Title:  Dark Souls
Author: elfin
Email: elfin@burble.com
Homepage: http://www.sundive.co.uk/
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Face/Off
Pairing: Pollux Troy/Sean Archer (as Castor Troy)
Archive: Britslash if Helen wants it
Spoilers:  for the film
Warnings: RAPE warning, insinuated incest

Thanks to: Tomy for beta reading after my usual notice!



Dark Souls

by elfin

“Oh, well… I guess the L.A. convention centre will have to do.”

He wanted to laugh – wanted to howl.  The pathetic, paranoid idiot had
told him exactly what he’d wanted to know in a matter of seconds.

His hatred for both brothers rushed him, flooding his system with rage.
He put that into his expression, into his eyes as he stared at the small
man standing beside him.

“Cass?”  Suspicious, worried.

Sean pushed himself off the wall and turned on his heel, closing the
distance between himself and Pollux Troy.  For a second, he really
looked at him.

Castor Troy loved this runt, his demented little brother, more than
anything in this world.  Like Sean himself had been devoted to his young

That bastard had taken Mikey from him.

The irony of the situation curled the corners of Sean’s mouth into a
sardonic smile.  Suddenly, with crystal clarity, he saw a way of taking
his revenge, finally and completely.

Raising one hand, he combed his fingers gently up into the soft hair on
the back of Pollux’s head.  Then he curled his fingers and pulled hard.

Pollux yelped in surprise, fear starting to cloud those big, brown eyes
as he looked up through the round circles of glass.  “Cass?!”

Sean took another step forward, turning them and pressing the other
man’s short body back against the cold, stained wall.  “How could anyone
love you?” he spat, putting his hatred, his absolute abhorrence into his
words, revelling in the terror and hurt contorting the other man’s
face.  “You’re a weasel.  A pathetic, disgusting, weasel.”

There were tears now, welling up in Pollux’s eyes.  They just made Sean
more angry.  How the hell did a master criminal like Castor Troy put up
with such a snivelling sibling?

Stepping back, Sean tightened his grip painfully in the short, light
brown curls, and started to push Pollux out of the mess hall toward the
cells.  No one stopped him.  There were rules, but prisoners made their
own hierarchy and Sean wondered briefly if Pollux’s ass had already been
claimed, or if he’d been protected by the threat of his brother’s

Only… he knew that Castor was dead.  All but dead, anyway.  And before
he revealed this terrible truth to the younger Troy brother, he was
going to take some revenge for the mess Castor had made of his family’s

By the time they reached Sean’s cell, Pollux was muttering pleas,
begging to know what he’d done to turn his usually loving brother
against him.

“Please… Cass… what is it?  What’d I do?  Please….”

Slamming the cell door closed with one hand, Sean threw Pollux’s shaking
form to the hard, filthy mattress with the other.  Immediately, he
scrambled into the corner, curling himself into a ball, getting as far
away from the madman as he could.

“Cass?” he tried again, “I’m sorry… whatever it is….”

Sean just smiled.  He moved slowly, kneeling on the edge of the bed and
reaching for Pollux.  Twisting his hand in the front of the man’s prison
shirt, he pulled him away from the pillows and into the centre of the

Pollux was still begging, like he knew somehow what was coming.

“Cass!  No!  Don’t….”  His terror was clear now in his low, rough
voice.  He tried to fight as Sean tossed him over on to his front.  But
Sean was stronger.

“You’re a runt,” he rasped, straddling Pollux’s trembling, thrashing
body, pinning his hands above his head on the pillows.  “You’re an
affliction.  An annoyance.”  Grasping the back of his victim’s trousers,
Sean yanked them down.

Then Pollux really began to struggle.

He almost wormed his way out of Sean’s grasp as he roughly pushed the
man’s underwear down over his hips, exposing his tight little ass.

But Sean twisted his tight grip of Pollux’s wrists, grinding the bones
together, exacting a wonderfully rewarding cry of pain from the man
beneath him.

Unzipping his own fly, he leaned down, putting his lips next to Pollux’s
ear.  “You gonna scream for me, bro’?” he whispered softly, cutting
through the other’s quiet sobs, “Or are you going to love every minute
of this?”

Whatever had made him hard, he didn’t want to know, didn’t want to think

Forcing Pollux’s legs apart, he knelt with one knee next to the man’s
right hip, the other high between his legs, pressing against his
cloth-covered testicles.

He’d never actually done this before, and he hoped, in the same dark
part of his soul that was making him do this, that Pollux hadn’t either.

Separating the tight, pale buttocks, Sean positioned himself.  He leaned
heavily on Pollux’s wrists as he  forced himself through the tight ring
of muscle.

Pollux screamed, sobbing and pleading with the man he still thought was
his brother.  But Sean had quickly established a violent rhythm that he
was going to dance to until the end.

It wasn’t exactly pleasurable.  Pollux wasn’t making it easy.  But with
each deep, raping stroke of his cock inside the man’s anus, Sean
exorcised his vicious hatred for Castor Tory.

When he did come, it was hard and fast.  He emptied himself inside the
quaking body and remained there for a second or two, getting his breath
back.  Only then did he realise that Pollux had gone absolutely still
beneath him.

Pulling himself up, pushing himself away from the bed, away from the
little man who lay on it, Sean stumbled back until the hit the far wall
of the cell.  He tucked himself away and zipped up, flexing his fingers.

For a second there was nothing but silence in the tiny concrete room.
And then Pollux lifted his head and turned it to look through
tear-filled eyes at his ‘older brother’.

“Why?” he whispered, desperately trying to understand.

Sean shrugged, a smile touching his lips.  After a moment, that smile
turned into a laugh.

Scrambling to his knees, Pollux awkwardly pulled up his underwear and
pants, not even glancing at his rapist.  He hesitated on the bed, and
then stood, stumbling slowly and painfully, toward the door of the cell.

Sean just watched, making no move to stop him.  Pollux opened the door
with shaking hands and stepped outside.

Then he did turn, heartbroken expression on his face.  He opened his
mouth to say something, but no words came.  Devastated, he shuffled


Sean could barely catch his breath.

The man standing, talking in front of him had his face!  His own face!
Not the terrifying apparition he’d seen when he’d looked in the mirror
that night at the medical facility.

Castor was grinning from ear to ear – from his ear to his other ear.
Was that what he really looked like?

He didn’t hear much of what the other man said, in his own voice.

But he had pulled himself together enough to hear.  “I am boning your

Then he smiled.  That dark part of his soul overwhelmed the humanity he
usually lived with, and he locked gazes with Castor.

“That’s nice,” he murmured softly.  “Because I’m screwing your baby

The terrible anger and pain that flitted across the so-familiar face in
that moment rounded off his perfect revenge.


In a small room outside the main prison, Pollux was freed from the
weight of the magnetic shoes and handed his own clothes.

Subdued despite his release, he pulled off the prison clothes and
shrugged into his own.

When the door opened, he started, expecting to see his brother standing
there.  Hoping for it and dreading it all at once.

When he saw the cop who’d started this whole nightmare, he could only

“I won’t tell you anything!”  He stated, voice slightly higher than
usual, coloured by confusion.

The face of Sean Archer broke into a gentle smile.  “I don’t expect you
to, bro’.”

Castor Troy recognised the expression of complete confusion on his
brother’s intelligent features and stepped toward him.  “It’s me, Poll.
It’s Cass.  I know this is difficult to believe.  They took my face
while I was in a coma.  They put it on Sean Archer and sent him in here
so that you would tell them where the bomb was.”

A glimmer of hope sparked to life in Pollux’s wide eyes.

“When you were eight years old, our father let a friend of his take you
for the evening.  I found you afterwards, took you into my bed and held
you all night.  I promised you I would protect you from that moment on,
and I never told a soul what that bastard had done to you.”

Pollux took a hesitant step forward.

“When I was fourteen I found the guy that our Dad handed you to, and I
blew his genitals all over his nice leather couch.  Now you know… I
wouldn’t have told anyone that part.”

Another step.  Then Castor moved, rushed forward as quickly as he dare
and gathered his young brother into his arms, hugging him tight.

Pollux’s own, skinny arms came around his neck and he buried his face in
Castor’s neck.  “Cass….”

Castor could feel his brother’s tears on this skin that wasn’t his own.
He hated this face, now more than ever, and hated with a passion the man
it really belonged to.

With tender fingers, he combed through the soft curls on the back of his
brother’s head.  “I’m sorry for what he did to you, what he made you
think of me,” Castor murmured.  “I would never, ever hurt you, Poll.
Tell me you know that,” he grated the words, “tell me you believe me.”

But the younger man’s belief and trust was obvious in his actions, in
the desperation with which he clung to his brother’s neck.

“I will kill him for hurting you,” Castor vowed.  “No one will ever,
ever hurt you again.”




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