Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Title: Ride 'Em Cowboy

Title: Ride 'Em, Cowboy
Fandom:: Supernatural
Characters: Meg, Sam
Rating / Words: 650 words / R for blood and general nastiness
Contents / Warnings: violence, blood, death of children, possession, self-harm, noncon arousal, sexist slurs
Spoilers: through S2 Born Under a Bad Sign
Summary: This is no well-broke ride; this pony tries to take the bit every damn time, and it’s a tight rein Meg keeps.

A/N: Written for quickreaver as part of a prompt subversion challenge for spnspiration. My prompt was any variation of Sam and Meg - "Love hurts, love scars, love wounds and mars,". However, I think this might be a subversion only in the sense that no one is going to understand how it relates to the prompt at all. :\ I swear I had this whole thing about Sam doing the thing he does here and how it related to love, but then the horse metaphor took over. :P Can we pretend I was subverting a prompt for pony play?

DARK. Mind the warnings! Can also be read at AO3.


She rode horses in some past existence, human or demon, who knows. It all blurs after a century or two. The instincts remain, though: sit deep, keep your hands soft. But this is no well-broke ride; this pony tries to take the bit every damn time, and it’s a tight rein Meg keeps. Never gives him an inch as she says hi to the little girl on her bike – ten or twelve, who the fuck knew the growth stages of humans. She keeps the bit hard in his mouth as she talks the girl into the perfectly well-lit alley behind her street, snaps her neck before she has time to shout.

He hates the smell of blood. She never knew a horse that didn’t. She brings it to his nose, wipes his face with it. He wants to bite her hand. She laughs in his face - with his face. She cradles the jaw of the girl on the concrete. “Look what we did,” she says with his tongue, his teeth.

He’s tossing his head, the brat, and she shouldn’t reward behavior like that but no one ever said she was a good rider, a rider you’d want for your pony. Times like this, when she’s just painted concrete with someone else’s fluids or she’s got a skull hanging loose from its spine, sometimes she likes to ease up on the bit and gives him his head, just for a little while. Just to let him really see.

This time, she drops the reins.

“Evil fucking bitch,” says Sam, his first words aloud in weeks. “What did you—” Those words choke off into sobs. He lets his hand rest on the girl’s jaw a beat longer. Then he stands up, sucks in a breath to shout, and Meg knows how that goes. She jabs him with her heels so hard that he’s too startled to do anything but run.

Running’s fine. She could break more necks, but she’s not in the mood anymore. She rides him until he’s worn nearly out, until his breath would be heaving in his chest if she weren’t breathing for him with a grip like an iron lung.

She eases up then, sits back, lets him go where he would. But there’s nowhere; it’s a warehouse that’s long stood empty on the wrong side of the economy’s tracks. He drops to his knees. His shoulders shake a time or two; he doesn’t cry.

“Come on,” Meg coaxes. “You know you want to.”

He does. She knows him well. He slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out the pocketknife she keeps there. He opens the blade, and he presses the tip to his forearm. He hesitates.

“You have to,” Meg says. “How will he ever rescue you, if you don’t?”

He sinks the tip in.

It doesn’t take as long to carve the word as it used to: four letters, all straight except for the smooth-bellied curve of the D. The phone number is a recent addition; that adds time. Meg shivers with each cut, and she lets Sam feel those shivers, too, from his scalp to his dick. He’s half hard by the time it’s all etched in his skin.

Sometimes she lets him go another round, but she’s bored now, and she wants something salty, deep fried.

“Good pony,” she says, and picks up the reins. She wipes the congealing blood from Sam’s arm with a handkerchief. She won’t bother with long sleeves. No one will ask. No one will call the number, in the three days it’ll take her to knit the skin whole again. And as long as it’s there, out in the open where anyone might see, it gives Sam hope. As long as his brother’s name is carved in his arm, he won’t give up.

Meg always did like a horse with some spirit.


Crossposted from Dreamwidth. Comment here or there. (comment count unavailable DW replies)


( 22 comments — Leave a comment )
Apr. 5th, 2015 06:26 am (UTC)
Oooh love me some real evil demon work - this made me realise we've lost sight of how completely warped demons used to be in SPN.
Apr. 11th, 2015 05:20 pm (UTC)
Early season demons were terrifying.

Thank you for reading!
Apr. 5th, 2015 07:19 am (UTC)
Deliciously twisted. :D
Apr. 11th, 2015 05:20 pm (UTC)
Thank you!
Apr. 5th, 2015 12:11 pm (UTC)
Oh, hell yes. No pun intended.
Apr. 11th, 2015 05:20 pm (UTC)
Thank you! :D
Apr. 5th, 2015 12:15 pm (UTC)
Your Meg is deliciously evil, and I love the horse metaphor.
Apr. 11th, 2015 05:21 pm (UTC)
Ha ha, I'm glad you liked the metaphor. It sort of... ran away from me. :P
Apr. 5th, 2015 05:22 pm (UTC)
Meg is perfection. This is definitely the Meg who very nearly assaulted Jo, who shot Dean. Wicked, wicked evil. LOVE this!!
Apr. 11th, 2015 06:15 pm (UTC)
Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. :D
Apr. 5th, 2015 05:32 pm (UTC)
this was very awesome
Apr. 11th, 2015 06:16 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much!
Apr. 5th, 2015 06:30 pm (UTC)
This is awesome. I love the dark metaphor, it really brings in that sense of intimate wrongness. And Meg really comes across as the murderously playful demon of the earlier seasons. <3
Apr. 11th, 2015 06:17 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much! I had a demon (Meg or Ruby, I can't remember which) talking about riding and ponies in a fic I wrote a couple of years ago, and then when I started to work on this fic it just took over the fic and wouldn't let go. I'm so glad it worked for you. :)
Apr. 5th, 2015 09:41 pm (UTC)
As others have noted, loved the severity of Meg in this--it's so very much her, and the extended imagery of horsemanship, etc. is wonderfully lexically vibrant. My favorite thing is the scene at the beginning with the little girl in the alley: There's something about Meg's inability to gauge accurately the girl's age that refracts the perhaps over-precious innocence of her victimhood without losing any of its wrongness or insidiousness. That it's specifically a well-lit alley plays against that so well--because we can then assume that the alley had seemed a safe space, offering no shadows to cover suspect individuals; that is, Sam. But not Sam at all.

Love this, bb! <33
Apr. 11th, 2015 06:19 pm (UTC)
Thank you. <333 I'm so pleased you like my Meg. I enjoyed that bit about the girl's age, too - anytime I can make my characters more inhuman, I go for it. :D

And gee, "lexically vibrant." *blush* I'm glad all those horse books I read as a kid could be of some use, though!
Apr. 6th, 2015 07:18 am (UTC)
This is depraved and distressing in every imaginable way, so naturally I love it.
Apr. 11th, 2015 06:19 pm (UTC)

(I kept going, "Have I put enough warnings on this? OH NO I HAVE TO WARN FOR THIS OTHER THING, TOO. /o\")

Edited at 2015-04-11 06:20 pm (UTC)
Apr. 6th, 2015 07:49 pm (UTC)

(Sorry it's taken me so long to respond; I was at a convention and AKF.)

Okay, okay, SO! I totally loved this for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, you made Meg (as a demon) as wicked and unscrupulous and bloody as she absolutely SHOULD BE. Secondly (and bestly!), the way you wrote Meg to give Sam his fleeting snippet of freedom, just long enough to wail and hate and grieve and worst yet: HOPE. His love to Dean, almost more than the possession, would keep him in line.

So clever, snick! And so, SO beautifully, darkly written. Just fabulous! I'm waaaaaay delighted with this! ♥♥♥
Apr. 11th, 2015 06:22 pm (UTC)
I am so very glad you liked it! I have to be honest, I would have been hesitant to write something like this for someone I didn't know, because it's so dark. But I was pretty sure you'd be okay if I took it that direction. :D

Secondly (and bestly!), the way you wrote Meg to give Sam his fleeting snippet of freedom, just long enough to wail and hate and grieve and worst yet: HOPE.

I am so pleased! That was definitely the part I kept trying to write to, although the fic kept putting other things in the way.

<3 <3
Apr. 20th, 2015 11:10 am (UTC)
Whoa. The horse metaphor here is genius. I miss the old school demons. So much love for how you worked the prompt!
Apr. 22nd, 2015 04:30 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)
( 22 comments — Leave a comment )

Latest Month

March 2018


Powered by LiveJournal.com