He didn’t mind Dean mating with the other hounds but then he probably knew he had already impregnated Dean. Still, if Dean was in the mood and Alpha was around he didn’t stand for any hellhound but himself to fuck Dean.

He would piss on Dean sometimes, a quick spray to mark him. Dean learned to go along with it. It didn’t stink and if he didn’t wash it off Alpha seemed more relaxed.

It was becoming common for Dean to have Alpha’s knot in his ass, pulsing pleasure while Dean sucked off another hellhound, gulping down the heat, feeling it warm him on both ends.

His belly filled out and when Dean couldn’t be quick anymore, when it took time to get across the den even, the hellhounds got even more protective, following him everywhere, rubbing alongside him, watching and worrying in their way.

Dean understood, their species future was in his belly after all.

 

The first litter was four pups, born in blood and pain. Dean panted and shook his way through it, sweat soaked and hissing in pain as he forced each pup out of his body.

When the labor started Dean noticed a new pain, a lump between his asshole and balls, it hurt to touch and felt like it was under pressure, aching. Dean couldn’t stand the hellhounds licking at it, kicking and snarling at them as his stomach twisted in painful grips, claws dragging on his insides.

When the lump tore open Dean screamed, pain and relief as the pressure gave way and blood and a clear liquid gushed from it. Not long after the first pup came from it, sliding out, tearing it wider as Dean strained.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean chanted and cried, pushing over and over until he was exhausted. Alpha had stayed throughout the labor but other hellhound had left, returning with chunks of bloody meat.

Each pup came with a fresh burst of pain and Alpha licked them all clean, his tongue rasping over them until they started squirming and whining. Dean watched through his labor, the hellhounds all intent and keen on the new pack members.

Once the labor started to fade and Dean felt like he could, he started eating.

Dean chewed tiredly, knowing his body needed it. His puppies were born with tiny needle-like teeth and they nibbled at the meat, slurping blood down. Dean couldn’t even be disgusted, so enamored with them already. They were fat little things, adorable and beautiful. Alpha chewed the meat for them, tearing it up and making it easy for the puppies to swallow.

Other hellhounds did it as well; bring food to feed the puppies until they were all sated. They curled up against Dean in a pile and dozed off.

Dean kept them in the deepest cave, digging the dirt until it was soft and snuggling down with his pups. He slept mostly at first, tired and lazy as the pups slept with him. When they woke and cried a hellhound was there immediately, one of them feeding the puppies instantly.

They were great monsters, hellhounds. They were red muscle and white bones, red glowing eyes and sharp exposed teeth, their claws were like knives and everything about them was built to kill, to be terrifying.

So Dean found it hilarious how careful they were with the puppies, so mindful and gentle. Once the puppies could walk they were tiny terrors, running all over the den.

Hellhounds lay at the den entrance constantly and if a pup was missing for too long the whole pack was investigating. The little bastards could walk all over their pack mates, biting at their tails, gnawing at their paws. They would shove their snouts at the older hellhounds mouths, demanding food and they always got it. Fat little puppies filled with food as the mock growled and rolled around.

Dean watched them fondly, smiling as they ran around, lively and eager to explore. The other hellhounds were careful with them but when they got to wound up then seemed to forget, when live prey came in the den the frenzy was dangerous. Dean learned he could be a monster in his own right. He tore out the eye of one of the larger males when he stomped one of Dean’s pups. He snarled angrily, fingers crushing the eyeball as Alpha came to investigate, checking the pups.

Dean kept them closer after that, watching his pack and keeping the pups round up when food was present. The pups were important, the future of the hellhounds and Dean would be damned if one of the over hungry idiots did anything to jeopardize that.

They seemed to know Alpha was their father, or at least their leader. They favored him most of all and he would groom them, licking them clean and bringing them food, teaching them to wrestle as they got bigger. The other hellhounds were eager to help but not all of them could actually do it. They didn’t know how to be careful. So sometimes Alpha or Dean had to charge in, snarling and fighting off some idiot adult being too rough with a pup.

 

Two Scars was the first one to pick up on Dean’s slick.

He woke wet and horny one day and the smaller male had just been there, nudging and mounting Dean quickly without a sound. It had been sneaky enough that Dean had let him, chuckling in the dirt as the hellhound fucked his ass and knotted him. Alpha was laid out a few feet from them, sleeping with the puppies. Dean knew it was important to breed with all of them, to try and have a variety of bloodlines. Alpha was Dean’s main male but a few on the side was just good genetics. Dean wasn’t sure if it mattered in the monsters but he felt the urge so he let Two Scars have him, quiet little grunts as the hellhound knot filled and pumped its seed into Dean’s body, trying to impregnate him. Afterwards, he groomed Dean’s ass for hours, licking up every drop and getting Dean off multiple times. He jerked off lazily, laid out with Alpha for a pillow as Two Scars rimmed him. He came on his belly and another hellhound reached over to clean him up lazily. It was languid and glorious, Dean content and sated as he dozed off.

Alpha scented Dean’s slick when he woke up and he took Dean, breeding him up. It wasn’t as all-consuming as last time but it still felt amazing and unhinged, Dean grunting as he was fucking in the middle of the den, the pack and the pups watching Dean get impregnated. The instincts in him twisted and reacted, lifting his ass higher as he grunted. Each lunge of the monster on his back felt right, Dean was meant for this.

He really was.

Alpha fucked him until the need faded and Dean was knocked up again.

Still a pup or two might belong to Two Scars.

 

Either way the next litter came when the first puppies were growing into their paws, close to the size of their pack mates and learning to truly fight, gaining scars and having to battle for their meat now. Dean was careful not to baby them too much, following Alpha’s lead on when to interfere and when to leave them be.

Dean had only three puppies but they were healthy and strong.

They grew up the same as the first batch and Dean was more certain in his parenting, guiding his children as the learned to walk and run, tumbling and growing into the beasts that would terrify the world.

Dean didn’t even mind that aspect of it either. He figured the hellhounds when out to bring souls back into hell. It was what they were meant to do. They chased down the damned and those dumb enough to sell their souls. In Dean’s mind it was almost right, some people deserved to burn.

Dean’s first pups went out with their father for the first time and Dean minded his current litter, trying not to fret. Still he was glad when they returned, excited and wild after their first chase. He greeted each one, pressing close and laughing with his family.

 

When he went slick the third time four different males managed to mate him before Alpha came back. He had been out hunting and when he got back he chased the males off and started licking Dean’s ass out. He cleaned the other seed from Dean’s hole as best as he could before fucking Dean just right. The other hellhounds were good at it, but Alpha was the best, making Dean moan and claw the ground as he came over and over.

The third litter was six puppies and they came just as the second litter came of age. It seemed timed perfectly, when the puppies were no longer puppies a fresh batch would come and the pack would have a whole new group to baby.

 

Dean was on his fourth time, his thighs going slick, when he committed his first act of incest. All his pups were born males, there were no females. It was frustrating that it was him alone, but Dean accepted his role; he would carry puppies for as long as he could. It had to have been years and yet he felt the same, no older than he had when he first arrived.

Maybe he would spend his existence breeding hellhounds. He was satisfied with the idea, eager even. Dean liked getting fucked. He had wished once that he could spend his days just having sex over and over and now he had that. Not what he expected but Dean wasn’t picky.

He wasn’t picky at all.

So when his slick started and a male mounted him Dean let him, pressing back into the welcoming burn as he was impaled, a sure cock fucking into his ass, riding him quick and hard like only a hellhound could. Dean was knotted and being bred before he realized it was his own pup inside him. From his first litter, a growly male Dean called Snarl. He was close to his father’s size and a powerful beast in his own right. But he never challenged Alpha, always an obedient son. Perhaps this was his rebellion. Taking his own mother and breeding him up, putting pups in Dean’s belly.

After all his sins Dean barely felt a flicker of shame for it, Snarl was a strong healthy male and he fucked Dean intently. After his knot when down he cleaned Dean up, his tongue pressing into Dean’s asshole as he moaned and jerked his cock, coming with his son’s tongue in him. After that Snarl fucked him a second time, his cock throbbing as he pounded Dean. They were in a cave, shadows hiding them as Dean groaned, face pressed to the rocky wall as Snarl rode him. It was instinct Dean thought, the need to breed, mother or not.

Dean came to the thought of it. Maybe he got off on it a little more than usual, to his own pup impregnating him.

Two Scars came after Snarl left and Dean spread his thighs for him as well, letting the hellhound try and put a pup inside him. Only the best seed would make it anyway. Dean was horny and he wanted to be fucked. Alpha was out on a hunt so Dean let Snarl have him again, admitting he liked the thrill of it.

Another one of his pups had him as well, coming inside Dean, knotting him and filling him up. Afterward, Dean lay out on his back in the dirt, exhausted as his two pups rimmed him clean. Alpha got back and Dean managed to get up on his hands and knees for another round.

The pups kept coming, litter after litter. Dean bred with Alpha the most but he let all of the pack try at some point. He wanted mixed blood and then he would ruin it by letting his own children take him. None of the puppies ever showed ill breeding for it. They came healthy and whole despite their brother’s being their fathers.

But when the den got too small for them Dean noticed it was own puppies being chased out. The eldest one went first, healthy strong males who growled but left when Alpha demanded it. Snarl went with the most hesitation but then Dean was sure the male had sired the most pups in Dean next to Alpha, the male was always eager to ride his mother.

They would come back from time to time, sneaking in when Alpha was away. When Dean was ready for a new litter his elder children would come around the second Alpha was gone. It was sneaky and cunning and Dean liked it enough to let them, carrying their offspring for their cleverness. Snarl kept impregnating Dean long after he left the den.

The pack numbers had tripled since Dean first started breeding, more than half his children now. So Dean had to let them go, the den could only hold so many and when it was over crowded they fought more. The hellhounds injured themselves more than they ever did hunting normally so Dean watched his older children leave, hoping the best for them.

Dean lost track of the years and the number of litters, the puppies just kept coming steadily. If Dean wasn’t pregnant he was getting ready to be. He grew more feral among his pack, snarling and growling with them. Rolling and rough housing, he got his pick of the food but Dean would fight hellhounds sometimes when they got too rough with their siblings or when they didn’t want to share meat.

He gave up the notion of humanity for something better, there was no shame in the raw meat anymore. He ate with relish and fucked his own children eagerly, his belly constantly round with the next generation. He was scarred and vicious.

He loved it, it felt right, the best kind of sin.

His knuckles would bleed from punching the hellhounds who got out of line; their rough hides hurting him more than them. Dean got a bit of bone stuck from a tumble and it healed over without infecting. So he pushed shards into each knuckle until he had his own claws, not enough to really damage the hellhounds but enough to smart more than a punch. It was satisfying to hear his kids yelp when Dean smacked them for bad behavior.

Dean lived his life fucking, breeding, sleeping and eating. He was good with that, minding the den and what not.

 

But then the demons came around.

 

Alpha lifted his head in alarm, scenting, hearing, or sensing something coming. A growl sent the younger puppies hiding in the caves, Dean slinking into the shadows too. The other hellhounds watched the den entrance, wary and ready.

“Always making trouble,” the demon announced as he entered, looking around as the older hellhounds snarled at him.

“Your pack has been picking fights, stirring trouble up left and right. I had to kill a few even! I felt bad about it with your kind being rare, but there are plans, important plans that need to me minded.” It seemed light-hearted and sure of itself, focused on Alpha, knowing he was the leader it seemed.

“I know it was your pack because there’s only one pure pack left,” the demon was cocky, an arrogant ass and Dean sneered at that.

The hellhounds were closing in around the entrance, blocking it and Dean knew that the demon wasn’t leaving. It had just announced it had killed their kind, that it had killed Dean’s pups.

“You seem so sure of that,” he called out, voice rough from years of disuse. It was worth it to see the demon startle badly, twisting to try and find Dean among the shadows. It was off guard for a second and Alpha charged, slamming him to the ground with his teeth on its throat.

Dean rushed in to stop him from killing the demon. The alpha hellhound snarled at Dean but when he pushed, the hellhound let him. Dean had earned his place and as the mother of so many he held sway. The demon was surrounded and Alpha was still over him, waiting to strike.

Dean leaned over the demon, peering down at it with a snarling smile.

“Now, what about these plans that had you willing to kill my children over?”

 

 

Chapter Text

 

Things are never easy when hell was involved Dean has learned over the years.

Always a huge bitch-fit full of crap.

But Dean figured he had lived entire lifetimes dealing with hell. It was a guess, but time was hard to follow down there. Topside had seen nearly a decade so that had to translate into at least four lifetimes in hell. Maybe way more? Fuck it, Dean was never that great at math. Plus, his body never aged beyond the scars he earned. So how should he know?

The point of it is he knows how much of a mess hell can make in hell much less on earth.

So when all these apocalyptic plans come to light, he can’t just run into the fray without thinking about it. Shit’s been going on for centuries, hundreds and hundreds of years of planning and all that.

Dean knows the story well enough to know more power for demons will only be a pain for him.

It goes like this; Lucifer took angels and tortured them into demons. He used the demons to torture the souls, to twist them until they became lesser demons themselves. Hellhounds are the delivery boys; they went and collected the souls, bringing them down to hell.

At first demons were the clear powerhouses but hellhounds were animalistic in nature and with that came the drive to breed. Demons took time to break and turn souls. While they were doing that hellhounds could have litters of pups, more and more. It made the demons nervous and hence the whole fight broke out. In the end the demons came out on top, just barely, and the culled the hellhounds, hunting and killing every female. The big plan was to make them breed with lesser monsters, black dogs and the like. They wanted to make the hellhounds dumb as fuck essentially, making them breed base creatures.

Then Dean walked onto the scene.

Hellhounds don’t typically spend a lot of time topside when they’re not hunting souls of the damned. So when they chanced on Dean, it was like winning the lottery and becoming millionaires. He was like a beacon to them, glowing with the light and power of his bloodline. Dean was from the first humans, he was a descendant of the original creation and the shit carried power. A little hellhound blood, a big old hellhound heart, and a ton of semen and viola, Dean was a breeding machine.

And breed he did.

Dean’s children were in the thousands now.

Eventually the demons picked up on it but fuck if Hellhounds aren’t sneaky and decent at planning. Who knows how many demons tried to get at Dean, attempting to kill him.

None of them got close.

His hounds made amazing protectors and they know the worth of their mama. They didn’t ever go far from him. What was a single mountainside den over time turned into an elaborate cave system for the beasts. Various packs willing to live in close quarters simply because it meant Dean would come visiting, that he would carry pups for them.

So Dean breathed a new life into the hellhound line and it made the demons nervous. They sent their best to kill him and Dean would drag the mutilated bodies into the caves and string them up, learning the art of torture in order to get the information.

Hence the apocalypse info and deciding to stop it.

From there he made a plan and then he went topside.

He’d expected it to be hard, a secret doorway or some shit, but turned out as far as hell was concerned, Dean was a hellhound. Thus he was granted the ability to travel as he pleased just as they were.

Which he would have loved to know a few lifetimes ago.

Because fuck if he didn’t miss food. Deliciously delightful food in all its varieties. Nothing but demons and human meat got boring after a few decades.

But pizza. Pizza was for life. Hamburgers loaded with red juicy patties, dripping sauce and fully loaded. A plate of greasy fries to go with it.

Pie.

Sweet glorious pie.

Dean could go on for days about food.

But that’s not the point.

The point is, he got the info and headed upstairs. He dropped in on Sammy and gave him the warning.

Then he neutered him.

Bit rough on his baby bro, but a necessity. A witch scared of hellhounds, a few well-placed bites on her hide and done deal, Sammy was infertile. No more Winchester line. The super special blood line that was apparently needed for the end of the world. He warned Sammy and his boy grabbed his girl Jessica and ran into hiding. Dean hoped he would make it, kid deserved a happy ending. He made sure Sam was with people that could be trusted, the ones that would help him with his demon blood and shit. Worst case, he knew how to call Dean for help.

A quick spell showed him little Adam. Cute kid. John apparently got lonely and all that. Dean did feel a bit bad about killing him. But world to save and all that. So Adam died, nice and quick, no idea what happened, no pain. His soul the hellhounds ripped to shit. No more Adam.

John was harder.

John was a wily fucker and he knew how to keep an eye out. Dean killed all the righteous men that were alive. He tracked each hunter down and put them down, real merciful and what not. He even gave them a choice, they either sinned and lost the title or they died. The hellhounds destroyed the souls so no one could revive them.

But John just up and disappeared.

The demons starting kick up a fuss too, attacking Dean and his hounds all the time, trying to kill him topside.

Then the angels came into play. Real, fluffy winged angels.

Dean had to sit back and marvel at that.

Maybe they would do the work for him he had thought.

He laid low and let the angels and demons fight it out. With some patience and lots of spying and torture, Dean learned there were some double agents. So called warriors of God eager for the end of times.

Dean really did have to do everything on his own.

Azazal was long dead, Dean had tracked his mom’s killer down way back when down in hell. But now Lilith was the issue and she was a pain, always on the move and never around long enough to kill. Annoying.

All this aside though.

Back to the important thing.

Back to the angels.

Dean was enough of a monster, enough of a hellhound that he could see things, could see power and inhumanity from a mile away.

And angels? They reeked of power, hot white light that was barely contained in their vessels. It was the light of God, it was the power of creation.

Creation.

That right there was the game changer.

Because Dean was all about saving the world and that shit.

But the power packed into angels could mean all of hell getting a remodel.

Dean couldn’t ignore it.

So he made a friend.

 

Snarl, Dean’s son and a powerful alpha now, had always had a soft spot for his mama.

“Good luck,” Dean told him, kissing his head before the beast left.

 

“Weird isn’t it? That a fucked up monster like me is the one fighting to save the world.” He mused and the angel across from his was pouring resentment and outrage.

“While you, the suppose guardian, is the one trying so hard to destroy it.”

“I’m not,” Castiel growled. “We’re purging the world, making it better.”

Dean snorted, leaning on one of his hellhounds.

“If you really believe that, you’re as dumb as you are pretty.”

The angel’s wings twitched, he was pissed.

But there was uncertainty there too.

Dena had worked for months to lure it out. 

He travelled and protected the seals from both demon and angel alike. His hellhounds became the bane of both groups, always eager to rip up another being. Angels were tough as fuck but they weren’t impossible to destroy. Tear up the wings and they were done. Hellhounds could do that, could grip them and pull the angels down.

In a group, angels would only attack, but when he got them on their own, he could chitchat. Castiel was a good soldier but he was the one with doubts. He was the one who sat in parks and watched children play. 

He wasn’t on board with the plan, not entirely.

“Have fun slaughtering the masses,” Dean offered in parting. Castiel always looked like he wanted to smite his ass but the hounds were too strong for him to do it and they both knew it. Dean had his own tricks up his sleeves but he downplayed them, wanting to seem helpless without his pack. Made it easier to set traps.

 

The real game started when Uriel revealed himself. When he turned on Castiel and tried to kill him. The devastation in his angel’s face to learn Uriel was killing their garrison, killing their brothers.

“There is no God,” Uriel spat when he pinned Castiel, beating him hard as the angel refused to give in. Loyal to the end.

Dean liked it.

“You never know,” he drawled and Uriel jerked to face him just as the Hellhounds attacked. Dean smirked as they tore into him, killing his vessel but also biting into his grace, tearing up his wings as the angel howled in agony.

Dean walked over to where Castiel remained, laid out on the floor.

“See angel boy. Turns out the lines aren’t as clear cut as you figured.”

He crouched down and inspected the vessel, checking to ensure the angel could heal and escape.

“The plan upstairs doesn’t seem like the big daddy's kinda plan. Something’s going on. The real question is what are you going to do about it? You gonna help killing millions of the very people your father told you to protect?”

Dean peered down at him for a moment, reading his gaze before he reached to wipe a smear of blood off the angel’s mouth.

“Or you gonna honor your daddy?”

 

It didn’t take long for Castiel to get back in the game, for the angel to be showing up at the seals and defending them properly.

Dean fought a grin in victory and him and the hounds kept killing everything and trying to get at Lilith.

 

Time got blurry. Dean’s not great at tracking it anymore. When he was a human every day mattered. Now weeks go by and he barely notices them.

“I need your help,” Castiel announced one cheery evening.

They had just prevented a seal from breaking. Worked together even. They were drifting closer. Castiel was inch by slow inch coming to depend on Dean. Miles from trusting him, but the idea wasn’t ludicrous anymore.

“My help? Me? What was it you called me the first time we met? Hell’s bitch?”

Castiel grunted and glared.

“All angels call you that.”

“Ouch, I’m hurt almost.”

“I need…” The angel trailed off, Dean could see it was killing him to have to ask. “The pendant.”

Dean blinked, looking down at the pendant around his neck. He’d lost it when he went to hell and it was all John and Sam had found of him. Sam had given it back to him, ever the loving brother.

“Why?” He cut to the chase, reminding himself he wanted to win the angel over.

“It…I need to find my father, to stop all of this. The pendant can help me.”

Dean pulled the little token out, it didn’t give off any energy or anything. Seemed like a typical charm. Bit of protective energy.

“My baby brother gave this to me, means the world,” he teased. To soften it though he pulled it off and watched the way Castiel’s eyes followed it.

“If you think you can stop it,” he finally decided. “But,” he added when Castiel reached for it.

“A favor for a favor, you’ll owe me one.”

That made the angel hesitate.

“Deals with demons…”

“I’m not a demon, I’ll even tell you what I want upfront.” Dean let it hang, knowing the angel would never resist. He was too curious for his own good. It was adorable really.

The hounds paced and Alpha was there, watching keenly. He knew the importance of it, even as Dean smiled easily.

“What do you want?”

Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

“I want a night of passion with you,” he drawled and Castiel looked affronted and embarrassed, awkward for a moment rather than his usual on guard. 

“Why would you…what’s the point of…that?”

Dean shrugged.

“It’s stupid not to ask for something back but honestly, I don’t need anything. Anything too important and you’ll refuse or you can’t grant it. But your grace is pretty, so I wanna ride you like a pony,” Dean surmised. 

He swung the pendant on a single finger, coaxing the angel with it.

“If you’re too nervous for a little fun, we can think of something else. You could get me an angel sword instead?”

Castiel snatched the pendant with a fierce glare.

“I would never give you such a thing.”

“The sword or your innocence?”

The angel flustered before lifting his chin in challenge.

“Name your time and place,” he growled and Dean smirked.

“Here and now.”

Castiel seemed genuinely surprised again. He glanced around the clearing, an open spot in some far forest. Ancient stones lined up and half smeared with blood. The demons trying to break the seal dead and cast to the side.

“You want a bed? Some candle light? Dinner first?”

The angel glowered again. The hounds observed curiously, Alpha intent on them.

Dean grinned and took the end of the angel’s tie, guiding him off to the side where the forest started. A little way in offered them cover. Castiel could have refused, he was strong and could have resisted the pull. Dean smirked when he went, following him into the shelter of the forest.

Castiel grunted when his back hit a tree, his glare still fierce but a touch of insecurity showing.

Dean grinned, his eyes glowing red as he pressed in, letting his body rest against the angel’s.

“Gonna have some fun,” he promised, leaning in for a kiss. Castiel was unresponsive but he stayed put.

“You ever fuck before?”

“No,” the angel gritted and Dean let out a genuine laugh.

“I’m really taking your virginity. God, this’ll be a story for you one day.”

He pulled the angel and after a moments resistance, he went.

Dean pushed him down, Castiel letting himself fall onto the mossy ground with a thump. The hounds whined but kept their distance. Dean sat down on the angel’s lap, facing him and pressing another kiss to his mouth.

He used his hand on Castiel’s chin to get him to open up a bit. Dean sank his tongue in and took his time making out with the angel. Using physical pleasure to slowly lower his guard. He grinded his ass down as well and wanted to cheer when he felt the angel’s body responding to the contact.

“Hello big boy,” he teased, pushing back so he could undo Castiel’s slacks.

“Must they watch?”

“Yup,” Dean replied easily. “They ain’t leaving me open for attack, they don’t care what I’m doing. Where I am, they are.”

Before Castiel could ask more questions, Dean slid back and bent down so he could suck off the angel.

Despite not moving his hips, Dean could see Castiel’s finger’s dig into the ground. He was feeling it for sure. Working his mouth, Dean could admit he wasn’t the best at it. It had been a long time since the cock in his mouth wasn’t a hellhound. They liked rough stuff and for the most part, just face fucked Dean.

Castiel wasn’t giving him that so Dean had to work, bobbing his head and swirling his tongue. He licked at the tip, rubbing the head over his tongue while he worked the length with his hand. When he took it all back into his mouth, Castiel’s body jerked. When he got a low hoarse groan from him, it felt like a victory to Dean.

Alpha growled, reminding him. Dean pulled off with a wet sound, he missed cock sucking like this. 

Still, there was a plan in place.

Dean sat up and pulled his coat down and off. He took his shirt off and pulled at his boots. Castiel watched silently, his gaze far hungrier than the angel probably realized.

Dean stripped down until he was totally naked. He contemplated stripping the angel but left him be. He wanted Castiel comfortable.

Settling back into his lap, Dean took Castiel’s hand and led it around his body. Licking up the angel’s neck, Dean worked on sucking a nice dark mark into his skin. While he did that, he lined his hand up with the angel’s own and guided fingers into his wet hole.

He was sopping already, eager for it.

One of his own and one of Castiel’s fingers worked him open and two more made four in his ass. Dean didn’t need much prep, or any at all but it was worth it the way Castiel shivered. His fingers very slowly working inside Dean on their own a bit. Feeling the wet heat his dick was going to be inside soon. 

“Alright angel boy, let’s do this,” Dean smirked. He rolled them down, pulling Castiel over him as he laid on his back. The angel fumbled for a moment as Dean arranged them. He got his thighs spread and Castiel between them.

“Come on now, don’t make me do all the work,” he cajoled.

Castiel probably didn’t realize how unsure he looked as he took hold of his cock and pressed it to Dean’s ass. A few fumbling attempts and then he was in.

Dean groaned out, not hesitating to sigh and arch his back into the full feeling. Not a hound but still good in its own way. 

“Come on,” he muttered, lifting his hips and rocking them. Castiel sluggishly mimicked it, pushing weakly at first but building quickly. A hand settled on Dean’s waist, fingers spread out and feeling his skin.

That touch was as important as the cock in his ass.

He curled a hand over Castiel’s neck. The angel went still for a moment before thrusting again. He trusted Dean enough not to stab him in the back.

“Come on, Cas, I’m not fragile,” he reminded him. He let his tone go low, something softer than usual and it lured the angel in.

He pressed his brow to Dean’s shoulder as he began to lunge. He fucked hard, his hand clutching Dean almost frantically. He thrusts were erratic but came fast without let up.

Dean let himself revel in it, groaning out and shoving to meet each motion.

The hellhounds paced around them, eyes glowing red as they watched him get fucked.

“That’s it angel,” Dean hissed, lifting his thighs to curl around Castiel’s hips.

It only took a few more slams before Castiel was groaning. A breathy almost not there thing. He shuddered as he came, holding Dean hard enough to hurt his bones, never mind he had a hellhound’s strength. He slumped a touch afterwards, panting for air in the aftermath. Dean smirked into the angel’s neck, thighs tightening on Castiel’s hips before he turned their bodies. Not too fast, not enough to freak Castiel out. He rolled them so Dean was on top.

He winked down at the angel as he lifted himself up. The softening cock in his ass came free as Dean got on his hands and knees.

Alpha was right there immediately. His snout scenting Dean’s used ass before he was climbing on his back.

Castiel laid under him on his back, watching. His guard was down and he didn’t look disgusted. He looked curious, peering up at Dean.

Alpha’s cock burned as it jabbed and slammed into him. Dean grunted hard as his ass was forced open. Castiel was small in comparison to it. The long pulsing length in his ass swelling up immediately. Alpha fucked like a machine, hips pumping without pause or let up. Just a viscous shoving into Dean.

His whole body jerked under the hellhound’s power, he was yanked back and rammed forward over and over. Bouncing over Castiel as alpha fucked him.

Dean whined, feeling the knot began to pull. It came with red hot pain that had transformed into pleasure for Dean.

He whimpered as it slammed into him.

When it refused to go Alpha’s paws grabbed at him, driving him back until the knot forced its way into him. It went with a sudden motion and Dean sighed as Alpha licked at his face.

Turning his head, he opened his mouth and licked the Hellhound’s tongue. He welcomed it into his mouth as he made out with the monster.

Alpha tied deep in his ass and Dean shivered at the feeling of being pumped full. He could feel his stomach begin to tighten with it. The thick slimy come pouring inside him.

“Good boy, fuck Alpha, that feels good,” he breathed, looking back at the hound over him, meeting his gaze for a split second. Alpha was the boss but Dean wasn’t his underling, he was his equal.

“You…truly care for them,” Castiel contemplated quietly under them and Dean huffed a laugh as he looked down at the angel under them.

“Of course I do. They’re my family. Same as Sammy and dad. I’m here to protect them too. Hell won’t be safe for them if the demons gain power.”

Dean shivered at a hard throb inside him.

“There’s more to them than anyone realizes. Your father made them. Made them to bring the damned to hell and fuck Cas, they’re the only ones who kept to what they were supposed to do.” 

 

Once all the seeds were planted, Dean did what he knew no one was expecting. He took off and laid low. He stopped protecting the seals and just hung around earth. Ate good food and helped the hellhounds hunt the damned. He kept an ear open but beyond that he left it be.

He wasn’t going to stop the seals from being broken, he knew that much. Too many forces against him, the demons and the angels working for it. Dean learned his dad had been the one to break the first seal. That John had been in hell and Dean hadn’t known it. It reminded him to be careful, not to get cocky. He had to step lightly and plan everything with care. Demons were wily motherfuckers.

The whole vessel thing was still key though, no grand battle without vessels. They were missing a key player and Sammy was protected. There was no other line that could carry Lucy and Mike. Dean had made sure of it.

So he just had to wait.

Alpha kept insanely close. Never left, never hunted without Dean. At any time, Dean could reach out and feel the beast at his side. Other hounds stayed around as well, everyone on high alert and working to guard him.

Dean let them.

He travelled to Italy and tried genuine pizza and pasta. He wandered Japan and checked out sushi. He had French cuisine in the motherland. Mostly he ate his face off.

“I gotta say, America is great but Europe is strong in the food game.”

Alpha snorted at him. He preferred still warm kills to prepared food. Most of the hounds did but a few would eat whatever Dean was having.

His stomached filled out slowly this time. Puppies growing.

Being topside meant medical supplies and Dean lounged on a bed as a crying technician performed an ultrasound on him. She couldn’t see the hounds in the room with them but could hear them. Could see them bumping into things as they paced impatiently. Hear them growling and snarling at her.

“T-there’s something in t-there,” she hiccupped.

Dean peered at the screen.

“How many?”

“T-Three I think…they look like animals,” she whispered horrified and Dean grinned.

“Monsters actually. Just like these ones.”

The hellhounds snarled and she cried harder.

“They come for the damned you see, people whose souls are so dark, well they don’t get the elevator up. They come down to hell to burn.”

Dean’s eyes glowed red and she sobbed hysterically.

“Just saying, you’re not looking so good. You haven’t killed or anything but your pretty murky, give it time and you’ll end up on the naughty list.”

Dean left her in the medical room terrified out of her wits. Let her think about her life choices.

“That was cruel,” the voice made him almost start but Dean stopped the reaction and turned around casually.

“That was freaken mercy. Think she’s gonna keep coming to work drunk? Or stealing supplies for motel surgeries?” Dean raised a brow at the angel. Castiel frowned but couldn’t deny it. For Dean, not killing her was down right angelic.

“How’s that daddy hunt going?” 

“Poorly,” he admitted with a frustrated sound. “You’re not defending the seals anymore.” 

Dean shrugged and they fell in step, walking down the halls of the hospital together.

“Can’t win. Too many seals and too many against me. The angels have stopped pretending. Everyone is gunning for the big fight it seems. But as long as Sammy and my dad are safe the big game won’t happen.”

“It’s dangerous to think that.”

“I’ll deal with it as it comes. I’m out for a few months either way.”

“Because you are… pregnant.”

Dean grinned.

“Got it in one.”

“With hounds,” the angel added and Dean laughed outright.

“Were you watching me? Sweating bullets until you saw puppies and not little nephilims?”

Castiel played a good poker face but Dean just knew he was relieved

“Either way the hounds won’t let me risk it. Life is precious to them.”

“Their own kind.”

“Come on now. They don’t kill needlessly. They hunt the damned and they’ve only killed to defend in this holy war.”

Castiel seemed to bite his tongue and Dean didn’t press.

“Either way, I’m out of the ring for a bit.”

 

Dean continued to lay around.

He rubbed his belly as it grew and paid no attention to the fighting around him. Demons and angels showed up and the hellhounds ripped them apart.

It dragged on until Snarl finally came looking for him.

Dean’s favored son appeared one night and Dean grinned in delight. He dropped to his knees and embraced his pup tightly.

“Good boy,” he told him proudly. “You’ll be one of the first to breed.”

The other hellhounds stood up as Dean got to his feet. Together, they all followed Snarl.

 

John Winchester looked worn as hell. 

Snarl had bitten him up a bit but the hellhound had his own wounds too, a good fight.

“Hello daddy,” Dean smiled and the man glared back, taking Dean in. His scarred body and red eyes. His round heavy belly filled with hellhound puppies.

The man raised his chin, facing Dean calmly. Dean could admire that. He always had looked up to his old man.

“So, we have ourselves a conundrum,” Dean began, pulling out a chair and settling into it. There were in a long-abandoned house, wallpaper peeling off the walls, windows all smashed out. John sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, watching him.

“An end of the world sort of thing.”

“I know,” the man rasped and Dean watched him.

“You had a tour of hell I heard. 101 years until you broke and picked up a knife. Started this whole mess.”

“I know,” John gritted, teeth clenched in anger and shame. “I’m trying to fix it.”

“I know, I get that. Sammy is off safe and he won’t have any kids. You know why? Because they need our bloodline. They need two vessels. I’m not remotely human anymore so I’m out of the count. Which just leaves you and Sammy.”

“You’re wrong, there was…another son.”

“Adam? He’s dead. He’s real dead.”

John turned his gaze on Dean, pinned him with. A lifetime ago Dean might have felt bad, might have felt downright terrible.

“No pain, no suffering. Just a quick end,” Dean sat up from his chair, his back aching with the weight of his pups. “You can be the same if you want, I’ll be nice about it. To save the world, don’t you think the world is worth your life?”

“Why are you doing this?” John asked and Dean sighed.

“Honestly? For Sammy mostly. For my kid brother, I was more of mother and father to than anyone else. I raised that kid, loved him. Lifetimes in hell, baring my own children and looking after them, I still came when I heard Sammy’s name. Still showed up to help him.” Dean let out a breath, tired of the earth suddenly. He missed the heat of hell and his pack curled up at his side.

“I’m not excited to kill you and I sure as hell don’t particularly want too, but if two vessels remain it can be a hell of a mess. So either I kill you here and now and we end this.” He paused, drawing out the moment.

“Or,” he added and watched his father look up at him.

“Or?”

 

Snarl was the best tracker Dean had. His firstborn son, the father of many of Dean’s pups. A vicious thing that Dean was proud of. He loved all his pups of course, but Snarl was special. A mama’s boy. Always so obedient to Dean and defiant to everyone else.

Dean asked him to find John Winchester and he did.

He asked his son to find Lilith and he did.

Now Lilith is a slippery son of a bitch. Dean knew he had one chance and then he won’t get another.

Few things could lure her out, but John Winchester managed just fine. Armed with the colt to kill her.

“You really do underestimate demons,” she offered the man sweetly. Already he was pinned down and the colt taken away.

“Both of you,” she amended and offered Dean a smile. He returned it with teeth flashing as he left his hiding spot. “If it isn’t hell’s favorite bitch.”

“The best,” Dean agreed, rubbing his belly.

“Maybe I should rip them out, one by one?”

Alpha and Snarl growled out, the pack pacing and ready to attack.

Lilith had her demons, her trusted two at her side, more at her back. She was powerful as fuck too, the hellhounds might not win against her. But Dean knew that.

“You could have been the one Dean, the true vessel.”

He shrugged. “I’m good where I am.”

Castiel arrived with a burst of light, a few angels willing to rebel and help him. Lilith faced them, hands up ready to smite.

Her favored demon, Crowley, moved perfectly. 

Dean wished he had a camera, for how startled and enraged she looked. He stayed back, Dean wasn’t in the fray this round. Not this close to birth. His hellhounds fought though, the demons falling quickly in the chaos. John got his colt back and started firing. The angels smiting left and right. It was downright biblical.

The main thing though?

Lilith was sealed, trapped away inside some artifact Castiel had dug up. Some holy thing with enough power to hold her. A freaking jar.

Dean would laugh for years over that.

Once it was clear she was gone, the other demons took off.

Crowley lingered, offering a salute to Dean and he nodded.

It would work out well for him, to have a demon in power on his side. For however long it took the demon to betray him. Still, not apocalypse so the main deal was followed through. When he made a play for power, Dean and the hellhounds would back the demon. Could be tomorrow, could be decades, hell was funny that way.

His dad had survived, gun still smoking.

Dean wasn’t too surprised when he swung it around to point it at Dean’s head.

“Rude,” he muttered. The hellhounds all going still. Every last on one there had stopped dead and were staring at John intently. Dean wondered what it felt like, to have that feral energy directed at you. Ready to kill you the second they could.

Castiel was watching as well, face twisted in indecision. Poor thing wasn’t sure what to do.

“You’re not my son.”

“No,” Dean agreed calmly. “He died a long time ago and I was born, someone strong and sure. Able to survive in hell. But we both know who killed him. It wasn’t the hellhounds.”

John Winchester, ever the martyr.

“No, it wasn’t,” he breathed, guilt-ridden as he lowered the gun.

Snarl nearly took his hand off snatching it away. John lost a finger at least, blood pouring, as the beast took the weapon and dashed off. He would hide it away somewhere, until it was useful again.

Alpha was focused on John but Dean nudged him, pushing him from his fixation.

Castiel approached John, waving a hand to heal him.

“It’s done then, without Lilith to break the final seal, the apocalypse can’t happen.”

“You will be punished,” one of the angels said to him. “They will hunt you to the ends of the world for this.”

Castiel nodded, seeming content with the idea of it.

“The world is saved, that is what matters.”

“Agreed,” Dean cheered. “But if you need some help, let me know. You’re welcome at my place.”

“Hell,” Castiel sneered and Dean laughed.

“Hell,” he agreed. “Me and my hounds have our own little spot and it’s not so bad.”

Castiel frowned and turned to look for the artifact Lilith was sealed in. He frowned when it was gone. Dean’s hellhounds already making off with it.

“We agreed,” he growled and Dean shrugged.

“Angels wanted to bring the end. I can’t just let you take her and screw it all up by letting her out or some shit.”

“Where is she?” John asked, seeming to shrug off losing fingers and then being healed. 

“Back where she belongs. In hell.”

Castiel shook his head in irritation. “She’ll get free; the demons won’t rest until she is.”

“They can try all they want. The hellhounds will guard it. They’ll guard the decoys too; they won’t be bought or tricked or turned. Hellhounds are loyal to pack. We fought a war once with the demons and even when we lost it, we survived to recover. The demons have lost power since Lucifer was caged, they won’t be able to go against us and win, and they know it.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Then come guard it yourself,” Dean offered again, watching the angel glare.

“You off?” Dean asked his father, seeing the man trying to slip away. John Winchester paused and frowned a moment before nodding.

“It’ll take me time, to adjust to this.”

Dean shrugged. “If it gets too hard you know how to contact me. I’ll come and finish it.”

Castiel stood with Dean as John left, getting into his gorgeous car and driving off. Dean hoped he would get that car one day. If he paid enough attention he could make sure Sammy got it and then borrow it for a cruise when he came up. Keep it in the family, pass it down to whatever kids Sammy adopted.

“He will break eventually. All vampire need to drink blood.”

Dean shrugged again.

“He might. But of all the monsters, I’ve seen vampire handle the kill urge best. Keep a hold of themselves and manage without killing people. If he thinks he’s close to breaking he won’t call me. He’ll blow his own head off. Always was a loner.”

Castiel frowned some more. He looked kinda cute like that. A put out puppy.

“What matters is that his soul is ruined. Sammy was always tainted with the demon blood in it, so there’s no vessel left for Michael.”

“The angels will still try, so will the demons.”

“But we also got Lilith, the last seal. Without her, nothing is gonna shake down. Now we just gotta start killing all her loyalists and anyone who won’t let the apocalypse thing go.”

Dean smirked.

“I’ll start in hell, you got heaven?”

The angel nodded.

“We’ll meet in the middle, or you could always come visiting, meet the kids.”

 

It took more than a few suggestions of course, to persuade the angel into hell. Dean worked him over as the other angels hunted him. As he grew weary and dodged the vengeance of his brothers so eager for the apocalypse. Demons made tries to free Lilith but no one really knew where she was. Dean wasn’t telling and the mountain was brimming with hellhounds. All loyal to their own kind.

Beast were beasts.

They didn’t want power or wealth or any of that sort.

They wanted to hunt to eat, a safe place to sleep, and a wet hole to fuck.

They hunted the dead and dragged them to hell and they devoured demons and the little beasties of hell as they pleased. The had the mountain that no demon could ever challenge with thousands of hellhounds guarding it. And they fucked Dean, the mother of the hellhounds.

 

“I was wondering if you would ever come,” Dean greeted when Snarl brought Castiel to him. The angel was beyond weary, looking over the endless rolling mountains and the red dirt. The caves throughout the stone that housed the hounds of hell. They had other spots of course, hidden caves all over hell. They were spreading out as Dean gave birth to more and more.

“Welcome to my place,” he grinned and the angel glared at him but it lacked heat. He was worn-out, Dean could see, truly exhausted. But the hellhounds left him alone and once Castiel realized they weren’t about to rip him apart he relaxed inch by stubborn inch.

Dean had expected him to be more angelic looking in hell. But the holy tax accountant remained. He still looked human. The grace was still there, shining like a beacon but it was a bit subdued Dean supposed.

“My brothers, they have tied me to this form. They burned out the human soul, Jimmy Novak. I cannot leave this body, should they slay it, I would die along with it.”

“Are you human?”

Castiel shook his head.

“Merely trapped, until I can understand how to break free.”

It was perfect really, Dean could work with this.

 

Dean fucks the hellhounds, just as he always had. Castiel watched him, stiff at first but as the time dragged on he stopped getting uptight. He would sit against the stone walls and watch as Dean took knot after knot, growling in delight.

Panting after a good fuck, Dean dropped down on his elbows and forearms, bracing himself as the hellhound over him pumped him full.

“You enjoy such carnal things,” Castiel grumbled and Dean laughed.

“You did too, feathers.”

The angel looked away, face tinging red.

Dean smirked and once the knot went down and pulled out of his ass with a wet slurp, he crawled closer to the angel. Dean’s ass was well used, he was ready to get knocked up again and the hellhounds were on him. Alpha was off hunting, the big male always possessive but also seeming to understand Dean needed to sire from different hellhounds. Some sort of instinct in him. Dean wondered about hellhound genetics sometimes. He spread out the sires but then let his own pups fuck him full. Brothers that were also fathers. Who knew.

Castiel went still as Dean crawled into his lap but he didn’t shove Dean off.

Putting a hand on the angel’s chest Dean slowly drew it downward.

“You remember? Fucking me. The heat and fiction,” he drawled teasingly as he cupped the angel’s cock. It was already half hard.

“Look at that,” Dean chuckled. “You like watching me? Like seeing me take it from my hounds? They are amazing fucks you know, isn’t nothing like a hellhound knot.”

Dean got Castiel’s dick out and was sitting on it in record time. The angel’s hands clutching the dirt but not stopping him. He sucked in a rough breath as Dean sank down on his dick.

“How’s it feel? Fucking the hellhound bitch?”

Dean rocked them, lifting his ass and dropping it down. He rode Castiel hard. Human’s would have had broken limbs but the angel took it and gave it back just as good. Dean enticed him into rough sex, skipping anything too gentle. Castiel needed to like it hard for the plan to work. 

“Come on,” he muttered and Castiel was slamming up. His hands took Dean’s hips and he just rammed over and over. The angel lost it a bit like last time, going frantic and panting as he came. He grunted out, eye’s slipping closed as he reveled in that base animal pleasure.

Dean smirked, eyes glowing red as he looked at his pretty angel and felt him pump a load into him.

 

With care, Dean had them fucking. He started out random chance fucking and then worked Castiel into it. Made it casual like it was no big deal.

They were isolated and Castiel was an angel. Angels were a pack animal, they yearned for their brothers. So Castiel was lonely.

It was easy for Dean to coax him in, to get him pounding his ass all the time. Castiel would slip in after the hellhounds and just ride Dean. He took that simple pleasure for all he could and in no time he was chasing it. Wanting it.

The angel looked less put together every day, a bit more wild, a touch feral. Dean wondered if he had been the same.

Dean didn’t push it too hard at all, he took his time. Years drifted by in hell, Castiel settling in with them, finding a place.

Alpha and Snarl seemed to be aware of the plan. They both took interest in Castiel and were keen on him. They would sit with him and bring him bits of meat back from hunts that he always declined politely. If other hounds got growly with Castiel, it was either Alpha or Snarl defending him. Two Scars picked up on it and seemed to get Castiel was important. He took to trialing after the angel, staying by his side.

Alpha and Snarl were both pack leaders, they had to mind their packs and go hunting. Two Scars was a smaller male and a submissive to the larger ones. He was free to do as he pleased and he used it well.

“How odd is it, that an angel would feel at peace in hell?” Castiel mused and Two Scars whined at him, resting his head on the angel’s thigh. He was curled up with him and Castiel was used to it now. He no longer flinched when the hellhounds touched him.

Dean remained hidden in the shadows, watching.

“I should leave soon, check on the world, but I find myself hesitant,” the angel continued, talking to the hellhound. He just started doing it, having these little conversations with Two Scars or Snarl. 

“The outside world used to pull me far more.”

 

Castiel was fucking Dean when it happened.

Dean was down on his hands and knees, grunting with every hard lunge from the angel. Then Castiel jerked and came abruptly.

He bowed over Dean’s back, cock buried in his ass and his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean glanced back and saw the hellhound behind them. Its head was bowed, licking away at Castiel’s ass. Dean could hear the wet slurps.

“Don’t be cheap, lick me too,” Dean growled out and the hellhound obeyed him, lapping down over Castiel’s sack and to where his cock was still in Dean’s ass.

He sighed in pleasure at the feel of the hot wet tongue.

“Fuck, they’re good at that,” he muttered. Castiel didn’t respond but he didn’t deny it either.

After he pulled out, he sat in the dirt and watched the hellhound, Two Scars, mount and fuck Dean.

The angel was watching them with a new light in his eyes, watching the red thick cock pump into Dean over and over.

Dean could already see that spark of interest.

 

Two Scars was just on the ball, really. He knew what the game was it seemed. The next time Dean checked on them, coming back after going to sort some pack fighting on the far side of the mountain, they were busy.

Castiel looked distinctly uncomfortable but he wasn’t shoving the hellhound away. Dean had lured him from his clothing months ago. Dean didn’t wear anything in the mountain and Castiel had mentioned the heat. So he stripped down. He wasn’t human, he didn’t have that same sense of body shame or the need to hide it.

So he was naked in the dirt, sitting there with his legs spread and Two Scars between them. Dean leaned on stone wall beside him, watching the hound lick the angel out. Over his asshole and up along his sack and then up the length of his cock. Two Scars was giving him the full meal deal.

Castiel looked tense and shamed but he was obviously into it. His cock hard and Dean could see him rocking back onto the tongue in his ass. It was clear he licked it, breathing uneven as he let the hellhound get him off.

Dean watched Castiel come, jerking and gasping out and then slowly relaxing. He slumped into the dirt and Two Scars didn’t even blink. He just kept licking, cleaning the angel spunk off Castiel’s skin.

He was ready then.

 

“I was thinking,” Dean began and Castiel look over at him. They were settled on a low ledge, watching the younger pups chase the older ones, learning to fight through playing. Dean was laid on his side, head resting in his palm as he guarded his puppies while the ran about. There were hellhounds all around them, one of them resting it's head on Dean’s leg. Two Scars was curled up right beside Castiel.

“Alpha’s getting agitated, something happening upstairs I think. We should check it out.”

Castiel nodded immediately. But Dean could see the sense of reluctance in him.

“But I don’t want anyone to know, last thing I need is trouble,” Dean added, rubbing his swollen belly. He was almost there but not yet ready to give birth, a few weeks at most.

“It would be hard to ‘sneak’ from hell. I would be noticed.”

As an angel, Castiel was pretty obvious. He gave off a soft light at all times. Glowing with his grace. It was hard to get a good sleep with him too close, lighting up the cave. Anyway, it was obvious he was an angel and there was no getting around it.

“I know. I was thinking Alpha might know a way to help you with that.”

 

Castiel didn’t understand, not completely. He got the bit about becoming pack and an unofficial hellhound but he didn’t know the depth of that. Just like Dean hadn’t known.

It’s one of his kids.

Rough, a big but dumb male who fucked up. Dean’s heart aches as his pup limps. He had gotten home but he won’t be able to recover, his backend is all fucked up, large gouges of skin and flesh hanging.

Dean settled the hellhound against him, it’s head in his lap as he pet him lovingly.

“It’s ok baby, you did so good,” he told him, tears pooling in his eyes. “Don’t you worry; mama will take care of this.”

It was a single twist, a hard snap and then the hellhound is dead. Instant. No more pain.

Dean’s taken over finishing the hellhounds when they get hurt like this. When they're going to die. Alpha lets him. Let’s Dean comfort them and then kill them without any pain. He brought most of them into the world, it’s his right to help them leave when need be.

But the ritual cannibalism remains. No hellhound body has ever been recovered and for it, they remain a mystery. It is to protect those still alive as much as it is to honor the dead.

Dean takes the heart and lets the hellhounds eat the rest.

Alpha eats a chunk and then follows Dean.

Castiel is over on the side, looking ill and disgusted.

“I can’t do this,” he announced and Dean ignored him. Two Scars licked Castiel’s shoulder in comfort but then leaned against his legs and back to keep him from running. Alpha and the other hellhounds focus in on Castiel once Rough is gone. Sensing the change coming.

“Dean, please,” the angel tried, some deep-rooted instinct in him telling him not too.

Dean doesn’t give him a choice. He shoved it in Castiel’s face and when he fought the hellhounds pinned him down.

“It’s hard. I know. I never thought I could. But I did it too, Cas, I did it for them.” He explained.

“There you go, it’s not hard, just bite and chew,” Dean persuaded him, watching the angel give in. It took hours or near retching but he eats every last piece of the hellhound heart.

 

Dean curled up with him afterwards, holding the angel to his chest, rubbing his back and whispering praises. The hellhounds laid around them, pushed up close to offer their own comfort.

“You did it,” Dean approved as he pet the distressed angel.

“That was vile,” Castiel replied, his voice sounding like the old angel, the rough fire and brimstone version of him. “I will never again,” he snapped and Dean nodded.

“You won’t ever have too again. I swear it, Cas. I only ever did it once. Even I had to be forced.”

Castiel shuddered but let Dean reel him in close, snuggling with him in the dirt, the pack all around them.

 

They go topside and kill a few demons trying to locate Lilith. No big deal. Crowley was working to take control of hell and most demons are too busy with that to stir up real trouble.

Dean visited Sammy. His brother was awkward but genuinely happy to see him. He kept staring at the invisible hellhounds and Dean’s glad he thought to wait until after the pups were born to come. He couldn’t image Sammy dealing with Dean pregnant.

Might have been hilarious though.

Sammy’s out of hunting and living the normal life. He protected still and hidden away with endless seals. The hellhounds check in on him as well, making sure he’s safe.

Dean’s glad his kid brother got to be what he wanted, a normal human. He’ll do his best to help Sammy keep that.

 

When they return, it doesn’t take long. Castiel started to stare more at the hellhounds, watching them. They watched him too, taking notice of the angel beyond their usual gruffness. Dean amusedly observed his kids trying to suck up to Castiel suddenly, bringing him meat, grooming him, and laying with him. Hellhound romance right there.  

Poor Castiel thought they were just welcoming him into the pack.

 

Dean woke to heavy panting.

Not hellhound panting.

He blinked sleep awake instantly and lifted his head to look and smirked.

Two Scars got the angel bitch first in the end.

Castiel’s on his hands and knees, panting out, shivering and dripping sweat. Two Scars was on his back, adjusting. Dean could see the moment he slammed in, the angel jerking and then groaning out. His cock spurted and spilt in the dirt and the hellhound proceeded to take his virgin ass.

Dean turned on his side, reaching down to finger his own hole as he peered at them.

Two Scars was small for a hellhound but he’s still massive in general, a great big beast that was curled over the angel in human form. Dean watched as he fucked Castiel with that animalistic frenzy, ramming into that hole as if to claim it.

Castiel grunted and whined with every motion, his body jerking and taking each lunge.

His eyes were closed but they still shine through his lids with a blue light, an angel’s power.

The power of creation.

Dean felt the excitement rush through him.

Two Scars fucked Castiel long and hard and knotted his pretty ass tightly. Castiel was out of it, lost in the heat fever. He came three times on the cock in him and whimpered in loss when the hellhound pulled out of him. The bitch well used.

Snarl was there immediately, jumping up and Dean smiled as Castiel gasped out, mouth opened as the next hellhound fucked him. Snarl was a good lay, a nice thick cock and a fat knot.

Dean gazed at them, as his son rode their angel, masturbating lazily to the view.

Sweat ran down Castiel’s face, dripping in the dirt as he let the hellhound have him. Wanted it, needed it. It was lovely to see, the brutal and feral fucking. A hellhound having an angel, taking him in the dirt and making him moan for it.

Alpha had a go at Castiel once Snarl was done. They were out hunting. Two Scars the only one there to take the first round. Snarl got back and Alpha came when he was already knotted in their new bitch.

Dean watched the knot come free, Castiel swallowing little whimpers while hellhound come ran down his thighs in white lines, his body drenched in it. Snarl moved over him and lifted a leg, pissing on him to mark him. 

Of course, Alpha had to piss over his scent. Castiel was too out of it to care. He was face down in the dirt but ass still up in offering, piss running down his ass, back, and into his hair.

Alpha was the alpha for a reason.

Castiel was really making noise now. The boss hellhound had his thick paws curled around his middle and was slam fucking the angel. He yanked Castiel into every powerful thrust and wet slaps of come-soaked skin filled the caves.

“Good boy,” Dean sighed out when Snarl came over to lick Dean’s dripping hole. He got up eagerly and groaned out as the hellhound sank into him. That nice fat cock filling his ass, opening him up to take it. The knot already pulsing, eager to breed him. Dean moaned out and took the savage fucking with delight.

Days drifted by and Castiel was used viciously. Alpha got first go and then Snarl. A few stronger hellhounds have him and Two Scars always snuck in.

Castiel was utterly lost in it.

Angel’s don’t know base pleasures; they don’t have a way to resist it. Castiel liked fucking but this was different. Everything in him was screaming to take as many knots as he could, to get bred. Angel’s were made to obey, to follow that instinct in them.

Castiel was like a used whore.

Saliva, piss, sweat, and semen have coated his body and he had rolled in the dirt flailing and fucking so it was covering him too. He was naked and he kept his ass up at all times, inviting any hellhound that wanted him.

They all wanted him of course.

He looked stunning like that. A wild beast growling and whining for more. How could anyone resist him?

Dean didn’t have that sort of stamina back in the beginning, still mostly human. But Castiel could go all night and day and so he does. Over and over, until he reeked, until he was just a pretty fucked out mess.

The pleasure part was totally owning the angel, his eyes were glazed over, it was clear that all he could feel was that feral gratification.

Dean smirked, watching him become a hellhound bitch.

It lasted a good week at least. Castiel just going and going and going.

Then he finally just slumped over, panting and curling up to go to sleep.

Angel’s don’t sleep.

But Castiel was out, truly out.

So Dean laid with him, rubbing his cheek on the messy shoulder and pressing his thighs against that overused ass. Hellhound seed clung to Dean’s skin as he rubbed like a pleased cat.

“Pretty perfect angel,” he whispered into Castiel’s hair. Alpha looked down at them, looking just as pleased as Dean felt.

 

Castiel became the centre of the guarding. Hellhounds trailed after him like puppies, licking his fingers and curling up with him lovingly. They never let him out of their sight.

Castiel fell down without even seeming to really realize it. He never accused Dean of anything or freaked out at all.

His stomach grew and he just rubbed it idly, curious.

“Angels don’t have children, we’re all siblings,” he mused finally one day and Dean shrugged.

“You’re a mama now, you’ll be the first then, the mother angel.”

Castiel tipped his head in thought.

“You knew?”

“Of course,” Dean replied lazily. They’re in the caves, hellhounds curled up with them as always. Dean draped over someone's back and felt younger pups snuggle into his side.

“I knew the moment I laid eyes on you. I love my life but if the hellhounds are gonna survive they need more breeders, at least one.”

Far more than one. If this worked out well and Castiel’s pups were all Dean hoped, Alpha would start hunting angels and turning them into bitches. The hellhounds would overrun hell in no time.

Castiel didn’t know that though, didn’t need to know it. He was content where he was. The hellhound part of the angel was telling him it was all fine, soothing him into compliance. Just like it had with Dean.

Castiel was like a newborn pup. It would take time to get his footing in his new life. But he would eventually. He would figure himself out just like Dean had. Just a bit different in some ways, given he was an angel. Or used to be.

 

When it was almost time, Castiel and Dean were both shocked when the angel lactated. Like freaking milk dripping lactated. He had a male body but then he was pregnant so Dean couldn’t judge just on that.

“I’m jealous,” he admitted right away.

Castiel’s chest was pretty small but his nipples were dark and puffy. When Dean pressed on them, milk dribbled down.

“I do not like it,” Castiel declared and Dean snorted.

“Don’t be like that, this is awesome. You can feed your pups. Maybe. Mine always came out with a mouth full of teeth. You might not want that on your tits.”

Dean made idly plans in the back of his head, to get milk if it was needed.

“It feels odd and I dislike it,” Castiel insisted so Dean ended up licking a nipple. He sucked on them, squeezed and played with them until Castiel was moaning out. Two Scars appeared and was happy to lick Castiel’s ass and cock while Dean worked him over. They got him off and Castiel didn’t bitch about his leaky tits again. Dean got used to the taste of milk. He also caught various hellhounds licking Castiel's chest. Snarl was right in love with it, lapping over and over to get the drops of milk. Big baby.

 

The pups were born early.

Four squirming little things. All whining and very much healthy puppies. Castiel was sore and exhausted but he bore the pain well. He had to have been tortured a few times, to go through labor so well.

“You did amazing,” Dean told him truthfully, grinning brightly at the angel. Castiel looked worn out but he gave a weak nod in reply. His fingers searched for his pups and Dean let him hold one right away. It was vital Castiel bond with them, that he felt like they were his kids, that he loved them. It would ensure he’d bare more, that he would become a broodmare.

He would either way.

Three healthy boys born with a mouth full of teeth, born ready to face the world like Dean’s pups.

One tiny female pup.

The light of creation.

She didn’t have any teeth and latched onto Castiel’s chest immediately, sucking away.

“She’s perfect,” Dean breathed and he meant it with every fiber of his being. This was it, this was the hellhounds reborn. Castiel would bare a thousand pups, he would create more females. Dean wouldn’t let him do anything else. They would have more than enough hellhounds to overtake hell. Castiel would help because if they ruled hell then there was no was Lilith would be found and freed. No way for the apocalypse to occur.

“She is truly perfect,” Castiel replied, looking down at his daughter with open awe. The first angel mother, gazing down at his offspring. Already deeply in love with his child.

Perfect.

Dean smiled down at them, at the hellhound's angel and his first daughter.

The daughter that would help her kind take hell.