Blood Bound 3/?
Title: Blood Bound 3/?
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC:17
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Warnings: Underage (Sam is 14), violence, non-con (not between Sam and Dean)
Summary: Samuel Singer, unable to fight off the bullies at his new school, turns to the only student that everyone fears for help: an introverted loner named Dean. Struggling to get closer to the unwilling and rebellious teen, he soon discovers that they're connected in a way that not even he can comprehend. Trying to find the truth, Sam soon realizes that some secrets were meant to remain hidden.
Missouri Moseley was a woman on a mission. She was an independent, shrewd, fire-breathing termagant who wasn't about to let some hoity-toity man with a blue blazer and Louis Vitton sunglasses get in the way of the one thing she knew she deserved, especially after the night she'd just had.
The boy who'd been rescued had kept her up the entire night. She'd stayed with him the whole time, hushing him back to sleep whenever he woke up delirious and panicked. His frightened screams had filled the bedroom in a resounding wave of vibrating sound, piercing her ears and breaking her heart with its brutal intensity. At one point, when she'd finally fallen asleep, the poor child had somehow managed to make his way into the kitchen where he grabbed a knife and attempted to slit his wrists, almost succeeding before the utensil was ripped from his quivering hands by her beautiful boy, Dean.
God, how she loved that kid. The boy's wails had kept Dean awake as well, which was a good thing for both Missouri and the young man because there was no way she would have gotten there in time to stop him from killing himself. She woke up at the sound of yelling and, when she realized the child wasn't beside her, ran downstairs to find her son hoisting the loud boy over his shoulder and walking past her to plop him down on his bed. He'd told her to go to sleep while he watched over the poor thing, ignoring her protests about him having to go to school in the morning. That's the thing with Dean; when he's made his mind up about something, there's no changing it. The boy's as strong and stubborn as an ox. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't able to sleep after that.
So, fast forward five hours and here she is now, rushing past the asshole who had the nerve to venture down into her part of the supermarket to obtain the last jelly filled donut resting peacefully inside its glass enclosure. As they reached their destination, Missouri backhanded him without thinking about the consequences, kicking him in the rear when the powerful smack turned his whole body over to the other side. He fell to the floor and looked up at her in an odd combination of anger and fear, lifting his upper lip in disgust when she brought the powdered pastry to her red lips.
"What now, bitch?" she exclaimed, mouth full of food. "Neva mess with a black woman and her food, motherfucker."
Missouri's head snapped up at the many stares she was getting from other customers, their expressions giving her time to fully appreciate what it was she'd just done. Widening her eyes in surprise, she watched as security made their way toward her with as much professionalism as they could muster, arresting her for assault when the dumbass she'd slapped decided he wanted to press charges.
Just look at it this way, Missouri, she thought to herself. At least you got the last donut.
Sparks of white light burst beneath Sam's eyelids as he sat up in bed, the pain from his rectum spreading through his entire body. A sense of dread came over him as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings, the fear he'd felt from last night attacking him with harsh pants and a rapid heartbeat. He couldn't remember most of what happened to him after the incident at the beach, though he faintly recalled a comfortable smell invading his nostrils sometime after his assault. It's funny…he'd been gang raped for an entire hour by Seth's cronies and yet the only thing that occupied his mind was that jaw dropping aroma. He didn't know why the retrieval of that memory meant so much to him, but he still found himself closing his eyes in concentration, trying to bring back the smell that had managed to calm the raging sea wreaking havoc on his very being. Unable to capture the scent in his mind's eye, he fell to the bed in frustration, putting a hand over his face as the action caused more pain to travel through his abused opening.
He wished there was a way for him to remember exactly what happened to him between the time he walked off the beach and the time he got to where he was now. Everything in between was fuzzy, little bits and pieces coming together to form a mass of muffled sounds and blurry visions that were more than a little unrecognizable. The puzzle wasn't fitting together and he couldn't figure out why. He eventually chalked it all up to trauma and closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep this whole thing away, hoping against hope that a trip to dreamland would trigger something about last night that would help him make sense of the situation in which he currently found himself. But before he could drift off into unconsciousness, the sound of a door slamming had him jerking in surprise. Thinking that someone was coming to hurt him, he scrambled to get himself untangled from the cotton sheets he was enveloped in, only to scream in pain as he fell face first on the hardwood floor. Footsteps rushed in his direction as if the person walking was in a panic, the clicking of high heels reverberating loudly off the bedroom walls. Realizing it was a woman, he froze in place as she made her way towards him in a frenzy, dropping to her knees beside him.
"Oh, you poor boy! Here, let big mama help you up."
Missouri managed to get Sam back into bed before she heard the flying of gravel as Dean disappeared down the street, heading back to school in his beloved Chevy Impala.
"Who was that?" Sam whispered.
"Oh, don't you worry. That was just my son. You'll meet him later on. So…it's nice to finally meet you, honey. I'm Missouri, and you are…?"
Sam hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Sam."
Missouri smiled the sweetest smile Sam had ever seen, her brown eyes crinkling with the force of it. She was a pretty woman, with black hair and a full figure that he'd always appreciated a hell of a lot more than society's coveted skinny minny. She bit at her lip unconsciously as they both allowed a comfortable silence to pass between them, each mentally sizing up the other. When the woman finally spoke, the smile she'd had on her face was gone, the worry replacing it an unwelcome sight to Sam's eyes.
"Hon…I have to ask you something. Do…do you remember last night?"
"No."
"You were a wild one, young man. May I ask what happened to you?"
Sam closed his eyes beneath the onslaught of questions he wasn't quite ready to answer, psychological pain sending sparks of agony through his entire body. He knew he'd have to talk about it eventually, but the very morning after it happened was just too short a time frame for him. The abuse was still fresh in his mind, like taking stitches out of a gash that hadn't been properly healed yet. The rape he'd been subjected to had stripped away his self-respect, any preconceived notions he'd had about saving himself for the person he loved ripped from him by someone he should have known better than to trust. How could he tell Missouri about the events that put him to shame when just thinking about them made him want to crawl under the blankets and stay there until he died? If what happened was enough to get him to want to kill himself, what would it mean for her? Would she be just as ashamed of him as he was of himself? He couldn't risk having someone so kind see what a dirty, soiled boy he really was. If she knew, she'd send him away. He couldn't have that, not when the only person in this town that he had to lean on was probably miles away.
Deciding to give her a version of the truth, he said, "I was attacked by a couple of guys."
"Was it a fight?"
"Yes."
Missouri's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she tried to get a look inside the boy's head, his lies as obvious to her as the pain on his face. Penetrating the walls of his consciousness, a scene of brutality played before her like a horror movie, each scene making it more and more difficult for her to breathe.
"Stop it!" Sam screamed, his body shaking with the force of the stranger's thrusts.
Sam was being held down by two guys, the third pounding into him at an erratic pace, his expression of pleasure deepening the closer he got to his inevitable orgasm.
"You feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty boy," he groaned, crying out as he came deep inside the opening he was currently buried in. "Fuuuck! He feels so damn goood."
The laughter from the others pierced the night air as the boy finished raping Sam, leaning down to lick at his victim's tears in a mockery of sympathy.
"You're next, Roger. This one here is a fighter but don't you worry, his struggling makes it better. He squeezes around your dick, see? It's so damn good. Hurry up. We don't have much time left. I want to get back home before my parents have a cow, man."
The young man known as Roger took his place between Sam's spread legs, using the come from the other boy to slick the way as he pushed past the tight ring of muscle, eyes rolling back in his head at the powerful feeling. His hips started moving slowly, his gaze focused on Sam's tear-stained face.
"You can't tell me you don't like this, slut," he panted.
"Please, leave me alone," Sam sobbed, crying so hard his vision was starting to blur.
"Aww. Ya hear that, fellas? Poor guy here wants us to leave him alone. I say we shut his mouth up. Seth?! Get over here and put your dick in there. Little shit should be having his mouth and ass fucked at the same time."
Seth laughed as he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, rubbing the head against Sam's lips.
"You bite this and I'll fucking kill you," he said, shoving himself in and out of the wet cavern hard enough to swell Sam's cheeks with every thrust inside.
The boy inside of Sam switched angles and smirked triumphantly as he hit the bundle of nerves deep within Sam's aching body, making the boy cry out around Seth's dick as he came hard all over himself. The others hooted and hollered at the huge victory awarded to them, a victory made even more sweet when their victim's walls clenched tight around the member inside of him. Roger screamed as his climax hit him like a ton of bricks, pulling out so that he could shoot his load all over Sam's belly.
Sam sputtered when he tasted Seth's release, vomiting all over the sand when the boys finally let him go. Positioning himself on his hands and knees, he emptied the contents of his stomach in an attempt to expel whatever filth was forced down his throat. Coughing hard enough to make his ribs ache, he found the strength to stand on his wobbly legs, wincing at the words being hollered at him as he made his way off the beach.
"Thanks for the fuck, Singer!"
"See you around, cock whore!"
"You'd better be ready on Monday, Sam," Seth yelled. "'cause I'm comin' after you! Don't ever forget who that ass belongs to!"
Their taunts echoed in Sam's mind as tears streamed down his handsome face, stumbling over himself as he tried to remember which way Seth had driven to get to where he was. His fuzzy brain made no attempt to help him, instead confusing him further as the memories jumbled up in a twisted game of Torture the Sammy, mocking him for his inability to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Giving up, he began to walk in whichever direction he chose to go in, the blur of headlights passing him by as he started to fade into darkness, the world spiraling out of control beneath the weight of his sorrow. He moved without knowing what he was doing, the earth still spinning faster and faster while he remained a slave to the power of fate, powerless to stop its continued existence.
"M-Missouri?"
The psychic snapped out of her trance in a daze, feeling her energy drain from the strength it took to see inside Sam's mind. The poor boy looked worriedly at her, clueless as to the dark turn her thoughts had taken. It was a good thing that she'd seen the faces of the boys who did this to him, because she planned on making them all pay. There wasn't going to be a single thing they'd done that wouldn't go unpunished, she'd make sure of that. Now all she had to do was get Dean on board…
"I'm fine, honey. I've just had a long morning. I got arrested today. Had to call my son from school to come bail me out. Bless his little soul for being the boy that he is. But enough of that. I-"
"What did you get arrested for?" Sam interrupted.
"Oh, I attacked some guy over a jelly donut. No big deal."
Sam's eyes widened in shock. "Who the hell would get into a fight with someone over something so trivial?"
"A fat person with a penchant for donuts, that's who. Now you hush before I beat you senseless. You best mind your manners in my house, boy. Here's the deal; you agree with everything I say, and I'll order us some pizza for supper. How's that sound?"
Sam smiled, some of the tension from earlier fading in light of his recent luck. How he'd managed to find such a wonderful person after the hell he'd been through was nothing short of a miracle, and he'd be damned if he was going to do anything to upset the bond he could feel forming between him and Missouri. Reaching his hand out, he waited for her to put her own into it before he responded, the compassion in her kind eyes giving him the strength he needed to trust the endearing stranger.
"Deal."
It was nearly seven at night by the time Sam had finally worked up the courage to call his father, spending damn near three hours on the phone listening to him get yelled at for making him worry the way he did. Sam's story about getting into a physical altercation with some boys didn't fool his dad one bit. He knew this, yet he continued to stick to the fabrication he'd created, refusing to let Bobby know the truth, lest he get arrested for murder. When asked about Seth, Sam played it cool, trying his best to keep up the fake façade he knew Bobby probably wouldn't be swayed by.
Finally managing to calm the raging storm that was Bobby Singer, Sam assured him that he'd be home as soon as it was humanly possible before hanging up and taking another slice of his pepperoni and mushroom pizza, groaning in satisfaction at the taste.
The sound of the door slamming shut made Sam jump in surprise, forgetting for a moment that Missouri kept mentioning something about having a son named Dean. Boots from the boy's shoes stomped across the floors in a heavy thump, the footsteps retreating to what sounded like the room Sam had woken up in. Deciding to meet the young man and perhaps make a little polite conversation, Sam got up off the living room floor and made his way to the bedroom, stopping at the closed door that blocked his view of who he could only guess was the person who'd lifted him from the dirty pavement and carried him inside from the cold.
Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he reached a hand out and pushed open the door before he could stop himself, watching the wood creak as it carefully slid to the other side of the doorway. The boy's back was turned away from him, his head down as he did something Sam couldn't see. Deciding to speak up, he cleared his throat and watched as the boy visibly stiffened, lifting his head as he slowly turned around to face Sam.
Sam's breath caught in his throat as he found himself drowning in the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, the flecks of gold peppering the emerald colored irises blending in with the ocean of green assaulting Sam's vision. The boy's full lips shifted downwards into a frown as his brows furrowed in anger, the sight of it bringing Sam back to the looks of disgust he'd seen on the faces of the boys who'd violated him.
"The fuck do you think you're doing?" Dean growled, his deep voice sending a shiver down Sam's back.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just barge in on you but I thought that maybe I could-"
Dean was up in Sam's face before he could finish his sentence, the smell of him cutting off the words the boy had been trying to form. The intoxicating scent of Missouri's son was driving him crazy, the aroma he'd been trying to place earlier coming back to him in full force. He felt his cock stiffen in his jeans as Dean glared spitefully at him, the dominance oozing from his every pore doing things to Sam he'd never thought possible.
"Dean! You best hold your tongue in my house, boy!"
Sam turned as Missouri approached the two boys, her disapproving glare focused entirely on Dean. "The hell is it with you, boy? Can't you say hi to the nice kid? Show some hospitality. I know I raised you better than this, Dean Moseley."
The anger on Dean's face disappeared as he blew out a breath in annoyance, turning around and slamming the door shut behind him. Missouri shook her head and let out a resigned sigh, looking apologetically at Sam.
"You'll have to excuse my son, Sam. He hasn't had the best life in the world, and that boy's trust issues are…you don't even wanna know. You should get use to him eventually. I mean, after all…he does go to school with you."
Sam's face contorted in confusion. "Wait, what?"
"Well…you do go to school here, right? You're a young boy so I just figured…anyway, everyone in that place is scared of Dean so if there are boys giving you trouble, your best bet is to make friends with him as soon as possible. That boy'll be your lifeline, trust me. Nobody in their right mind would dare mess with my son."
Sam looked back at the closed door as he tried to picture having a grumpy guy like Dean as his guard dog. For some odd reason, he felt a strange connection to the Moseley boy that he couldn't quite rationalize or explain. That alone scared the living shit out of him as the last thing he needed was to feel something for a boy that closely resembled what he felt for Seth when he'd first seen him. He knew Dean would never hurt him like that, but the thought that he could be raped one minute and be hot for someone he barely knew more than a few minutes the next had him rushing to the bathroom as fast as his weak legs could carry him, emptying his stomach into the toilet in disgust. Missouri was at his side in a flash, rubbing his back in soothing, concentrated circles as she softly shushed him into silence.
"Hush, baby. It's okay. You're going to be okay, hon. I'm here now. Everything's alright."
Sam sobbed into the toilet bowl as shame washed all over him for the connection he felt when he'd first seen Dean's face, the words of the boys who'd raped him coming back to haunt his brain as harsh taunts echoed in cruel memories.
"You're such a cock slut, Sammy. Don't you ever forget it."
They were right. He was a filthy boy, climaxing when being raped and then getting hard at the sight of someone he didn't even know. He was mortified at his body's reactions to everything that's been happening to him. A guilt unlike anything he'd ever known was slowly beginning to ravage him from the inside out, self-loathing breaking down his defenses little by little as he started descending into the depths of his own madness. He felt like he was never going to get out of the hell those boys had put him in, each painful memory holding their own power over him that he couldn't seem to control, no matter how hard he tried.
Missouri's voice pierced through the self-deprecating thoughts floating around inside Sam's brain, the warmth of her hand creating a ripple effect of calm within the waters of his despair.
"Listen to me, child. You are going to get through this, ya hear? I'm going to help you. Look at me."
Missouri took his face in both of her hands, giving him a little shake to emphasize her point. "You are not gonna give up Sam. I won't let you. There's a whole other world out there that you still need to see. One that doesn't involve violence. I swear to you that none of this is your fault and I promise you that those boys are never going to hurt you again."
Sam buried his head in the woman's shoulder and cried openly as she wrapped her arms around his shaking body, holding the sad boy tight to her breast. A creak in the floor had her glancing up and locking eyes with her son, his look of worry for the boy he'd yelled at just moments earlier fading as soon as he realized his mother had caught wind of his presence. Schooling his features into the mask he always wore for other people, he walked past the bathroom and disappeared out the front door, the sound of his Impala zooming to life as he sped out of the driveway at a speed Missouri was going to kill him for later.
Sam drifted off in Missouri's arms, his soft snores making the woman smile as she lifted him up in her arms and carried him to Dean's bed, knowing full well that the rebellious boy would probably be out most of the night. She tucked Sam into the covers and ran her fingers through his floppy brown hair, smiling affectionately at the boy who'd managed to capture her heart in the span of two nights. She knew he had a long road ahead of him, but she also knew that he was a survivor, just like Dean. Those two boys were going to need each other eventually, she could sense it. The strong bond that they had already formed might have been lost to the teenagers, but Missouri relied on her powers of intuition, and those powers did not lie. Sam and Dean were soul mates, and the pull between them was only going to get stronger as time went on. That thought alone made the woman smile in triumph, joy coursing through her at the idea that such a sweet boy like Sam could be a part of Dean's life. But beyond the happiness was fear, fear for the evil she knew surrounded the boys like a plague, its very existence threatening the peaceful tranquility of their strong connection.
Ignoring the negative thoughts that had suddenly taken hold of her, Missouri made her way into the living room and picked up the phone, punching out a number as she stared fondly at an old picture of Dean when he was twelve, his folded arms letting the photographer know just how unhappy he was about having his picture taken.
"Yeah?"
"It's Missouri. I've found him. He's been hurt pretty bad. I think you outta come down here and keep an eye on him. I have a feeling that you know who is somewhere close by and I don't want to chance anything bad happening to the poor boy."
She listened to the mischievous voice on the other end convey dirty thoughts to the girls at his side before once again acknowledging Missouri, assuring her he'd find a way to keep tabs on Samuel without anybody knowing about it, least of all the man they were all trying to protect the kid from. When she hung up, she felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders. He was never going to win, not when she had both of his boys safe from harm. She wasn't going to let the prophecy come to pass; she'd rather die.
Walking to her bedroom in silence, she fell upon her bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling as she thought of what her next move was going to be. She figured out the answer before she'd even asked the question, the faces of Sam and Dean taking center stage in her mind's eye. As she fell into a deep sleep, she was unaware of the yellow eyes peering at her from within the contents of a blood filled chalice, a smirk creeping across the lips of Azazel as he giggled softly into the crimson waters.
"I've got you now, bitch," he murmured. "Sam and Dean Winchester are mine."
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC:17
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Warnings: Underage (Sam is 14), violence, non-con (not between Sam and Dean)
Summary: Samuel Singer, unable to fight off the bullies at his new school, turns to the only student that everyone fears for help: an introverted loner named Dean. Struggling to get closer to the unwilling and rebellious teen, he soon discovers that they're connected in a way that not even he can comprehend. Trying to find the truth, Sam soon realizes that some secrets were meant to remain hidden.
Missouri Moseley was a woman on a mission. She was an independent, shrewd, fire-breathing termagant who wasn't about to let some hoity-toity man with a blue blazer and Louis Vitton sunglasses get in the way of the one thing she knew she deserved, especially after the night she'd just had.
The boy who'd been rescued had kept her up the entire night. She'd stayed with him the whole time, hushing him back to sleep whenever he woke up delirious and panicked. His frightened screams had filled the bedroom in a resounding wave of vibrating sound, piercing her ears and breaking her heart with its brutal intensity. At one point, when she'd finally fallen asleep, the poor child had somehow managed to make his way into the kitchen where he grabbed a knife and attempted to slit his wrists, almost succeeding before the utensil was ripped from his quivering hands by her beautiful boy, Dean.
God, how she loved that kid. The boy's wails had kept Dean awake as well, which was a good thing for both Missouri and the young man because there was no way she would have gotten there in time to stop him from killing himself. She woke up at the sound of yelling and, when she realized the child wasn't beside her, ran downstairs to find her son hoisting the loud boy over his shoulder and walking past her to plop him down on his bed. He'd told her to go to sleep while he watched over the poor thing, ignoring her protests about him having to go to school in the morning. That's the thing with Dean; when he's made his mind up about something, there's no changing it. The boy's as strong and stubborn as an ox. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't able to sleep after that.
So, fast forward five hours and here she is now, rushing past the asshole who had the nerve to venture down into her part of the supermarket to obtain the last jelly filled donut resting peacefully inside its glass enclosure. As they reached their destination, Missouri backhanded him without thinking about the consequences, kicking him in the rear when the powerful smack turned his whole body over to the other side. He fell to the floor and looked up at her in an odd combination of anger and fear, lifting his upper lip in disgust when she brought the powdered pastry to her red lips.
"What now, bitch?" she exclaimed, mouth full of food. "Neva mess with a black woman and her food, motherfucker."
Missouri's head snapped up at the many stares she was getting from other customers, their expressions giving her time to fully appreciate what it was she'd just done. Widening her eyes in surprise, she watched as security made their way toward her with as much professionalism as they could muster, arresting her for assault when the dumbass she'd slapped decided he wanted to press charges.
Just look at it this way, Missouri, she thought to herself. At least you got the last donut.
Sparks of white light burst beneath Sam's eyelids as he sat up in bed, the pain from his rectum spreading through his entire body. A sense of dread came over him as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings, the fear he'd felt from last night attacking him with harsh pants and a rapid heartbeat. He couldn't remember most of what happened to him after the incident at the beach, though he faintly recalled a comfortable smell invading his nostrils sometime after his assault. It's funny…he'd been gang raped for an entire hour by Seth's cronies and yet the only thing that occupied his mind was that jaw dropping aroma. He didn't know why the retrieval of that memory meant so much to him, but he still found himself closing his eyes in concentration, trying to bring back the smell that had managed to calm the raging sea wreaking havoc on his very being. Unable to capture the scent in his mind's eye, he fell to the bed in frustration, putting a hand over his face as the action caused more pain to travel through his abused opening.
He wished there was a way for him to remember exactly what happened to him between the time he walked off the beach and the time he got to where he was now. Everything in between was fuzzy, little bits and pieces coming together to form a mass of muffled sounds and blurry visions that were more than a little unrecognizable. The puzzle wasn't fitting together and he couldn't figure out why. He eventually chalked it all up to trauma and closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep this whole thing away, hoping against hope that a trip to dreamland would trigger something about last night that would help him make sense of the situation in which he currently found himself. But before he could drift off into unconsciousness, the sound of a door slamming had him jerking in surprise. Thinking that someone was coming to hurt him, he scrambled to get himself untangled from the cotton sheets he was enveloped in, only to scream in pain as he fell face first on the hardwood floor. Footsteps rushed in his direction as if the person walking was in a panic, the clicking of high heels reverberating loudly off the bedroom walls. Realizing it was a woman, he froze in place as she made her way towards him in a frenzy, dropping to her knees beside him.
"Oh, you poor boy! Here, let big mama help you up."
Missouri managed to get Sam back into bed before she heard the flying of gravel as Dean disappeared down the street, heading back to school in his beloved Chevy Impala.
"Who was that?" Sam whispered.
"Oh, don't you worry. That was just my son. You'll meet him later on. So…it's nice to finally meet you, honey. I'm Missouri, and you are…?"
Sam hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Sam."
Missouri smiled the sweetest smile Sam had ever seen, her brown eyes crinkling with the force of it. She was a pretty woman, with black hair and a full figure that he'd always appreciated a hell of a lot more than society's coveted skinny minny. She bit at her lip unconsciously as they both allowed a comfortable silence to pass between them, each mentally sizing up the other. When the woman finally spoke, the smile she'd had on her face was gone, the worry replacing it an unwelcome sight to Sam's eyes.
"Hon…I have to ask you something. Do…do you remember last night?"
"No."
"You were a wild one, young man. May I ask what happened to you?"
Sam closed his eyes beneath the onslaught of questions he wasn't quite ready to answer, psychological pain sending sparks of agony through his entire body. He knew he'd have to talk about it eventually, but the very morning after it happened was just too short a time frame for him. The abuse was still fresh in his mind, like taking stitches out of a gash that hadn't been properly healed yet. The rape he'd been subjected to had stripped away his self-respect, any preconceived notions he'd had about saving himself for the person he loved ripped from him by someone he should have known better than to trust. How could he tell Missouri about the events that put him to shame when just thinking about them made him want to crawl under the blankets and stay there until he died? If what happened was enough to get him to want to kill himself, what would it mean for her? Would she be just as ashamed of him as he was of himself? He couldn't risk having someone so kind see what a dirty, soiled boy he really was. If she knew, she'd send him away. He couldn't have that, not when the only person in this town that he had to lean on was probably miles away.
Deciding to give her a version of the truth, he said, "I was attacked by a couple of guys."
"Was it a fight?"
"Yes."
Missouri's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she tried to get a look inside the boy's head, his lies as obvious to her as the pain on his face. Penetrating the walls of his consciousness, a scene of brutality played before her like a horror movie, each scene making it more and more difficult for her to breathe.
"Stop it!" Sam screamed, his body shaking with the force of the stranger's thrusts.
Sam was being held down by two guys, the third pounding into him at an erratic pace, his expression of pleasure deepening the closer he got to his inevitable orgasm.
"You feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty boy," he groaned, crying out as he came deep inside the opening he was currently buried in. "Fuuuck! He feels so damn goood."
The laughter from the others pierced the night air as the boy finished raping Sam, leaning down to lick at his victim's tears in a mockery of sympathy.
"You're next, Roger. This one here is a fighter but don't you worry, his struggling makes it better. He squeezes around your dick, see? It's so damn good. Hurry up. We don't have much time left. I want to get back home before my parents have a cow, man."
The young man known as Roger took his place between Sam's spread legs, using the come from the other boy to slick the way as he pushed past the tight ring of muscle, eyes rolling back in his head at the powerful feeling. His hips started moving slowly, his gaze focused on Sam's tear-stained face.
"You can't tell me you don't like this, slut," he panted.
"Please, leave me alone," Sam sobbed, crying so hard his vision was starting to blur.
"Aww. Ya hear that, fellas? Poor guy here wants us to leave him alone. I say we shut his mouth up. Seth?! Get over here and put your dick in there. Little shit should be having his mouth and ass fucked at the same time."
Seth laughed as he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, rubbing the head against Sam's lips.
"You bite this and I'll fucking kill you," he said, shoving himself in and out of the wet cavern hard enough to swell Sam's cheeks with every thrust inside.
The boy inside of Sam switched angles and smirked triumphantly as he hit the bundle of nerves deep within Sam's aching body, making the boy cry out around Seth's dick as he came hard all over himself. The others hooted and hollered at the huge victory awarded to them, a victory made even more sweet when their victim's walls clenched tight around the member inside of him. Roger screamed as his climax hit him like a ton of bricks, pulling out so that he could shoot his load all over Sam's belly.
Sam sputtered when he tasted Seth's release, vomiting all over the sand when the boys finally let him go. Positioning himself on his hands and knees, he emptied the contents of his stomach in an attempt to expel whatever filth was forced down his throat. Coughing hard enough to make his ribs ache, he found the strength to stand on his wobbly legs, wincing at the words being hollered at him as he made his way off the beach.
"Thanks for the fuck, Singer!"
"See you around, cock whore!"
"You'd better be ready on Monday, Sam," Seth yelled. "'cause I'm comin' after you! Don't ever forget who that ass belongs to!"
Their taunts echoed in Sam's mind as tears streamed down his handsome face, stumbling over himself as he tried to remember which way Seth had driven to get to where he was. His fuzzy brain made no attempt to help him, instead confusing him further as the memories jumbled up in a twisted game of Torture the Sammy, mocking him for his inability to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Giving up, he began to walk in whichever direction he chose to go in, the blur of headlights passing him by as he started to fade into darkness, the world spiraling out of control beneath the weight of his sorrow. He moved without knowing what he was doing, the earth still spinning faster and faster while he remained a slave to the power of fate, powerless to stop its continued existence.
"M-Missouri?"
The psychic snapped out of her trance in a daze, feeling her energy drain from the strength it took to see inside Sam's mind. The poor boy looked worriedly at her, clueless as to the dark turn her thoughts had taken. It was a good thing that she'd seen the faces of the boys who did this to him, because she planned on making them all pay. There wasn't going to be a single thing they'd done that wouldn't go unpunished, she'd make sure of that. Now all she had to do was get Dean on board…
"I'm fine, honey. I've just had a long morning. I got arrested today. Had to call my son from school to come bail me out. Bless his little soul for being the boy that he is. But enough of that. I-"
"What did you get arrested for?" Sam interrupted.
"Oh, I attacked some guy over a jelly donut. No big deal."
Sam's eyes widened in shock. "Who the hell would get into a fight with someone over something so trivial?"
"A fat person with a penchant for donuts, that's who. Now you hush before I beat you senseless. You best mind your manners in my house, boy. Here's the deal; you agree with everything I say, and I'll order us some pizza for supper. How's that sound?"
Sam smiled, some of the tension from earlier fading in light of his recent luck. How he'd managed to find such a wonderful person after the hell he'd been through was nothing short of a miracle, and he'd be damned if he was going to do anything to upset the bond he could feel forming between him and Missouri. Reaching his hand out, he waited for her to put her own into it before he responded, the compassion in her kind eyes giving him the strength he needed to trust the endearing stranger.
"Deal."
It was nearly seven at night by the time Sam had finally worked up the courage to call his father, spending damn near three hours on the phone listening to him get yelled at for making him worry the way he did. Sam's story about getting into a physical altercation with some boys didn't fool his dad one bit. He knew this, yet he continued to stick to the fabrication he'd created, refusing to let Bobby know the truth, lest he get arrested for murder. When asked about Seth, Sam played it cool, trying his best to keep up the fake façade he knew Bobby probably wouldn't be swayed by.
Finally managing to calm the raging storm that was Bobby Singer, Sam assured him that he'd be home as soon as it was humanly possible before hanging up and taking another slice of his pepperoni and mushroom pizza, groaning in satisfaction at the taste.
The sound of the door slamming shut made Sam jump in surprise, forgetting for a moment that Missouri kept mentioning something about having a son named Dean. Boots from the boy's shoes stomped across the floors in a heavy thump, the footsteps retreating to what sounded like the room Sam had woken up in. Deciding to meet the young man and perhaps make a little polite conversation, Sam got up off the living room floor and made his way to the bedroom, stopping at the closed door that blocked his view of who he could only guess was the person who'd lifted him from the dirty pavement and carried him inside from the cold.
Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he reached a hand out and pushed open the door before he could stop himself, watching the wood creak as it carefully slid to the other side of the doorway. The boy's back was turned away from him, his head down as he did something Sam couldn't see. Deciding to speak up, he cleared his throat and watched as the boy visibly stiffened, lifting his head as he slowly turned around to face Sam.
Sam's breath caught in his throat as he found himself drowning in the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, the flecks of gold peppering the emerald colored irises blending in with the ocean of green assaulting Sam's vision. The boy's full lips shifted downwards into a frown as his brows furrowed in anger, the sight of it bringing Sam back to the looks of disgust he'd seen on the faces of the boys who'd violated him.
"The fuck do you think you're doing?" Dean growled, his deep voice sending a shiver down Sam's back.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just barge in on you but I thought that maybe I could-"
Dean was up in Sam's face before he could finish his sentence, the smell of him cutting off the words the boy had been trying to form. The intoxicating scent of Missouri's son was driving him crazy, the aroma he'd been trying to place earlier coming back to him in full force. He felt his cock stiffen in his jeans as Dean glared spitefully at him, the dominance oozing from his every pore doing things to Sam he'd never thought possible.
"Dean! You best hold your tongue in my house, boy!"
Sam turned as Missouri approached the two boys, her disapproving glare focused entirely on Dean. "The hell is it with you, boy? Can't you say hi to the nice kid? Show some hospitality. I know I raised you better than this, Dean Moseley."
The anger on Dean's face disappeared as he blew out a breath in annoyance, turning around and slamming the door shut behind him. Missouri shook her head and let out a resigned sigh, looking apologetically at Sam.
"You'll have to excuse my son, Sam. He hasn't had the best life in the world, and that boy's trust issues are…you don't even wanna know. You should get use to him eventually. I mean, after all…he does go to school with you."
Sam's face contorted in confusion. "Wait, what?"
"Well…you do go to school here, right? You're a young boy so I just figured…anyway, everyone in that place is scared of Dean so if there are boys giving you trouble, your best bet is to make friends with him as soon as possible. That boy'll be your lifeline, trust me. Nobody in their right mind would dare mess with my son."
Sam looked back at the closed door as he tried to picture having a grumpy guy like Dean as his guard dog. For some odd reason, he felt a strange connection to the Moseley boy that he couldn't quite rationalize or explain. That alone scared the living shit out of him as the last thing he needed was to feel something for a boy that closely resembled what he felt for Seth when he'd first seen him. He knew Dean would never hurt him like that, but the thought that he could be raped one minute and be hot for someone he barely knew more than a few minutes the next had him rushing to the bathroom as fast as his weak legs could carry him, emptying his stomach into the toilet in disgust. Missouri was at his side in a flash, rubbing his back in soothing, concentrated circles as she softly shushed him into silence.
"Hush, baby. It's okay. You're going to be okay, hon. I'm here now. Everything's alright."
Sam sobbed into the toilet bowl as shame washed all over him for the connection he felt when he'd first seen Dean's face, the words of the boys who'd raped him coming back to haunt his brain as harsh taunts echoed in cruel memories.
"You're such a cock slut, Sammy. Don't you ever forget it."
They were right. He was a filthy boy, climaxing when being raped and then getting hard at the sight of someone he didn't even know. He was mortified at his body's reactions to everything that's been happening to him. A guilt unlike anything he'd ever known was slowly beginning to ravage him from the inside out, self-loathing breaking down his defenses little by little as he started descending into the depths of his own madness. He felt like he was never going to get out of the hell those boys had put him in, each painful memory holding their own power over him that he couldn't seem to control, no matter how hard he tried.
Missouri's voice pierced through the self-deprecating thoughts floating around inside Sam's brain, the warmth of her hand creating a ripple effect of calm within the waters of his despair.
"Listen to me, child. You are going to get through this, ya hear? I'm going to help you. Look at me."
Missouri took his face in both of her hands, giving him a little shake to emphasize her point. "You are not gonna give up Sam. I won't let you. There's a whole other world out there that you still need to see. One that doesn't involve violence. I swear to you that none of this is your fault and I promise you that those boys are never going to hurt you again."
Sam buried his head in the woman's shoulder and cried openly as she wrapped her arms around his shaking body, holding the sad boy tight to her breast. A creak in the floor had her glancing up and locking eyes with her son, his look of worry for the boy he'd yelled at just moments earlier fading as soon as he realized his mother had caught wind of his presence. Schooling his features into the mask he always wore for other people, he walked past the bathroom and disappeared out the front door, the sound of his Impala zooming to life as he sped out of the driveway at a speed Missouri was going to kill him for later.
Sam drifted off in Missouri's arms, his soft snores making the woman smile as she lifted him up in her arms and carried him to Dean's bed, knowing full well that the rebellious boy would probably be out most of the night. She tucked Sam into the covers and ran her fingers through his floppy brown hair, smiling affectionately at the boy who'd managed to capture her heart in the span of two nights. She knew he had a long road ahead of him, but she also knew that he was a survivor, just like Dean. Those two boys were going to need each other eventually, she could sense it. The strong bond that they had already formed might have been lost to the teenagers, but Missouri relied on her powers of intuition, and those powers did not lie. Sam and Dean were soul mates, and the pull between them was only going to get stronger as time went on. That thought alone made the woman smile in triumph, joy coursing through her at the idea that such a sweet boy like Sam could be a part of Dean's life. But beyond the happiness was fear, fear for the evil she knew surrounded the boys like a plague, its very existence threatening the peaceful tranquility of their strong connection.
Ignoring the negative thoughts that had suddenly taken hold of her, Missouri made her way into the living room and picked up the phone, punching out a number as she stared fondly at an old picture of Dean when he was twelve, his folded arms letting the photographer know just how unhappy he was about having his picture taken.
"Yeah?"
"It's Missouri. I've found him. He's been hurt pretty bad. I think you outta come down here and keep an eye on him. I have a feeling that you know who is somewhere close by and I don't want to chance anything bad happening to the poor boy."
She listened to the mischievous voice on the other end convey dirty thoughts to the girls at his side before once again acknowledging Missouri, assuring her he'd find a way to keep tabs on Samuel without anybody knowing about it, least of all the man they were all trying to protect the kid from. When she hung up, she felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders. He was never going to win, not when she had both of his boys safe from harm. She wasn't going to let the prophecy come to pass; she'd rather die.
Walking to her bedroom in silence, she fell upon her bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling as she thought of what her next move was going to be. She figured out the answer before she'd even asked the question, the faces of Sam and Dean taking center stage in her mind's eye. As she fell into a deep sleep, she was unaware of the yellow eyes peering at her from within the contents of a blood filled chalice, a smirk creeping across the lips of Azazel as he giggled softly into the crimson waters.
"I've got you now, bitch," he murmured. "Sam and Dean Winchester are mine."