Teacher's Pet Chapter 2A
Title: Teacher's Pet Chapter 2A
Author: JCRGIRL
Banner: imogen_lily
Pairing: Dean/Sam, OMC/Sam
Rating: NC-17 overall, PG-13 this chapter
Warnings: Overall: Wincest, AU, bondage, non-con (not the boys), kidnap, abuse, D/S overtones, weecest (Sam is 16)
Word Count: ~ 2600
Beta: glimmerella
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: Sam is kidnapped and the hunting community, headed by Dean and John, band together to find him. Four days after he's taken, Sam stumbles out of the woods beaten, bruised and broken and reminds Dean and John that not all evil is supernatural.
Athor Notes: I found a call for anyone interested in a bunny over on abused_sammy. I like bunnies so I went over and saw a cute one. I petted it and loved it and it followed me home. This is what comes of petting bunnies. That being said this story is to fulfill my prompt claim for Prompt Fest 2.5. So much thanks to glimmerella for the wonderful beta job she does and imogen_lily for the cheerleading. Stories are just words on paper without great editing and they'd never be written with encouragement. *Hugs and kisses* to you both.
As Sam lost consciousness, all he could think was this was his own fault.
2 Months Ago…
Sam hiked the strap of his backpack higher from where it had slid down over the round of his shoulder. Kids jostled him as they rushed through the glass paned double doors leading into the brick building in front of him. A marble slab set over the entry identified it as Central High and Sam smirked at the banality of the name. Either the founders of the school had been extremely unimaginative or else no one of note had ever come from Bedford, Indiana. Central High. It sounded like the generic names given to schools in movies and televisions shows to keep viewers from associating the building with real places.
He was starting the school year off with a promise from his Dad that they would stay at least until Winter Break. Sam was skeptical - a long history of broken promises left in the wake of the Impala’s taillights would do that to a person -but he’d promised Dean to try to be optimistic, and Sam kept his promises.
Moving into the stream of teenagers still flowing into the building, Sam pulled his backpack around to fish his schedule out of the front zippered pocket. Checking the room number and teacher name, he stuffed the sheet back into his bag and headed for the stairs that led to the second floor and his first class of the day.
When John took Sam to register for the upcoming school year they’d been surprised to learn that the school required new students to take an aptitude test for grade placement. The counselor, Mrs. Wise, had droned on about how students at different schools were held to varying standards and the administration had discovered over the years that some incoming students were above the level of instruction their peers were receiving while others were below. Sam couldn’t help but notice that she eyed him carefully as she said below which led him to believe that the placement exam had less to do with school policy and more to do with the number of transcripts she’d been handed.
Sam took the required test feeling confident that he would be equivalent to the junior level of education at Central High, but a niggling thread of doubt had him worried.It was hard enough to start a new year in a new school, but to be told he had to repeat the 10th grade would be unbearable. The two days after the test were agonizing as he waited for results that could doom his career at this school before it even began, every ringing of the phone causing his heart to race. All in all he needn’t have been concerned. Mrs. Wise ended his suffering when she called to say that not only did Sam meet their expectations for returning juniors, he’d scored high enough to qualify for senior level courses.
That was how he’d found himself in Mr. Reece’s Advanced Calculus class. Of all his teachers, Mr. Reece was Sam’s favorite. He’d just started teaching at Central High, having transferred from Gallatin, Tennessee at the end of the previous year, so he understood being the new person in a small town where people had known each other since birth. He was laid back and easy going, praising when you succeeded and encouraging when you struggled, and ,unlike some of the other teachers, he was less concerned about grades and more with his pupils understanding the subject matter.
He also seemed to genuinely care about his students. When he saw Sam at lunch or in the library, he always took the time to come over and see how Sam was faring with the harder coursework or to ask if the other students were treating him fairly. Sometimes he’d sit and talk, never treating Sam like a stupid teenager but interacting with him as an adult. He even convinced Sam to join The Mathletes, a group of students who competed in local and regional math competitions. Mr. Reece was the Staff Advisor for.
Sam should have seen it. He’d been trained to notice things like this and his instincts had never failed him before, but in his defense it began so innocently. The occasional hand brushing his arm or rubbing his shoulder and the slight violation of personal space were too easy to dismiss as Hunter paranoia and Mr. Reece being an overly tactile person. Besides Mr. Reece was a good looking guy, tall with dark hair and intelligent steel blue eyes, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t get a date with someone his own age. Hell, Sam and Dean had seen him at the movies with Ms. Goss, the hot Chemistry teacher who starred in over half of the male student body’s jerk-off fantasies. It was insane to think that Mr. Reece had an interest in him beyond that of a teacher for his pupil.
Perception is a funny thing though. Just as one man’s junk is another man’s treasure, one man’s insanity is another man’s reality.
Sam could never be sure when exactly he noticed the change, but he thought it started right after the autumn leaves on the Announcement Board were replaced by grinning pumpkins. It was around that time that Mr. Reece’s subtle touches turned more aggressive. He insisted on walking Sam out after Mathletics practice, a guiding hand placed uncomfortably and possessively low on Sam’s back. He’d come up behind him as he studied in the library, boxing him in with hands on the table and muscled arms bracketing his body, and lean over him to see what subject Sam was working on. Every day he sought Sam out during lunch, his brown paper bag usually containing one of Sam’s favorite foods, and sat so close their thighs were pressed flush together. Sam had even caught him sitting in the bleachers during his Gym class watching as he played basketball with his classmates. What appeared to Sam in the beginning as a teacher reaching out to the shy, nearly friendless new student suddenly seemed like the behavior of a stalker.
Sam tried to ignore the small voice in the back of his head that screamed something wasn’t right as the overactive imaginings of someone raised to spot evil lurking in every corner. Mr. Reece was just a man. Sam had checked. He might not want to believe that his teacher was evil, but he wasn’t stupid enough to leave it unverified. In the end it was easy, a silver pen provided when Mr. Reece found himself in need, an ‘accidental’ splash of holy water from his thermos at lunch, the whispered name of God while leaving class. Every test that Sam could come up with gave the same negative result. It was when he thought Ms. Goss was giving him strange looks that he finally accepted the truth. He was just paranoid.
Then the rumors started. John had taught his children early that the sound of a whisper could travel farther than spoken words, but apparently no one had ever mentioned that to the senior girls at Central High. He heard their sneered murmurs and incredulous hisses as he walked through the hallways and passed them on the way to his seat. Words like ‘slut’ and ‘boy toy’ and ‘teacher’s pet’ drifted past him on lotion scented air.
It culminated one day when he overheard Lauren, head of the varsity cheerleading squad, talking to Stephanie, one of her fellow rah-rahs. The lunch bell had just rung and he’d gone to the basement to stow his books in his locker when the sound of his name had him stopping a few steps from the bottom.
“Sam’s not that hot and somehow he’s snagged that gorgeous mechanic down at Dave’s and Mr. Reece.”
Sam’s smiled at Lauren’s mistaken impression that he and Dean were boyfriends. He knew a lot of students were under this misconception, but he couldn’t bring himself to correct them. If he was being honest he really kind of liked it. His grin fell when she mentioned Mr. Reece.
“He’s sleeping with Mr. Reece? Are you sure? Here you can have this new lipstick I bought. Judd didn’t like the color.” The rattle of a locker slamming shut echoed off the block walls.
“Really? It’s a good shade for you.” Sam heard books and papers being shifted and was prepared to leave if the gossip had been derailed for a cosmetics debate when Lauren continued. “A-ny-way, you can’t be that naive. They aren’t even trying to keep it quiet. They have lunch together every day and right out on the quad. Plus, have you seen the way Mr. Reece looks at him? You’d think that skinny nerd was a dessert buffet.”
“I wonder what he does that keeps two of the hottest guys in town coming back for more.”
“Probably sucks cock like a porn star. Maybe we can convince him to give you a few lessons. I bet Judd wouldn’t care what color lipstick you wear if it left a pretty ring around his dick.” The bang of another locker door shutting was followed by the squeak of sneakers on linoleum.
“You’re such a bitch. I’ll have you know my blow jobs…”
Sam never heard what Stephanie’s blow jobs were or weren’t. He quickly retreated up the stairs, stomach falling somewhere around his knees. If someone as vapid as Lauren had noticed, Sam couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Sam adjusted his routine in an effort to avoid Mr. Reece whenever possible. He quit Mathletes, citing an increase in schoolwork as an excuse. He found new routes to get from class to class and stopped going to the library during his free period, opting instead to volunteer in the Guidance Office. He chose his lunch spots at random - one day behind the drama building, the next in the football bleachers - but unerringly Mr. Reece found him.
It was during one of these lunches - it had taken Mr. Reece almost ten minutes to discover Sam hidden on the west end stairs - that Mr. Reece first broached the subject of Dean. Sam wasn’t aware that Mr. Reece even knew who Dean was. Dean picked Sam up on the days he’d had Mathletes practice, an apology of sorts that Sam had to walk the two miles home on the other days, but Mr. Reece always seemed to disappear right as the long, black beauty pulled into the parking lot. It appeared that without ever having been formally introduced to Dean, Mr. Reece knew quite a bit about him.
“I saw you at the movies the other night,” Mr. Reece began, “Was that Dean you were with?”
Sam paused for a moment trying to remember if he’d ever talked about Dean to Mr. Reece. Before, they used to talk about all kinds of subjects during their lunches - literature, music, movies, hopes for the future - but Sam had always tried to steer conversations away from his personal life. If anyone got wind that their father was gone as much as he was, it could mean trouble for the whole family, and the nature of his relationship with Dean was too complicated. To avoid tangled webs, Sam decided a long time ago it was best to keep his mouth shut.
“Uh, yeah,” Sam took a bite of his peanut butter and banana sandwich and let his gaze travel over the students sitting in the quad enjoying the Indian summer day. He hoped that his reluctance to elaborate would be enough of a hint for Mr. Reece to drop the subject or even better to leave.
“He’s older than you.”
It wasn’t a question so Sam didn’t feel the need to reply.
“It looked like you two were fighting.”
Sam swallowed and frowned. He didn’t remember fighting with Dean that night. “We argued over what movie to go to. He wanted to see The Blair Witch Project and I wanted to see The Sixth Sense.” It was nothing major - The Blair Witch Project? Really, Dean? Oh, Come on, Sammy. It’ll be good for a laugh. Sam’d seen three other couples doing the same thing. In fact one girl got so angry at her boyfriend that she stomped off.
“What did you end up seeing?” The older man’s voice remained conversational, but Sam could see a flash of irritability in his steel blue eyes.
“The Blair Witch Project.”
“Do you always give in to what Dean wants?” The irritability was gone, replaced by a calculating look that reminded Sam of a wolf scenting its prey. Mr. Reece nudged the bag of gummy bears he’d brought in his lunch today closer to Sam.
“No, of course not,” Sam defended, ignoring the subtle offer. Actually, it wasn’t so much that Sam gave in that night, he honestly didn’t care what movie they saw, but more that Dean offered up a trade that Sam couldn’t refuse. Who could blame him really, he’d never been rimmed before. Sam shivered at the memory, his dick twitching in interest, and turned defiant eyes on his teacher.
“I see. You know Sam, your relationship with Dean may not be in your best interest.”
“My relationship with Dean is just fine. Thank you for your concern.” Sam’s voice was cold as he started to gather his trash.
Mr. Reece wrapped strong fingers around Sam’s wrist. “I’ve seen him at the garage downtown,” he hissed, handsome face contorting into a snarl. “Charming every whore that walks through the door. The looks he gives them, their panties are wet before he finishes saying ‘hello.’ I’ll bet their legs open like they’re on greased hinges. He sees you the same way, you know. Just another tight ass.”
“Dean’s not like that.” Sam tried to pull his arm free, but Mr. Reece just tightened his grip. “Let me go!”
“I know he hurts you. I’ve seen the bruises,” Tugging Sam closer, he lifted the sleeve of Sam’s shirt to reveal a yellowing bruise leftover from a ghoul hunt the previous week. “You don’t have to be afraid, Sam. I can protect you from him. I can give you everything you ever wanted - a home, security, love. I can love you better than he ever could. All you have to do is let me.”
Yanking hard, Sam snatched his arm out of his teacher’s grip and quickly stood. “You don’t know the first thing about Dean or our relationship. He loves me and I love him. If anyone is going to protect me, it’ll be Dean.”
Getting to his feet, Mr. Reece regarded Sam with an almost pitying look, hand reaching out to him. “You poor boy. You really think he loves you.”
“Don’t touch me.” Stepping back, Sam raised his hands to ward off the older man. “Just stay the hell away from me,” Sam commanded, using his anger to add a menacing undercurrent to his words.
Sam walked toward the Gym for his next class, keeping a wary watch on Mr. Reece from the corner of his eye. Adjusting the straps on his bag to shift the weight to a more comfortable position on his back, Sam wondered how he let things get so out of hand. When he stepped out of the locker room and onto the basketball court, Mr. Reece wasn’t in the bleachers. Shaking his head, he decided it didn’t matter. He’d handled it.
That was last week.
As Sam succumbed, the last thought that surfaced from beneath the drowsy blanket created by the drug was: This is all my fault.
Part B http://jcrgirl.livejournal.com/16233.html