Supernatural AU → Sam and Dean as serial killers that only really care about a few things: each other, the feeling they get when someone runs away from them, the open road, when people stare and don’t dare move, the slight ache in their shoulders when they pull the trigger and feeling the adrenaline rush through their veins.

we’re the ones you should be afraid of.

_{AU Meme: Jensen is a serial killer and Jared is the FBI agent who wants to stop him.}

↳

_{“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? How many people I had to kill? Not that I didn’t enjoy killing them but they were – you know – boring. They kept begging and screaming and breaking them was… too easy. You, on the other hand… I will enjoy breaking you.”}

_{"You really love to hear yourself speak, don’t you?”}

_{“Oh yes, you will be my masterpiece. I will cut you into pieces and put you back together, just to rip you apart again and when I’m finished with you, you will be a brand new person. You will love me – worship me – and you will be mine.”}

_{"SHUT UP!”}

More serial killer au please :)

(A/N: So I decided to do this in 2nd person, hope you don’t mind!)

You wake up in a room with no recollection of how you got there. You are strapped to a chair, your arms tied behind your back, chest tightly bound, legs immovable, and something is shoved between your teeth, drool flowing freely out from around the item down your chin and throat. You hear something shift behind you, and you freeze in terror. A chuckle comes out from the darkness, and you squint in a fruitless search for your captor.

Your glasses are gone, and everything in the almost pitch-black room is fuzzy, things blurred and out of focus. The room smells awful, like blood, entrails, vomit, and feces, and there is a suspiciously sharp object stabbing into your lower back. If you lean backwards, the spike will surely spear between your vertebrae and sever your spinal cord, so you arch forward, still searching the dingy room for the person who put you there. Your eyes are slowly adjusting, and your hearing is sharpening to compensate for your inability to see. Something is scuffling around behind you, could be boots on the gritty floor, could be a rat crawling around in the filth; there is no way to know for sure.

Suddenly, a light bulb above your head is switched on, the pull chain swinging ominously above you. So it must be something intelligent and tall enough to pull the switch, so you can rule out the rat. The ear-splitting sound of metal against metal resounds throughout the room, and you can tell that whoever is behind you is dragging a table across the floor. Now that you can see better, you notice an anatomical poster on the wall depicting major body organs and their locations.

Another chuckle takes you out of your brief search, this time louder. A beefy arm comes into your field of vision, the surprisingly elegant fingers wrapped around a rather intimidating pair of bolt cutters. “I think I’ll take this one first.” a male voice says, whispered darkly into your ear. The cutters are opened and placed around your index finger. Snip! And your finger lands with a quiet, muffled plop on the ground near your foot. You scream through the gag, and the man laughs.

”Nobody touches my brother,“ The man growls in your ear, cutting off his near hysterical laugh abruptly. You shudder, blood gushing from the hole where your finger used to reside. You watch as the bolt cutters recede from your field of vision and hear the man drop them back on the metal table. Another man walks out from behind you, and you recognize him immediately; it was Dean, the FBI agent that had visited you the day before to discuss your father’s death.

You scream through the gag, trying to get his attention. He’s here to save you, right? But Dean just chuckles menacingly.

"Do you remember,” Dean starts, “Yesterday? When you poked me in the side to get my attention? Well, that wasn’t the smartest idea.” he glances behind you, and nods once. The man responsible for your newly missing finger comes into view. He’s taller, broader, with shaggy brown hair and delicate eyebrows. He’s got a serrated knife in one hand and is glaring down at you angrily.

“Sammy, here, doesn’t like it when someone touches what’s his. And since you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, well, no skin off my nose.” Dean chuckles again and presses a lingering kiss to the taller man’s cheek.

"Shall we begin, little brother?”

(A/N: So the beginning of this is the introductory paragraph to my English paper about modern torture. What do you think?)

Serial killers AU, someone hits on Sam in a bar and Dean doesn’t like it.

“Hello, handsome.” A woman said in a sultry voice, placing her hand on Sam’s arm. If her red dress and designer handbag wasn’t the first thing that screamed trouble, her giant wedding ring and stilettos so high her foot was perpendicular with the floor certainly did. “How about I buy you a drink?”

Sam smiled alluringly. “Thank you.” he said and helped the woman onto the stool next to him. A few drinks and not-so-casual touches later, the woman was happily tipsy and well on her way to getting laid by this giant hunk of a boy. She could feel herself already tingling with excitement. All of a sudden, a shorter but decidedly more attractive man wandered over from the pool table and slung an arm over the giant’s shoulders.

“Well well well, who d’you got here, Sammy?” The man asked. The woman perked up. She wasn’t anticipating a threesome tonight, but damn if she didn’t want one now that she had seen the two men together. Sam grinned.

“Hey, Dean. This is a friend of mine.” The woman held out her hand, and he took it in his and pressed a lingering kiss to the back. Sam leaned in closer to Dean’s ear.

“I think she wants to go home with us,” he whispered into the shorter man’s ear. The woman shivered in delight. Tonight was going much better than she had planned. Dean nodded thoughtfully.

“You think so?” he asked rhetorically, eyeing up the woman. She straightened up and pressed her arms together subtly, pushing her cleavage out that much farther. “Hmmm…” Dean hummed deeply, his gravely voice dropping in timbre. The woman barely kept herself from drooling.

“I think that’s a good idea.” he said at last and helped Sam stand. Sam downed the last of his drink and helped the woman off her stool and into her coat, Dean rubbing Sam’s back all the while. They walked out into the parking lot and Dean held the door to his impala open for the woman as she climbed in. She was practically vibrating with excitement as the men took her to a seedy motel nearby. They checked in for the night (the woman was sure the max these men were going to pay for was 2 hours, but she was happily mistaken) and moved into the room they were given. Dean had a duffle bag in one hand, and the woman looked at it curiously. Maybe they had brought along some toys…the woman felt herself get wetter just thinking about it.

“Why don’t you go take a seat over there for a moment,” Sam whispered into the woman’s ear and motioned to the chair in the corner. She dutifully did as she was told, delicately crossing her legs and placing her handbag by the leg of it. Dean moved behind her, fiddling with the zipper on the bag. Sam sat down on the king mattress, staring at the woman.

Suddenly, a rope flew over the woman’s head and was fastened snugly around her waist and arms. The woman cried out, but something hard hit the back of her head with enough force to make spots dance across her vision.

“Shut up, bitch.” Dean said coldly, quickly and effectively gagging her with…she didn’t even know what. “The minute you laid your hands on my Sammy, you were dead.” He grabbed her chair and dragged her across the carpet to the center of the room. “And know I get to have a little fun…” he growled the last word in her ear.

Sam smiled and waved from his place on the bed.

“You see,” Dean started conversationally, “Sammy’s been mine since the day he was born. Dad put him in my arms and I knew. It was instant. And I don’t like it when somebody touches what’s mine.” He slid the tip of a knife down her arm, carefully not breaking the skin. The woman shuddered in horror; two brothers were going to kill her for flirting.

“Sam!” Dean snapped suddenly, making the woman jump. Sam hopped up immediately and quickly went to Dean’s side. He wound his arms around Dean’s waist and locked his fingers together over Dean’s stomach, nuzzling his nose into Dean’s neck.

“Yeah, big brother?” he asked darkly.

“Where should I start first?” Dean asked, the knife twinkling ominously in the light. Sam chuckled.

“Her arm. That’s where she touched me first.” Sam squeezed his brother lightly and pressed a quick kiss to Dean’s cheek before stepping back. Dean grinned.

“Shall we begin?”