The Brightness of Stars [1/3]

[sanshal]

The Brightness of Stars


Summary-
(written for spn_kink meme prompt) The brothers end up in the clutches of twisted humans and rather than have them both torture or murdered, Dean offers himself up if they let Sam go...

Read On AO3
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Sam shook his head at himself as he caught sight of those laughing eyes and had to lower his gaze- sometimes could not believe that he was actually going as slow as he was with this relationship. This time the chances of him being rejected were next to nill and he was still going so slow. ... But it was precisely because he knew that he would never be rejected here that he was treading so carefully: Dean would never deny him. He would smile and nod and accept whatever Sam gave him, would grin as he spread his legs even as he was dying on the inside and that was a chance Sam refused to take. Dean had to want this for himself for this to be okay and Sam wanted to be cent percent sure that he wanted this. Wanted them.

He caught the older Winchester’s gaze from over the head of the other patrons and failed to hide his blush when the other winked at him. The bar was not over-crowded but it was busy enough that Dean could easily hustle a little and add some lining to their thinning wallets. Sam claimed a corner booth for himself and settled in with a beer and a paper-back, the majority of his attention on his brother rather than the words on the page.

Dean at a hustle was like watching a work of art- the smooth movements and teasing grin a siren call to whoever was watching. Sam adjusted himself discretely and returned his gaze to the book he was no longer interested in. No matter how much Dean flirted, he would not be going home with anyone other than Sam. It had been weeks since the last time his brother had gone out and after yesterday morning, Sam was fairly certain that Dean was not going to stray.

He had realized early on that his feelings for his brother were not strictly fraternal, but he’d been unsure of whether they would be reciprocated... but then Dean went and sold his soul to save Sam’s life and Sam knew that he would not be denied. Despite not denying his interest, Dean refused to do anything that would make Sam miss him even more once the year ended and so they’d done nothing. Once Dean got back, things had gotten too hectic to resume- or more accurately, start - that side of their relationship, but then Dean had agreed to be the bomb to destroy God’s sister and Sam had given in. Dean had, unsurprisingly, granted him ingress; but hadn’t returned the kiss. Their second and third kiss had gone much the same way after they had discovered that Dean had survived; but then Dean had reciprocated and kissed him back their fourth time. ... And yesterday... Yesterday, Dean had actually initiated the kiss.

Sam glanced up again and was startled by the tense line on Dean’s shoulders. His brother made his way to the bar- game obviously forgotten- and Sam watched as an older man followed him. He frowned as the man pulled up a stool next to his brother, sitting much too close for comfort and said something. Dean answered but his smile was faked and Sam felt himself unconsciously check for the Taurus he usually tucked into his waistband and grimaced when he remembered that they had decided against entering the pub armed. The bar was too far for him to overhear anything; but still, he wasn’t a hunter for nothing and he was decent at lip-reading if he did say so himself.

The man seemed to be claiming that Dean was ‘good luck’ but the way Dean stiffened told him that he’d obviously assumed wrong.

What rhymed with luck???
Luck-Buck-Puck- Tuck- Muck-Duck- Fuck-

Fuck! The guy must’ve said the f-word.

Sam growled under his breath.

The way the waitress’ eyes widened and swivelled in his direction told him he’d not been as discrete as he’d thought and he threw her an apologetic smile.

She still scurried away like she’d seen the devil.

Good.

He just hoped the creep would have a similar reaction.

“Dean,” Sam greeted as he stepped up behind his brother and laid a possessive hand on his shoulder, hoping the other man would take the hint and leave.

“Sam,” Dean acknowledged, but his voice was uncharacteristically faint and Sam frowned when he noticed that Dean appeared to have lost even more of his pallor at his appearance.

Uncertainty about the Dean’s atypical aloofness had him taking his first good look at the older man who had followed his brother. He was nothing special to look at: no distinguishing features or outward appearance to make him memorable; just another farmhand in a rural community like this- slightly on the older side given the liberal sprinkling of silver at his temples and the hints of grey in his beard and starting to go soft around his middle though he was yet to develop a proper beer-gut. However, all that was secondary to the way he was looking at Sam, the gaze appraising in a way that had goose-bumps erupting across his skin.

“Ah, looks like someone has risen through the ranks,” The man murmured as he gathered their drinks, “Not bad, Kid. Not bad at all.”

“Sam’s not in the business.” Dean’s voice, though faint and obviously battling his nerves was like the crack of a whip as he yanked out a stool for himself at the table they’d stopped by.

Sam glanced at his brother in surprise at the outburst, only then realizing that Dean had somehow wormed himself between Sam and the other man. Sam rolled his eyes inwardly at Dean’s instinctive protectiveness and perched himself on the stool at the small round table they had commandeered for themselves. It didn’t escape his notice that it wasn’t one of the many free booths along the far wall that would afford them better privacy and wondered if Dean had purposely picked this table that was pretty much centrally placed in the busy bar. The older man was directly across from him and Dean was to his right, stool angled to face the other man, but closer to Sam than him.

“No? That’s a pity; he looks lik-”

“I said, Sam’s not in the business, Raul.” Dean ground out; hand slapping down loudly on the sticky table and leaning forward in an obviously aggressive move.

“Huh,” The man held up his hands palm outwards in a placating gesture, unperturbed by Dean’s hostility. “Fine; if that’s how you wanna play it. ... anyway, I didn’t think John would have allowed-”

“John?! He means Dad?!” Sam interrupted in surprise and then kicked himself inwardly for giving the man more ammunition.

“Well-well-well,” Raul grinned, practically salivating at whatever opportunity he thought this to be, “This is interesting. Revenge for what he put you through?”

“No,” Dean snapped, giving a quick squeeze to Sam’s hand in what had been their signal to play along, “Sam’s not involved in the business at all. He doesn’t ...He- He’s an innocent. So please, keep him out of this?”

“Sure,” Raul raised his hands again in what Sam guessed was a popular gesture for the man. He didn’t exactly look or act threatening, so he still didn’t get why Dean was so cagey around this guy. “Anyway, how about another one, for old times’ sake?”

Dean went even paler if that was possible and Sam wondered what Raul for suggesting to get such a reaction from his normally unflappable brother.

“Uhm... yeah, sure; why not?”

Raul narrowed his eyes, picking on Dean’s reluctance, “You don’t sound very enthusiastic,”

Dean just offered a stiff smile.

“You can always refuse if you want, boy. Why, I’d be just as happy to do business with Sam here.”

Before Sam could open his mouth to respond Dean was snapping out a ’No!’

“No?” Raul chuckled, “I’d have thought you’d be foaming at the mouth to get a chance to introduce John’s precious boy into the business-”

“No,” Dean repeated, but his words were laced more with desperation than anger.

Raul continued as though Dean hadn’t spoken, “Get even with him,”

“What?!” Sam’s eyes widened at the words, “What did Dad do, Dean?”

“I’ve already settled my score with him. “ Dean spoke over him, green eyes boring into Raul and ignoring Sam. “Besides, like I said, Sam’s Not. Involved.”

“R-e-a-lly?” Raul dragged the word out, obviously not believing.

“Sent him to Hell myself,” Dean returned evenly, then threw a fake sneer his way, “Sorry, Sam. I’d hoped you’d never learn that little nugget.”

There was something going on here that he just wasn’t getting. And Sam hated not understanding things. Always had.

And while Dean wasn’t technically lying, he was framing things in way that the actual events could be misconstrued to be a murder. Dean was goading him, he realized. Setting up the stage for Sam to get angry at him- for real or not was still debatable- and storm out. He wanted Sam to leave so that he would face whatever this threat was that Raul posed, alone.

And that just wasn’t happening.

He forced himself to glare at Dean, spitting out a harsh: “Wow, and to think I’d trusted you...”

Dean ducked his head, the words obviously hitting him hard.

He turned to Raul, “Now, I don’t know what business Dad had with you, but... was it profitable?”

Raul’s eyes sparkled with unholy glee at the thought of having driven a wedge between the lovers, “Oh, yes. So profitable.”

“And it involves Dean?”

The smile widened, making the man remind him of a shark as he simply nodded.

He just hoped Dean had an actual plan beyond getting him out of there as he extended his hand, “Great, then count me in. And since I’ll be learning the ropes this time, I think we’ll call it even at just twenty percent of the profits. Deal?”

The man smiled and accepted his hand. But then before he could comprehend what had happened, he found Raul pressed up behind him, the hand he’d extended for him to shake twisted behind him and cold steel at his throat. The man’s breath was hot and fetid and stank of cigarettes and cheap beer as he bent to whisper: “How about I make you a counter offer?”

“Raul!”

Sam peered at Dean from where Raul had his head tilted back and neck pressed against the blade.

“Raul, please... I-I agreed, didn’t I? You have me; let Sam go.”

The blade disappeared from his skin and Sam took in a couple of breaths as he watched the older man resume his seat. He sneaked a peak at Dean and hated the defeated look on his brother’s face.

Raul smiled benignly and Sam repressed the shiver that crept up his spine.

“I knew you’d see things my way, Dean.” The grey-bearded man said, his tone friendly again.

Dean didn’t look up to meet anyone’s eyes as he nodded once.

“Here,”

Sam watched as Dean accepted the small brown paper packet without protest. He tried to meet Dean’s eyes but his brother evaded his gaze, leaving the table with a polite ‘excuse me’.

Sam snapped his gaze back towards Raul the moment Dean left and wondered how the man could be sure that Dean would return- he knew that Dean would, but that was because he knew Dean.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a long minute before Raul pulled out his phone and began texting. Sam fidgeted, uncertain about what he should do, about why Dean was behaving so submissively around Raul and how best he could weasel the information out of the man; but then Dean returned and he lost his chance.

“I’m ready.” Dean spoke up when Raul continued to tap at his phone.

“Good,” Raul finally looked up, “But we still have some time, why don’t you take a seat?”

Sam wondered at Dean’s moment of hesitation before the older Winchester gave a stilted nod and gingerly lowered himself on the wooden surface of the stool. Sweat beaded at his temples and he avoided Sam’ gaze. And while the performance might have fooled others, Sam knew him well enough to understand that Dean was trying to regulate his breathing to appear unfazed.

He glanced around at the people milling about and debated screaming for help but refrained from following through- Dean must have a solid reason for avoiding attention, and even if he didn’t know why; he trusted his brother. Sneaking a peak to confirm that Raul was still engrossed with his phone, he snaked out a hand to lay it on Dean’s forearm which was loosely propped on the table.

His brother’s eyes flew to his almost immediately and Sam shook his head, giving a brief squeeze of solidarity: whatever happened, they would face it together.

Dean looked away.

“So,” Raul broke the moment, glancing between the two Winchesters, “We should discuss terms,”

Sam looked to Dean in confusion: terms?

Dean exhaled deeply before speaking, “Nothing permanent...”

Raul grinned, “I remember that one from last time,”

Dean gave a curt nod, “Nothing that would require medical attention,”

The bearded man steepled his fingers, “Well, that limits my options quite a bit,”

Dean shrugged, “Those are my terms,”

Raul smiled, “You drive a hard bargain, Dean-o,”

“And you let Sam go,” Dean added, leaning forward and hissing quietly.

Sam would have wondered what that was about but he was too caught up in the fact that Dean was once again trying to protect him and glared at his brother.

“Now that... that I cannot do.” Raul shook his head, scratching at his beard, “He’s my leverage.”

“I never go back on my word, Raul. I said yes and I meant it. I’ll do it, just let Sam go.”

“Can’t do that.” Raul repeated, then after a moment’s consideration: “But- but what I can do is promise that he’ll not be hurt as long as you comply.”

“Not enough,” Dean growled, “If he has to come along, fine; but you don’t involve him. You don’t touch him- He. Does. Not. Get. Involved.”

“Done.” Raul grinned, extending his hand to shake before rising, “Shall we?”

Dean nodded as he followed suit, trailing after the man and whispering a quiet apology to Sam. There was a non-descript white van waiting for them, but when Sam went to follow Raul and Dean into its back; Raul stopped him: “Sorry, Kiddo; Dean doesn’t want you involved... So, you ride in the front.”

Sam swallowed as he obeyed, spying the Impala in the far end of the lot and discarding his idea of making a sprint for it: he wouldn’t make it and he had a feeling that the price for his attempt at defiance would come out of Dean’s skin.

Sam sat quietly as he took in the roads flying past; idly wondering what their destination was when he heard Raul in the backseat. “How about a free sample, Dean-o?”

Dean’s response was too low for him to hear and Sam twisted to see what was going on but the single tinted window in the back meant it was far too dark to make out anything. He turned back again and accidentally caught Raul’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. The man gave him a lazy smile and Sam quickly glanced away, not willing to hold that creepy gaze.

They stopped in front of what appeared to be a large ware-house and Sam followed the others inside. He instinctively glanced at Dean to confirm his brother’s well-being and found himself frowning at how plump and kissable Dean’s lips appeared under the street-light : no one but him should see his brother like that.

“Where’re you keeping Sam?” Dean asked and Sam narrowed his eyes at the raspy-quality to his voice.

Raul led them towards a wall and offered Sam some gloves.

Sam raised his eyebrows in wordless question.

“Dean doesn’t want you hurt but I’m going to have to restrain you so that you don’t interrupt the... ummm... the festivities. The gloves will protect your skin from the cuffs.”

Sam nodded sullenly as he slipped on the gloves, only realizing once they were on that they were the fingerless variety that would not allow him to use his fingers to slip the cuffs. He scowled as Raul slipped on individual cuffs and restrained his hands to two different poles. He was forced down into a high-backed chair and his legs similarly restrained at the ankles. He glanced at Dean in hopes of having him protest and glared when his brother pointedly looked away. Busy glaring at Dean, he squawked in surprise when thick packing-tape was wound around his calves to bind them against the chair’s legs and opened his mouth to protest when a similar treatment was meted out to his gloved hands to ensure that his fingers were really unusable- his error in opening his mouth evident when a rag was shoved in to keep his silent. The tape was applied from over the rag as well.

“Well, what do you think, Dean?”

Sam stared in betrayal when Dean’s only answer was: “Blindfold. He needs a blindfold.”

Raul just winked in response as he led Dean away, “Not yet.”

His feelings of betrayal dissolved when one of the men he hadn’t noticed entering after them grabbed Dean by his nape and pulled him in for a kiss. He screamed in protest at the way they were treating his brother, but Dean went willingly, allowing himself to be moved as the man pleased; shrugging out of his multiple layers when prompted till he was standing in just his jeans.

The man finally released him and Sam could only stare at the kiss-bitten lips now shiny with spit as Dean crouched to remove his boots.

“Good boy,” the man kissing his brother praised and Sam watched a light flush spread all the way across Dean’s torso in response.

Dean didn’t speak as he straightened; his hands at his belt when another guy- this one nearly as tall as Sam and built like a wrestler told him to stop. The taller guy pressed up against Dean’s back, biting and sucking at his neck even as his hands quickly worked at the fastenings at Dean’s hip and another guy moved to his brother’s front, sandwiching him. Sam screamed in outrage as the one in front pinched at Dean’s nipples viciously, drawing a small hurt sound from the man. When the men moved away, something was glinting on Dean’s chest and Sam realized with a start that they had put clamps on his brother. And that itself would have infuriated him if he had not spotted something thin and black peeking from between Dean’s freshly bared butt-cheeks.

“Enjoying the show?”

Sam turned his head to glare at Raul who had sidled up next to him while he had been busy looking at Dean.

“Mmph...!”

“Yeah, he really is something, isn’t he?” Raul murmured, “Anyway, keep watching. The show’s just beginning.”

Sam’s eyes widened as one of the newcomers- five, six, seven, eight-nine-ten... eleven... twel- no, counted ‘im already- okay, he’s new... twelve, thirteen-fourteen-fifteen. Oh, God... there were fifteen men- unzipped as he sat. He swallowed down his rising gorge with difficulty as he took in the man lazily stroking himself as though Dean’s humiliation was some sort of entertainment.

“Looks like someone’s ready for you, boy!” One of the men remarked with a harsh hit on his brother’s exposed rear and Sam flinched.

He watched Dean glance up to see who was being indicated before wordlessly walking to the lazily stroking man and lowering himself to his knees. He looked away when Dean lowered his face, only to blink his eyes open again as he heard Raul’s voice.
“Here,”

Sam struggled helplessly as some sort of pole was attached to his older sibling’s legs- just above his knees- to force him to keep his legs-knees- a little more than shoulder-width apart. With his face buried between the man’s legs, and his legs forced open, Sam had a clear view of the black peeking between Dean’s butt-cheeks. He blinked back tears when the man receiving the blowjob leaned forward to yank on the thin black tubing till a small bead slipped out of the tightly clenched sphincter. It wasn’t large: half an inch in diameter, but it could not have been comfortable for Dean to have it yanked out like that. The rest of the tugs weren’t as rough- the man toying with Dean more than trying to retrieve the beads, and Sam screamed in impotent rage as he watched four similarly sized beads escape his brother’s bowels. He wondered when they had managed to force the anal beads inside Dean before remembering the brown paper package Raul had handed his brother.

They made Dean crawl like that- naked and with his legs forced apart-between the men, servicing each of them with his mouth until one of the newcomers (the count had gone up to twenty three by now) got bored and went to town on Dean’s ass with a slender dildo.

Sam’s screams of protest went unheard behind the gag.

It didn’t take long for more of the ‘guests’ (paying customers?) to get tired of waiting for their turn and they hoisted Dean onto a low table of sorts, not giving him enough time to get his bearing before one of them was sodomising him. Sam felt the first helpless tears slip down his cheeks as he watched Dean go rigid with pain from the intrusion. The man didn’t allow his brother to acclimatize to the invasion; instead beginning to thrust at a punishing pace almost the second he managed to breach the barely prepared orifice. A soft moan of pain escaped Dean’s lips and Sam strained against his restraints to go to his aid.

He might have made some sort of sound because suddenly the green eyes he’d spent looking into-up to- his whole life were focussed on him.

Sam’s breath hitched and he could only stare back helplessly into that well-loved gaze. The eyes shuttered and Sam forced himself to lower his gaze.

“Raul!”

His head jerked as he heard the raspy quality of Dean’s voice.

“Raul, please... don’t make him watch. Please.”

The bearded man rubbed at his chin thoughtfully and then pushed up to his legs from where he’d been sprawled, watching the proceedings. Sam’s heart skipped a breath as the man removed a small curved blade from his pocket and flicked it open.

“You sure ‘bout not wanting him to see, Dean?” The man enquired.

Sam turned his head in time to stare at Dean, who was still on all fours, a different man behind him; shake his head vehemently. His panicked eyes locked on the wicked-looking blade even as his body continued to move with the thrusts.

“No, its-its okay... he-he can ... he can see.” Dean whispered in a defeated tone and Sam felt a new flare of hate for the man who had reduced his proud brother to this.

“You’re talking too much, boy!” One of the men snapped before reaching out to grab Dean by the short hair at his nape and lowering his head to his crotch.

Sam’s tears were drying on his cheeks by the time the men were done, sometimes taking Dean at both ends and sometimes preferring one hole over the other.

“This is getting boring- there’s no fight left in him and he’s too loose!” One of the men grumbled with a sharp hit across Dean’s rear and Sam flinched, having been lulled into a kind of tired passivity by the repeated rapes.
“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” Raul mused as he stood up again and sauntered to the table where Dean was still on all fours.

Sam began his struggles anew.

“Get him on his front. And remove that spreader.” Raul ordered as walked past the table where Dean was and across the room towards a niche in the wall that hid him from Sam’s view.

The younger Winchester watched helplessly as Dean was laid on his stomach on the table which was slightly shorter than his length and so they bound him with his feet hanging off one end and his head at the other. His hands were restrained at his side.

Raul returned with a long, thin stick- a cane, Sam’s hysterical mind supplied. He tried to scream a warning to Dean who had not even bothered to look back once; but with the rag stuffed in his mouth and the tape across it, his words were an unintelligible gurgle.

“Is his hole accessible?” Raul asked the man who had complained.

The man examined Dean’s bound form for a moment before shrugging, “Yeah, but the angles not right.”

“Stuff a cushion under his hip, see if it helps,” Raul suggested.

The man did as recommended, then climbed atop the table and thrust into Dean once before withdrawing and demanding another cushion. He pushed into Dean again before pulling out and throwing a thumbs’ up in Raul’s direction.

With his hips awkwardly raised by the cushions, they had to readjust the straps holding his brother down and Sam watched with bated breath as they brought his legs together and bent his feet so that the soles were exposed.

“Go on,” Raul told the man who promptly straddled Dean and pushed into him.

Sam hissed in sympathy as Dean’s head and shoulders came up (as much as they could with the fastenings holding him down) at the intrusion before relaxing again.

“Better, but not enough,” The man announced as he grabbed at Dean’s shoulders to get the desired leverage to move the way he wanted. “There’s barely any grip,”

“Oh, it’s going to get better, I promise.” Raul told him before unceremoniously bringing down the cane on the upturned soles of Dean’s feet.

Dean screamed, his whole body tensing from the pain.

“God, that felt amazing! Do it again!” The man riding Dean announced.

Dean was still gasping for breath from the first hit when Raul brought down the cane a second time and Sam desperately swallowed down his gorge, knowing he would choke and suffocate on his own vomit if he didn’t.

Dean screamed again, though his howl was slightly muffled this time and Sam caught a fleeting glimpse at green eyes before Dean turned his head forward again. It was only then that he realized that Dean had possibly been downplaying his pain to shield Sam from the reality of how much he was hurting. He knew it shouldn’t surprise him, but it did. Coming from the man who had sold his very soul to save Sam, giving up his body and downplaying his injuries for the same goal was nothing, but no matter how many times it happened; watching his brother sacrifice himself for his sake never got easier.

“Isn’t someone going to plug his mouth?” Raul asked with a grin, “He’s making too much noise!”

There were hoots of laughter at the joke as Dean let out another muffled yell. Dean was trying to hold in his screams, Sam knew; and it wasn’t for the benefit of the men. He turned his head, not wanting to watch his brother getting brutalized in this fashion... but- but Dean was enduring this for him; the least he could do was watch it.

He looked up in time to watch a man loosen the straps holding down Dean’s shoulders and ram his not inconsiderable length down his throat.

Fresh tears leaked out of Sam’s eyes as he watched the uncomfortable position the men forced Dean into: his stomach and legs held down flat against the table but with his hips raised to accommodate the man behind him while another held his head and shoulders up by a roughly fisted hand in his hair and abused his mouth. The worst of it was Raul, who continued caning the vulnerable soles of his feet. Dean’s entire body was flinching from the blows and Sam wanted nothing more than to push them away and take Dean away from here, but he could do nothing other than watch helplessly as they abused the man he loved more than life before his very eyes.

Something about the bastinado seemed to loosen whatever inhibitions these men had left because once Raul was done; the men were rougher that they had already been. Someone suggested ‘DP’ and Sam found himself wondering if they were actually stupid enough to click ‘display-pictures’ of themselves abusing Dean. When he actually found out what they meant, Sam found himself wishing that his theory about ‘DP’ standing for ‘display picture’ had been correct.

By the time they hauled Dean on all fours again with the man who had pulled down his jeans when the ‘evening’ first started, fingering his loose rim, he was little more than a rag doll in their hands; muscles trembling visibly from strain as he struggled to hold himself up. Sam was struggling to breathe, his eyes swollen from crying and nose dripping snot and tears in equal measure. He had screamed and struggled and prayed without success and now he could only watch as the man shoved his entire fist into Dean one finger at a time. Once half his forearm disappeared inside Dean, he yanked his brother to his knees and everyone laughed at the outline of his fist that they could see pressing against Dean’s lower abdomen. Some of the men ‘high-fived’ him and Sam battled his nausea at the sight of the ripples under Dean’s skin while his brother thrashed lightly from the agony of the intrusion.

He suddenly got the prickly sensation of eyes on him and searched the room till he found Raul looking at him as he spoke to one if the assembled men.

He glared back defiantly: nothing could be worse than what they had done to Dean.

His hopes that Raul would come to him proved for naught, though when the man strode over to where Dean was lying on his side, blissfully free of any fingers or dicks on him for the moment, his defiance dissolved into indecipherable pleas.

“I’ve received an offer,” The bearded man began.

Sam strained to hear the rest- he wasn’t talking very loudly and although the some ten-fifteen feet of space between them wasn’t a lot, he didn’t want to miss what was being said.

Dean nodded as he tiredly sat up again, “What do I have to do?”

Raul shook his head, “Offers not for you-wants half an hour with your friend.”

“No!” Dean’s voice, barely more than a scraping whisper from all the abuse his throat had taken had an underlying hint of panic that no one but Sam could’ve detected.

“It’s a lot of money,” Raul responded.

“No, Sam’s not for sale. You don’t touch him, so help me God-” Dean growled; Sam was relieved to see the fire return to his brother’s gaze even if it was on his behalf.

“I’m not losing that profit, Dean-o,”

“Ask him for an alternative. Use me- I’m up for anything... but don’t you let that bastard lay a finger on Sam!”

Sam blinked back tears at the words, hearing an echo of them from before Dean’s voice had dropped and shook his head. He didn’t know - Dean hadn’t shared anything with him, but Sam was sure that his brother had said the same thing or similar to their Dad more than a few times. He’d always complained about his childhood, but looking back on it with the filters removed told him that things could have been far worse for him than they were if it had not been for his brother’s intervention.

“He did give an option...” Raul finally drawled, interrupting Sam’s memories of his childhood.

“What?” Dean jumped at the opportunity.

And despite straining, Sam could not hear what Raul whispered into his brother’s ear. He watched Dean’s eyes widen and his brother swallowed reflexively. The green eyes met his for a brief second before turning back to Raul, “Fine. Do it.”

Sam’s heart hammered as he watched the man jerk back in surprise, obviously taken aback and impressed by Dean’s determination before going back and speaking in low tones to the man he had been conversing with.

Everyone gathered around to watch the spectacle and Sam felt his heart skip a beat as the man disappeared outside briefly only to return with a long handled cattle prod.

Dean got on his knees on the table and lowered his head till his forehead was resting on the surface- a sensual picture of supplication that Sam would’ve found himself admiring if it had been anywhere but here... no, that wasn’t quite right, the only way he would enjoy seeing Dean like that was if it was done in privacy. And Dean hadn’t been coerced into it. Then, Dean reached back and grabbed at his ass cheeks, pulling them apart as wide as they could go to reveal the abused, sensitive opening in between.

Sam could only stare in horror as the man proceeded to touch the tip of the prod to that vulnerable sphincter’s rim and Dean convulsed before collapsing, no longer able to hold his position. Everyone laughed as the man discarded the prod and climbed up on the table to take his brother again. Dean’s body spasmed once before going still. He remained unmoving throughout the ordeal and Sam wondered if they had actually managed to kill his brother.

The men left the room one by one, and Sam would have cheered if he could but Dean hadn’t moved still and he was more occupied watching his brother’s still form than tracking their departure...Unsurprisingly, Raul was the last to leave, but he was taken aback when he sauntered up to Sam.

“Next time you’re up for some trade, bring him back here.”

Sam glared, though with the tears marring his face, he wasn’t sure how effective the expression was.

“I’ll leave the keys with Dean.”

He wasn’t sure how long he waited, and every passing second made him increasingly more terrified; but at long last Dean finally twitched. His brother came to slowly and then sat up cautiously. He checked the room once - eyes studiously not looking at Sam-before exhaling loudly and wiping a hand over his face. For a long minute, he simply sat there hunched on the table. Sam watched Dean move - if it could actually be called that- he shuffled forward till he could climb down from the table but the moment he tried to stand, Dean went down with a low moan. The table hid him from view and Sam strained to make out if Dean had lost consciousness. It was another long minute before Dean managed to slowly make his way to his discarded clothes on his hands and knees. He shrugged them on one by one before crouching to pull on his socks and boots. Unfortunately, the moment his feet touched the ground, Dean’s face twisted up in pain and he collapsed back on the ground. Fresh tears leaked Sam’s eyes as he watched Dean be forced to catch his breath from the agony of that simple movement before he managed to pull on his footwear. Sam watched Dean brace himself for whatever he was about to do and every fibre in him begged Dean to stop, but with his mouth gagged, the words remained unvocalised. Both brothers had tears in their eyes by the time Dean climbed to his feet. He swayed slightly and Sam worried if he was going to crash to the floor again, but Dean breathed through the pain and by the time he looked up, the mask was firmly in place again. Every single one of the twelve painstaking-limping- steps that it took him to reach Sam caused tears to spring to his eyes, but Dean held them in check as he made his way over.

The brothers simply stared at each other for an interminable moment once Dean got close enough to touch and Sam knew the last time he’d been this happy to have Dean close was when the older man had first returned from Hell. He attempted a tremulous smile but the result must have been different because Dean’s eyes crinkled with concern. A trembling hand wiped at the tears and snot marring his face and Sam leaned into the touch.

The tape over his mouth and the gag were the first to go, peeled carefully back to minimise the sting from the tape’s adhesive. He still winced at the stinging sensation but was glad to be rid of it.

“You okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Am I okay?! Dean, are youokay ?” Sam shot back incredulously.

“Sam-”

He shook his head, “Yeah, I’m okay. But Dean you-”

“I’m fine.” His brother ground out before arthritically crouching down to undo the bindings around Sam’s legs.

“I’m going to kill them.” Sam growled as he took in the tremor in Dean’s hands that made the simple job of removing the bindings from around his legs into a task.

“No,” Dean returned evenly, not even bothering to look up. “You’ll do no such thing. If we encounter them on our way out, you’ll let me handle them.”

“But-”

“Sammy, please.” And Dean’s voice shook for the first time the whole evening.
Sam felt his eyes water but he gave in, not wanting to agitate Dean.

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