Shattered, Part Three; Supernatural, NC-17 (very)
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Shattered, Part Three (A follow on to Splintered)
Characters/Pairing: John/Dean, Dean/Sam, John/Sam, John/Dean/Sam
Rating: VERY NC-17
Word Count: 11,127 (total)
Summary: Dean is splintered and cracking and held together only by his need to make it okay, to help his father accept what has happened and make sure Sam is happy…but the pressure keeps multiplying and the fight may be more than any of them can stand.
A/Ns: For johnsgillygirl who purchased me in the last Sweet Charity auction. This is darkness (no real surprise there, coming from me) that goes darker than most of my stuff. It is a follow on to Splintered. It is not the end of this story. That will come before too long. You really need to read "Splintered" before reading this.
Warnings: Please read the warnings. There is incest involving all three Winchesters. It is not pretty. This is dub to non-con, depending on how you read Dean's choices and how they all play out. There is also consensual sexual activity. There is angst (which may be the biggest damn understatement in the world). Also, under-age (Sam is 16)
You’re not sure what to make of this, of him…some part of you was certain he’d never come back to you, but here he is, all normal, aside from the part where you both know he’s going to need you again. But he ignores it and so do you, just like always. You make sure Sam’s going to school. At night you train and in the dark you let Sam curl around you and you try to believe that maybe it will be okay, maybe…just maybe your brother was right and you can do this and everything will be okay.
Dean felt good to be back out on a hunt. It was familiar, right. The spirit turned out to be a dead hooker that was killed by a truck driver 18 years before. It also turned out that Dean and his father weren’t the only hunters who had gotten wind of the haunting. It was two in the morning and they’d just missed it, though they’d managed to distract it enough that its target got away.
Dean recognized the truck and tapped his father’s shoulder, pointing. “We got company.”
John squinted in the direction of Dean’s finger and shivered. “Jim.”
Dean nodded. “Stay here. I’ll talk to him.”
“Dean, I can handle-“ Dean turned and pinned him with a stare.
“We can’t afford anyone finding out. Not even him.” Maybe especially not him.
Dean hadn’t forgotten the knowing look, the expectation hanging between him and the older man that day when he found out the options for handling this thing that had settled into his father’s body.
“I’m fine.”
Dean squeezed his hand. “Please. Let me deal with it.”
He left John standing by the car and crossed the old highway, his boots crunching on gravel as he moved closer. Pastor Jim was getting out of his truck as Dean waved hello. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Jim smiled a little, his eyes skipping over to John. “Been trying to reach you boys. Last I knew you were in Fresno.”
Dean felt the stir of panic and swallowed. “Wore out our welcome.”
“How are you?” Jim’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Dean, and it felt like he was peeling back the skin, staring into the guts of who and how Dean was.
“We’re good. Real good.” Dean couldn’t meet his eyes. Jim would know he was lying. “We’re hanging a few towns over and heard about this, so we thought we’d take it out.”
Jim nodded. “Is your Daddy okay?” His eyes were firmly on John now. Dean turned to look over his shoulder.
Shit. Even two hundred yards away he could see it coming. He had to get them out of there. “He…he hit his head. I should probably get him home.”
“Maybe I should come along.”
“He’ll be fine. Head like a rock, you know?” He backed off a step. “It was good to see you though, Pastor Jim.” Dean turned on his heel and headed for his father. It was coming on him, but as Dean got closer, he could see his father was fighting it. “Get in the car. We have to go.”
He didn’t move right away, his eyes tracking Jim as he got closer. “Dad. Now.”
John nodded and moved to the passenger side, his movements stiff and slow. Dean breathed a sigh of relief when his door closed. He got behind the wheel and started the car. Jim was right there, looking in the window. Dean tried to regulate his breathing and opened the window.
Jim bent over, his head in the car. “You okay, John?”
Dean held his breath as his father’s head turned. The dark in his eyes had nearly taken over. “Jim.” John’s hand moved jerkily to the back of his head, rubbing. “Fine.”
“Like I said, bump on the head.”
“That’s more than a bump on the head.” Jim said, his face set and grim.
Dean could feel his eyes, could feel the accusation in them. His heart was pounding. He had to get them out of there. “Please. I need to take him home.” His voice was scarcely above a whisper, but fervent. He couldn’t look at Jim, couldn’t look at his father. He sat and held the steering wheel and waited.
Slowly, Jim stepped back. “I’ll handle this. You get your father home.”
Dean nodded and threw the car in gear, spraying the road in gravel as he stepped on the gas and aimed them away from Pastor Jim and his accusing eyes. “Just hold on Dad.”
“Dean.” His name was filled with urgency and need and Dean spared his father a glance. They weren’t going to make it home. His eyes scanned the woods that lined the road. He’d find them a place to hide. Find them a place to deal with the problem.
“Hang on.”
It was a dirt road, barely big enough to hold a car. Dean pulled them onto it, drove them deep into the shelter of the dark trees. He half expected Jim to come howling up the trail behind them. He was panting even before he put the car in park.
John lurched up, dragging Dean across the seat and out of the car. “Need. Hurts.”
Dean was clearly not moving fast enough. It was going to be violent. He tried to brace himself, but John’s hands threw him against the trunk. Dean’s wrist slammed on the edge and he cussed, trying to adjust. The darkness had taken over though and John shoved him down.
Dean’s cheekbone hit metal hard. His vision swam.
There was a sound like ripping and Dean’s jeans fell.
Dean tried to brace himself for the pain, his fingers scrambling weakly over the metal and glass, looking for something, anything to hold onto. Well before he was ready, his father’s cock shoved into him.
It hadn’t hurt like that in a long time, no lube, no nothing, just the dark need and his father’s cock inside him. The car rocked under him and Dean could do no more than take what his father dished out, squeezing silent tears out of closed eyes as he whispered the mantra of it’s okay into the surface of the car.
When it was finally over, John stumbled backward and Dean slid bonelessly off the car, curled up and struggling to breathe. He was hurting, he was hurt. His face was swelling and bleeding. His left wrist thrummed with pain. His ass screamed and burned as hot liquid oozed from him.
He heard a sob and looked up. His father sat under a tree, knees drawn up to his chest, staring at Dean, tears streaming over his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered over and over in a horrified mantra that made Dean’s stomach clench.
Dean dragged himself over the mossy ground, cradling his wounded wrist, moving slowly as his body registered the pain. He crawled over to his father, pulling himself up to his knees because he knew he wouldn’t be able to sit just yet. He reached for his father, but John flinched and pulled away. Dean took a deep breath and reached again, cupping his hand to his father’s face. “It’s okay, Dad. I’m right here. I’m okay.”
He leaned in and kissed him. They both stiffened. He hadn’t kissed him since that night…since Sam had told him the truth, since Dean and Sam had seduced him.
“It’s okay.” Dean whispered, leaning in again, his kiss more purposeful this time. His tongue touched his father’s lips and met resistance. “Let me love you.” His words burned with need, and John’s mouth opened, accepting the words and the burn. His legs slid down and Dean ended up nearly in his lap, their tongues tangling around as the kiss transcended the violence of moments before.
Dean moaned into his father’s mouth when John’s hand circled his cock, which until that moment had been limp and uninterested. He gasped as the dry big hand moved over the tender skin and John’s mouth slipped from Dean’s lips to his neck, sucking lightly and kissing away the sting.
Four years and it had never been this. This is what he had with Sam. Dean couldn’t bring himself to argue, feeling the warmth of his father’s skin, feeling the affection in the tenderness. He arched up, filled his father’s hand with his cock, tilted his head back, offering up more of his neck for his father’s tongue and teeth.
“Dean.” It rumbled into him, from John’s lips into his own throat, quaking through him until he came into his father’s fist. John’s mouth worked back to his, his tongue sliding over parting lips, licking up Dean’s panting, quiet it’s okay.
Dean would have been content laying there in his arms and sleeping, but he knew better. They had to get home. Back to Sam. Back to the safety of…well, of being together. He shifted and tried to get to his feet.
His vision swam and his ass burned like nothing he’d ever felt. He came down hard on his knees.
“Dean?”
He looked to his father. There was a dark stain on his leg. Dean squinted at it. “What?” In the dark it looked like blood.
“Fuck, Dean.” John pushed him forward, one finger moving over his still bare ass. “Shit. Shit.” Dean could feel him wiping away the come that he could still feel oozing out of him. “You’re bleeding.”
“I am?”
“I hurt you. Really hurt you.” His father was cussing, and any minute they would be back to the horrified apologies. John pressed him down, touched him. “God, Dean.”
“I’ll be fine.” Dean insisted, trying again to get up. He had to be fine. He had to make his father understand. The world tilted under him and he was barely conscious of his father catching him, carrying him…then the movement of the car as he drifted away.
You tell the doctors that it was just a rough fuck, that it wasn’t rape. But they look at your father with a look that you don’t like, and they tell you that you’re lucky the blow on your face didn’t shatter the cheekbone and when they leave you alone you huddle into yourself and pray he doesn’t fall apart now. The hospital gown doesn’t cover your sin and you feel like your shattered soul is on display especially when he leaves, when he leaves you alone…you don’t know how to be alone. You don’t know who you are without them on either side of you.
“So, Dean, your doctor asked me to come by and see you, before your father comes back to take you home.”
Dean looked up at her. She was pretty, petite. Her brown hair dusted the shoulders of her lab coat, and her brown eyes smiled at him from behind frameless glasses.
“I already told them. It wasn’t…anything. It…just got out of hand.” He felt exposed, afraid.
“I know what you told them, Dean.” She sat in the chair beside the bed. They were keeping him overnight, because of the head injury. “I’m just here to listen to anything you might feel like talking about.”
“No offense, but I just want to go home.”
She nodded. “I realize that, but since you’re stuck here anyway, what’s the harm?”
He could think of lots of harm, actually.
“I noticed that your father is a pretty big guy.”
Dean squinted her way. “Yeah? So?”
She shrugged. “Just making conversation, Dean.”
“You’re a shrink, lady, you’re trying to bait me into spilling my guts. It isn’t going to happen.”
“Did he do this to you, Dean?”
“What?” He looked away, crossed his arms. “No. He…he’s a good man, my Dad. Helps people.”
“Sometimes even good people can do bad things.”
Dean sighed. “My dad came and got me because my date got a little rough, okay? My…friend had already left when I realized something was wrong.”
“This friend of yours have a name?”
He knew she was trying to help. He knew she couldn’t begin to understand the world he lived in, or the choices he’d made to keep living in it. “Yeah, he’s a married man, you know?“
She leaned forward in the chair. “You do realize that we will be analyzing the DNA we found inside you. We will figure it out eventually.”
“I’m tired. I need to sleep.”
“Okay, I’ll go for now, but I’ll be back, Dean.”
“I look forward to it.”
The door closed behind her and Dean went into full panic mode, ripping the IV from his arm and climbing out of bed. He swayed a little as he went looking for his clothes. They were gone. His father was supposed to bring him some in the morning, but he knew they couldn’t wait that long. They had to move.
Before someone put it all together.
He peeked out the door, watched nurses moving around the floor. It was dinner time. He might be able to get away. He waited until there was no one at the nurses station, then moved out into the hall.
His head was pounding, his heart racing. His injured wrist throbbed under the wrappings.
He needed clothes. He ducked into a room as a nurse came into the hallway. There was an old man asleep on the only bed in the room. Dean rummaged in the dresser and came out with a pair of pants and a shirt that smelled like old man. They were high waters, and his ass hurt, but he didn’t look like an escaping patient…other than the bare feet. The old man had feet like a thirteen year old girl.
He moved slowly, ducking into a men’s room when his stomach churned. He could feel the pull on the stitches inside him as he retched into the toilet, and hoped they wouldn’t tear. He flushed and staggered back to his feet. The florescent lights made the gash and bruising on his face stand out against the pale of his skin. The cut itself wasn’t the worst he’d ever had, a thin jagged line that more or less followed his cheek bone.
It was swollen and tender. The eye above was black and blue. He sighed and made his way out of the bathroom. He didn’t want to chance the elevator, so he made for the staircase, then thought better of it when another wave of dizziness hit. He knew he didn’t have time for babying himself. With a head injury they’d be in to check on him every hour.
The stairs were hard to navigate, between his head and his ass and the vertigo. He fumbled with the door on the ground floor, stumbled out and into the lobby. There was no way he was getting back to Sam and his father like this.
He stopped and leaned against a wall, his eyes scanning the lobby. There was a family grieving loudly in one corner, children sitting dully on the couches. Nurses and doctors moved around him.
“Dean?”
He looked up and groaned. Pastor Jim was the last thing he needed. He was walking toward him, his left hand bandaged. “You all right son?”
Dean nodded. “Just want to go home.”
Jim turned his head to look at Dean’s face. “That looks nasty. I’m betting they wanted you to stay overnight.”
“Don’t wanna. I’m fine.” He pushed himself upright and the room danced a little around him.
“Where’s your father?”
“Sent him home for Sammy…don’t want to leave Sam alone.” He licked his lips and tried to focus. “We…I need to go.”
“Dean, I think you need to stay. What room were you in? I’ll take you back.”
“No. No.” Dean grabbed Jim’s shirt and held on to him. “You don’t understand. If I stay here there’s gonna be trouble. I need to go. Will you…could you take me home?”
Jim looked like he was going to argue, but then nodded. “Okay Dean. Okay.” He turned, slipped an arm under Dean’s shoulder to support him and together they moved out the sliding doors and into the cool evening. There was going to be rain. Dean could smell it.
“What happened?” Dean asked after they’d both gotten into the truck, pointing at Jim’s hand.
He smiled. “Took care of that ghost, but not before she crashed another truck. I cut my hand helping the driver get out.” He turned those intense eyes on Dean. “What about you?”
“I had a disagreement with the Impala. She won.” Dean said, his hand touching the bottom of the swollen flesh lightly.
“Last I saw you, you were taking your Daddy home?”
Dean forced his voice to stay calm. He was starting to feel like he was drowning. “Had to pee, pulled over…slipped, cracked my face. Dad brought me here.” Dean willed for it to be enough, for Jim to stop asking questions and just fucking drive already. His ass was screaming, the press of the old truck seat reminding him of each and every stitch that was holding together torn flesh from his father’s brutal fucking.
You don’t want to bring him home, not when you don’t know what state of mind your father is in, or what he’s told Sam. Not when things went so bad so quickly. You don’t know what he’ll do if he knows. You don’t know if you can make him understand, because this thing is way beyond what it was when you first went to him, and it keeps escalating and it’s getting out of control…and maybe, just maybe you don’t really understand anymore yourself.
It was almost dark when Jim stopped the truck on the side of the road and they both looked at the house. The Impala was parked out front, passenger side doors open.
Dean grimaced as he turned on the seat, putting his feet in the gravel at the side of the road. “You boys packing up?” Jim asked, looking at Dean with an expression Dean couldn’t quite decipher.
Dean shrugged.
“Three schools in one semester isn’t good. You know that.” Jim said. Sam emerged from the house, hauling a duffle bag.
“Sam’s a good student. He’ll make it up.”
“Not the point.” Jim said, moving ahead of Dean. He greeted a surprised Sam who looked at Dean with something like fear in his eyes. Before either of them could stop him though, Jim was on his way into the house.
Dean moved toward the house, nearly falling when the dizziness was too much. Sam caught him and supported him into the house. They got there just as John looked up from his packing, his eyes going wide with surprise.
“Jim?”
Pastor Jim stopped, hands on his hips. “Want to tell me what the hell is going on here, John?”
Dean felt his father’s eyes, saw the concern and pain wash over his face. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“John.” Jim’s voice had an edge of anger to it and John’s eyes moved back to his friend.
He straightened up, licking his lips. “Just clearing out. Got a line on something down south.”
“You’re asking for trouble, hauling Sam out of school again.”
Sam helped Dean to a seat on the couch. “Not really,” Sam said and Jim turned to face him. Sam shrugged a little. “Got kicked out yesterday.”
“You what?” Dean asked, poking him.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Got into a fight.”
“With a teacher.” John finished. “I was getting us packed up and was coming for you in the morning, Dean.”
Jim’s eyes traveled the room, coming to rest finally on Dean. He seemed to be asking Dean something. Dean closed his eyes. “I’m tired.”
“You’re sleeping on the couch.” John said. “Where we can keep an eye on you.” He went back to throwing things into his duffle bag, glancing up at Jim. “I’d invite you to stay for dinner, Jim, but we only got peanut butter and some bread.”
“No…it’s okay.” Jim’s eyes flashed back to Dean. There was accusation in those eyes. Dean could almost hear his voice, You said you’d deal with it.
John nodded but didn’t look up.
Dean tried to move so he was sitting more on his hip than his ass without it being obvious. Jim knew. He knew. He was looking at John like he was some sort of monster.
Sam sat next to him, pulled Dean to lean against him. His touch was soothing, warm. Dean closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar feeling. Jim didn’t move. He was just there, in the middle and they could all feel him, but no one said anything.
Dean opened his eyes as Jim licked his lips and seemed to make some decision. He come to where Sam was sitting next to Dean, his hand casually in Dean’s lap.
Sam snaked his hand away, his face flushing. He stood and brushed a kiss over Dean’s forehead. “I’ll go get you a blanket and pillow.”
Jim watched Sam go, then turned to Dean, leaning in as if to check his cheek again. “You know I only want to help.” His voice was low, pitched so that only Dean could hear him.
Dean nodded tightly, blinking back tears and trying to still the wild staccato of his heart. Jim nodded too. “Tell me what you need Dean.”
Dean’s eyes flashed to his father, who was moving away now too, moving toward the kitchen. They had to make Jim believe it was okay. “I’m okay.” Dean breathed.
Jim looked over his shoulder as John disappeared into the kitchen. “Let me help you.”
Dean cleared his throat and took a deep breath, pulling himself together. “Thanks, but I’m really okay.”
“I can see that you aren’t.” Jim said, though he stood upright and ran a hand through his hair. “You can’t keep this up.”
Dean pushed himself up off the couch, swayed a little, but lifted his head. “We’re okay, Pastor Jim. I promise.”
Jim nodded slowly. “Okay. You call me when you aren’t.” He pulled Dean into a tight hug. “I mean it. If you can’t do it, I will.”
Then he was gone and Dean couldn’t breathe.
“Fuck. Fuck.” He gasped, spun around, sucking in air and hitting himself until John was there, grabbing his hands.
“Dean. Stop. Focus.” His father’s voice was soft and it made something inside him ache.
He lifted his eyes. “We can’t wait for morning. We have to go now.”
“Not in the condition you’re in. You should lay down.” John tried to guide Dean to the couch.
“Dad, you don’t understand. They think you raped me.” Dean choked on the words, on the idea that anyone could think that, on the fact that it was very nearly true.
“I did, Dean.” John said, letting go of him and pacing away.
“No…no, Dad. It wasn’t like that.”
John stopped in the middle of the room. “I was there Dean, I saw what I did to you.”
Dean shook his head and tried to reach for him, but his body was too heavy to move. “No. You…it was my fault. I took too long. It’s worse if I wait…if I try to make you wait. And…and I didn’t have lube in the car…it was my fault.”
He wanted to get back that moment after…when it hadn’t been that thing inside his father, but his father there with him, opening up to his touch. “I love you.”
John twitched, crossed his arms. He shook his head. Sam reappeared at the kitchen door. “We both love you.” Sam added, his voice soft. “It isn’t your fault.”
He moved into the room, up to John, sliding hands up over his arms. “Hey, look at me, Dad.” John stiffened, his arms falling to his sides. Sam kissed his cheek and put his arms around John, drawing him close. “It’s okay. Dean’s going to be fine.” They both looked at Dean. “We’re all going to be fine.”
John groaned as Sam’s hands slid over his back. “It’s okay.” Sam’s eyes met Dean’s and he nodded. “I’ll drive. You can ride in back, keep an eye on Dean.”
Most of the ride is a blur. Two days, maybe three. You spend most of the first with your head in your father’s lap, like you’re a fucking child. His big hands are gentle as they stroke your hair, but when you look up into his face you can see the fear and anguish in every line. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so old, so worn thin.
The car stopped and Dean lifted his head from the back seat. “Where are we?”
His father was behind the wheel, Sam stretching in the passenger seat. “Near Denver.” His father sounded tired. “Lay still. I’ll get us a room.”
Sam knelt on the seat and leaned over, brushing a hand over Dean’s forehead. “You had us worried.”
“Must have been worse than I thought. It’s better.”
Sam’s eyes sparkled with affection as he smiled lightly. “Yes, it is. We’re okay.” He looked out the back window.
“Dad?” Dean asked, a knot in his stomach pulling a little tighter.
Sam nodded. “I think he’s okay, Dean. He’s been like himself. He’s let me touch him.” Sam licked his lips and smiled. “Here he is.”
John slid into the seat and his eyes flicked over Sam’s face, then to Dean and back. “We’re all set.”
The car lurched forward and stopped again. Dean let Sam help him out of the car and into the room, sitting a little gingerly on the nearest bed. His ass felt better. His father moved out of the room and came back with duffle bags.
Sam stretched, his back cracking. “I’m gonna shower.” He grabbed his duffle, his hand catching on John’s. Sam licked his lips and leaned in, kissing John softly. Dean stared, waiting for the freeze up, for the reaction.
There wasn’t one. Sam slipped into the bathroom, his face all smile.
“Wow. Um…” Dean cocked his head and looked at his father.
“It makes him happy.” John grumbled, dumping the bags on the bed beside Dean.
Dean didn’t answer, there wasn’t really an answer to something like that. John moved around the room, setting them up, marking the window sills and doorway with salt. When he finally sat it was with his back to Dean. They were on the same bed and Dean could feel him there, feel the weight of him.
“It isn’t right and I don’t like it. But you boys…you need me right now.”
“We’ll always need you.” Dean said softly. This sounded like his father accepting his place, but it felt a little like he was picking apart the splintered pieces…picking them apart and trying to reassemble them into something that resembled the boy Dean used to be.
“You need me now.” John countered. “Until you’re stronger.”
Dean shook his head and turned to say more, but Sam was there, dripping and beautiful in nothing but jeans. He was grinning and he laughed at some private joke. “Water’s good and hot.” He leaned over Dean, letting the cooling water drip over him. His kiss was sweet and tasted vaguely of something chocolate. “I’ll go get us some dinner.”
Sam rummaged in Dean’s bag. “I’m borrowing, I need to do laundry.”
Dean sat numbly and watched. It was surreal, like they weren’t fucked six ways from Sunday. John got up and headed into the bathroom. It was odd. Wrong. Sam took the keys off the table and headed for the door. “Back in a bit.”
Dean was alone, his head pounding. His father was in the shower. Slowly, Dean stood and shed his clothes. He didn’t look in the mirror as he passed. He didn’t want to see this…see himself doing this.
He slipped into the bathroom, into the small shower. His father looked startled, but Dean didn’t give him time to respond. He took his father’s face in his hands and pulled him into a kiss. He didn’t react, not for a moment, but when Dean let his tongue slide out to touch John’s lips, they slowly opened.
“Dean…what?” John asked, his eyes closed, as Dean pulled back.
“Need you to know.” Dean whispered back, his hands sliding over his father’s wet body, down over his flat stomach. “I need you. I need you to be here with me.”
“I’m right here Dean.” John said, his voice filling the shower even as his cock filled Dean’s hand.
“I want this Dad. I want us…even without…okay?” His kiss was a little more urgent as he started moving his hand over John’s cock, more teeth, more everything. He had to make his father understand.
“Dean.”
His lips pulled the sound into himself, letting it fill the cracks. “Need more…more than just that…need you.” Dean sucked his way down John’s neck, his free hand guiding John’s to where Dean’s cock was hard and pressed against his thigh. “Something to hold on to when the dark comes.”
Dean didn’t even know what he was saying, just knew he needed to keep talking, keep convincing. John’s hand matched Dean’s pace and it was awkward and they kept bumping one another, foreheads pressed together, breathing as one…and when Dean came he groaned and leaned into his father.
John came as well, moaning and turning his face away.
Dean heard Sam returning and backed off. “It’s okay Dad.”
John nodded, then tipped his face back under the spray. Dean got out and left him, wrapping a thin motel towel around his waist and moving out into the bedroom. Sam was setting out burgers and fries on the table.
He smiled and for a moment Dean was content with the lie. They were okay.
Title: Shattered, Part Three (A follow on to Splintered)
Characters/Pairing: John/Dean, Dean/Sam, John/Sam, John/Dean/Sam
Rating: VERY NC-17
Word Count: 11,127 (total)
Summary: Dean is splintered and cracking and held together only by his need to make it okay, to help his father accept what has happened and make sure Sam is happy…but the pressure keeps multiplying and the fight may be more than any of them can stand.
A/Ns: For johnsgillygirl who purchased me in the last Sweet Charity auction. This is darkness (no real surprise there, coming from me) that goes darker than most of my stuff. It is a follow on to Splintered. It is not the end of this story. That will come before too long. You really need to read "Splintered" before reading this.
Warnings: Please read the warnings. There is incest involving all three Winchesters. It is not pretty. This is dub to non-con, depending on how you read Dean's choices and how they all play out. There is also consensual sexual activity. There is angst (which may be the biggest damn understatement in the world). Also, under-age (Sam is 16)
You’re not sure what to make of this, of him…some part of you was certain he’d never come back to you, but here he is, all normal, aside from the part where you both know he’s going to need you again. But he ignores it and so do you, just like always. You make sure Sam’s going to school. At night you train and in the dark you let Sam curl around you and you try to believe that maybe it will be okay, maybe…just maybe your brother was right and you can do this and everything will be okay.
Dean felt good to be back out on a hunt. It was familiar, right. The spirit turned out to be a dead hooker that was killed by a truck driver 18 years before. It also turned out that Dean and his father weren’t the only hunters who had gotten wind of the haunting. It was two in the morning and they’d just missed it, though they’d managed to distract it enough that its target got away.
Dean recognized the truck and tapped his father’s shoulder, pointing. “We got company.”
John squinted in the direction of Dean’s finger and shivered. “Jim.”
Dean nodded. “Stay here. I’ll talk to him.”
“Dean, I can handle-“ Dean turned and pinned him with a stare.
“We can’t afford anyone finding out. Not even him.” Maybe especially not him.
Dean hadn’t forgotten the knowing look, the expectation hanging between him and the older man that day when he found out the options for handling this thing that had settled into his father’s body.
“I’m fine.”
Dean squeezed his hand. “Please. Let me deal with it.”
He left John standing by the car and crossed the old highway, his boots crunching on gravel as he moved closer. Pastor Jim was getting out of his truck as Dean waved hello. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Jim smiled a little, his eyes skipping over to John. “Been trying to reach you boys. Last I knew you were in Fresno.”
Dean felt the stir of panic and swallowed. “Wore out our welcome.”
“How are you?” Jim’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Dean, and it felt like he was peeling back the skin, staring into the guts of who and how Dean was.
“We’re good. Real good.” Dean couldn’t meet his eyes. Jim would know he was lying. “We’re hanging a few towns over and heard about this, so we thought we’d take it out.”
Jim nodded. “Is your Daddy okay?” His eyes were firmly on John now. Dean turned to look over his shoulder.
Shit. Even two hundred yards away he could see it coming. He had to get them out of there. “He…he hit his head. I should probably get him home.”
“Maybe I should come along.”
“He’ll be fine. Head like a rock, you know?” He backed off a step. “It was good to see you though, Pastor Jim.” Dean turned on his heel and headed for his father. It was coming on him, but as Dean got closer, he could see his father was fighting it. “Get in the car. We have to go.”
He didn’t move right away, his eyes tracking Jim as he got closer. “Dad. Now.”
John nodded and moved to the passenger side, his movements stiff and slow. Dean breathed a sigh of relief when his door closed. He got behind the wheel and started the car. Jim was right there, looking in the window. Dean tried to regulate his breathing and opened the window.
Jim bent over, his head in the car. “You okay, John?”
Dean held his breath as his father’s head turned. The dark in his eyes had nearly taken over. “Jim.” John’s hand moved jerkily to the back of his head, rubbing. “Fine.”
“Like I said, bump on the head.”
“That’s more than a bump on the head.” Jim said, his face set and grim.
Dean could feel his eyes, could feel the accusation in them. His heart was pounding. He had to get them out of there. “Please. I need to take him home.” His voice was scarcely above a whisper, but fervent. He couldn’t look at Jim, couldn’t look at his father. He sat and held the steering wheel and waited.
Slowly, Jim stepped back. “I’ll handle this. You get your father home.”
Dean nodded and threw the car in gear, spraying the road in gravel as he stepped on the gas and aimed them away from Pastor Jim and his accusing eyes. “Just hold on Dad.”
“Dean.” His name was filled with urgency and need and Dean spared his father a glance. They weren’t going to make it home. His eyes scanned the woods that lined the road. He’d find them a place to hide. Find them a place to deal with the problem.
“Hang on.”
It was a dirt road, barely big enough to hold a car. Dean pulled them onto it, drove them deep into the shelter of the dark trees. He half expected Jim to come howling up the trail behind them. He was panting even before he put the car in park.
John lurched up, dragging Dean across the seat and out of the car. “Need. Hurts.”
Dean was clearly not moving fast enough. It was going to be violent. He tried to brace himself, but John’s hands threw him against the trunk. Dean’s wrist slammed on the edge and he cussed, trying to adjust. The darkness had taken over though and John shoved him down.
Dean’s cheekbone hit metal hard. His vision swam.
There was a sound like ripping and Dean’s jeans fell.
Dean tried to brace himself for the pain, his fingers scrambling weakly over the metal and glass, looking for something, anything to hold onto. Well before he was ready, his father’s cock shoved into him.
It hadn’t hurt like that in a long time, no lube, no nothing, just the dark need and his father’s cock inside him. The car rocked under him and Dean could do no more than take what his father dished out, squeezing silent tears out of closed eyes as he whispered the mantra of it’s okay into the surface of the car.
When it was finally over, John stumbled backward and Dean slid bonelessly off the car, curled up and struggling to breathe. He was hurting, he was hurt. His face was swelling and bleeding. His left wrist thrummed with pain. His ass screamed and burned as hot liquid oozed from him.
He heard a sob and looked up. His father sat under a tree, knees drawn up to his chest, staring at Dean, tears streaming over his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered over and over in a horrified mantra that made Dean’s stomach clench.
Dean dragged himself over the mossy ground, cradling his wounded wrist, moving slowly as his body registered the pain. He crawled over to his father, pulling himself up to his knees because he knew he wouldn’t be able to sit just yet. He reached for his father, but John flinched and pulled away. Dean took a deep breath and reached again, cupping his hand to his father’s face. “It’s okay, Dad. I’m right here. I’m okay.”
He leaned in and kissed him. They both stiffened. He hadn’t kissed him since that night…since Sam had told him the truth, since Dean and Sam had seduced him.
“It’s okay.” Dean whispered, leaning in again, his kiss more purposeful this time. His tongue touched his father’s lips and met resistance. “Let me love you.” His words burned with need, and John’s mouth opened, accepting the words and the burn. His legs slid down and Dean ended up nearly in his lap, their tongues tangling around as the kiss transcended the violence of moments before.
Dean moaned into his father’s mouth when John’s hand circled his cock, which until that moment had been limp and uninterested. He gasped as the dry big hand moved over the tender skin and John’s mouth slipped from Dean’s lips to his neck, sucking lightly and kissing away the sting.
Four years and it had never been this. This is what he had with Sam. Dean couldn’t bring himself to argue, feeling the warmth of his father’s skin, feeling the affection in the tenderness. He arched up, filled his father’s hand with his cock, tilted his head back, offering up more of his neck for his father’s tongue and teeth.
“Dean.” It rumbled into him, from John’s lips into his own throat, quaking through him until he came into his father’s fist. John’s mouth worked back to his, his tongue sliding over parting lips, licking up Dean’s panting, quiet it’s okay.
Dean would have been content laying there in his arms and sleeping, but he knew better. They had to get home. Back to Sam. Back to the safety of…well, of being together. He shifted and tried to get to his feet.
His vision swam and his ass burned like nothing he’d ever felt. He came down hard on his knees.
“Dean?”
He looked to his father. There was a dark stain on his leg. Dean squinted at it. “What?” In the dark it looked like blood.
“Fuck, Dean.” John pushed him forward, one finger moving over his still bare ass. “Shit. Shit.” Dean could feel him wiping away the come that he could still feel oozing out of him. “You’re bleeding.”
“I am?”
“I hurt you. Really hurt you.” His father was cussing, and any minute they would be back to the horrified apologies. John pressed him down, touched him. “God, Dean.”
“I’ll be fine.” Dean insisted, trying again to get up. He had to be fine. He had to make his father understand. The world tilted under him and he was barely conscious of his father catching him, carrying him…then the movement of the car as he drifted away.
You tell the doctors that it was just a rough fuck, that it wasn’t rape. But they look at your father with a look that you don’t like, and they tell you that you’re lucky the blow on your face didn’t shatter the cheekbone and when they leave you alone you huddle into yourself and pray he doesn’t fall apart now. The hospital gown doesn’t cover your sin and you feel like your shattered soul is on display especially when he leaves, when he leaves you alone…you don’t know how to be alone. You don’t know who you are without them on either side of you.
“So, Dean, your doctor asked me to come by and see you, before your father comes back to take you home.”
Dean looked up at her. She was pretty, petite. Her brown hair dusted the shoulders of her lab coat, and her brown eyes smiled at him from behind frameless glasses.
“I already told them. It wasn’t…anything. It…just got out of hand.” He felt exposed, afraid.
“I know what you told them, Dean.” She sat in the chair beside the bed. They were keeping him overnight, because of the head injury. “I’m just here to listen to anything you might feel like talking about.”
“No offense, but I just want to go home.”
She nodded. “I realize that, but since you’re stuck here anyway, what’s the harm?”
He could think of lots of harm, actually.
“I noticed that your father is a pretty big guy.”
Dean squinted her way. “Yeah? So?”
She shrugged. “Just making conversation, Dean.”
“You’re a shrink, lady, you’re trying to bait me into spilling my guts. It isn’t going to happen.”
“Did he do this to you, Dean?”
“What?” He looked away, crossed his arms. “No. He…he’s a good man, my Dad. Helps people.”
“Sometimes even good people can do bad things.”
Dean sighed. “My dad came and got me because my date got a little rough, okay? My…friend had already left when I realized something was wrong.”
“This friend of yours have a name?”
He knew she was trying to help. He knew she couldn’t begin to understand the world he lived in, or the choices he’d made to keep living in it. “Yeah, he’s a married man, you know?“
She leaned forward in the chair. “You do realize that we will be analyzing the DNA we found inside you. We will figure it out eventually.”
“I’m tired. I need to sleep.”
“Okay, I’ll go for now, but I’ll be back, Dean.”
“I look forward to it.”
The door closed behind her and Dean went into full panic mode, ripping the IV from his arm and climbing out of bed. He swayed a little as he went looking for his clothes. They were gone. His father was supposed to bring him some in the morning, but he knew they couldn’t wait that long. They had to move.
Before someone put it all together.
He peeked out the door, watched nurses moving around the floor. It was dinner time. He might be able to get away. He waited until there was no one at the nurses station, then moved out into the hall.
His head was pounding, his heart racing. His injured wrist throbbed under the wrappings.
He needed clothes. He ducked into a room as a nurse came into the hallway. There was an old man asleep on the only bed in the room. Dean rummaged in the dresser and came out with a pair of pants and a shirt that smelled like old man. They were high waters, and his ass hurt, but he didn’t look like an escaping patient…other than the bare feet. The old man had feet like a thirteen year old girl.
He moved slowly, ducking into a men’s room when his stomach churned. He could feel the pull on the stitches inside him as he retched into the toilet, and hoped they wouldn’t tear. He flushed and staggered back to his feet. The florescent lights made the gash and bruising on his face stand out against the pale of his skin. The cut itself wasn’t the worst he’d ever had, a thin jagged line that more or less followed his cheek bone.
It was swollen and tender. The eye above was black and blue. He sighed and made his way out of the bathroom. He didn’t want to chance the elevator, so he made for the staircase, then thought better of it when another wave of dizziness hit. He knew he didn’t have time for babying himself. With a head injury they’d be in to check on him every hour.
The stairs were hard to navigate, between his head and his ass and the vertigo. He fumbled with the door on the ground floor, stumbled out and into the lobby. There was no way he was getting back to Sam and his father like this.
He stopped and leaned against a wall, his eyes scanning the lobby. There was a family grieving loudly in one corner, children sitting dully on the couches. Nurses and doctors moved around him.
“Dean?”
He looked up and groaned. Pastor Jim was the last thing he needed. He was walking toward him, his left hand bandaged. “You all right son?”
Dean nodded. “Just want to go home.”
Jim turned his head to look at Dean’s face. “That looks nasty. I’m betting they wanted you to stay overnight.”
“Don’t wanna. I’m fine.” He pushed himself upright and the room danced a little around him.
“Where’s your father?”
“Sent him home for Sammy…don’t want to leave Sam alone.” He licked his lips and tried to focus. “We…I need to go.”
“Dean, I think you need to stay. What room were you in? I’ll take you back.”
“No. No.” Dean grabbed Jim’s shirt and held on to him. “You don’t understand. If I stay here there’s gonna be trouble. I need to go. Will you…could you take me home?”
Jim looked like he was going to argue, but then nodded. “Okay Dean. Okay.” He turned, slipped an arm under Dean’s shoulder to support him and together they moved out the sliding doors and into the cool evening. There was going to be rain. Dean could smell it.
“What happened?” Dean asked after they’d both gotten into the truck, pointing at Jim’s hand.
He smiled. “Took care of that ghost, but not before she crashed another truck. I cut my hand helping the driver get out.” He turned those intense eyes on Dean. “What about you?”
“I had a disagreement with the Impala. She won.” Dean said, his hand touching the bottom of the swollen flesh lightly.
“Last I saw you, you were taking your Daddy home?”
Dean forced his voice to stay calm. He was starting to feel like he was drowning. “Had to pee, pulled over…slipped, cracked my face. Dad brought me here.” Dean willed for it to be enough, for Jim to stop asking questions and just fucking drive already. His ass was screaming, the press of the old truck seat reminding him of each and every stitch that was holding together torn flesh from his father’s brutal fucking.
You don’t want to bring him home, not when you don’t know what state of mind your father is in, or what he’s told Sam. Not when things went so bad so quickly. You don’t know what he’ll do if he knows. You don’t know if you can make him understand, because this thing is way beyond what it was when you first went to him, and it keeps escalating and it’s getting out of control…and maybe, just maybe you don’t really understand anymore yourself.
It was almost dark when Jim stopped the truck on the side of the road and they both looked at the house. The Impala was parked out front, passenger side doors open.
Dean grimaced as he turned on the seat, putting his feet in the gravel at the side of the road. “You boys packing up?” Jim asked, looking at Dean with an expression Dean couldn’t quite decipher.
Dean shrugged.
“Three schools in one semester isn’t good. You know that.” Jim said. Sam emerged from the house, hauling a duffle bag.
“Sam’s a good student. He’ll make it up.”
“Not the point.” Jim said, moving ahead of Dean. He greeted a surprised Sam who looked at Dean with something like fear in his eyes. Before either of them could stop him though, Jim was on his way into the house.
Dean moved toward the house, nearly falling when the dizziness was too much. Sam caught him and supported him into the house. They got there just as John looked up from his packing, his eyes going wide with surprise.
“Jim?”
Pastor Jim stopped, hands on his hips. “Want to tell me what the hell is going on here, John?”
Dean felt his father’s eyes, saw the concern and pain wash over his face. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“John.” Jim’s voice had an edge of anger to it and John’s eyes moved back to his friend.
He straightened up, licking his lips. “Just clearing out. Got a line on something down south.”
“You’re asking for trouble, hauling Sam out of school again.”
Sam helped Dean to a seat on the couch. “Not really,” Sam said and Jim turned to face him. Sam shrugged a little. “Got kicked out yesterday.”
“You what?” Dean asked, poking him.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Got into a fight.”
“With a teacher.” John finished. “I was getting us packed up and was coming for you in the morning, Dean.”
Jim’s eyes traveled the room, coming to rest finally on Dean. He seemed to be asking Dean something. Dean closed his eyes. “I’m tired.”
“You’re sleeping on the couch.” John said. “Where we can keep an eye on you.” He went back to throwing things into his duffle bag, glancing up at Jim. “I’d invite you to stay for dinner, Jim, but we only got peanut butter and some bread.”
“No…it’s okay.” Jim’s eyes flashed back to Dean. There was accusation in those eyes. Dean could almost hear his voice, You said you’d deal with it.
John nodded but didn’t look up.
Dean tried to move so he was sitting more on his hip than his ass without it being obvious. Jim knew. He knew. He was looking at John like he was some sort of monster.
Sam sat next to him, pulled Dean to lean against him. His touch was soothing, warm. Dean closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar feeling. Jim didn’t move. He was just there, in the middle and they could all feel him, but no one said anything.
Dean opened his eyes as Jim licked his lips and seemed to make some decision. He come to where Sam was sitting next to Dean, his hand casually in Dean’s lap.
Sam snaked his hand away, his face flushing. He stood and brushed a kiss over Dean’s forehead. “I’ll go get you a blanket and pillow.”
Jim watched Sam go, then turned to Dean, leaning in as if to check his cheek again. “You know I only want to help.” His voice was low, pitched so that only Dean could hear him.
Dean nodded tightly, blinking back tears and trying to still the wild staccato of his heart. Jim nodded too. “Tell me what you need Dean.”
Dean’s eyes flashed to his father, who was moving away now too, moving toward the kitchen. They had to make Jim believe it was okay. “I’m okay.” Dean breathed.
Jim looked over his shoulder as John disappeared into the kitchen. “Let me help you.”
Dean cleared his throat and took a deep breath, pulling himself together. “Thanks, but I’m really okay.”
“I can see that you aren’t.” Jim said, though he stood upright and ran a hand through his hair. “You can’t keep this up.”
Dean pushed himself up off the couch, swayed a little, but lifted his head. “We’re okay, Pastor Jim. I promise.”
Jim nodded slowly. “Okay. You call me when you aren’t.” He pulled Dean into a tight hug. “I mean it. If you can’t do it, I will.”
Then he was gone and Dean couldn’t breathe.
“Fuck. Fuck.” He gasped, spun around, sucking in air and hitting himself until John was there, grabbing his hands.
“Dean. Stop. Focus.” His father’s voice was soft and it made something inside him ache.
He lifted his eyes. “We can’t wait for morning. We have to go now.”
“Not in the condition you’re in. You should lay down.” John tried to guide Dean to the couch.
“Dad, you don’t understand. They think you raped me.” Dean choked on the words, on the idea that anyone could think that, on the fact that it was very nearly true.
“I did, Dean.” John said, letting go of him and pacing away.
“No…no, Dad. It wasn’t like that.”
John stopped in the middle of the room. “I was there Dean, I saw what I did to you.”
Dean shook his head and tried to reach for him, but his body was too heavy to move. “No. You…it was my fault. I took too long. It’s worse if I wait…if I try to make you wait. And…and I didn’t have lube in the car…it was my fault.”
He wanted to get back that moment after…when it hadn’t been that thing inside his father, but his father there with him, opening up to his touch. “I love you.”
John twitched, crossed his arms. He shook his head. Sam reappeared at the kitchen door. “We both love you.” Sam added, his voice soft. “It isn’t your fault.”
He moved into the room, up to John, sliding hands up over his arms. “Hey, look at me, Dad.” John stiffened, his arms falling to his sides. Sam kissed his cheek and put his arms around John, drawing him close. “It’s okay. Dean’s going to be fine.” They both looked at Dean. “We’re all going to be fine.”
John groaned as Sam’s hands slid over his back. “It’s okay.” Sam’s eyes met Dean’s and he nodded. “I’ll drive. You can ride in back, keep an eye on Dean.”
Most of the ride is a blur. Two days, maybe three. You spend most of the first with your head in your father’s lap, like you’re a fucking child. His big hands are gentle as they stroke your hair, but when you look up into his face you can see the fear and anguish in every line. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so old, so worn thin.
The car stopped and Dean lifted his head from the back seat. “Where are we?”
His father was behind the wheel, Sam stretching in the passenger seat. “Near Denver.” His father sounded tired. “Lay still. I’ll get us a room.”
Sam knelt on the seat and leaned over, brushing a hand over Dean’s forehead. “You had us worried.”
“Must have been worse than I thought. It’s better.”
Sam’s eyes sparkled with affection as he smiled lightly. “Yes, it is. We’re okay.” He looked out the back window.
“Dad?” Dean asked, a knot in his stomach pulling a little tighter.
Sam nodded. “I think he’s okay, Dean. He’s been like himself. He’s let me touch him.” Sam licked his lips and smiled. “Here he is.”
John slid into the seat and his eyes flicked over Sam’s face, then to Dean and back. “We’re all set.”
The car lurched forward and stopped again. Dean let Sam help him out of the car and into the room, sitting a little gingerly on the nearest bed. His ass felt better. His father moved out of the room and came back with duffle bags.
Sam stretched, his back cracking. “I’m gonna shower.” He grabbed his duffle, his hand catching on John’s. Sam licked his lips and leaned in, kissing John softly. Dean stared, waiting for the freeze up, for the reaction.
There wasn’t one. Sam slipped into the bathroom, his face all smile.
“Wow. Um…” Dean cocked his head and looked at his father.
“It makes him happy.” John grumbled, dumping the bags on the bed beside Dean.
Dean didn’t answer, there wasn’t really an answer to something like that. John moved around the room, setting them up, marking the window sills and doorway with salt. When he finally sat it was with his back to Dean. They were on the same bed and Dean could feel him there, feel the weight of him.
“It isn’t right and I don’t like it. But you boys…you need me right now.”
“We’ll always need you.” Dean said softly. This sounded like his father accepting his place, but it felt a little like he was picking apart the splintered pieces…picking them apart and trying to reassemble them into something that resembled the boy Dean used to be.
“You need me now.” John countered. “Until you’re stronger.”
Dean shook his head and turned to say more, but Sam was there, dripping and beautiful in nothing but jeans. He was grinning and he laughed at some private joke. “Water’s good and hot.” He leaned over Dean, letting the cooling water drip over him. His kiss was sweet and tasted vaguely of something chocolate. “I’ll go get us some dinner.”
Sam rummaged in Dean’s bag. “I’m borrowing, I need to do laundry.”
Dean sat numbly and watched. It was surreal, like they weren’t fucked six ways from Sunday. John got up and headed into the bathroom. It was odd. Wrong. Sam took the keys off the table and headed for the door. “Back in a bit.”
Dean was alone, his head pounding. His father was in the shower. Slowly, Dean stood and shed his clothes. He didn’t look in the mirror as he passed. He didn’t want to see this…see himself doing this.
He slipped into the bathroom, into the small shower. His father looked startled, but Dean didn’t give him time to respond. He took his father’s face in his hands and pulled him into a kiss. He didn’t react, not for a moment, but when Dean let his tongue slide out to touch John’s lips, they slowly opened.
“Dean…what?” John asked, his eyes closed, as Dean pulled back.
“Need you to know.” Dean whispered back, his hands sliding over his father’s wet body, down over his flat stomach. “I need you. I need you to be here with me.”
“I’m right here Dean.” John said, his voice filling the shower even as his cock filled Dean’s hand.
“I want this Dad. I want us…even without…okay?” His kiss was a little more urgent as he started moving his hand over John’s cock, more teeth, more everything. He had to make his father understand.
“Dean.”
His lips pulled the sound into himself, letting it fill the cracks. “Need more…more than just that…need you.” Dean sucked his way down John’s neck, his free hand guiding John’s to where Dean’s cock was hard and pressed against his thigh. “Something to hold on to when the dark comes.”
Dean didn’t even know what he was saying, just knew he needed to keep talking, keep convincing. John’s hand matched Dean’s pace and it was awkward and they kept bumping one another, foreheads pressed together, breathing as one…and when Dean came he groaned and leaned into his father.
John came as well, moaning and turning his face away.
Dean heard Sam returning and backed off. “It’s okay Dad.”
John nodded, then tipped his face back under the spray. Dean got out and left him, wrapping a thin motel towel around his waist and moving out into the bedroom. Sam was setting out burgers and fries on the table.
He smiled and for a moment Dean was content with the lie. They were okay.