Blood Bound 4/?
Title: Blood Bound 4/?
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.
Sam woke up the next morning feeling the same way he did the night before: depressed, angry, confused, and completely exhausted. There was, however, one very significant detail missing from the many emotions circling around in his overloaded brain; he didn't feel suicidal. Any thoughts about ending the life he didn't see as exceptionally valuable had all but faded away under the compassionate care of Missouri Moseley. She was a woman of fierce loyalty and abounding love, a feisty mother hen with a penchant for both empathetic understanding and unmerciful punishment. She could be your best friend or your worst enemy, though the latter was usually reserved for people who took it upon themselves to harm someone she cared about. She was a stern disciplinarian capable of capturing the obedience of anyone under her wing, a firecracker of a woman who stole Sam's heart from his chest in a matter of 24 hours and suspended it above his head as if to show him that he still had the capacity to love, the action leaving him wholeheartedly under her powerful spell.
Sam and Missouri were finishing up breakfast dishes when the front door opened to reveal a very somber Dean, his beautiful eyes immediately locking on Sam's as he made his way into the kitchen. Pushing past the shy boy, he opened the orange juice on the counter and drank straight from the carton, using the back of his hand to wipe the orange liquid from his full lips. Sam watched in avid fascination as he shucked his leather jacket and threw it over a chair before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of Salem 100's, smirking defiantly at his mother as he lit up a cigarette right in the middle of the room.
"So," Missouri began, her expression murderous. "Where did you go last night, Dean?"
"Nowhere," he responded.
"Oh, cut the bullshit! I can smell perfume all over you! Did you at least have the presence of mind to use a condom? Or am I gonna have to whoop your ass?"
Dean and Missouri stared each other down for five full minutes without saying a word, leaving Sam behind to bask in the awkward silence their battle of wills had created. The show for dominance was a losing battle for Missouri; Sam could see it written all over both their faces. Missouri may have been a tough woman, but Sam had a strange feeling that when Dean was in whatever mood he was in now, there was no reasoning with him.
"Hey!" Sam spoke up. "Why don't we all watch a movie or something? I'm sure it'll be a hell of a lot more fun than fighting."
Both heads turned in his direction, the corners of Missouri's lips curving upwards into a tiny smile. Dean scowled at Sam as he practically shoved him into the kitchen table on the way to his bedroom, the sound of the door slamming shut something Sam was starting to get more than used to.
"Does he always slam that door?"
Missouri sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam. Sometimes not even I can control him. Dean has…a wildness about him. He has a free spirit that I can't contain, nor would I ever want to. I just wish that he'd confide in me more than he does. There's something bothering him but I can never figure out what it is because he never tells me. I could look inside his mind but I don't want to intrude on his privacy. Looks like I might not have a choice though, huh?"
Sam looked puzzlingly at her. "Look into his mind?"
Oh…I suppose I should have told you. I'm a bit of a psychic. Now I know that you'll probably think I'm crazy, but-"
"No!" Sam interrupted. "I believe in psychics! As a matter of fact, I sometimes believe I'm psychic. I can see things before they happen. They come with awful headaches though, and I can't ever be sure of when they appear. The last time I had anything like that happen to me was last year. I remember 'cause Bobby freaked out and wanted to send me to the hospital because of the pain."
Missouri looked at Sam with a curiosity he wasn't sure he liked, the weight of her gaze making him uncomfortable. "You get visions, huh? Infrequent visions…"
Sam watched Missouri slip into a trance of sorts, obviously thinking of something he wasn't meant to be privy to. Her pupils dilated as she looked deep into his hazel eyes, something within its murky depths caving beneath her forceful scrutiny.
"Well," she spoke suddenly, shaking her head and clearing her throat. "If you're anything like me then it'll take some time for your powers to manifest. If you need any help channeling something specific, let me know and I'll see what I can do to help you."
"Yeah, sure…okay."
"I'm going to take a nap, Sam. I'm awfully tired. Do me a favor and see whether or not you can get Dean to go to the store and pick up the items I have here on my list. If he doesn't agree then don't fret, he'll go later when he's calmed down. I swear, that boy is gonna be the death of me."
Sam smiled sadly as Missouri left him alone to reflect on his thoughts, the idea of talking to Dean sending a shiver down his back. How such a good-looking boy could be so stubborn and mean, Sam would never know. But for the sake of his new friend, he was going to get that oaf to do his mother this tiny favor…whether he liked it or not.
Determined to display whatever intimidation necessary to get what he wanted, Sam puffed out his chest and put on the best bitchface he could muster before stomping down the hallway to Dean's bedroom, banging his knuckles against the wood repeatedly. He nearly leapt out of his skin when the door burst open and he was pulled inside by the front of his shirt, his brain short-circuiting on him as he was once again transported back to that night with Seth and his friends. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears as his breathing began to quicken, his vision going blurry with every second that passed by in the tiny room.
"Hey!" Dean yelled sternly, slapping him across the face. "Snap out of it!"
Sam stared at Dean in horror. "Why'd you hit me?"
Dean froze, his face scrunching up in a combination of contempt and confusion. It seemed as though he couldn't decide which feeling he wanted to express, the emotions that must have bubbled up inside him obviously too much information for him to process all at once. He seemed to have made up his mind when he shrugged his shoulders and put on the most disgusted expression he could accomplish on such short notice, the action making Sam smirk in amusement.
"You were acting like a fuckin' spaz," he replied rudely. "The hell is wrong with you?"
"Uh…well, I…I got hurt. These guys, you see, they-"
"That's a nice story," Dean interrupted. "Really, it is. Now, why don't you be a good little boy and get the hell out of my room. I've got more important things to do then hang around with you."
"Like what? Be an ungrateful son to your mother?"
Sam's eyes widened as a gasp escaped his mouth, the look of pure rage on Dean's face making him realize that he'd gone too far. Dean was up in Sam's face before he had a chance to react, slamming him up against the door with one fist aiming in his direction. The older boy breathed heavily through his nose, his fingers clenched so tight that his knuckles turned a bright shade of white. Sam turned his head and clenched his eyes shut, trying to prepare himself for the blow that he knew was coming. He would have deserved it too. He had no right to speak that way to Dean and he certainly had no place back talking someone in their own house. By being disrespectful to the boy, Sam had signed his death warrant.
Now, if only Dean would hurry up and get it done and over with already…
But he didn't. He just stood there in the exact same position for the longest time, whether he was working up the courage to dole out his punishment or trying to talk himself out of it, Sam wasn't sure. When the boy finally let go of Sam's shirt and lowered his raised fist, Sam stared up at him in confusion, trying his best to comprehend how it was possible that he hadn't turned into a pile of dust atop Dean's bedroom floor yet. The anger was still evident on Dean's features, but more than that; Sam saw regret. Regret because what Sam had said was true. Dean seemed to really love his mother, and Sam had no doubt in his mind that Missouri loved him just as much, if not more.
"What do you want from me?" he whispered ominously.
"I just want you to go to the store and get your mother a couple of things on her list. I need to get home today so you can drop me off on the way. I know that I should probably tell her I'm leaving, but I'm not really good at goodbyes. Besides, if she really wants to see me again, she'll know where I live."
Dean considered Sam's offer, the suspicious glare making Sam roll his eyes. If Dean was going to be difficult about this then there was really no point in arguing with him, now was there?
"Never mind," Sam huffed, turning to open the door. "I'll do it myself."
Sam flinched as he saw Dean's hand slam the door shut in his face. Turning back around, he stiffened as he found himself inches away from the older boy's mouth, his full lips sending waves of desire crashing through Sam's body.
"Don't," Dean growled. "Don't you dare fucking move. What? You think I'm going to let you go and take all the glory? She's my mother, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let a snot nosed little brat like you take her away from me. Do you understand what I'm saying?-Dean leaned forward and stared Sam straight in the eye- She…belongs…to me."
The possessiveness dripping from every word Dean spoke had Sam's breaths speeding up beyond what was considered normal for someone who was supposed to have everything under control. He couldn't help but wonder if Dean was like that with everything that he considered his. Pushing that unwelcome thought to the deepest recesses of his brain, Sam nodded in understanding, a tinge of fear twisting his gut.
"Yeah, sure. C-can you take me home now?"
Dean's eyes stayed on Sam for a brief moment before turning to grab his car keys, the sense that he was being blocked out too great for Sam to ignore.
"Get your whiny little ass out of my room and follow me."
The next couple of days passed by in a total blur. Sam may have been able to calm his father and stop him from finding out the identities of the boys that "jumped" his son, but the storm brewing deep within his soul was still raging on with a wild abandon, each day that came and went bringing with them depression so acute, it was a wonder Sam made it to Monday without ending his pain and misery with the blade of his knife. How he'd managed to talk his dad into letting him go to school was a miracle, yet not so much a miracle as was the fact that Sam had the courage to go in the first place.
School was uneventful for the most part, with the exception of Sam looking over his shoulder every two seconds for the faces of his tormenters to appear. For some reason, he didn't see them anywhere, which was just fine as far as he was concerned. The last thing he needed was to look upon the faces of his rapists before he'd even had a chance to fully heal from the damage they'd caused to both his mind and his body. At the end of the day, when the last school bell rang, he breathed a sigh of relief, happy that he wouldn't have to face anything he wasn't ready to handle.
Walking home from school with a newfound pep in his step, he smiled as he found himself whistling in contentment, looking up at the blue sky with a brand new set of eyes. He felt as if he'd transcended past the realm of his physical reality and transported his soul to somewhere deep within the heavens, the high he got from the blanket of turquoise that covered the earth overwhelming. It was like everything was seen through a magnifying glass, the beauty of the world amplified ten times over, screaming for Sam to take notice of its radiance.
Sam was so caught up in his own happiness that he didn't catch sight of the figures approaching him until they were right in front of him, their smirking faces making Sam gasp in horror.
"Well, well, well," Seth chuckled wickedly, eyeing Sam up and down. "What do we have here, boys? I think our day is finally starting to improve."
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.
Sam woke up the next morning feeling the same way he did the night before: depressed, angry, confused, and completely exhausted. There was, however, one very significant detail missing from the many emotions circling around in his overloaded brain; he didn't feel suicidal. Any thoughts about ending the life he didn't see as exceptionally valuable had all but faded away under the compassionate care of Missouri Moseley. She was a woman of fierce loyalty and abounding love, a feisty mother hen with a penchant for both empathetic understanding and unmerciful punishment. She could be your best friend or your worst enemy, though the latter was usually reserved for people who took it upon themselves to harm someone she cared about. She was a stern disciplinarian capable of capturing the obedience of anyone under her wing, a firecracker of a woman who stole Sam's heart from his chest in a matter of 24 hours and suspended it above his head as if to show him that he still had the capacity to love, the action leaving him wholeheartedly under her powerful spell.
Sam and Missouri were finishing up breakfast dishes when the front door opened to reveal a very somber Dean, his beautiful eyes immediately locking on Sam's as he made his way into the kitchen. Pushing past the shy boy, he opened the orange juice on the counter and drank straight from the carton, using the back of his hand to wipe the orange liquid from his full lips. Sam watched in avid fascination as he shucked his leather jacket and threw it over a chair before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of Salem 100's, smirking defiantly at his mother as he lit up a cigarette right in the middle of the room.
"So," Missouri began, her expression murderous. "Where did you go last night, Dean?"
"Nowhere," he responded.
"Oh, cut the bullshit! I can smell perfume all over you! Did you at least have the presence of mind to use a condom? Or am I gonna have to whoop your ass?"
Dean and Missouri stared each other down for five full minutes without saying a word, leaving Sam behind to bask in the awkward silence their battle of wills had created. The show for dominance was a losing battle for Missouri; Sam could see it written all over both their faces. Missouri may have been a tough woman, but Sam had a strange feeling that when Dean was in whatever mood he was in now, there was no reasoning with him.
"Hey!" Sam spoke up. "Why don't we all watch a movie or something? I'm sure it'll be a hell of a lot more fun than fighting."
Both heads turned in his direction, the corners of Missouri's lips curving upwards into a tiny smile. Dean scowled at Sam as he practically shoved him into the kitchen table on the way to his bedroom, the sound of the door slamming shut something Sam was starting to get more than used to.
"Does he always slam that door?"
Missouri sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam. Sometimes not even I can control him. Dean has…a wildness about him. He has a free spirit that I can't contain, nor would I ever want to. I just wish that he'd confide in me more than he does. There's something bothering him but I can never figure out what it is because he never tells me. I could look inside his mind but I don't want to intrude on his privacy. Looks like I might not have a choice though, huh?"
Sam looked puzzlingly at her. "Look into his mind?"
Oh…I suppose I should have told you. I'm a bit of a psychic. Now I know that you'll probably think I'm crazy, but-"
"No!" Sam interrupted. "I believe in psychics! As a matter of fact, I sometimes believe I'm psychic. I can see things before they happen. They come with awful headaches though, and I can't ever be sure of when they appear. The last time I had anything like that happen to me was last year. I remember 'cause Bobby freaked out and wanted to send me to the hospital because of the pain."
Missouri looked at Sam with a curiosity he wasn't sure he liked, the weight of her gaze making him uncomfortable. "You get visions, huh? Infrequent visions…"
Sam watched Missouri slip into a trance of sorts, obviously thinking of something he wasn't meant to be privy to. Her pupils dilated as she looked deep into his hazel eyes, something within its murky depths caving beneath her forceful scrutiny.
"Well," she spoke suddenly, shaking her head and clearing her throat. "If you're anything like me then it'll take some time for your powers to manifest. If you need any help channeling something specific, let me know and I'll see what I can do to help you."
"Yeah, sure…okay."
"I'm going to take a nap, Sam. I'm awfully tired. Do me a favor and see whether or not you can get Dean to go to the store and pick up the items I have here on my list. If he doesn't agree then don't fret, he'll go later when he's calmed down. I swear, that boy is gonna be the death of me."
Sam smiled sadly as Missouri left him alone to reflect on his thoughts, the idea of talking to Dean sending a shiver down his back. How such a good-looking boy could be so stubborn and mean, Sam would never know. But for the sake of his new friend, he was going to get that oaf to do his mother this tiny favor…whether he liked it or not.
Determined to display whatever intimidation necessary to get what he wanted, Sam puffed out his chest and put on the best bitchface he could muster before stomping down the hallway to Dean's bedroom, banging his knuckles against the wood repeatedly. He nearly leapt out of his skin when the door burst open and he was pulled inside by the front of his shirt, his brain short-circuiting on him as he was once again transported back to that night with Seth and his friends. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears as his breathing began to quicken, his vision going blurry with every second that passed by in the tiny room.
"Hey!" Dean yelled sternly, slapping him across the face. "Snap out of it!"
Sam stared at Dean in horror. "Why'd you hit me?"
Dean froze, his face scrunching up in a combination of contempt and confusion. It seemed as though he couldn't decide which feeling he wanted to express, the emotions that must have bubbled up inside him obviously too much information for him to process all at once. He seemed to have made up his mind when he shrugged his shoulders and put on the most disgusted expression he could accomplish on such short notice, the action making Sam smirk in amusement.
"You were acting like a fuckin' spaz," he replied rudely. "The hell is wrong with you?"
"Uh…well, I…I got hurt. These guys, you see, they-"
"That's a nice story," Dean interrupted. "Really, it is. Now, why don't you be a good little boy and get the hell out of my room. I've got more important things to do then hang around with you."
"Like what? Be an ungrateful son to your mother?"
Sam's eyes widened as a gasp escaped his mouth, the look of pure rage on Dean's face making him realize that he'd gone too far. Dean was up in Sam's face before he had a chance to react, slamming him up against the door with one fist aiming in his direction. The older boy breathed heavily through his nose, his fingers clenched so tight that his knuckles turned a bright shade of white. Sam turned his head and clenched his eyes shut, trying to prepare himself for the blow that he knew was coming. He would have deserved it too. He had no right to speak that way to Dean and he certainly had no place back talking someone in their own house. By being disrespectful to the boy, Sam had signed his death warrant.
Now, if only Dean would hurry up and get it done and over with already…
But he didn't. He just stood there in the exact same position for the longest time, whether he was working up the courage to dole out his punishment or trying to talk himself out of it, Sam wasn't sure. When the boy finally let go of Sam's shirt and lowered his raised fist, Sam stared up at him in confusion, trying his best to comprehend how it was possible that he hadn't turned into a pile of dust atop Dean's bedroom floor yet. The anger was still evident on Dean's features, but more than that; Sam saw regret. Regret because what Sam had said was true. Dean seemed to really love his mother, and Sam had no doubt in his mind that Missouri loved him just as much, if not more.
"What do you want from me?" he whispered ominously.
"I just want you to go to the store and get your mother a couple of things on her list. I need to get home today so you can drop me off on the way. I know that I should probably tell her I'm leaving, but I'm not really good at goodbyes. Besides, if she really wants to see me again, she'll know where I live."
Dean considered Sam's offer, the suspicious glare making Sam roll his eyes. If Dean was going to be difficult about this then there was really no point in arguing with him, now was there?
"Never mind," Sam huffed, turning to open the door. "I'll do it myself."
Sam flinched as he saw Dean's hand slam the door shut in his face. Turning back around, he stiffened as he found himself inches away from the older boy's mouth, his full lips sending waves of desire crashing through Sam's body.
"Don't," Dean growled. "Don't you dare fucking move. What? You think I'm going to let you go and take all the glory? She's my mother, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let a snot nosed little brat like you take her away from me. Do you understand what I'm saying?-Dean leaned forward and stared Sam straight in the eye- She…belongs…to me."
The possessiveness dripping from every word Dean spoke had Sam's breaths speeding up beyond what was considered normal for someone who was supposed to have everything under control. He couldn't help but wonder if Dean was like that with everything that he considered his. Pushing that unwelcome thought to the deepest recesses of his brain, Sam nodded in understanding, a tinge of fear twisting his gut.
"Yeah, sure. C-can you take me home now?"
Dean's eyes stayed on Sam for a brief moment before turning to grab his car keys, the sense that he was being blocked out too great for Sam to ignore.
"Get your whiny little ass out of my room and follow me."
The next couple of days passed by in a total blur. Sam may have been able to calm his father and stop him from finding out the identities of the boys that "jumped" his son, but the storm brewing deep within his soul was still raging on with a wild abandon, each day that came and went bringing with them depression so acute, it was a wonder Sam made it to Monday without ending his pain and misery with the blade of his knife. How he'd managed to talk his dad into letting him go to school was a miracle, yet not so much a miracle as was the fact that Sam had the courage to go in the first place.
School was uneventful for the most part, with the exception of Sam looking over his shoulder every two seconds for the faces of his tormenters to appear. For some reason, he didn't see them anywhere, which was just fine as far as he was concerned. The last thing he needed was to look upon the faces of his rapists before he'd even had a chance to fully heal from the damage they'd caused to both his mind and his body. At the end of the day, when the last school bell rang, he breathed a sigh of relief, happy that he wouldn't have to face anything he wasn't ready to handle.
Walking home from school with a newfound pep in his step, he smiled as he found himself whistling in contentment, looking up at the blue sky with a brand new set of eyes. He felt as if he'd transcended past the realm of his physical reality and transported his soul to somewhere deep within the heavens, the high he got from the blanket of turquoise that covered the earth overwhelming. It was like everything was seen through a magnifying glass, the beauty of the world amplified ten times over, screaming for Sam to take notice of its radiance.
Sam was so caught up in his own happiness that he didn't catch sight of the figures approaching him until they were right in front of him, their smirking faces making Sam gasp in horror.
"Well, well, well," Seth chuckled wickedly, eyeing Sam up and down. "What do we have here, boys? I think our day is finally starting to improve."