Title: How Sam Stopped Sparkling (or, Why Bobby Bought a Rug)
Summary: Sam's been drinking demon blood, and won't accept that it's a bad idea until the excess starts leaking. Yeah.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Sam/Ruby, Dean/Cas
A/N: Never IM a friend you're sitting right next to. Because you talk about weird things, and then fic happens, and before you know it, you've got four pages of crack on your hard drive.
Warnings: Crack. Talk of sex. Language. Menstruation. And Jizz.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the show, Andy Samberg, or Stephenie Meyer's sparkly vampires. I do, however, own a very crackrific brain.
Once upon a time, Sam ingested demon blood. While this upped his devil-given psychic abilities, it also left him with an excess of O-. This excess of blood had to flush out of his body somehow, and it chose to do so in the way that it had purged itself from its former host, Ruby.
Now, obviously, Ruby was a girl. And, according to the Birds and the Bees, girls have to be tortured monthly for something same crazy chick who talked to snakes did billions and billions (or maybe just thousands) of years ago.
Unless we were all descended from monkeys.
Believe what you will.
But Cas blames Eve.
Anyway, once upon a time, Sam's blood had to purge itself of the good little human platelets. Because demon blood is evil. And addiction is wrong. And this is a story that proves you can't justify it. So there.
One day, Sam woke up to find blood in his pants. This wasn't too unusual, since he'd been with Ruby the night before. She always bled, one way or another.
Anyway, Sam found his boxers soaked (so probably not from Ruby then), and was confused. Until he went to the bathroom. Because blood and urine don't mix.
So Sam stuffed some toilet paper in his pants and went to see Bobby. Because he has an answer for everything. It's usually 42.
"It's 42," Bobby reported, his nose practically buried in Sam's bloody crotch.
"Bobby?"
The older hunter sighed. "Ya got yer monthlies, Samantha."
Sam pulled bitchface number 147 out of the bag. "Come again?"
"It's yer period. Or, it would be, if you were biologically as bitchy as you act."
"I don't understand," Sam said, because, honestly, he'd been a little dense lately (sucking down evil will do that to you… or so she said).
Bobby sighed again. "All that extra blood's gotta go somewhere. Though I assume that's not the extra."
"What do you mean?"
"It's the original. Sam, you're slowly losing your humanity."
Sam blinked, his eyes flashing black as something warm, wet, and sticky slowly ran down his leg. "That can't be right."
"Dammit, boy, put a tampon in."
"Where would that even go?"
"Ask yer brother. He and that angel o' his seem to have things figured out."
Sam crossed his arms over his chest and winced. "I'm sore."
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Where?"
Bitchface number 743 made an appearance. "My breasts."
"Boy, get yerself cleaned up, and then go tell yer brother what's wrong. I'm sure it'll be an interesting conversation."
"I'm not stopping."
"I know. There's a puddle on my carpet."
So Sam stuffed a towel in his pants and headed back for the motel room he'd gotten with Dean (as opposed to the one he'd abandoned Ruby in). He wasn't too surprised to see Dean curled up and still asleep in the angel's arms. That had been the sleeping arrangement for quite some time, even when Sam was still in the room and awake enough to hear every I would fall for you and you have such deep, ocean blue-azure eyes that the couple could ground out.
He was surprised when Castiel lifted his head and turned those deep cerulean pits toward him (dammit, he was starting to think like his brother's sex talk, wasn't he?). The angel's nostril's flared and his eyes darkened.
"You reek of the pit. And the ladies' room. What happened?"
Sam felt his face turn red. "I kinda… went a little overboard on the blood thing."
"I thought we told you to stop that."
"Like I'm gonna listen to you. What do you know?"
"The Word of God. In capitals, nonetheless."
"I thought you said God was dead."
"Uriel said that. And Anna. And the rest of the angels. Either I'm the stupid one, or the smart one. One day we'll find out for sure."
Sam rolled his eyes. "What can I do about it?"
Cas shrugged. "I would suggest placing a tampon in your anus."
"I'm gonna pretend you're talking about the planet."
"It will keep happening until you stop drinking your girlfriend, Sam."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "So, what you're saying is that, if I keep drinking demon blood, I'll bleed." Cas nodded. "Does that mean you and Dean are constantly jizzing in your pants?"
That, of course, was the moment that Dean woke up. "I'd rather be on a boat." He sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. "Or find his dick in a box. What are we talking about?"
"Sam got his first period," Cas explained.
"Because that makes total sense."
"Actually," Sam muttered. "It does. Apparently, I've got more blood in me than my body can handle, and it's trying to expel the excess."
"So the demon blood's leaking out your peen?"
"Not exactly…"
"The human blood? Dude, what did I tell you about sucking that bitch off?"
"That I shouldn't do it unless she has invisible wings sprouting out of her back. Dean, come on. This is serious. I'm fucking bleeding here."
Dean smirked. "You don't know anything about fucking and bleeding at the same time. Besides, what do you want me to do about it?"
"Bobby said you might know how to, um, stop it. Like, where to-"
"No."
Sam turned to Cas, who shook his head and disappeared.
So he looked back at his brother and turned on the charm. And by charm, he meant puppy eyes of doom. And for once, they didn't work. Looked like Dean had worked up an immunity by having eye sex with his boyfriend so often.
And then it hit him. A wave of pain so intense that Sam doubled over, clutching his stomach. He could hear Dean laughing at him as he hit his knees, and in a moment of pure rage, he mentally pushed.
Dean fell to the ground and rolled up into a fetal position. Odd, considering the years of torture he'd endured in Hell, that a little cramp would take him down.
"Not funny, Sam," he bit out once the pain had subsided.
"You think it's funny for me?" Sam demanded. "I have a fucking towel in my underwear! I permanently stained Bobby's carpet. I can never be normal."
"Normal went out the window the moment you lapped up her blood like a sick little puppy."
"I was trying to stop Lilith."
"And we understand that now, we do. But you're going about it wrong."
Suddenly, Dean found himself flying through the air to connect with the nearest wall.
"You can't tell me what to do."
"Ok, you're obviously a little hormonal."
"I'm not hormonal."
"Your eyes are black."
"And my pants are red!"
"We'll find a way to fix it," Dean promised. And he would make good on his promise, eventually. Once Sam's menstruation stopped being funny and became more of a personal problem.
Oddly enough, that happened around the same time a breeze blew in and Dean jizzed in his pants.