Forget Me Not
Title: Forget Me Not
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Incest, rape, blood, mentioned drug use.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Summary: Sam is a 20-year-old prostitute forced to use half his paycheck to pay off his dead parents' debt. All he wants is to find his brother Dean, who went missing shortly after the accident that killed their parents 7 years ago. A strange boy shows up one day, claiming to bet the long-lost Dean. Is Sam's search for happiness finally over? Or does Dean have something to do with the brutal murder of one of Sam's best clients?
Somehow, Sam cannot help but think that this isn't the real Dean Winchester.
Author's Note: This story was inspired by a great many things, including a wonderful manga by Gokurakuin Sakurako. This story means a lot to me because it is the very first multi-chapter story I have ever finished in my entire life. The fic is already written, and I will update it about once a week or so. Please review, this story is my baby!
“Ow… ah!”
The room was large but Sam’s strangled cries and heavy breathing seemed to fill it completely. He didn’t hold back and let the cream-colored walls hear his pain, because he knew Mr. Andrejewska wouldn’t mind. Perhaps he enjoyed it. Yet Bill couldn’t complain because compared to some of his other customers and their fetishes, Mr. Andrejewska was an extremely gentle man.
“Oh my god…”
Sam heard a groan in response and thought that maybe Mr. Andrejewska was mistaking his pain for intense pleasure. His hands had clamped over Sam’s hips as he thrust deeper into his tiny body. Sam felt his arms being tugged by the handcuffs at his wrists attached to the bedpost. He could see the man’s face flush scarlet and he knew it would soon be over.
“Ah…!”
Sam knew Mr. Andrejewska was coming and let him push in deeper as he enjoyed his orgasm. Sam’s quick breathing, which had been near hyperventilation, started slowing down and his body relaxed. He felt the man pull out of him and blinked open his eyes to see him putting on his pants.
“That was very good,” Mr. Andrejewska told him, nodding and buttoning his expensive shirt. He put on his socks and shiny leather shoes and stood up when he was finished dressing. He regarded Sam, who was still lying on his back on the bed, covered in sweat and come and handcuffed to the bedpost. “Next time I’ll make you… you know…too.”
Sam doubted that, if by “you know” he meant come, but he smiled slightly and nodded. “Um… can you undo these cuffs, please?” he asked in his vulnerable and shy voice that his customers liked so much.
Mr. Andrejewska complied and soon he bid Sam goodbye. Sam lay in the bed for a moment longer, in an attempt to rest his sore muscles and even sorer nether regions, but realized that the bed was soaked with the much older man’s sweat and quickly got up.
Completely naked, he walked over to the curtained window and peeked outside. It was almost nighttime now, and the streetlights were on. He overlooked the city for a few minutes before realizing he was reflected in the window.
He stared at himself. He saw a slender, pale body that seemed to stretch on for miles. His elongated neck led up to his face, flushed and seemingly innocent. He seemed to be locked into the submissive expression he used with all his customers and felt his stomach drop. He forced the muscles of his face to look stern and in-control. When it was to his satisfaction, he walked away from the window to his clothes on the floor. He dressed himself and left the room.
“Hey, Sam. Done for the day?” he heard when he walked downstairs into the lobby.
Sam stopped and looked at the receptionist behind his desk. He walked over to him and said quietly, “That earlier client was using illegal drugs. That isn’t prohibited here.”
George responded by giving him a guilty grin. “Sorry about that. But since he’s our regular customer we’ll have to overlook it a little. Just bear with it, I suppose. Sorry. At least you’ve been getting a break from Mr. Schwartz, eh? He was one of your most frequent clients. Oh, and in even better news, here’s your month’s paycheck.”
Sam accepted the envelope and turned around to leave.
“It must be hard on you. Half of your payment is to clear your debt, right? Hey, Sam, wait up!”
“Sorry. Goodbye,” Sam said over his shoulder as he left through the automatic doors.
Sam crossed the street and went into the bank. He waited in line patiently, hoping no one had noticed him leaving directly from the rumored brothel. He deposited his money and left quickly. As he exited through the doors he bumped into a woman.
“Jessica,” he said when he recognized her face.
“Hey, Sam! How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in nearly a year now! You must be 20 by now, right?” the girl said in her cheerful voice that put a little smile on Sam’s face as he shrugged his shoulders in response. Jessica looked at him sadly and gently touched his chin. “You’re just as pale as always. You’re not still working that job, are you?”
Sam hung his head and stared bleakly at the ground. Jessica took that as an affirmative answer and looked at her young friend sadly.
“Well… let’s catch up. We’ll go out to eat,” she said in an attempt to change the subject. She laid an arm around Sam’s shoulders and led him down the street, chattering about some nonsense to get Sam’s mind off of things.
Meanwhile, downtown, a man staggered up the apartment steps, cursing the fact that there was no elevator. He took another step and nearly toppled over, but managed to steady himself at the last minute and continued up the flight. When he pushed through the door to the seventh floor, he was instantly greeted with the numbers “7C”.
He stared at the numbers for a moment before smiling. “I finally found you.”
“Thank you for the delicious food…” Sam said as Jessica paid the check at the restaurant. “I…. I’ll walk you back to your room,” he added in a sorry attempt to further thank her by being polite. He felt humbled and looked into his lap.
Jessica stared sadly at the boy across the table. She took down the sleeves of her jacket which she had rolled up during her meal and didn’t meet his eyes when he said, “Sam, until when are you planning to stay like this?”
Sam slowly looked up at her. The waitress came back with their receipt and Sam stood up and put his coat on. They walked outside together and were greeted by the chilly early-winter air. Sam pulled his arms more tightly around himself and walked a step behind his friend, watching the tiny shoulders.
“Sam, you know you’re body’s not gonna hold up much longer if you keep doing this for a living. If you’re doing this to clear out that debt, I can try and speak with higher authority. If it’s just to repay that money, it doesn’t have to be such a job."
Jessica peered behind her and saw Sam’s pained expression as he stared straight ahead. She let out a sigh. “It’s okay. We can discuss this gradually. How are you? Have you… found your brother yet?”
They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and Jessica turned to face him. Sam shook his head slowly, a new level of sadness how apparent on his face. He seemed to be struggling to keep tears inside him.
“I see…”
Jessica patted Sam’s shoulder and they continued walking forward. “You haven’t seen him since he was reported missing seven years ago, right? Maybe it’d be better to give it up.”
“Please, stop!” Sam cried out, holding his head. Jessica panicked, hoping she hadn’t made the poor boy cry. “Dean - my brother - is alive! He was always the weaker one. He always needed me. He’s probably waiting for me to come get him. So… so, please…”
Tears ran down from his eyes, and Sam hunched over, trying to quiet his sobbing.
“My bad, my bad!” Jessica exclaimed, rushing to Sam’s side. “Don’t cry!”
Sam nodded and wiped away the tears. He sniffed a few times before finally whispering, “My apartment is right there. Please, come in. I’ll make you some tea.”
Jessica checked her watch and saw that it was late. She was tired and wanted to go home but nodded her head and smiled at Sam, feeling guilty for making him cry in the first place. “Sure thing.”
They walked the remaining blocks to Sam’s apartment and started up the stairs to the seventh floor. Jessica huffed at the exercise but Sam’s long legs took the steps four at a time. At the top of the steps he waited a minute for Jessica before pulling out his keys and unlocking the door.
“I have chamomile and green tea. I think I may have some chai, too. Make yourself at home.”
Sam took off his coat and hung it on the hanger before walking into the kitchen. He took out two mugs and was about to fill them with water when he saw the faint glowing of his TV through the doorway. He realized that someone was sitting on his couch and he froze.
“What’s going on?” Jessica said when she saw Sam’s frightened expression.
Sam pointed to the figure on the couch that had now stood up. Jessica walked toward him with Sam close behind.
“Welcome home,” the boy greeted the two. “I’ve waited a while.”
Sam peered at the boy curiously, still frightened.
The boy’s figure was darkened and outlined by blue light of the TV behind him. Jessica turned on the lights and Sam continued to stare. The boy seemed like a street kid, wearing a blue flannel shirt that was so faded, it was almost white. His shirt, which must have been black at some point, was now almost green from laundromat abuse. There was a smirk on his lips which were saying, “You’re just as I thought you would be. I’ve been wanting to meet you, Sam.”
Jessica looked at Sam, confused. “Do you know him?” she asked.
Sam took a step closer to the stranger. “Are you… um… are you…”
He grinned even wider. “Yes, Sam. I’m Dean.”
“Dean!?” Jessica blurted out, eyes wide with shock.
“Yep, that’s me.” Dean walked closer to Sam and smiled up at him. “Brother…”
Sam’s eyes were wet with tears again and he flung himself toward Dean, enveloping him in a hug. The hug lasted a few moments before Sam realized Dean had loosened his grip on him and was falling to the floor.
“Dean!” he cried out. He felt dampness on his shirt and touched it. It was blood. “Dean!” he yelled again, realizing for the first time the wound in Dean’s side. He fell down beside Dean and stared at the blood staining his hoodie.
Jessica paled and staggered back against the wall. “God help us,” she said.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Incest, rape, blood, mentioned drug use.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Summary: Sam is a 20-year-old prostitute forced to use half his paycheck to pay off his dead parents' debt. All he wants is to find his brother Dean, who went missing shortly after the accident that killed their parents 7 years ago. A strange boy shows up one day, claiming to bet the long-lost Dean. Is Sam's search for happiness finally over? Or does Dean have something to do with the brutal murder of one of Sam's best clients?
Somehow, Sam cannot help but think that this isn't the real Dean Winchester.
Author's Note: This story was inspired by a great many things, including a wonderful manga by Gokurakuin Sakurako. This story means a lot to me because it is the very first multi-chapter story I have ever finished in my entire life. The fic is already written, and I will update it about once a week or so. Please review, this story is my baby!
“Ow… ah!”
The room was large but Sam’s strangled cries and heavy breathing seemed to fill it completely. He didn’t hold back and let the cream-colored walls hear his pain, because he knew Mr. Andrejewska wouldn’t mind. Perhaps he enjoyed it. Yet Bill couldn’t complain because compared to some of his other customers and their fetishes, Mr. Andrejewska was an extremely gentle man.
“Oh my god…”
Sam heard a groan in response and thought that maybe Mr. Andrejewska was mistaking his pain for intense pleasure. His hands had clamped over Sam’s hips as he thrust deeper into his tiny body. Sam felt his arms being tugged by the handcuffs at his wrists attached to the bedpost. He could see the man’s face flush scarlet and he knew it would soon be over.
“Ah…!”
Sam knew Mr. Andrejewska was coming and let him push in deeper as he enjoyed his orgasm. Sam’s quick breathing, which had been near hyperventilation, started slowing down and his body relaxed. He felt the man pull out of him and blinked open his eyes to see him putting on his pants.
“That was very good,” Mr. Andrejewska told him, nodding and buttoning his expensive shirt. He put on his socks and shiny leather shoes and stood up when he was finished dressing. He regarded Sam, who was still lying on his back on the bed, covered in sweat and come and handcuffed to the bedpost. “Next time I’ll make you… you know…too.”
Sam doubted that, if by “you know” he meant come, but he smiled slightly and nodded. “Um… can you undo these cuffs, please?” he asked in his vulnerable and shy voice that his customers liked so much.
Mr. Andrejewska complied and soon he bid Sam goodbye. Sam lay in the bed for a moment longer, in an attempt to rest his sore muscles and even sorer nether regions, but realized that the bed was soaked with the much older man’s sweat and quickly got up.
Completely naked, he walked over to the curtained window and peeked outside. It was almost nighttime now, and the streetlights were on. He overlooked the city for a few minutes before realizing he was reflected in the window.
He stared at himself. He saw a slender, pale body that seemed to stretch on for miles. His elongated neck led up to his face, flushed and seemingly innocent. He seemed to be locked into the submissive expression he used with all his customers and felt his stomach drop. He forced the muscles of his face to look stern and in-control. When it was to his satisfaction, he walked away from the window to his clothes on the floor. He dressed himself and left the room.
“Hey, Sam. Done for the day?” he heard when he walked downstairs into the lobby.
Sam stopped and looked at the receptionist behind his desk. He walked over to him and said quietly, “That earlier client was using illegal drugs. That isn’t prohibited here.”
George responded by giving him a guilty grin. “Sorry about that. But since he’s our regular customer we’ll have to overlook it a little. Just bear with it, I suppose. Sorry. At least you’ve been getting a break from Mr. Schwartz, eh? He was one of your most frequent clients. Oh, and in even better news, here’s your month’s paycheck.”
Sam accepted the envelope and turned around to leave.
“It must be hard on you. Half of your payment is to clear your debt, right? Hey, Sam, wait up!”
“Sorry. Goodbye,” Sam said over his shoulder as he left through the automatic doors.
Sam crossed the street and went into the bank. He waited in line patiently, hoping no one had noticed him leaving directly from the rumored brothel. He deposited his money and left quickly. As he exited through the doors he bumped into a woman.
“Jessica,” he said when he recognized her face.
“Hey, Sam! How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in nearly a year now! You must be 20 by now, right?” the girl said in her cheerful voice that put a little smile on Sam’s face as he shrugged his shoulders in response. Jessica looked at him sadly and gently touched his chin. “You’re just as pale as always. You’re not still working that job, are you?”
Sam hung his head and stared bleakly at the ground. Jessica took that as an affirmative answer and looked at her young friend sadly.
“Well… let’s catch up. We’ll go out to eat,” she said in an attempt to change the subject. She laid an arm around Sam’s shoulders and led him down the street, chattering about some nonsense to get Sam’s mind off of things.
Meanwhile, downtown, a man staggered up the apartment steps, cursing the fact that there was no elevator. He took another step and nearly toppled over, but managed to steady himself at the last minute and continued up the flight. When he pushed through the door to the seventh floor, he was instantly greeted with the numbers “7C”.
He stared at the numbers for a moment before smiling. “I finally found you.”
“Thank you for the delicious food…” Sam said as Jessica paid the check at the restaurant. “I…. I’ll walk you back to your room,” he added in a sorry attempt to further thank her by being polite. He felt humbled and looked into his lap.
Jessica stared sadly at the boy across the table. She took down the sleeves of her jacket which she had rolled up during her meal and didn’t meet his eyes when he said, “Sam, until when are you planning to stay like this?”
Sam slowly looked up at her. The waitress came back with their receipt and Sam stood up and put his coat on. They walked outside together and were greeted by the chilly early-winter air. Sam pulled his arms more tightly around himself and walked a step behind his friend, watching the tiny shoulders.
“Sam, you know you’re body’s not gonna hold up much longer if you keep doing this for a living. If you’re doing this to clear out that debt, I can try and speak with higher authority. If it’s just to repay that money, it doesn’t have to be such a job."
Jessica peered behind her and saw Sam’s pained expression as he stared straight ahead. She let out a sigh. “It’s okay. We can discuss this gradually. How are you? Have you… found your brother yet?”
They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and Jessica turned to face him. Sam shook his head slowly, a new level of sadness how apparent on his face. He seemed to be struggling to keep tears inside him.
“I see…”
Jessica patted Sam’s shoulder and they continued walking forward. “You haven’t seen him since he was reported missing seven years ago, right? Maybe it’d be better to give it up.”
“Please, stop!” Sam cried out, holding his head. Jessica panicked, hoping she hadn’t made the poor boy cry. “Dean - my brother - is alive! He was always the weaker one. He always needed me. He’s probably waiting for me to come get him. So… so, please…”
Tears ran down from his eyes, and Sam hunched over, trying to quiet his sobbing.
“My bad, my bad!” Jessica exclaimed, rushing to Sam’s side. “Don’t cry!”
Sam nodded and wiped away the tears. He sniffed a few times before finally whispering, “My apartment is right there. Please, come in. I’ll make you some tea.”
Jessica checked her watch and saw that it was late. She was tired and wanted to go home but nodded her head and smiled at Sam, feeling guilty for making him cry in the first place. “Sure thing.”
They walked the remaining blocks to Sam’s apartment and started up the stairs to the seventh floor. Jessica huffed at the exercise but Sam’s long legs took the steps four at a time. At the top of the steps he waited a minute for Jessica before pulling out his keys and unlocking the door.
“I have chamomile and green tea. I think I may have some chai, too. Make yourself at home.”
Sam took off his coat and hung it on the hanger before walking into the kitchen. He took out two mugs and was about to fill them with water when he saw the faint glowing of his TV through the doorway. He realized that someone was sitting on his couch and he froze.
“What’s going on?” Jessica said when she saw Sam’s frightened expression.
Sam pointed to the figure on the couch that had now stood up. Jessica walked toward him with Sam close behind.
“Welcome home,” the boy greeted the two. “I’ve waited a while.”
Sam peered at the boy curiously, still frightened.
The boy’s figure was darkened and outlined by blue light of the TV behind him. Jessica turned on the lights and Sam continued to stare. The boy seemed like a street kid, wearing a blue flannel shirt that was so faded, it was almost white. His shirt, which must have been black at some point, was now almost green from laundromat abuse. There was a smirk on his lips which were saying, “You’re just as I thought you would be. I’ve been wanting to meet you, Sam.”
Jessica looked at Sam, confused. “Do you know him?” she asked.
Sam took a step closer to the stranger. “Are you… um… are you…”
He grinned even wider. “Yes, Sam. I’m Dean.”
“Dean!?” Jessica blurted out, eyes wide with shock.
“Yep, that’s me.” Dean walked closer to Sam and smiled up at him. “Brother…”
Sam’s eyes were wet with tears again and he flung himself toward Dean, enveloping him in a hug. The hug lasted a few moments before Sam realized Dean had loosened his grip on him and was falling to the floor.
“Dean!” he cried out. He felt dampness on his shirt and touched it. It was blood. “Dean!” he yelled again, realizing for the first time the wound in Dean’s side. He fell down beside Dean and stared at the blood staining his hoodie.
Jessica paled and staggered back against the wall. “God help us,” she said.