Supernatural Fic 1+2/? WIP
TITLE: Winchester Family Angst (working title)
PAIRINGS: Dean/John, Sam/Jess, Jo/Dean (past)
RATING: NC17
WARNING: Dub-con, Non-con, menytions underage, WIP, incest.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural. This makes me cry sometimes. ((LOL.))
SUMMARY: AU: Sam wants to introduce his girlfriend Jess to his family. The annual Harvelle Roadhouse get-together seems like a good place to do this. But with Dean still dealing with abuse, Sam lying to Jess, and hunters all over the place maybe it wasn't such a good idea.
1. A Frosty Morning
It was cold in the mornings, but never colder than when Dean was forced to share a room with his father. They were, as they had always been, more than perfectly civil to each other with an audience, especially if Sam was that audience. Dean prided himself on presenting a united front with his dad against Sam’s whiny teenage complaints about why they couldn’t live in a house like normal people, why they had to move around all year, and why they had to learn how to shoot with a sawn off shotgun before John let Sam behind the wheel of their Chevy Impala. Behind closed doors it was a different matter, Dean played the subservient good son, all ‘yes, sir’ and ‘sure thing, dad’ but inside all he felt when he looked at his father was cold. Hell, he managed somewhere deep in his heart to truly admire the man for the hunter he was, no one could track like his daddy. But years of chasing down the thing that had killed Dean’s mother and destroyed his chance at a normal life had worn his father’s soul down and ripped at his conscience. Dean only hoped that Sam would never know they type of monster that their father was, and to keep that knowledge from ever getting out Dean shut up and put up and did whatever his father wanted for the few weeks they saw each other a year. Before Sam left the abuse had been daily, whenever his father wasn’t on a hunt. Afterwards Dean had let it continue; not knowing how to break free of John’s overpowering personality. It hadn’t been until John had been torn between two equally desperate hunts that Dean had seen and taken a chance to leave his father. Ever since then he kept on the road, alone for the most part. Of course, every so often John would get it into his head to visit his eldest. Dean put up and shut up.
“Sam’s coming,” John muttered one morning as he emerged from the bathroom. They were staying at the Harvelle Roadhouse in Nebraska, and unfortunately there were more people than there were rooms. Consequently everyone doubled up. Jo and Ellen shared traditionally because they had been doing this since before Jo was a teenager and it hadn’t sat well with Ellen, the idea of not having her daughter in eye sight when there was a house full of teenage boys (Sam, Dean) and half a dozen hunters. It used to be that Dean and Sam would share a room, and Bobby’d get stuck with John or rather the other way around since Bobby’s snoring was legendary. But since Sam had gone off to Stanford three years previously, Dean had been sharing with his pa, and Caleb with Bobby. There were always others, occasionally Missouri would make the trek from Kansas, but those were the ones who came every year regardless of hunting or other commitments. Those were the ones Dean considered family, even if his definition didn’t exactly match the dictionary’s.
“Yeah? He tell you that?” Dean asked, pushing back the blanket and pulling on a pair of crumpled jeans he’d tossed by the side of the bed last night. John had been blind drunk before nine thirty, and in bed unconscious before Dean had even worked his way up to tipsy so he’d managed to make it through the night unmolested and without getting into any arguments which in his book, was a win.
“Ellen got a call. Said he’s planning on bringing that girl of his to ‘meet the family’. She said she’d have my balls for tree decorations if I made the girl feel uncomfortable,” John revealed in his gravelly voice.
Dean huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like Ellen,” he agreed. “You finished in there?” He asked, pointing towards the bathroom without looking directly at his father. It was a skill he was proud of.
“Yup,” John said, standing near the door and watching as Dean ambled over. Just when Dean was about to step over the threshold connecting the two rooms, John grabbed him and pushed him violently back, slamming his bare back into the wall leaving Dean temporarily winded. John swooped in and took Dean’s mouth hard, all teeth and tongue, his moans drowning out Dean’s whimpers of pain.
“Come on, dad, do we really have to do this now?” Dean said when his lips were released, his cheeks stained red with a rush of embarrassment and shame that never seemed to die. John’s dark eyes flashed angrily at Dean’s token of resistance, he grabbed his son’s chin firmly in his grasp and forced Dean to meet his eyes.
“Do you really think today’s the day to be growing a backbone, Dean? With Sam arriving in a few hours? Unless you wanted me to share the truth about this arrangement with him? About how you used to seduce your drunken father when you were just fourteen years old...?” John trailed off.
Dean winced. That wasn’t exactly how things went down, but the idea of telling Sam and trying to defend his actions was abhorrent enough to make him feel sick. So instead he distracted his father from cruel thoughts by kissing him back and angling him to fall onto John’s bed, which was nearest the bathroom, and putting all his anger into sex, flushing at the whispered “that’s my beautiful whore,” that his father said as he held Dean close and thrust into his youthful body.
2. Family
“Sam’s here!” Jo yelled hours later, sounding younger than her twenty years and excited. She had always viewed Sam as a big brother figure even while she had lusted over Dean. She ran from the window outside to where Sam and his girlfriend had parked.
“I think someone’s happy to see him,” Dean joked as he followed her, walking and hanging back at a conservative distance. He hadn’t seen Sam since last October, and they’d argued once more about hunting and their childhood. Sam still believed he’d gotten the rough end of the deal, and even before counting the abuse that was a secret from everyone except Dean and John, it wasn’t like Dean had chosen his life, after failing to graduate high school due to various injuries and the necessities of raising Sam, Dean hadn’t had a whole lot of choices. Besides, how could he not hunt when he knew all those evil sons of bitches were out there hurting innocent people? Maybe Sam could bury his head in the sand but Dean was unable to do so with so much suffering in the world.
Dean arrived outside in time to see a surprised Jessica jump out of the way as Jo flung herself into Sam’s waiting embrace. He swung her around, his laugher matching her own. The risk of falling over due to dizziness necessitated having to put Jo back on the ground, but their grins were still plastered on their faces when the three of them drew near, Jess’s hand in Sam’s as Sam slung a casual arm over Jo’s shoulder.
“Dean. Good to see you, man!” Sam enthusiastically greeted him, although he carefully made sure not to touch Dean. Dean himself wasn’t sure if it was a consequence of being raised the way he had - always on the road, hunting, never trusting anyone, or if it was due to John’s abuse but whatever the reason Dean had never liked being touched, he could only just tolerate a friendly clap on his shoulder. He brushed it off, like it was a masculinity issue the way he brushed off Sam’s few attempts to talk about their feelings. Chick flick moments had no place in Dean Winchester’s life.
Sam proceeded into the bar but Jess hung behind to say hello properly. “I’m Jessica Moore,” she said, smiling and holding out a polite hand for him to shake.
Dean smiled back and moved the beer bottle into his left hand before shaking hers. “So you are. I’m Dean, Sam’s older and hotter brother.”
Amusement and disbelief flashed across Jessica’s transparent face. “You’re right about one thing,” she said, and stole Dean’s beer in order to take a swig from it, “you are older,” she agreed, emphasis on the last word, and wit that she returned his bottle and walked confidently inside to join Sam.
Dean was kind of wowed by her. She had spunk. Good for Sammy. Of course, his ego was just the tiniest bit bruised right now, probably due to the bouts of laughter that were currently keeping Jo from being able to breathe. He glared in her direction. When she had calmed down she patted his shoulder condescendingly, “do you need me to go get a Band-Aid for your poor little ego, old man?”
Dean shrugged her hand off. “You can stop laughing, after all you slept with me!” He reminded her.
She returned his glare, her eyes furtively making sure her mother wasn’t clear before she replied, “yes but it’s okay for women to sleep with older men,” and wandered on inside.
“I’m not old. I’m twenty-six, damn it!” Dean grumbled half-heartedly.
“Exactly, nearly thirty!” Jo tossed over her shoulder, smiling as Dean cursed out her ridiculously good hearing. Something she had inherited from her mother who was currently talking to Jess and Sam, although Dean noticed she spared a suspicious glare in his direction before getting the happy couple some drinks. John, he saw, was sipping a club soda tonight, something he only did when Sam was around. More than three years ago Sam and dad had had a huge row about Sam leaving for Stanford. Dean honestly thought they’d never speak. The first Thanksgiving afterwards Sam had been a no show, but Ellen was persistent (and scary) and browbeat Sam into coming for a quiet Christmas at the Roadhouse, just Ellen, Jo, John, Dean and Sam. It had been tense but slowly they were getting better at the whole communication thing. One of John’s concessions was not to drink in front of Sam in hopes of controlling his temper, and one of Sam’s was not to bring up the past. Ever. It never failed to get a rise out of someone, and Dean sure the hell was fed up of being the punching-bag in the middle.
“So Dean, what have you been up to?” Sam asked when Dean got himself settled at the beer, a new beer in his hands.
“You know,” Dean coughed, “the um, usual. And you?” He asked, turning to face his little brother. Sometimes when they had been away from each other for a long time Dean got a shock at how grown up Sammy was, like he somehow expected Sam to still be six years old wanting the last bowl of Lucky Charms, or eleven years old begging to be allowed to stay up late and watch X rated videos with Dean. Back then Sammy had thought Dean was his super cool older brother, the love they had shared had seemed unbreakable. Not even dad had come between them. Now Dean wouldn’t be surprised to hear the words ‘looser older brother’ out of Sam’s mouth. Much as it pained him to even think it.
“The usual, too. School I mean, and Jess, of course,” Sam babbled awkwardly. Dean nodded and returned to his drink.
“It’s going good between you two then?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Sam sounded happy, surprised that Dean had asked but genuinely happy. “Everything is... great.”
Jessica smiled at him, leaning in for a kiss before she excused herself. As she was following Jo towards the back of the bar, passed Ash who was playing pool with Bobby, Dean assumed she was going to the toilet. Girls always did that, back as far as first grade right up until the time they were old ladies, going in pairs to the bathroom. As a guy Dean couldn’t fathom why.
“I, um, I’m gonna ask her to marry me,” Sam confessed quietly. Dean almost choked in shock on his beer.
“Wow. Congratulations, man,” Dean said, although he wasn’t sure that what he was feeling could exactly be categorised as happiness. “Is that before or after you tell her about the things that go bump in the night and the fact you spent your formative years hunting them?” Dean blurted out bluntly.
Sam frowned, casting a glance in the direction in which Jess and Jo had vanished into. “Man, don’t say that so loudly. Look, Jessica is never going to find out about that crap, okay. I don’t want her living her life scared of the dark,” he said.
“Right. That sounds healthy,” Dean scoffed. He knew he should stop, just shut up but for some reason he couldn’t. Whether it was envy, jealousy, concern, or bitterness he just couldn’t shut the hell up. Truthfully he didn’t agree with Jess being here at all without knowing the truth about Sam’s past and Dean’s present. It meant everyone had to lie, and it put her in danger even if the chances of some big bad bastard showing up with a house full of hunters was relatively low. No one had the right to be dragged into this life without knowing what they were getting into. He had no problems with Sam settling down and getting married, he just figured honesty about the risks was something you did before you proposed.
Sam took it badly. “Right and what the fuck would you know about normal or healthy, Dean?” He asked with a bite to his voice that would have made Dean flinch if he’d been less of a consummate actor. He just sat there and took it, not even letting it faze him when Sam got up and walked off towards Jess, leaving Dean alone. He was right after all, what the fuck did he know about normal or healthy? He was fucking his father, and it had stopped being abuse when Dean had been old enough to choose to stay. When he had been fourteen, he hadn’t understood that the idea of his drunken needy father touching him intimately and directing him to suck his penis was wrong. Now he more than knew it was wrong, he felt it in every fibre of his body. He felt sick with it.
“Got anything stronger behind there, Ellen?” Dean asked, ignoring her disapproving frown in favour of watching as she poured a generous finger of brandy into a glass and placed it before him.
... Cont. in chapters 3+4
PAIRINGS: Dean/John, Sam/Jess, Jo/Dean (past)
RATING: NC17
WARNING: Dub-con, Non-con, menytions underage, WIP, incest.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural. This makes me cry sometimes. ((LOL.))
SUMMARY: AU: Sam wants to introduce his girlfriend Jess to his family. The annual Harvelle Roadhouse get-together seems like a good place to do this. But with Dean still dealing with abuse, Sam lying to Jess, and hunters all over the place maybe it wasn't such a good idea.
1. A Frosty Morning
It was cold in the mornings, but never colder than when Dean was forced to share a room with his father. They were, as they had always been, more than perfectly civil to each other with an audience, especially if Sam was that audience. Dean prided himself on presenting a united front with his dad against Sam’s whiny teenage complaints about why they couldn’t live in a house like normal people, why they had to move around all year, and why they had to learn how to shoot with a sawn off shotgun before John let Sam behind the wheel of their Chevy Impala. Behind closed doors it was a different matter, Dean played the subservient good son, all ‘yes, sir’ and ‘sure thing, dad’ but inside all he felt when he looked at his father was cold. Hell, he managed somewhere deep in his heart to truly admire the man for the hunter he was, no one could track like his daddy. But years of chasing down the thing that had killed Dean’s mother and destroyed his chance at a normal life had worn his father’s soul down and ripped at his conscience. Dean only hoped that Sam would never know they type of monster that their father was, and to keep that knowledge from ever getting out Dean shut up and put up and did whatever his father wanted for the few weeks they saw each other a year. Before Sam left the abuse had been daily, whenever his father wasn’t on a hunt. Afterwards Dean had let it continue; not knowing how to break free of John’s overpowering personality. It hadn’t been until John had been torn between two equally desperate hunts that Dean had seen and taken a chance to leave his father. Ever since then he kept on the road, alone for the most part. Of course, every so often John would get it into his head to visit his eldest. Dean put up and shut up.
“Sam’s coming,” John muttered one morning as he emerged from the bathroom. They were staying at the Harvelle Roadhouse in Nebraska, and unfortunately there were more people than there were rooms. Consequently everyone doubled up. Jo and Ellen shared traditionally because they had been doing this since before Jo was a teenager and it hadn’t sat well with Ellen, the idea of not having her daughter in eye sight when there was a house full of teenage boys (Sam, Dean) and half a dozen hunters. It used to be that Dean and Sam would share a room, and Bobby’d get stuck with John or rather the other way around since Bobby’s snoring was legendary. But since Sam had gone off to Stanford three years previously, Dean had been sharing with his pa, and Caleb with Bobby. There were always others, occasionally Missouri would make the trek from Kansas, but those were the ones who came every year regardless of hunting or other commitments. Those were the ones Dean considered family, even if his definition didn’t exactly match the dictionary’s.
“Yeah? He tell you that?” Dean asked, pushing back the blanket and pulling on a pair of crumpled jeans he’d tossed by the side of the bed last night. John had been blind drunk before nine thirty, and in bed unconscious before Dean had even worked his way up to tipsy so he’d managed to make it through the night unmolested and without getting into any arguments which in his book, was a win.
“Ellen got a call. Said he’s planning on bringing that girl of his to ‘meet the family’. She said she’d have my balls for tree decorations if I made the girl feel uncomfortable,” John revealed in his gravelly voice.
Dean huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like Ellen,” he agreed. “You finished in there?” He asked, pointing towards the bathroom without looking directly at his father. It was a skill he was proud of.
“Yup,” John said, standing near the door and watching as Dean ambled over. Just when Dean was about to step over the threshold connecting the two rooms, John grabbed him and pushed him violently back, slamming his bare back into the wall leaving Dean temporarily winded. John swooped in and took Dean’s mouth hard, all teeth and tongue, his moans drowning out Dean’s whimpers of pain.
“Come on, dad, do we really have to do this now?” Dean said when his lips were released, his cheeks stained red with a rush of embarrassment and shame that never seemed to die. John’s dark eyes flashed angrily at Dean’s token of resistance, he grabbed his son’s chin firmly in his grasp and forced Dean to meet his eyes.
“Do you really think today’s the day to be growing a backbone, Dean? With Sam arriving in a few hours? Unless you wanted me to share the truth about this arrangement with him? About how you used to seduce your drunken father when you were just fourteen years old...?” John trailed off.
Dean winced. That wasn’t exactly how things went down, but the idea of telling Sam and trying to defend his actions was abhorrent enough to make him feel sick. So instead he distracted his father from cruel thoughts by kissing him back and angling him to fall onto John’s bed, which was nearest the bathroom, and putting all his anger into sex, flushing at the whispered “that’s my beautiful whore,” that his father said as he held Dean close and thrust into his youthful body.
2. Family
“Sam’s here!” Jo yelled hours later, sounding younger than her twenty years and excited. She had always viewed Sam as a big brother figure even while she had lusted over Dean. She ran from the window outside to where Sam and his girlfriend had parked.
“I think someone’s happy to see him,” Dean joked as he followed her, walking and hanging back at a conservative distance. He hadn’t seen Sam since last October, and they’d argued once more about hunting and their childhood. Sam still believed he’d gotten the rough end of the deal, and even before counting the abuse that was a secret from everyone except Dean and John, it wasn’t like Dean had chosen his life, after failing to graduate high school due to various injuries and the necessities of raising Sam, Dean hadn’t had a whole lot of choices. Besides, how could he not hunt when he knew all those evil sons of bitches were out there hurting innocent people? Maybe Sam could bury his head in the sand but Dean was unable to do so with so much suffering in the world.
Dean arrived outside in time to see a surprised Jessica jump out of the way as Jo flung herself into Sam’s waiting embrace. He swung her around, his laugher matching her own. The risk of falling over due to dizziness necessitated having to put Jo back on the ground, but their grins were still plastered on their faces when the three of them drew near, Jess’s hand in Sam’s as Sam slung a casual arm over Jo’s shoulder.
“Dean. Good to see you, man!” Sam enthusiastically greeted him, although he carefully made sure not to touch Dean. Dean himself wasn’t sure if it was a consequence of being raised the way he had - always on the road, hunting, never trusting anyone, or if it was due to John’s abuse but whatever the reason Dean had never liked being touched, he could only just tolerate a friendly clap on his shoulder. He brushed it off, like it was a masculinity issue the way he brushed off Sam’s few attempts to talk about their feelings. Chick flick moments had no place in Dean Winchester’s life.
Sam proceeded into the bar but Jess hung behind to say hello properly. “I’m Jessica Moore,” she said, smiling and holding out a polite hand for him to shake.
Dean smiled back and moved the beer bottle into his left hand before shaking hers. “So you are. I’m Dean, Sam’s older and hotter brother.”
Amusement and disbelief flashed across Jessica’s transparent face. “You’re right about one thing,” she said, and stole Dean’s beer in order to take a swig from it, “you are older,” she agreed, emphasis on the last word, and wit that she returned his bottle and walked confidently inside to join Sam.
Dean was kind of wowed by her. She had spunk. Good for Sammy. Of course, his ego was just the tiniest bit bruised right now, probably due to the bouts of laughter that were currently keeping Jo from being able to breathe. He glared in her direction. When she had calmed down she patted his shoulder condescendingly, “do you need me to go get a Band-Aid for your poor little ego, old man?”
Dean shrugged her hand off. “You can stop laughing, after all you slept with me!” He reminded her.
She returned his glare, her eyes furtively making sure her mother wasn’t clear before she replied, “yes but it’s okay for women to sleep with older men,” and wandered on inside.
“I’m not old. I’m twenty-six, damn it!” Dean grumbled half-heartedly.
“Exactly, nearly thirty!” Jo tossed over her shoulder, smiling as Dean cursed out her ridiculously good hearing. Something she had inherited from her mother who was currently talking to Jess and Sam, although Dean noticed she spared a suspicious glare in his direction before getting the happy couple some drinks. John, he saw, was sipping a club soda tonight, something he only did when Sam was around. More than three years ago Sam and dad had had a huge row about Sam leaving for Stanford. Dean honestly thought they’d never speak. The first Thanksgiving afterwards Sam had been a no show, but Ellen was persistent (and scary) and browbeat Sam into coming for a quiet Christmas at the Roadhouse, just Ellen, Jo, John, Dean and Sam. It had been tense but slowly they were getting better at the whole communication thing. One of John’s concessions was not to drink in front of Sam in hopes of controlling his temper, and one of Sam’s was not to bring up the past. Ever. It never failed to get a rise out of someone, and Dean sure the hell was fed up of being the punching-bag in the middle.
“So Dean, what have you been up to?” Sam asked when Dean got himself settled at the beer, a new beer in his hands.
“You know,” Dean coughed, “the um, usual. And you?” He asked, turning to face his little brother. Sometimes when they had been away from each other for a long time Dean got a shock at how grown up Sammy was, like he somehow expected Sam to still be six years old wanting the last bowl of Lucky Charms, or eleven years old begging to be allowed to stay up late and watch X rated videos with Dean. Back then Sammy had thought Dean was his super cool older brother, the love they had shared had seemed unbreakable. Not even dad had come between them. Now Dean wouldn’t be surprised to hear the words ‘looser older brother’ out of Sam’s mouth. Much as it pained him to even think it.
“The usual, too. School I mean, and Jess, of course,” Sam babbled awkwardly. Dean nodded and returned to his drink.
“It’s going good between you two then?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Sam sounded happy, surprised that Dean had asked but genuinely happy. “Everything is... great.”
Jessica smiled at him, leaning in for a kiss before she excused herself. As she was following Jo towards the back of the bar, passed Ash who was playing pool with Bobby, Dean assumed she was going to the toilet. Girls always did that, back as far as first grade right up until the time they were old ladies, going in pairs to the bathroom. As a guy Dean couldn’t fathom why.
“I, um, I’m gonna ask her to marry me,” Sam confessed quietly. Dean almost choked in shock on his beer.
“Wow. Congratulations, man,” Dean said, although he wasn’t sure that what he was feeling could exactly be categorised as happiness. “Is that before or after you tell her about the things that go bump in the night and the fact you spent your formative years hunting them?” Dean blurted out bluntly.
Sam frowned, casting a glance in the direction in which Jess and Jo had vanished into. “Man, don’t say that so loudly. Look, Jessica is never going to find out about that crap, okay. I don’t want her living her life scared of the dark,” he said.
“Right. That sounds healthy,” Dean scoffed. He knew he should stop, just shut up but for some reason he couldn’t. Whether it was envy, jealousy, concern, or bitterness he just couldn’t shut the hell up. Truthfully he didn’t agree with Jess being here at all without knowing the truth about Sam’s past and Dean’s present. It meant everyone had to lie, and it put her in danger even if the chances of some big bad bastard showing up with a house full of hunters was relatively low. No one had the right to be dragged into this life without knowing what they were getting into. He had no problems with Sam settling down and getting married, he just figured honesty about the risks was something you did before you proposed.
Sam took it badly. “Right and what the fuck would you know about normal or healthy, Dean?” He asked with a bite to his voice that would have made Dean flinch if he’d been less of a consummate actor. He just sat there and took it, not even letting it faze him when Sam got up and walked off towards Jess, leaving Dean alone. He was right after all, what the fuck did he know about normal or healthy? He was fucking his father, and it had stopped being abuse when Dean had been old enough to choose to stay. When he had been fourteen, he hadn’t understood that the idea of his drunken needy father touching him intimately and directing him to suck his penis was wrong. Now he more than knew it was wrong, he felt it in every fibre of his body. He felt sick with it.
“Got anything stronger behind there, Ellen?” Dean asked, ignoring her disapproving frown in favour of watching as she poured a generous finger of brandy into a glass and placed it before him.
... Cont. in chapters 3+4