Obedience, Part Two, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Obedience (Part Two of Two)
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Sam, OMC/Dean, OMC/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~17000 for total fic
Summary: Someone from the boys' past resurfaces with a plan to keep Sam for himself, but when he catches Dean in his trap instead, his plans change, and he uses one brother to catch and break the other.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is not pretty, happy, sexy fic. Herein lies slave fic of a sort; serious rape, violence, non-con drug use, forced incest and CHARACTER DEATH. This began while I was beta reading for meus_venator, based on a small comment in part of her fic, which she in-turn lays at the feet of another, whose name escapes me at the moment. At least now it is out of my head.
***
At some point after Dean left him, Sam had dozed off…and when he woke he'd been released from the floor, the gag and blindfold removed. His hands were still locked together and a chain ran from them off along the floor. The room was dark, the only light leaking in from the small window in the door.
Sam crawled toward the wall, curling in as small as he could make himself. His fingers fumbled as he tried to look at the metal ring that was threaded through the skin of his chest. The skin was raw and red, and blood was dried at the edges. The ring was at least an two inches in diameter, the metal thick. At least an inch of skin held it and it lay heavy against his chest.
The pain of playing with it was enough to make him stop. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out what had actually happened…how they'd gotten to this place.
The dreams had been real somehow. Dean had raped him, beaten him. Dean had drugged him and brought him here. Told him he deserved it. That he wanted it. Dean was cruel, more than anything Sam could have imagined.
He replayed the last time in his head. Dean had come into the room, naked and hard. Sam could tell something wasn't right, and Dean's violence had only confirmed that…and then…Sam swallowed around the feeling of his brother's dick in his mouth, the taste of his come.
He had to force that aside and try to understand why. Dean had been trying to tell him something without actually saying it…and Sam wasn't completely sure what it was, or if it was all in his head…because Dean had…Sam bowed his head onto his knees and held onto the idea that Dean was being forced somehow.
Or maybe…maybe Dean was just trying to keep Sam from whatever fate it was their father had envisioned for him. Maybe this was ultimately the only way Sam didn't go dark. Maybe Dean was right. He deserved this. Wanted it even.
He bit into his lip until he tasted blood. He needed to focus. Stop feeling sorry for himself and find a way out.
Sam exhaled and pulled himself up. He was weak, the few swallows of whatever mush Dean had brought him was about all he'd eaten in longer than he knew…he wasn't at all sure how long he'd been here, or how long he'd been out in the car.
He stood against the wall and looked around the room. He was naked, but for the leather restraints on his wrists and ankles. The room was cement and empty from what he could see in the dark. He knew from experience that the floor had at least a few eyehooks for tying him down, and the walls were no different.
He eased along the wall to the corner, where he found the end of his chain. He estimated it wasn't quite four feet long…and his best guess was that the room was six feet across. He couldn't even reach the corner where the pee bucket was, let alone the door.
Sam pulled on the chain in frustration, not that he expected it to give, but he couldn't just sit there and do nothing. He felt his way down the chain, fingered over the link that was attached to the bolt in the floor.
Light flooded the room suddenly and Sam ducked his head, squinting as the door opened. Dean filled the doorway and Sam got the distinct impression that there was someone behind him in the hallway before Dean stepped into the room and the door closed.
Sam licked his lips and looked at his brother. Like before, he was naked, his cock already hard. His face was set, angry. Sam lowered his hands to hang more or less in front of him and turned to face Dean.
"There are rules." Dean said, his voice clipped. "If you obey the rules, I won't have to punish you. If you do not obey, I'll be forced to hurt you."
"De-" He caught himself, remembering the last time. Whenever he said the name, his brother had caused him pain. "Tell me what's going on."
Dean lifted his chin and went to the wall by the door, where a number of instruments were hung. His hand closed around what looked like a riding crop and he came back to the center of the room with it.
"Rule number one, you do not speak unless you are told to." Dean wasn't looking at him and he hesitated as if expecting Sam to say something.
Instead, Sam inched closer, trying to gauge how to react.
"Rule number two, you do as you are told without hesitation." Dean looked up at him and Sam thought for a fleeting second that the look in his eyes was fear. "Do you understand?"
Sam stopped moving, still hugging the wall, and he nodded. He understood the words, if not why Dean was saying them. He looked from Dean to the door and back again. Dean nodded almost imperceptibly. Or maybe Sam just wanted to believe badly enough that he saw something that wasn’t there.
"I'm going to take care of you as long as you follow the rules." Dean said. His eyes held Sam's, but Sam couldn't read them. "Come here."
Sam hesitated, fairly sure that no matter what he did he was going to end up hurting. The riding crop slashed against his thigh and Sam jumped inadvertently closer to his brother. "Kneel." Dean's hand on his shoulder pushed him down, his face dangerously close to his brother's cock.
"Open your mouth."
Sam shook his head. Dean's hand pushed his head down and the crop came down three times rapidly across the top of Sam's ass. Dean's hand released him and he issued the command again. "Open your mouth."
His free hand grabbed Sam's chin and Sam jerked away from him. This time the crop came down over his cheek, splitting it open. Blood spilled hot over his skin as Sam turned to look up at Dean in shock. Dean's thumb pressed into his mouth, forcing Sam to open it. With no warning, Dean shoved his cock in, deep into his throat until Sam was gagging, his bound hands rising to try ineffectively to push Dean away.
His vision was starting to dance when Dean finally pulled back. He pumped in and out of Sam's mouth a few times before pulling back. "Rule number two, Sam. You do as you are told without hesitation."
He left Sam kneeling there and went back to the wall. When he came back he had a tube in his hands. "Head down." Dean shoved his head toward the floor in emphasis as he moved behind Sam. "Don't move."
Dean's hand skimmed over the naked skin of his ass and Sam jumped forward. He yelled as the crop hit him, another three times hard on his tender skin. "Don't move." Sam heard the tube open, then click shut and Dean's finger shoved into his ass.
Sam lurched forward again, rolling away, dragging the chain across the concrete floor. Dean lunged at him, his face contorted in anger and Sam barely managed to curl up to protect his face and stomach as the crop came down on him. He lost count of the blows before they came to a stop and Dean's hand was wrapped in the chain, yanking Sam across the floor.
"If you can't obey the rules, you will be punished." Dean pulled him up to his knees again and shoved his face to the floor, dragging Sam's restraint heavy hands out in front of him and attaching them to a bolt in the floor.
"Please…" Sam whispered, hoping to somehow get through. Dean kicked his feet apart and fastened each of them down, leaving Sam bent over, his ass exposed and vulnerable.
His finger returned to Sam's ass, sliding in on lube. Dean added a second finger, working him open, then a third…and all too soon, his fingers were on Sam's hips instead, holding him down as his cock took their place, shoving into Sam hard and deep. His hips pistoned in and out quickly. When he came, Sam thought he heard a whispered apology, but then Dean was gone again.
He returned shortly, a tray in his hands. He set the tray down and released Sam's hands, helping him to sit up. Dean's eyes searched Sam's face, his thumbs wiping at tears he hadn't realized he'd shed. "Eat." He lifted the bowl of lukewarm mush and put it in Sam's hands.
Sam was pretty sure he was more likely to be sick than actually eat, but Dean had gone back to the door, and when he came back again, he had a cloth and some water. He nodded at the bowl and looked Sam in the eye. "Don't make it worse. Eat."
Sam tore his eyes away and lifted the bowl. Dean ignored him in favor of the bleeding welts he'd left on Sam's hip and ass, dabbing at the blood with the cloth. Sam scooped the food into his mouth with one hand, trying desperately to ignore anything and everything but getting the food into him, obeying the command to avoid another beating.
He got about half of it into him and put the bowl down, reaching for the water bowl. He drained it quickly. Dean's fingers grasped his chin and turned his face, the cloth working on the cut across his cheek.
"You've had worse." Dean murmured. He leaned in close, as if checking the wound. "I'm trying."
Sam didn't know what his brother meant. His eyes stole to the door, then slid to Dean's. "Please, just tell me why?" Sam whispered.
"Can't." Dean responded. "Love you."
He pulled away then, standing and taking the tray and the water with him, leaving Sam kneeling on the concrete, his feet still bound to the floor. The light went out as the door closed, and Sam was left in the dark.
***
"So, Dean, tell me how our boy is doing."
Dean gritted his teeth in an effort not to answer, even though he knew it was a lost battle. Clampton laughed at him, scrubbing a hand through Dean's hair as he knelt. "Answer, now."
"Sam is…fighting." Dean responded, hating himself.
"He's stubborn, but then, I knew that." Clampton said. "Perhaps it is time to take this to the next level." He gazed in the window, watching Sam. "He has grown accustomed to our routine, I think."
A routine that was slowly breaking Sam down. If Dean didn't find an escape soon, Sam was going to stop fighting…and when that happened, Clampton would have won.
"Up, Dean. It's time to show your brother just how hopeless it all is." He pressed the blindfold into one hand and a leash into the other. "Recite."
Dean closed his eyes. "I will be aroused whenever I see Sam. I will hurt Sam whenever he says my name. I will not tell anyone why I must obey. I will service you with joy…m-master." He fought the word, but it came out anyway.
With every passing day he hated himself more…not that he had any idea how long it had been…there were no windows here, no clocks, no glimpses of the world outside these walls.
Dean slept when he was told and woke when he was told…it was never fully enough sleep, and when he was awake Clampton had him abusing Sam or being abused himself. A week. Maybe two. For all he knew even longer.
"Go in angry. Say nothing beyond orders. Blindfold him, leash him, make him crawl into the next room." He held up the key to the chains. Dean draped the leash around his neck and took the key.
One of the burly guards opened the door and Dean entered the room.
Sam looked up from the corner, but didn't move right away. Despite everything, he was clinging to some hope that he could get through to Dean with his defiance. Rage bubbled up inside him, rage he knew wasn't his own, and yet could not control.
"Knees, here." Dean commanded.
Sam moved slowly, pulling the heavy chain that kept him tethered to the corner. He stood in front of his brother, biting his lip before slowly sinking to his knees. Dean covered his eyes, tying the blindfold tighter than he necessarily needed to before he bent to unlock the chains.
Dean took the leash from around his neck and clipped it to the ring pierced through Sam's chest. Sam stiffened, recognizing that something was different. "Crawl." Dean ordered.
Sam pulled back, the still healing skin pulling. Dean tugged a little, enough to elicit a sharp intake of breath as the pain registered. "Crawl now." Dean started for the door, and Sam had little choice but to follow.
He was slow and hesitant, but with each insistent tug on tender skin, he moved, following Dean into the corridor. The door into the next room was open and Clampton waited for them.
It was clear what Dean was meant to do.
He stopped Sam in the center of the room and unclipped the leash, returning it to his neck. The two guards stepped in then, roughly attaching chains to each of Sam's restraints. Clampton flipped a switch on the wall and Sam was hauled off his knees, his arms spread out above him, lifting him until he was off the ground, his feet held so that his toes barely scraped the floor, and spread so that he was completely exposed.
Clampton pressed the handle of a long whip into his hand. "Twenty strokes should do it."
"D-Dean?" Sam's voice was shaky. Dean's hand landed hard on his ass, making him jump.
He wanted to say something to reassure him…which was ridiculous. Dean was about to beat him like some…slave. What kind of reassurance was going to help?
"Now, Dean." Clampton said quietly.
Dean clenched his teeth and took a step back. "No." He ground the word out, his stomach twisting around the command, around the compulsion to obey.
Clampton took the two steps toward him, one hand darting out to grab Dean's cock, his thumb pressing against the skin where his brand was burned into the skin. "You will hit him twenty times, and when you're done you will hold him while my boys here fuck him and then you will make him crawl back to his cell and you will lock him down for the night."
He released Dean and stepped away. Dean's hand twitched, the whip stirring on the floor at his feet…then his hand lifted and the whip cracked through the air. Sam cried out as a long, red line marked his back. Over and over the whip moved, leaving bloody trails over his back and ass and thighs.
About half way through Sam's voice cracked and by the time Dean was finished he was hanging limply from the chains. Clampton moved back to the wall, flipping the switch to lower Sam back down.
Dean caught him as he sagged. Sam stirred, his face turning to find Dean. He unclipped the wrist restraints and held Sam, sinking with him to the floor. "Please." Sam whispered against Dean's chest.
The two brutes were already moving in to fulfill Clampton's orders and Dean found himself bending Sam over his knee, holding him while the first of them unzipped himself and pulled his cock out.
Sam moaned as he sank in, but made little other sound as he was fucked. He whimpered a little as the guard pulled out, and his hand gripped Dean's ankle as the second one took his place.
When they were done, they released Sam's ankles and backed away, leaving Dean to follow the rest of his orders. “I need you to stay with me, Sam.” Dean murmured, his eyes on Clampton. He pulled the leash from around his neck and attached it to Sam’s chest ring. “Hear me, Sam? Need you to follow.”
He stood and for a minute he was afraid Sam wouldn’t be able to, but slowly, Sam moved, crawling pitifully after Dean. Not a word was said until Dean had Sam back in his cell, the door closed. He took the leash off and knelt beside Sam, reaching with a shaking hand for the blindfold.
It was wet with tears. Sam didn’t look at him. Dean’s stomach twisted even tighter. “Please Sam.” Dean whispered. “Please.” But he couldn’t make himself say the rest, couldn’t tell Sam not to give up.
Sam curled forward, silent sobs quaking through him. His back was a bloody mess. Dean could feel Clampton’s eyes through the window. He had been told to lock Sam down, which meant no food, no niceties.
At least Dean could spare his back. “Here, Sam. Lie down here.” He guided Sam to lay on his side, his back to the door. Dean locked Sam’s hands to a bolt in the floor in front of him, then moved to his feet to secure them as well, leaving Sam more or less in a fetal position on the floor. He brushed a hand over Sam’s forehead before leaning in to kiss it. “I’m sorry.”
***
Sam’s face burned with shame as Dean’s hands gently cleaned him of the mess that came of being left chained to the floor for so long. He cried out as the hot water washed over the open welts on his thighs, cleaning the waste from them.
“Good boy.” Dean whispered, only adding to his humiliation.
He’d been left with come leaking from his ass, come that he knew had not come from Dean, alone in the dark for longer than he could tell. His back was stiff with dried blood and scabbing, his muscles aching from the abuse and disuse.
Dean’s hand rinsed out the cloth he was using in the bucket of hot water and wiped through Sam’s crack, cleaning up the last of the dried come before moving over the rest of his ass.
“Can you sit up for me?”
Sam didn’t respond, just shifted, pushing himself up. His ass protested, and he felt some of the scabs on his back break open.
“Good boy.” Dean proceeded to clean his back and Sam bit his tongue as each pass of the cloth brought a renewed sense of just how torn up he was from the whipping. By the time Dean was done, Sam was trembling and whimpers escaped despite his desire to keep them in.
Dean moved to face him, one hand gently guiding the hair out of his eyes. His kiss was soft, lips brushing over Sam’s. As he stood, his cock was in Sam’s face, and despite his gentleness, Sam knew what came next. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth without being told. Dean caressed the side of his face and cooed words of praise as his cock filled Sam’s mouth.
“That’s my good boy.”
It was easier this way…to give in…to accept what Dean was giving him…to believe he could be good. Dean thrust deep into him and Sam swallowed around him, fought the rising panic. His come was hot as it spilled over Sam’s tongue and he swallowed quickly to have it done.
“My very good boy.” Dean praised, going to the door and returning with the tray of food. Instead of the usual mush there was a bowl of broth. Dean sat on the floor beside him, petting his hair as Sam lowered his face to the bowl. His stomach rumbled as the smell of it filled his nose. It was weak and cold, but it was better than nothing. Sam drank it down, followed by the water.
Dean cleared the tray, but to Sam’s surprise, returned. He squatted in front of Sam, his eyes catching Sam’s and holding. “There are rules Sam.”
Sam nodded. He knew the rules.
“Recite them.”
Sam licked his lips and cleared his throat. “Rule one.” His voice was scratchy from screaming and disuse. “Rule one, I do not speak unless told to. Two, I do as I am told without hesitation.” There were unspoken rules too. Sam had figured that out. He couldn’t say his brother’s name without getting punished.
Dean smiled and nodded. “Very good, Sam. I have a new rule for you. If you obey this rule, I will not have to chain you. You do not cross the white line without permission.” Dean pointed at the thick white line that was painted on the cement floor, dividing the room in half.
The door, the punishment tools and the toilet bucket were all on the other side of the line. “Can you do that, Sam?”
He nodded, looking up at Dean. This was as gentle as his brother had been since they’d come to this place. Sam wanted to ask a hundred questions, but he knew if he broke the first rule, this kind side of his brother would disappear.
Dean glanced at the door, then lowered himself to sit beside Sam, taking his hand and holding it. He seemed to be searching for words. “I want to tell you…can’t.” He closed his eyes. “Christmas eve, last year.”
Sam nodded. “We went to Bobby’s.”
“Before.” Dean kept his eyes closed, kept Sam’s hand in his.
Sam fumbled for the memory. They’d been hunting a ghost south of Bobby’s, ended up sore and out of pain meds…then drove hours on very little sleep. They’d been bickering more than usual before they stopped for gas an hour or so outside of Bobby’s. Sam licked his lips. “The stop? We bought Bobby a hat.”
Dean’s eyes opened and Sam could see something in them, Dean was trying to tell him something. Dean had tossed him the hat while he was paying for gas…and someone had come into the mini-mart. Someone who knew them.
Dean opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to say more. He growled and dragged Sam’s hand further into his lap. He pried one of Sam’s fingers out and pressed it to the underside of his cock.
Sam froze as Dean rubbed his finger over the spot.
The door opened and Dean stood, leaving Sam sitting there, trying to figure out what the hell Dean had been trying to say.
***
His heart hammered in his chest, not sure how he’d gotten away with that much with Sam. He hadn’t been able to speak the words, and he doubted Sam understood what he’d done, but the fact that he’d managed to touch Sam’s finger to the brand was significant.
Of course, it helped that Clampton hadn’t been his keeper, that he’d been sent to Sam with the barest of orders. Clampton had been distracted prior to sending Dean.
The guard who was his current keeper shoved Dean back into his cell.
Dean paced along his cot, agitated. He had no way on knowing if Sam would be able to put the pieces together. He wasn’t really operating at his best, under the circumstances. He knew the food was drugged, not heavy enough to necessarily knock him out, but enough to keep him unfocused…and the pain didn’t help, not to mention the daily rape.
He had reason to believe that Clampton was still using magic to get into Sam’s dreams too. His brother was barely keeping his shit together…and Dean wasn't far behind him. His resistance to the fucking obedience sigil was meaningless. As long as Clampton gave him a direct command, Dean had no choice but to obey.
He could only hope that Clampton’s distraction, and Dean's subsequent ability to communicate had been enough to make something sink in, to get at least part of a message through to Sam. Not that he knew what good it would do for Sam to figure it out. He was locked in a room with no way out.
He couldn't rely on Sam. He had to think he was past his fucking blind obedience. He had to think past the rules.
The problem was, Clampton was thorough. There were the active rules, the arousal, hurting Sam if he said Dean's name, not being able to tell Sam why or what was going on, and lately servicing the fuck wad as if it was his sole purpose in life. But there were others.
He wasn't allowed to touch doors. He wasn't allowed to hurt anyone but Sam. He wasn't allowed to cross the damn white lines without permission.
He was screwed.
There was no way out. Not without help.
***
Something was different.
Dean still came into his cell every five or six hours, and Sam was forced to suck his cock or bend over and let his brother fuck him, then he was fed and watered, taken to the bucket to pee, his back tended to.
But this was the third time Dean sat with him after.
"I know you want to ask me questions." Dean said hesitantly, as if testing each word. "I can't answer all of them."
Sam nodded. He'd gathered that much from their previous talks. "Did…someone do something to you?"
Dean didn't answer, but he didn't move away either when Sam reached a hand across. It felt wrong, touching his brother's dick this way, but Dean didn't stop him. His finger felt for the spot Dean had shown him. The skin was rough, raised. Dean gasped as Sam pulled away, his cock leaking a little.
"Magic?" Sam whispered, shivering. His thoughts skipped over everything he knew about what had happened. It had to do with that stop at that mini mart on Christmas Eve, and magic of some kind…and something was different right now, but not different enough that Dean wasn't obligated to continue the routine.
His head swirled with the things Dean said to him in his dreams, and sometimes while Dean was tormenting him. It made it hard to think. Magic would explain a lot though. Witchcraft.
Dean had said it himself…at least Sam thought he remembered Dean saying it.
"Someone came into the mini mart that night." Sam said, catching Dean's attention again. Sam could almost see the man's face…almost…
The door to the room slammed open. "You insolent fuck. Get over here now."
Dean was up off the floor and across the room in an instant, dropping to his knees at a single touch from the man that filled the doorway. Rage filled the room as a hand fisted in Dean's hair and yanked his head back. "Did you think I wouldn't know what you were doing?" His hand cracked across Dean's face.
Dean was shoved down, his face on the concrete, his ass in the air.
"If you move I will cut your tongue out and make your brother eat it." The man looked familiar somehow. He stalked to the wall with the riding crops and paddles and pulled a wooden paddle from the wall. It had holes in it, to cut the wind resistance and make each blow strike harder.
Dean's hands clenched into fists, but he stayed still as that paddle came down over and over, against the skin of his naked ass and thighs. He yelled, screamed into the concrete beneath him before it was over.
A leash was thrown at the floor by Dean's head. "Bring your fucktoy. I'm done playing games."
Dean lifted his face from the cement, his hand curling around the leash. His face was red as he climbed slowly to his feet. Sam shrank back instinctively, knowing that whatever was coming was going to be bad. Dean's hand grabbed the ring in his chest and clipped the leash on.
He followed Dean, his knees protesting the crawling on rough floors. Dean's skin was red and mottled, bruises already starting to form. They passed the room where Dean had been forced to whip him, and into an office. At least here the floor was carpeted.
Dean stopped them just inside the room. "Here. Lock him down." The man hit his hand against a table, though as Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him up onto his feet, Sam could see that it had been modified. There were spots on the legs for securing his ankle restraints, and as Dean pushed him down, there was a locking ring that clipped onto the one in his chest.
His hands were pulled behind him and locked together. He was on display, unable to even lift his head much more than a few inches without risking the pulling on his chest.
Jesse Clampton.
Just like that Sam realized who this guy was. He was the one who came into that mini mart. Junior year.
Clampton's hand came down on the table near Sam's head. "You thought you could get around it, eh Dean?" Sam couldn't see him, but he heard the punches he landed. "I'll show you exactly what you can do. Fuck him. Make it hurt."
Sam braced for it, but Dean's hands knew all the places where Sam was tender and sore. His fingers pressed on scabs, breaking them open, as his pinned Sam's hips to the table and rubbed his cock against Sam's hole. There was no lube, no prep, just the dry burn as Dean shoved into him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, grunting as Dean's hips set up a brutal pace. He finally felt the flush of his brother's come and Dean pulled back, his cock leaving Sam's ass with a pop.
"Again." Clampton said, his voice cold.
Sam bit back the whine as Dean's cock sank back into him. Obviously Clampton had control of Dean…was using him to…Sam lost his train of thought as Dean's fingers dug into his skin. Dean was panting above him, sweat dripping from him.
Clampton moved to the opposite end of the table and sat, watching, a sneer across his face. "As you can see, Sam, Dean belongs to me now. He will do anything and everything I tell him to do." He watched silently for a few minutes as Dean continued his assault. "My original plan was to capture you, mark you with obedience…but Dean came instead. So I altered my plan. I was using him to break you…to make you obedient without the mark. It seems, however, your brother can not help but interfere with my plans, even when he's completely under my power."
Clampton stood, coming closer, his hand fisting in Sam's hair and turning his head. "But that's okay. I'm flexible. So now you know. It changes little. You are still mine. And big brother is still going to help me ensure that you behave."
Dean's thrusting sped up and then he stilled and stepped back.
"Come here, Dean. Let's make sure Sam knows exactly what is happening." Dean's body was glistening with sweat as he stood beside Clampton, his cock unbelievably still hard. Clampton pressed Dean's cock up toward his stomach, revealing the mark that sat at the base, a small, circular brand of a relatively simple design. It wasn't one Sam recognized, but its effects were painfully clear.
"So, you understand, that brand has been sealed in my blood. He responds only to my commands." Clampton pulled Dean's head back, smiling down at him. "He's still him, of course. It amuses me to know he's inside there fuming at being made to do what I want." He released Dean and unzipped his pants. Dean's eyes met Sam's just before he turned his face and began nuzzling at Clampton's groin. "And just so you don't go getting any bright ideas, the only way to remove the compulsion is to remove his dick, even killing me won't release him…in fact, I've built in a base command…"
Clampton's voice trailed off as Dean's mouth closed around his cock and Sam wanted to look away as Dean slurped and moaned around it like it was candy. After a few minutes, Clampton pulled Dean off him. "If I die, Dean dies."
He stroked his cock lightly and smiled at Sam. "And now, it's my turn. You watch, Dean."
Sam held his breath as Clampton shoved into him, held his breath and hoped it would be over quickly. Instead, Clampton was slow, his cock moving on Dean's come inside him. He took his time, his hand petting down over the marks on Sam's back.
"Not to worry, Sam. Soon you will be as eager to serve me as your brother is." Clampton said after he'd come and pulled back. Sam's ass burned as come oozed from it, slipping down his leg. "We've only just begun."
***
Knowing didn’t make it easier.
Dean’s voice filled his ear as they lay together in the dark after Clampton had watched while Dean raped him repeatedly until Dean was dry, then beat him with a bamboo cane. Sam knew the words were Clampton’s, but it didn’t mean they didn’t cut into him.
“You know you deserve it. Even Dad knew you were evil, Sam.”
He was almost through the third run through the set of things Clampton made him repeat. Sam shifted as much as his restraints allowed. Dean fell silent, his eyes closed. “I…I’m done.”
They both lay on their sides, faces only inches apart. Dean was restrained only by the command not to move. Sam, was locked down, his chest ring attached by a short lead to a bolt in the floor, his arms behind him, over the hot, bloody skin of his back.
The anger was gone from Dean’s voice. Since Clampton had revealed himself, Dean had drawn further away, and Sam couldn’t tell if it was Clampton’s doing, or if Dean was giving up.
“Please.” Sam whispered. “Stay with me.”
Dean’s eyes opened. “Sam…”
“We can’t give up.” Sam whispered. “We have to find a way-“
“No.” Dean shook his head. “There is no way. I can’t even take a piss unless he tells me to.”
“De-“ He stopped himself before he finished his brother’s name. He'd learned that even when Dean was ordered to not move, saying Dean's name triggered the command more deeply embedded to hurt him. "I can't do this alone." Sam whispered.
Lacking any other way to offer comfort or express how desperately he needed his brother, Sam kissed him. Dean gasped, but couldn't move away. "Sam…"
"Just hold on." Sam kissed him again, soft and hoping it was enough.
***
The trembling of his body was part exhaustion, part humiliation. Sam finished licking Clampton clean and lowered his head, hoping that this endless session was over, that he'd be allowed to crawl back into the corner and sleep.
Dean sat numbly watching, the knife in his hands still idly pressed against his wrist. His arm was already marked with wounds he'd been forced to inflict upon himself in Clampton's campaign to get Sam to this place, willingly obeying.
Clampton's hand caressed over the side of Sam's face, nearly gentle. "Have you had enough?"
"Please, m-m-master." Sam choked the word out. His body was heavy, bloody and bruised. His mouth tasted like come and ash. His ass leaked come. At least the two guards had been sent away once they'd had their turns at him.
"What do you think, Dean, has our slut here had enough for today?"
Sam looked up through his hair at Dean who blinked, but never looked up. "He's going to pass out." Dean responded.
He wasn't far from wrong.
"Very well, I have things to see to. Dean, lock your brother down. Both of you sleep a few hours."
Sam held his breath as Clampton stood. Dean's hand touched Sam's head and obediently, Sam crawled toward the corner where Clampton had been making him sleep. He didn't make any sudden moves, didn't speak until the door was closed and Clampton had left them alone.
Dean still had the knife in his hand.
They both looked at it, then at each other. Weeks they had been here. This was the first time they had been given an opportunity. "Can I…" Sam's hand covered Dean's, slipping over his skin to find the handle of the knife. Dean watched him, his fingers twitching. He had no direct order to not give Sam the knife, or to continue holding it.
Sam pried his fingers loose and the knife fell into his hand. His breath caught and he nodded. "It's okay. It's okay." Sam licked his lips and tucked the knife under the dirty gray blanket that was all he had for a bed.
"Sam." Dean was breathing hard.
"I know." He lay down on his side, his hand ghosting over the ring on his chest. "It's okay. Go ahead."
Dean lifted the short chain that was connected to the bolt in the floor and locked it to the ring. "Lay with me." Sam cajoled, a plan just beginning to form in his head.
Clampton hadn't been specific about the lock down. Hadn't given Dean direct orders to restrain Sam a certain way. Sam could see his brother trying to decide what to do. He lifted a hand to cup Dean's face. "Lay with me. Keep me warm."
Dean nodded tightly and lowered himself to lay behind Sam, not actually touching him. That had become a part of the things forbidden to them. Dean couldn't touch Sam without an order to, and those were mostly to cause pain.
They lay silently in the dark for a while, Sam fingering the skin around the ring in his chest. Clampton would return, and if he kept to the recent routine, he'd go to bed himself in the next room. He didn't sleep much, the longest Sam had noticed had been four hours, and then he was back to tormenting them, or letting his guards do it while he conducted whatever business he was in.
That was part of the exhaustion, never getting much more than those four hours of sleep at a time, before being abused for hours on end.
"Sam." Dean's voice was barely a whisper, dark and throaty behind him. "K-kill me."
"What?" Sam turned his head, searching for his brother's face, but without rolling over, he couldn't see more than the top of his head…and turning over required more slack in the chain holding him than he had. "No…no."
"Do it now, before he comes back."
Sam shook his head. "No, this is our chance."
"He'll use me, Sam. I can't…I can't fight any more."
Sam closed his eyes against hot tears. "You can't give up now."
"He’ll can't make me stop you."
“Sleep for now. I’ll think of something.”
Sam let one hand cover the lump of the blanket where the knife lay hidden. He had to be careful. If he killed Clampton, Dean would die, at least that’s what Clampton had said. He wasn’t sure exactly how, but he wasn’t willing to risk it either.
So, he had to wait until Clampton came back, and hope he went to sleep. Then he could…what? If not kill the fucking bastard? They needed to get away…but as long as Dean was under the compulsion to obey, any escape would be short lived. Sam had no idea how many standing orders were programmed into his brother's head.
Bobby.
Sam could get control of Clampton, call Bobby for help. They could find some way around the spell. Of course, that presumed Sam could get control of Clampton. He wasn’t entirely sure of that.
He knew that they couldn’t wait though. Every passing day Sam grew weaker, every beating threatened to put him down for good. It had to be now.
Behind him, Dean’s breathing was soft and even, telling Sam he was asleep. He would stay that way now until he was woken, usually by Clampton yelling for him. Sam lay still and waited, forcing himself not to sleep.
Clampton finally returned, sweeping through the room and into the bedroom. Sam listened for the quiet, then the light snoring…and then he waited a little longer before his hand slipped under the blanket and pulled the knife out.
First step in his plan required getting free. He exhaled and brought the knife to his chest. He bit his lip to keep from yelling, panting through his nose as he cut into the skin. His angle was awkward and the knife kept slipping through fingers that were swollen from being locked in tight cuffs during his beating earlier in the day and slick with blood.
He managed to pull the metal from his skin after what felt like an eternity and he held a hand to his bleeding chest as he slowly pushed himself up. His next step had to be making sure Clampton was unable to issue orders.
Of course, he had Dean and the guards to consider too.
He put that out of his mind and told himself to focus on Clampton. One thing at a time. He got to his feet and slowly straightened upward. It had been a really long time since he'd stood upright. His back and knees protested, and his right foot, with it's long, raised red welt across the sole, wasn't very happy either.
He took a few shuffling steps and stopped. He was in no shape for what needed to be done. He was bleeding from a half a dozen places, the chest, his back…the exertion had broken open scabs over wounds that ranged from hours to weeks old.
No. This was the only chance he had. He would make it work.
Sam gripped the knife and shuffled toward the bedroom, contemplating the best way to deal with Clampton. He was only going to get one shot.
Clampton lay sprawled across the bed, his naked body exposed and vulnerable. Sam moved closer slowly, as silently as he could. He was going to have to use the knife, not just threaten Clampton with it. Sam didn't have the strength to back up a threat…not without weakening him first.
He stood over the bed, the knife in his hands. His lung. Sam nodded to himself. He could go for the lung on the right side. It could eventually kill him, but not if Bobby got there fast enough. They could get it taken care of before it killed him.
Sam swallowed and lifted the knife. He had to get it right the first time. He lowered it slowly until the point was just above his skin, angled it so that it would penetrate the rib cage. Sam held his breath and plunged down.
Clampton's eyes opened, his body jerking. Sam covered his mouth, even as he twisted the knife. "Surprised?" Sam asked, pulling his hand from the knife, leaving it stuck into his chest.
Clampton gasped for air, sucking against Sam's hand. He struggled, but was clearly losing the fight. Finally he lay still. Sam checked to make sure he still had a pulse and was breathing with the one good lung, then moved to the cabinet where he knew the bastard kept the gags and blindfolds and such.
By the time he had Clampton secured, Sam was trembling and sweating. He knew he couldn't stop, not yet. He needed to find a phone, find their clothes. He turned on lights and started emptying the cabinet drawers.
He found a bag under the bed that had Dean's things in it…a half bottle of Jack and a bag of pills, Dean's favorite gun, some of his underwear and socks, their father's journal, and an old phone.
Sam flipped it open. It was one of their back ups. It had half a battery and enough signal to hopefully get a call through. Sam's fingers shook as he dialed Bobby's number.
"It's about damn time!"
Sam's throat closed up and he didn't know what to say suddenly.
"Dean?"
"Bo-bobby?"
"Sam, is that you?"
"Yeah. Bobby. It's Sam. I need you."
Tears burned down his face. "I…I don't know where we are…but it's bad. We…" He pressed his lips together. "There's a man who has Dean under some kind of spell. I have him…unconscious right now…he's going to need medical help…he's…I think I punctured his lung."
"What kind of spell? What man? Where the fuck are you?"
Sam looked around the bedroom for something to tell him where they were, but there were no windows, no pictures or anything. Then he remembered the desk in the other room. He slipped back into the room, turning on the desk light and rummaging through the stacks of papers. "His name is…Jesse Clampton. We knew him years ago. Here." He angled the paper toward the light. It was a delivery invoice for heavy building supplies. "I think…we're in Wayne, Nebraska. The address on this invoice says 44 West Marshall Road."
"Wayne, I'm about an hour from there. Been looking for you two idjits for weeks."
Sam put the invoice down, his eyes widening as he saw the blood smeared across it. "Shit…shit." He was leaving blood all over the place. "So much blood."
"Sam, calm down."
"Bobby….I don't know if I can…there's guards. Two of them." Sam brushed his bloody hands on his legs. "Shit…I have to clean this up. He's gonna see it." Sam shook his head, that wasn't right.
"Hold on Sam, I'm on my way. You hear me, Son."
"Hurry Bobby. If he dies, Dean will die."
Sam hung up the phone and looked at the blood smeared all over the desk, on his legs and stomach…he didn't know what was his and what was Clampton's. Sam knew he should clean up, but there wasn't any water. He was tired…so very tired.
He sank to the floor and crawled to the corner, laying down beside Dean. He kissed his brother softly. "It's okay, Dean. It's okay." Sam closed his eyes. Bobby was coming. Everything would be okay.
***
"Sam?" Bobby crouched beside Sam and Dean, his hand out to touch Sam, but pulling back, afraid the touch would hurt him.
Sam jerked back, blinking up at him. "Bobby…"
There wasn't much skin on the boy that wasn't bruised or bloodied. Beside him, Dean looked untouched. Sam's hands moved to cover his groin, his face an expression of mixed fear, shame and pain.
"This one's alive, but only barely. I've got him stabilized for the moment, but he needs more than I can do here."
Sam curled up as David came out of the other room. "Sam, this is David Weatherly, do you remember him?"
Sam shook his head and struggled to sit up. "He's the closest I could find to a doctor that wasn't going to get us all into hot water. David, come have a look at Sam."
"I'm okay." Sam insisted, grabbing at Bobby with one hand. "Dean." He turned to his brother who was still asleep somehow. "He's not…" Sam licked his lips. "Clampton marked him with an obedience sigil." Sam was barely whispering.
"He did what?"
David was standing now beside Bobby, his med kit in his hand. "Sam, why don't you let Bobby look after Dean? Let me look at you."
Sam looked like he was going to argue. Bobby cupped a hand to his face. "Please, Son. You don't look good." Sam gave in and let Bobby help him get to his feet. David gathered the boy up and moved him away from the corner to give Bobby space to handle Dean.
Goddamn witches. Bobby took his hat off to scratch at his head. Dean looked almost peaceful. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder and shook him once. "Dean. Wake up."
Dean's eyes opened and he sat up immediately, his mouth opening, then closing as his eyes swept the room. He calmed when he spotted Sam, then came back to Bobby.
"Are you okay?" Bobby asked, watching him closely.
"I…don't know." His face was set hard, his jaw tight. "Don't let me hurt Sam."
"It's okay, Son. We'll figure this out. For now, can you stand?"
Dean nodded and climbed to his feet, apparently unconcerned for his nakedness. "Right, let's find you boys some clothes and get on out of here before those guards of his come to."
It took some doing. Sam was hurt pretty bad. Dean wouldn't look at his brother, and couldn't seem to act on his own much, especially once he'd seen the bastard that Sam had nearly killed…but eventually Bobby got the boys into the Impala and David had the other guy secured in the back of his camper.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Bobby asked Dean when they were on the road and Sam was asleep in the back seat.
"I don't…no. Not really." Dean responded, sitting dully beside him. "Rules."
Bobby nodded. He didn't know a lot about spells like this one, but from the look he'd gotten at the bastard's collection of supplies and the like, this wasn't going to be an easy one to break. "Okay, how about I tell you what I think I see and you try to tell me if I'm right?"
Dean didn't answer exactly, but Bobby pressed onward. "So, this Clampton guy snagged you and did his mojo on you, then used you to get Sam?" Dean's hands clenched up on his knees. "And he made you hurt Sam?"
It was more than just hurt Sam. Both boys had been sexually assaulted, and judging by both of their reactions, Dean had been forced to rape his brother. Bobby's hands tightened on the wheel. Any spell strong enough to do that might be a spell that couldn't be undone. "Sam said he marked you, with a sigil. Where?"
Dean's hands fell to cover his crotch.
Bobby cursed every curse word he could think of in as many languages as he could remember in his head. "It's okay, Dean," he said out loud. "We'll figure it out."
***
Dean knew it wasn't okay…the things he'd done to Sam…there was no way that would ever be okay. He knew Bobby knew it too.
Dean sat on the chair in Bobby's kitchen, unable to move, unable to even get up and go to the bathroom. Somewhere upstairs Clampton lay dying, and with him, Dean's chance of ever getting free was dying too.
"Bobby." Dean's voice was ragged, but it pulled Bobby's attention from the book he was flipping through.
"No." Sam interrupted from the doorway.
"Stay out of it Sam." Dean said, his eyes flipping to his brother.
"Dean, no."
At least that gave him impetus to move. Dean stood, grabbing Sam by the hair before landing a punch in his stomach. "Fuck."
Sam sank to his knees beside him, still shaking his head. "Please, don't…we'll find an answer."
Dean managed to get his fingers to loosen up and let go of Sam…or to be honest, he reverted to the standing order not to touch Sam unless he was ordered to. He knew they wouldn't find any other answer. Aside from cutting off his dick completely, there was no removing the damn compulsion to obey, and there was no guarantee that would work.
"Sam, please." Dean closed his eyes. He wanted to comfort his brother, to touch him, but he couldn't even go back to sitting down. Bobby seemed to understand that much at least, coming to join Sam.
Wordlessly, Bobby pushed Dean back into the chair. Sam turned his face up, wiping at the tears spilling down his face. "I can't live like this, Sammy." Dean said softly. "I'm sitting here in my own pee."
Sam shook his head. "Just…one more day."
Hot tears spilled down Dean's face now too. Sam's hands settled on his, squeezing. "You're all I have left."
"Bobby." Dean could see the understanding in Bobby's eyes, the sadness and hurt and Bobby nodded. He left the room and came back a minute later, putting Dean's gun on the table.
Sam curled forward, his face on Dean's knee.
"Please Sam." Dean whispered. "I don't want to hurt you any more."
Bobby's hand fell on Sam's shoulder. Sam lifted a tear stained face. "Give us a minute?"
Bobby nodded and leaned in to kiss the top of Dean's head before he walked away wordlessly. Sam's eyes closed. "Promise me that you'll let Bobby deal with Cl-master. Fuck." Even now he couldn't call the bastard anything but that. "Sam…you…you go back to school."
"I don't know if I can."
"Forgive me?" Dean's voice cracked.
Sam's eyes met his. "Everything," he responded. He rose up off his knees and brushed his lips across Dean's. "Always."
Dean felt the cool metal of the gun pressed into his hands. "I don't know if I can…"
Sam kissed him again, his hands circling Dean's. "I'm not leaving you." Sam's breathing was tight and short as he lifted his face from Dean's.
"I love you, Sammy." Dean whispered as Sam helped him lift the gun. "Remember that."
"I love you too."
Bobby jumped when the shot rang out. He sank wearily onto the stairs, head in his hands. The second shot caught him off guard, and he looked up, uncertain.
The house was quiet then.
And all Bobby was left with was to the trash slowly suffocating to death upstairs
Title: Obedience (Part Two of Two)
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Sam, OMC/Dean, OMC/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~17000 for total fic
Summary: Someone from the boys' past resurfaces with a plan to keep Sam for himself, but when he catches Dean in his trap instead, his plans change, and he uses one brother to catch and break the other.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is not pretty, happy, sexy fic. Herein lies slave fic of a sort; serious rape, violence, non-con drug use, forced incest and CHARACTER DEATH. This began while I was beta reading for meus_venator, based on a small comment in part of her fic, which she in-turn lays at the feet of another, whose name escapes me at the moment. At least now it is out of my head.
***
At some point after Dean left him, Sam had dozed off…and when he woke he'd been released from the floor, the gag and blindfold removed. His hands were still locked together and a chain ran from them off along the floor. The room was dark, the only light leaking in from the small window in the door.
Sam crawled toward the wall, curling in as small as he could make himself. His fingers fumbled as he tried to look at the metal ring that was threaded through the skin of his chest. The skin was raw and red, and blood was dried at the edges. The ring was at least an two inches in diameter, the metal thick. At least an inch of skin held it and it lay heavy against his chest.
The pain of playing with it was enough to make him stop. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out what had actually happened…how they'd gotten to this place.
The dreams had been real somehow. Dean had raped him, beaten him. Dean had drugged him and brought him here. Told him he deserved it. That he wanted it. Dean was cruel, more than anything Sam could have imagined.
He replayed the last time in his head. Dean had come into the room, naked and hard. Sam could tell something wasn't right, and Dean's violence had only confirmed that…and then…Sam swallowed around the feeling of his brother's dick in his mouth, the taste of his come.
He had to force that aside and try to understand why. Dean had been trying to tell him something without actually saying it…and Sam wasn't completely sure what it was, or if it was all in his head…because Dean had…Sam bowed his head onto his knees and held onto the idea that Dean was being forced somehow.
Or maybe…maybe Dean was just trying to keep Sam from whatever fate it was their father had envisioned for him. Maybe this was ultimately the only way Sam didn't go dark. Maybe Dean was right. He deserved this. Wanted it even.
He bit into his lip until he tasted blood. He needed to focus. Stop feeling sorry for himself and find a way out.
Sam exhaled and pulled himself up. He was weak, the few swallows of whatever mush Dean had brought him was about all he'd eaten in longer than he knew…he wasn't at all sure how long he'd been here, or how long he'd been out in the car.
He stood against the wall and looked around the room. He was naked, but for the leather restraints on his wrists and ankles. The room was cement and empty from what he could see in the dark. He knew from experience that the floor had at least a few eyehooks for tying him down, and the walls were no different.
He eased along the wall to the corner, where he found the end of his chain. He estimated it wasn't quite four feet long…and his best guess was that the room was six feet across. He couldn't even reach the corner where the pee bucket was, let alone the door.
Sam pulled on the chain in frustration, not that he expected it to give, but he couldn't just sit there and do nothing. He felt his way down the chain, fingered over the link that was attached to the bolt in the floor.
Light flooded the room suddenly and Sam ducked his head, squinting as the door opened. Dean filled the doorway and Sam got the distinct impression that there was someone behind him in the hallway before Dean stepped into the room and the door closed.
Sam licked his lips and looked at his brother. Like before, he was naked, his cock already hard. His face was set, angry. Sam lowered his hands to hang more or less in front of him and turned to face Dean.
"There are rules." Dean said, his voice clipped. "If you obey the rules, I won't have to punish you. If you do not obey, I'll be forced to hurt you."
"De-" He caught himself, remembering the last time. Whenever he said the name, his brother had caused him pain. "Tell me what's going on."
Dean lifted his chin and went to the wall by the door, where a number of instruments were hung. His hand closed around what looked like a riding crop and he came back to the center of the room with it.
"Rule number one, you do not speak unless you are told to." Dean wasn't looking at him and he hesitated as if expecting Sam to say something.
Instead, Sam inched closer, trying to gauge how to react.
"Rule number two, you do as you are told without hesitation." Dean looked up at him and Sam thought for a fleeting second that the look in his eyes was fear. "Do you understand?"
Sam stopped moving, still hugging the wall, and he nodded. He understood the words, if not why Dean was saying them. He looked from Dean to the door and back again. Dean nodded almost imperceptibly. Or maybe Sam just wanted to believe badly enough that he saw something that wasn’t there.
"I'm going to take care of you as long as you follow the rules." Dean said. His eyes held Sam's, but Sam couldn't read them. "Come here."
Sam hesitated, fairly sure that no matter what he did he was going to end up hurting. The riding crop slashed against his thigh and Sam jumped inadvertently closer to his brother. "Kneel." Dean's hand on his shoulder pushed him down, his face dangerously close to his brother's cock.
"Open your mouth."
Sam shook his head. Dean's hand pushed his head down and the crop came down three times rapidly across the top of Sam's ass. Dean's hand released him and he issued the command again. "Open your mouth."
His free hand grabbed Sam's chin and Sam jerked away from him. This time the crop came down over his cheek, splitting it open. Blood spilled hot over his skin as Sam turned to look up at Dean in shock. Dean's thumb pressed into his mouth, forcing Sam to open it. With no warning, Dean shoved his cock in, deep into his throat until Sam was gagging, his bound hands rising to try ineffectively to push Dean away.
His vision was starting to dance when Dean finally pulled back. He pumped in and out of Sam's mouth a few times before pulling back. "Rule number two, Sam. You do as you are told without hesitation."
He left Sam kneeling there and went back to the wall. When he came back he had a tube in his hands. "Head down." Dean shoved his head toward the floor in emphasis as he moved behind Sam. "Don't move."
Dean's hand skimmed over the naked skin of his ass and Sam jumped forward. He yelled as the crop hit him, another three times hard on his tender skin. "Don't move." Sam heard the tube open, then click shut and Dean's finger shoved into his ass.
Sam lurched forward again, rolling away, dragging the chain across the concrete floor. Dean lunged at him, his face contorted in anger and Sam barely managed to curl up to protect his face and stomach as the crop came down on him. He lost count of the blows before they came to a stop and Dean's hand was wrapped in the chain, yanking Sam across the floor.
"If you can't obey the rules, you will be punished." Dean pulled him up to his knees again and shoved his face to the floor, dragging Sam's restraint heavy hands out in front of him and attaching them to a bolt in the floor.
"Please…" Sam whispered, hoping to somehow get through. Dean kicked his feet apart and fastened each of them down, leaving Sam bent over, his ass exposed and vulnerable.
His finger returned to Sam's ass, sliding in on lube. Dean added a second finger, working him open, then a third…and all too soon, his fingers were on Sam's hips instead, holding him down as his cock took their place, shoving into Sam hard and deep. His hips pistoned in and out quickly. When he came, Sam thought he heard a whispered apology, but then Dean was gone again.
He returned shortly, a tray in his hands. He set the tray down and released Sam's hands, helping him to sit up. Dean's eyes searched Sam's face, his thumbs wiping at tears he hadn't realized he'd shed. "Eat." He lifted the bowl of lukewarm mush and put it in Sam's hands.
Sam was pretty sure he was more likely to be sick than actually eat, but Dean had gone back to the door, and when he came back again, he had a cloth and some water. He nodded at the bowl and looked Sam in the eye. "Don't make it worse. Eat."
Sam tore his eyes away and lifted the bowl. Dean ignored him in favor of the bleeding welts he'd left on Sam's hip and ass, dabbing at the blood with the cloth. Sam scooped the food into his mouth with one hand, trying desperately to ignore anything and everything but getting the food into him, obeying the command to avoid another beating.
He got about half of it into him and put the bowl down, reaching for the water bowl. He drained it quickly. Dean's fingers grasped his chin and turned his face, the cloth working on the cut across his cheek.
"You've had worse." Dean murmured. He leaned in close, as if checking the wound. "I'm trying."
Sam didn't know what his brother meant. His eyes stole to the door, then slid to Dean's. "Please, just tell me why?" Sam whispered.
"Can't." Dean responded. "Love you."
He pulled away then, standing and taking the tray and the water with him, leaving Sam kneeling on the concrete, his feet still bound to the floor. The light went out as the door closed, and Sam was left in the dark.
***
"So, Dean, tell me how our boy is doing."
Dean gritted his teeth in an effort not to answer, even though he knew it was a lost battle. Clampton laughed at him, scrubbing a hand through Dean's hair as he knelt. "Answer, now."
"Sam is…fighting." Dean responded, hating himself.
"He's stubborn, but then, I knew that." Clampton said. "Perhaps it is time to take this to the next level." He gazed in the window, watching Sam. "He has grown accustomed to our routine, I think."
A routine that was slowly breaking Sam down. If Dean didn't find an escape soon, Sam was going to stop fighting…and when that happened, Clampton would have won.
"Up, Dean. It's time to show your brother just how hopeless it all is." He pressed the blindfold into one hand and a leash into the other. "Recite."
Dean closed his eyes. "I will be aroused whenever I see Sam. I will hurt Sam whenever he says my name. I will not tell anyone why I must obey. I will service you with joy…m-master." He fought the word, but it came out anyway.
With every passing day he hated himself more…not that he had any idea how long it had been…there were no windows here, no clocks, no glimpses of the world outside these walls.
Dean slept when he was told and woke when he was told…it was never fully enough sleep, and when he was awake Clampton had him abusing Sam or being abused himself. A week. Maybe two. For all he knew even longer.
"Go in angry. Say nothing beyond orders. Blindfold him, leash him, make him crawl into the next room." He held up the key to the chains. Dean draped the leash around his neck and took the key.
One of the burly guards opened the door and Dean entered the room.
Sam looked up from the corner, but didn't move right away. Despite everything, he was clinging to some hope that he could get through to Dean with his defiance. Rage bubbled up inside him, rage he knew wasn't his own, and yet could not control.
"Knees, here." Dean commanded.
Sam moved slowly, pulling the heavy chain that kept him tethered to the corner. He stood in front of his brother, biting his lip before slowly sinking to his knees. Dean covered his eyes, tying the blindfold tighter than he necessarily needed to before he bent to unlock the chains.
Dean took the leash from around his neck and clipped it to the ring pierced through Sam's chest. Sam stiffened, recognizing that something was different. "Crawl." Dean ordered.
Sam pulled back, the still healing skin pulling. Dean tugged a little, enough to elicit a sharp intake of breath as the pain registered. "Crawl now." Dean started for the door, and Sam had little choice but to follow.
He was slow and hesitant, but with each insistent tug on tender skin, he moved, following Dean into the corridor. The door into the next room was open and Clampton waited for them.
It was clear what Dean was meant to do.
He stopped Sam in the center of the room and unclipped the leash, returning it to his neck. The two guards stepped in then, roughly attaching chains to each of Sam's restraints. Clampton flipped a switch on the wall and Sam was hauled off his knees, his arms spread out above him, lifting him until he was off the ground, his feet held so that his toes barely scraped the floor, and spread so that he was completely exposed.
Clampton pressed the handle of a long whip into his hand. "Twenty strokes should do it."
"D-Dean?" Sam's voice was shaky. Dean's hand landed hard on his ass, making him jump.
He wanted to say something to reassure him…which was ridiculous. Dean was about to beat him like some…slave. What kind of reassurance was going to help?
"Now, Dean." Clampton said quietly.
Dean clenched his teeth and took a step back. "No." He ground the word out, his stomach twisting around the command, around the compulsion to obey.
Clampton took the two steps toward him, one hand darting out to grab Dean's cock, his thumb pressing against the skin where his brand was burned into the skin. "You will hit him twenty times, and when you're done you will hold him while my boys here fuck him and then you will make him crawl back to his cell and you will lock him down for the night."
He released Dean and stepped away. Dean's hand twitched, the whip stirring on the floor at his feet…then his hand lifted and the whip cracked through the air. Sam cried out as a long, red line marked his back. Over and over the whip moved, leaving bloody trails over his back and ass and thighs.
About half way through Sam's voice cracked and by the time Dean was finished he was hanging limply from the chains. Clampton moved back to the wall, flipping the switch to lower Sam back down.
Dean caught him as he sagged. Sam stirred, his face turning to find Dean. He unclipped the wrist restraints and held Sam, sinking with him to the floor. "Please." Sam whispered against Dean's chest.
The two brutes were already moving in to fulfill Clampton's orders and Dean found himself bending Sam over his knee, holding him while the first of them unzipped himself and pulled his cock out.
Sam moaned as he sank in, but made little other sound as he was fucked. He whimpered a little as the guard pulled out, and his hand gripped Dean's ankle as the second one took his place.
When they were done, they released Sam's ankles and backed away, leaving Dean to follow the rest of his orders. “I need you to stay with me, Sam.” Dean murmured, his eyes on Clampton. He pulled the leash from around his neck and attached it to Sam’s chest ring. “Hear me, Sam? Need you to follow.”
He stood and for a minute he was afraid Sam wouldn’t be able to, but slowly, Sam moved, crawling pitifully after Dean. Not a word was said until Dean had Sam back in his cell, the door closed. He took the leash off and knelt beside Sam, reaching with a shaking hand for the blindfold.
It was wet with tears. Sam didn’t look at him. Dean’s stomach twisted even tighter. “Please Sam.” Dean whispered. “Please.” But he couldn’t make himself say the rest, couldn’t tell Sam not to give up.
Sam curled forward, silent sobs quaking through him. His back was a bloody mess. Dean could feel Clampton’s eyes through the window. He had been told to lock Sam down, which meant no food, no niceties.
At least Dean could spare his back. “Here, Sam. Lie down here.” He guided Sam to lay on his side, his back to the door. Dean locked Sam’s hands to a bolt in the floor in front of him, then moved to his feet to secure them as well, leaving Sam more or less in a fetal position on the floor. He brushed a hand over Sam’s forehead before leaning in to kiss it. “I’m sorry.”
***
Sam’s face burned with shame as Dean’s hands gently cleaned him of the mess that came of being left chained to the floor for so long. He cried out as the hot water washed over the open welts on his thighs, cleaning the waste from them.
“Good boy.” Dean whispered, only adding to his humiliation.
He’d been left with come leaking from his ass, come that he knew had not come from Dean, alone in the dark for longer than he could tell. His back was stiff with dried blood and scabbing, his muscles aching from the abuse and disuse.
Dean’s hand rinsed out the cloth he was using in the bucket of hot water and wiped through Sam’s crack, cleaning up the last of the dried come before moving over the rest of his ass.
“Can you sit up for me?”
Sam didn’t respond, just shifted, pushing himself up. His ass protested, and he felt some of the scabs on his back break open.
“Good boy.” Dean proceeded to clean his back and Sam bit his tongue as each pass of the cloth brought a renewed sense of just how torn up he was from the whipping. By the time Dean was done, Sam was trembling and whimpers escaped despite his desire to keep them in.
Dean moved to face him, one hand gently guiding the hair out of his eyes. His kiss was soft, lips brushing over Sam’s. As he stood, his cock was in Sam’s face, and despite his gentleness, Sam knew what came next. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth without being told. Dean caressed the side of his face and cooed words of praise as his cock filled Sam’s mouth.
“That’s my good boy.”
It was easier this way…to give in…to accept what Dean was giving him…to believe he could be good. Dean thrust deep into him and Sam swallowed around him, fought the rising panic. His come was hot as it spilled over Sam’s tongue and he swallowed quickly to have it done.
“My very good boy.” Dean praised, going to the door and returning with the tray of food. Instead of the usual mush there was a bowl of broth. Dean sat on the floor beside him, petting his hair as Sam lowered his face to the bowl. His stomach rumbled as the smell of it filled his nose. It was weak and cold, but it was better than nothing. Sam drank it down, followed by the water.
Dean cleared the tray, but to Sam’s surprise, returned. He squatted in front of Sam, his eyes catching Sam’s and holding. “There are rules Sam.”
Sam nodded. He knew the rules.
“Recite them.”
Sam licked his lips and cleared his throat. “Rule one.” His voice was scratchy from screaming and disuse. “Rule one, I do not speak unless told to. Two, I do as I am told without hesitation.” There were unspoken rules too. Sam had figured that out. He couldn’t say his brother’s name without getting punished.
Dean smiled and nodded. “Very good, Sam. I have a new rule for you. If you obey this rule, I will not have to chain you. You do not cross the white line without permission.” Dean pointed at the thick white line that was painted on the cement floor, dividing the room in half.
The door, the punishment tools and the toilet bucket were all on the other side of the line. “Can you do that, Sam?”
He nodded, looking up at Dean. This was as gentle as his brother had been since they’d come to this place. Sam wanted to ask a hundred questions, but he knew if he broke the first rule, this kind side of his brother would disappear.
Dean glanced at the door, then lowered himself to sit beside Sam, taking his hand and holding it. He seemed to be searching for words. “I want to tell you…can’t.” He closed his eyes. “Christmas eve, last year.”
Sam nodded. “We went to Bobby’s.”
“Before.” Dean kept his eyes closed, kept Sam’s hand in his.
Sam fumbled for the memory. They’d been hunting a ghost south of Bobby’s, ended up sore and out of pain meds…then drove hours on very little sleep. They’d been bickering more than usual before they stopped for gas an hour or so outside of Bobby’s. Sam licked his lips. “The stop? We bought Bobby a hat.”
Dean’s eyes opened and Sam could see something in them, Dean was trying to tell him something. Dean had tossed him the hat while he was paying for gas…and someone had come into the mini-mart. Someone who knew them.
Dean opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to say more. He growled and dragged Sam’s hand further into his lap. He pried one of Sam’s fingers out and pressed it to the underside of his cock.
Sam froze as Dean rubbed his finger over the spot.
The door opened and Dean stood, leaving Sam sitting there, trying to figure out what the hell Dean had been trying to say.
***
His heart hammered in his chest, not sure how he’d gotten away with that much with Sam. He hadn’t been able to speak the words, and he doubted Sam understood what he’d done, but the fact that he’d managed to touch Sam’s finger to the brand was significant.
Of course, it helped that Clampton hadn’t been his keeper, that he’d been sent to Sam with the barest of orders. Clampton had been distracted prior to sending Dean.
The guard who was his current keeper shoved Dean back into his cell.
Dean paced along his cot, agitated. He had no way on knowing if Sam would be able to put the pieces together. He wasn’t really operating at his best, under the circumstances. He knew the food was drugged, not heavy enough to necessarily knock him out, but enough to keep him unfocused…and the pain didn’t help, not to mention the daily rape.
He had reason to believe that Clampton was still using magic to get into Sam’s dreams too. His brother was barely keeping his shit together…and Dean wasn't far behind him. His resistance to the fucking obedience sigil was meaningless. As long as Clampton gave him a direct command, Dean had no choice but to obey.
He could only hope that Clampton’s distraction, and Dean's subsequent ability to communicate had been enough to make something sink in, to get at least part of a message through to Sam. Not that he knew what good it would do for Sam to figure it out. He was locked in a room with no way out.
He couldn't rely on Sam. He had to think he was past his fucking blind obedience. He had to think past the rules.
The problem was, Clampton was thorough. There were the active rules, the arousal, hurting Sam if he said Dean's name, not being able to tell Sam why or what was going on, and lately servicing the fuck wad as if it was his sole purpose in life. But there were others.
He wasn't allowed to touch doors. He wasn't allowed to hurt anyone but Sam. He wasn't allowed to cross the damn white lines without permission.
He was screwed.
There was no way out. Not without help.
***
Something was different.
Dean still came into his cell every five or six hours, and Sam was forced to suck his cock or bend over and let his brother fuck him, then he was fed and watered, taken to the bucket to pee, his back tended to.
But this was the third time Dean sat with him after.
"I know you want to ask me questions." Dean said hesitantly, as if testing each word. "I can't answer all of them."
Sam nodded. He'd gathered that much from their previous talks. "Did…someone do something to you?"
Dean didn't answer, but he didn't move away either when Sam reached a hand across. It felt wrong, touching his brother's dick this way, but Dean didn't stop him. His finger felt for the spot Dean had shown him. The skin was rough, raised. Dean gasped as Sam pulled away, his cock leaking a little.
"Magic?" Sam whispered, shivering. His thoughts skipped over everything he knew about what had happened. It had to do with that stop at that mini mart on Christmas Eve, and magic of some kind…and something was different right now, but not different enough that Dean wasn't obligated to continue the routine.
His head swirled with the things Dean said to him in his dreams, and sometimes while Dean was tormenting him. It made it hard to think. Magic would explain a lot though. Witchcraft.
Dean had said it himself…at least Sam thought he remembered Dean saying it.
"Someone came into the mini mart that night." Sam said, catching Dean's attention again. Sam could almost see the man's face…almost…
The door to the room slammed open. "You insolent fuck. Get over here now."
Dean was up off the floor and across the room in an instant, dropping to his knees at a single touch from the man that filled the doorway. Rage filled the room as a hand fisted in Dean's hair and yanked his head back. "Did you think I wouldn't know what you were doing?" His hand cracked across Dean's face.
Dean was shoved down, his face on the concrete, his ass in the air.
"If you move I will cut your tongue out and make your brother eat it." The man looked familiar somehow. He stalked to the wall with the riding crops and paddles and pulled a wooden paddle from the wall. It had holes in it, to cut the wind resistance and make each blow strike harder.
Dean's hands clenched into fists, but he stayed still as that paddle came down over and over, against the skin of his naked ass and thighs. He yelled, screamed into the concrete beneath him before it was over.
A leash was thrown at the floor by Dean's head. "Bring your fucktoy. I'm done playing games."
Dean lifted his face from the cement, his hand curling around the leash. His face was red as he climbed slowly to his feet. Sam shrank back instinctively, knowing that whatever was coming was going to be bad. Dean's hand grabbed the ring in his chest and clipped the leash on.
He followed Dean, his knees protesting the crawling on rough floors. Dean's skin was red and mottled, bruises already starting to form. They passed the room where Dean had been forced to whip him, and into an office. At least here the floor was carpeted.
Dean stopped them just inside the room. "Here. Lock him down." The man hit his hand against a table, though as Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him up onto his feet, Sam could see that it had been modified. There were spots on the legs for securing his ankle restraints, and as Dean pushed him down, there was a locking ring that clipped onto the one in his chest.
His hands were pulled behind him and locked together. He was on display, unable to even lift his head much more than a few inches without risking the pulling on his chest.
Jesse Clampton.
Just like that Sam realized who this guy was. He was the one who came into that mini mart. Junior year.
Clampton's hand came down on the table near Sam's head. "You thought you could get around it, eh Dean?" Sam couldn't see him, but he heard the punches he landed. "I'll show you exactly what you can do. Fuck him. Make it hurt."
Sam braced for it, but Dean's hands knew all the places where Sam was tender and sore. His fingers pressed on scabs, breaking them open, as his pinned Sam's hips to the table and rubbed his cock against Sam's hole. There was no lube, no prep, just the dry burn as Dean shoved into him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, grunting as Dean's hips set up a brutal pace. He finally felt the flush of his brother's come and Dean pulled back, his cock leaving Sam's ass with a pop.
"Again." Clampton said, his voice cold.
Sam bit back the whine as Dean's cock sank back into him. Obviously Clampton had control of Dean…was using him to…Sam lost his train of thought as Dean's fingers dug into his skin. Dean was panting above him, sweat dripping from him.
Clampton moved to the opposite end of the table and sat, watching, a sneer across his face. "As you can see, Sam, Dean belongs to me now. He will do anything and everything I tell him to do." He watched silently for a few minutes as Dean continued his assault. "My original plan was to capture you, mark you with obedience…but Dean came instead. So I altered my plan. I was using him to break you…to make you obedient without the mark. It seems, however, your brother can not help but interfere with my plans, even when he's completely under my power."
Clampton stood, coming closer, his hand fisting in Sam's hair and turning his head. "But that's okay. I'm flexible. So now you know. It changes little. You are still mine. And big brother is still going to help me ensure that you behave."
Dean's thrusting sped up and then he stilled and stepped back.
"Come here, Dean. Let's make sure Sam knows exactly what is happening." Dean's body was glistening with sweat as he stood beside Clampton, his cock unbelievably still hard. Clampton pressed Dean's cock up toward his stomach, revealing the mark that sat at the base, a small, circular brand of a relatively simple design. It wasn't one Sam recognized, but its effects were painfully clear.
"So, you understand, that brand has been sealed in my blood. He responds only to my commands." Clampton pulled Dean's head back, smiling down at him. "He's still him, of course. It amuses me to know he's inside there fuming at being made to do what I want." He released Dean and unzipped his pants. Dean's eyes met Sam's just before he turned his face and began nuzzling at Clampton's groin. "And just so you don't go getting any bright ideas, the only way to remove the compulsion is to remove his dick, even killing me won't release him…in fact, I've built in a base command…"
Clampton's voice trailed off as Dean's mouth closed around his cock and Sam wanted to look away as Dean slurped and moaned around it like it was candy. After a few minutes, Clampton pulled Dean off him. "If I die, Dean dies."
He stroked his cock lightly and smiled at Sam. "And now, it's my turn. You watch, Dean."
Sam held his breath as Clampton shoved into him, held his breath and hoped it would be over quickly. Instead, Clampton was slow, his cock moving on Dean's come inside him. He took his time, his hand petting down over the marks on Sam's back.
"Not to worry, Sam. Soon you will be as eager to serve me as your brother is." Clampton said after he'd come and pulled back. Sam's ass burned as come oozed from it, slipping down his leg. "We've only just begun."
***
Knowing didn’t make it easier.
Dean’s voice filled his ear as they lay together in the dark after Clampton had watched while Dean raped him repeatedly until Dean was dry, then beat him with a bamboo cane. Sam knew the words were Clampton’s, but it didn’t mean they didn’t cut into him.
“You know you deserve it. Even Dad knew you were evil, Sam.”
He was almost through the third run through the set of things Clampton made him repeat. Sam shifted as much as his restraints allowed. Dean fell silent, his eyes closed. “I…I’m done.”
They both lay on their sides, faces only inches apart. Dean was restrained only by the command not to move. Sam, was locked down, his chest ring attached by a short lead to a bolt in the floor, his arms behind him, over the hot, bloody skin of his back.
The anger was gone from Dean’s voice. Since Clampton had revealed himself, Dean had drawn further away, and Sam couldn’t tell if it was Clampton’s doing, or if Dean was giving up.
“Please.” Sam whispered. “Stay with me.”
Dean’s eyes opened. “Sam…”
“We can’t give up.” Sam whispered. “We have to find a way-“
“No.” Dean shook his head. “There is no way. I can’t even take a piss unless he tells me to.”
“De-“ He stopped himself before he finished his brother’s name. He'd learned that even when Dean was ordered to not move, saying Dean's name triggered the command more deeply embedded to hurt him. "I can't do this alone." Sam whispered.
Lacking any other way to offer comfort or express how desperately he needed his brother, Sam kissed him. Dean gasped, but couldn't move away. "Sam…"
"Just hold on." Sam kissed him again, soft and hoping it was enough.
***
The trembling of his body was part exhaustion, part humiliation. Sam finished licking Clampton clean and lowered his head, hoping that this endless session was over, that he'd be allowed to crawl back into the corner and sleep.
Dean sat numbly watching, the knife in his hands still idly pressed against his wrist. His arm was already marked with wounds he'd been forced to inflict upon himself in Clampton's campaign to get Sam to this place, willingly obeying.
Clampton's hand caressed over the side of Sam's face, nearly gentle. "Have you had enough?"
"Please, m-m-master." Sam choked the word out. His body was heavy, bloody and bruised. His mouth tasted like come and ash. His ass leaked come. At least the two guards had been sent away once they'd had their turns at him.
"What do you think, Dean, has our slut here had enough for today?"
Sam looked up through his hair at Dean who blinked, but never looked up. "He's going to pass out." Dean responded.
He wasn't far from wrong.
"Very well, I have things to see to. Dean, lock your brother down. Both of you sleep a few hours."
Sam held his breath as Clampton stood. Dean's hand touched Sam's head and obediently, Sam crawled toward the corner where Clampton had been making him sleep. He didn't make any sudden moves, didn't speak until the door was closed and Clampton had left them alone.
Dean still had the knife in his hand.
They both looked at it, then at each other. Weeks they had been here. This was the first time they had been given an opportunity. "Can I…" Sam's hand covered Dean's, slipping over his skin to find the handle of the knife. Dean watched him, his fingers twitching. He had no direct order to not give Sam the knife, or to continue holding it.
Sam pried his fingers loose and the knife fell into his hand. His breath caught and he nodded. "It's okay. It's okay." Sam licked his lips and tucked the knife under the dirty gray blanket that was all he had for a bed.
"Sam." Dean was breathing hard.
"I know." He lay down on his side, his hand ghosting over the ring on his chest. "It's okay. Go ahead."
Dean lifted the short chain that was connected to the bolt in the floor and locked it to the ring. "Lay with me." Sam cajoled, a plan just beginning to form in his head.
Clampton hadn't been specific about the lock down. Hadn't given Dean direct orders to restrain Sam a certain way. Sam could see his brother trying to decide what to do. He lifted a hand to cup Dean's face. "Lay with me. Keep me warm."
Dean nodded tightly and lowered himself to lay behind Sam, not actually touching him. That had become a part of the things forbidden to them. Dean couldn't touch Sam without an order to, and those were mostly to cause pain.
They lay silently in the dark for a while, Sam fingering the skin around the ring in his chest. Clampton would return, and if he kept to the recent routine, he'd go to bed himself in the next room. He didn't sleep much, the longest Sam had noticed had been four hours, and then he was back to tormenting them, or letting his guards do it while he conducted whatever business he was in.
That was part of the exhaustion, never getting much more than those four hours of sleep at a time, before being abused for hours on end.
"Sam." Dean's voice was barely a whisper, dark and throaty behind him. "K-kill me."
"What?" Sam turned his head, searching for his brother's face, but without rolling over, he couldn't see more than the top of his head…and turning over required more slack in the chain holding him than he had. "No…no."
"Do it now, before he comes back."
Sam shook his head. "No, this is our chance."
"He'll use me, Sam. I can't…I can't fight any more."
Sam closed his eyes against hot tears. "You can't give up now."
"He’ll can't make me stop you."
“Sleep for now. I’ll think of something.”
Sam let one hand cover the lump of the blanket where the knife lay hidden. He had to be careful. If he killed Clampton, Dean would die, at least that’s what Clampton had said. He wasn’t sure exactly how, but he wasn’t willing to risk it either.
So, he had to wait until Clampton came back, and hope he went to sleep. Then he could…what? If not kill the fucking bastard? They needed to get away…but as long as Dean was under the compulsion to obey, any escape would be short lived. Sam had no idea how many standing orders were programmed into his brother's head.
Bobby.
Sam could get control of Clampton, call Bobby for help. They could find some way around the spell. Of course, that presumed Sam could get control of Clampton. He wasn’t entirely sure of that.
He knew that they couldn’t wait though. Every passing day Sam grew weaker, every beating threatened to put him down for good. It had to be now.
Behind him, Dean’s breathing was soft and even, telling Sam he was asleep. He would stay that way now until he was woken, usually by Clampton yelling for him. Sam lay still and waited, forcing himself not to sleep.
Clampton finally returned, sweeping through the room and into the bedroom. Sam listened for the quiet, then the light snoring…and then he waited a little longer before his hand slipped under the blanket and pulled the knife out.
First step in his plan required getting free. He exhaled and brought the knife to his chest. He bit his lip to keep from yelling, panting through his nose as he cut into the skin. His angle was awkward and the knife kept slipping through fingers that were swollen from being locked in tight cuffs during his beating earlier in the day and slick with blood.
He managed to pull the metal from his skin after what felt like an eternity and he held a hand to his bleeding chest as he slowly pushed himself up. His next step had to be making sure Clampton was unable to issue orders.
Of course, he had Dean and the guards to consider too.
He put that out of his mind and told himself to focus on Clampton. One thing at a time. He got to his feet and slowly straightened upward. It had been a really long time since he'd stood upright. His back and knees protested, and his right foot, with it's long, raised red welt across the sole, wasn't very happy either.
He took a few shuffling steps and stopped. He was in no shape for what needed to be done. He was bleeding from a half a dozen places, the chest, his back…the exertion had broken open scabs over wounds that ranged from hours to weeks old.
No. This was the only chance he had. He would make it work.
Sam gripped the knife and shuffled toward the bedroom, contemplating the best way to deal with Clampton. He was only going to get one shot.
Clampton lay sprawled across the bed, his naked body exposed and vulnerable. Sam moved closer slowly, as silently as he could. He was going to have to use the knife, not just threaten Clampton with it. Sam didn't have the strength to back up a threat…not without weakening him first.
He stood over the bed, the knife in his hands. His lung. Sam nodded to himself. He could go for the lung on the right side. It could eventually kill him, but not if Bobby got there fast enough. They could get it taken care of before it killed him.
Sam swallowed and lifted the knife. He had to get it right the first time. He lowered it slowly until the point was just above his skin, angled it so that it would penetrate the rib cage. Sam held his breath and plunged down.
Clampton's eyes opened, his body jerking. Sam covered his mouth, even as he twisted the knife. "Surprised?" Sam asked, pulling his hand from the knife, leaving it stuck into his chest.
Clampton gasped for air, sucking against Sam's hand. He struggled, but was clearly losing the fight. Finally he lay still. Sam checked to make sure he still had a pulse and was breathing with the one good lung, then moved to the cabinet where he knew the bastard kept the gags and blindfolds and such.
By the time he had Clampton secured, Sam was trembling and sweating. He knew he couldn't stop, not yet. He needed to find a phone, find their clothes. He turned on lights and started emptying the cabinet drawers.
He found a bag under the bed that had Dean's things in it…a half bottle of Jack and a bag of pills, Dean's favorite gun, some of his underwear and socks, their father's journal, and an old phone.
Sam flipped it open. It was one of their back ups. It had half a battery and enough signal to hopefully get a call through. Sam's fingers shook as he dialed Bobby's number.
"It's about damn time!"
Sam's throat closed up and he didn't know what to say suddenly.
"Dean?"
"Bo-bobby?"
"Sam, is that you?"
"Yeah. Bobby. It's Sam. I need you."
Tears burned down his face. "I…I don't know where we are…but it's bad. We…" He pressed his lips together. "There's a man who has Dean under some kind of spell. I have him…unconscious right now…he's going to need medical help…he's…I think I punctured his lung."
"What kind of spell? What man? Where the fuck are you?"
Sam looked around the bedroom for something to tell him where they were, but there were no windows, no pictures or anything. Then he remembered the desk in the other room. He slipped back into the room, turning on the desk light and rummaging through the stacks of papers. "His name is…Jesse Clampton. We knew him years ago. Here." He angled the paper toward the light. It was a delivery invoice for heavy building supplies. "I think…we're in Wayne, Nebraska. The address on this invoice says 44 West Marshall Road."
"Wayne, I'm about an hour from there. Been looking for you two idjits for weeks."
Sam put the invoice down, his eyes widening as he saw the blood smeared across it. "Shit…shit." He was leaving blood all over the place. "So much blood."
"Sam, calm down."
"Bobby….I don't know if I can…there's guards. Two of them." Sam brushed his bloody hands on his legs. "Shit…I have to clean this up. He's gonna see it." Sam shook his head, that wasn't right.
"Hold on Sam, I'm on my way. You hear me, Son."
"Hurry Bobby. If he dies, Dean will die."
Sam hung up the phone and looked at the blood smeared all over the desk, on his legs and stomach…he didn't know what was his and what was Clampton's. Sam knew he should clean up, but there wasn't any water. He was tired…so very tired.
He sank to the floor and crawled to the corner, laying down beside Dean. He kissed his brother softly. "It's okay, Dean. It's okay." Sam closed his eyes. Bobby was coming. Everything would be okay.
***
"Sam?" Bobby crouched beside Sam and Dean, his hand out to touch Sam, but pulling back, afraid the touch would hurt him.
Sam jerked back, blinking up at him. "Bobby…"
There wasn't much skin on the boy that wasn't bruised or bloodied. Beside him, Dean looked untouched. Sam's hands moved to cover his groin, his face an expression of mixed fear, shame and pain.
"This one's alive, but only barely. I've got him stabilized for the moment, but he needs more than I can do here."
Sam curled up as David came out of the other room. "Sam, this is David Weatherly, do you remember him?"
Sam shook his head and struggled to sit up. "He's the closest I could find to a doctor that wasn't going to get us all into hot water. David, come have a look at Sam."
"I'm okay." Sam insisted, grabbing at Bobby with one hand. "Dean." He turned to his brother who was still asleep somehow. "He's not…" Sam licked his lips. "Clampton marked him with an obedience sigil." Sam was barely whispering.
"He did what?"
David was standing now beside Bobby, his med kit in his hand. "Sam, why don't you let Bobby look after Dean? Let me look at you."
Sam looked like he was going to argue. Bobby cupped a hand to his face. "Please, Son. You don't look good." Sam gave in and let Bobby help him get to his feet. David gathered the boy up and moved him away from the corner to give Bobby space to handle Dean.
Goddamn witches. Bobby took his hat off to scratch at his head. Dean looked almost peaceful. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder and shook him once. "Dean. Wake up."
Dean's eyes opened and he sat up immediately, his mouth opening, then closing as his eyes swept the room. He calmed when he spotted Sam, then came back to Bobby.
"Are you okay?" Bobby asked, watching him closely.
"I…don't know." His face was set hard, his jaw tight. "Don't let me hurt Sam."
"It's okay, Son. We'll figure this out. For now, can you stand?"
Dean nodded and climbed to his feet, apparently unconcerned for his nakedness. "Right, let's find you boys some clothes and get on out of here before those guards of his come to."
It took some doing. Sam was hurt pretty bad. Dean wouldn't look at his brother, and couldn't seem to act on his own much, especially once he'd seen the bastard that Sam had nearly killed…but eventually Bobby got the boys into the Impala and David had the other guy secured in the back of his camper.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Bobby asked Dean when they were on the road and Sam was asleep in the back seat.
"I don't…no. Not really." Dean responded, sitting dully beside him. "Rules."
Bobby nodded. He didn't know a lot about spells like this one, but from the look he'd gotten at the bastard's collection of supplies and the like, this wasn't going to be an easy one to break. "Okay, how about I tell you what I think I see and you try to tell me if I'm right?"
Dean didn't answer exactly, but Bobby pressed onward. "So, this Clampton guy snagged you and did his mojo on you, then used you to get Sam?" Dean's hands clenched up on his knees. "And he made you hurt Sam?"
It was more than just hurt Sam. Both boys had been sexually assaulted, and judging by both of their reactions, Dean had been forced to rape his brother. Bobby's hands tightened on the wheel. Any spell strong enough to do that might be a spell that couldn't be undone. "Sam said he marked you, with a sigil. Where?"
Dean's hands fell to cover his crotch.
Bobby cursed every curse word he could think of in as many languages as he could remember in his head. "It's okay, Dean," he said out loud. "We'll figure it out."
***
Dean knew it wasn't okay…the things he'd done to Sam…there was no way that would ever be okay. He knew Bobby knew it too.
Dean sat on the chair in Bobby's kitchen, unable to move, unable to even get up and go to the bathroom. Somewhere upstairs Clampton lay dying, and with him, Dean's chance of ever getting free was dying too.
"Bobby." Dean's voice was ragged, but it pulled Bobby's attention from the book he was flipping through.
"No." Sam interrupted from the doorway.
"Stay out of it Sam." Dean said, his eyes flipping to his brother.
"Dean, no."
At least that gave him impetus to move. Dean stood, grabbing Sam by the hair before landing a punch in his stomach. "Fuck."
Sam sank to his knees beside him, still shaking his head. "Please, don't…we'll find an answer."
Dean managed to get his fingers to loosen up and let go of Sam…or to be honest, he reverted to the standing order not to touch Sam unless he was ordered to. He knew they wouldn't find any other answer. Aside from cutting off his dick completely, there was no removing the damn compulsion to obey, and there was no guarantee that would work.
"Sam, please." Dean closed his eyes. He wanted to comfort his brother, to touch him, but he couldn't even go back to sitting down. Bobby seemed to understand that much at least, coming to join Sam.
Wordlessly, Bobby pushed Dean back into the chair. Sam turned his face up, wiping at the tears spilling down his face. "I can't live like this, Sammy." Dean said softly. "I'm sitting here in my own pee."
Sam shook his head. "Just…one more day."
Hot tears spilled down Dean's face now too. Sam's hands settled on his, squeezing. "You're all I have left."
"Bobby." Dean could see the understanding in Bobby's eyes, the sadness and hurt and Bobby nodded. He left the room and came back a minute later, putting Dean's gun on the table.
Sam curled forward, his face on Dean's knee.
"Please Sam." Dean whispered. "I don't want to hurt you any more."
Bobby's hand fell on Sam's shoulder. Sam lifted a tear stained face. "Give us a minute?"
Bobby nodded and leaned in to kiss the top of Dean's head before he walked away wordlessly. Sam's eyes closed. "Promise me that you'll let Bobby deal with Cl-master. Fuck." Even now he couldn't call the bastard anything but that. "Sam…you…you go back to school."
"I don't know if I can."
"Forgive me?" Dean's voice cracked.
Sam's eyes met his. "Everything," he responded. He rose up off his knees and brushed his lips across Dean's. "Always."
Dean felt the cool metal of the gun pressed into his hands. "I don't know if I can…"
Sam kissed him again, his hands circling Dean's. "I'm not leaving you." Sam's breathing was tight and short as he lifted his face from Dean's.
"I love you, Sammy." Dean whispered as Sam helped him lift the gun. "Remember that."
"I love you too."
Bobby jumped when the shot rang out. He sank wearily onto the stairs, head in his hands. The second shot caught him off guard, and he looked up, uncertain.
The house was quiet then.
And all Bobby was left with was to the trash slowly suffocating to death upstairs