My Brother's Keeper, Part 13 - Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: My Brother's Keeper, Part Thirteen( Part One Here, Part Two Here, Part Three Here, Part Four Here, Part Five Here, Part Six Here, Part Seven Here, Part Eight Here, Part Nine Here, Part Ten Here, Part Eleven Here, Part Twelve Here)
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Table: #1
Prompt: 012 Shelter
Word Count: 1969
Summary: Complete AU. On the night the demon kills Mary Winchester, John saves Dean, but before he can go back for Sam, the fire spreads. It is assumed that Sam is dead along with his mother. In reality, he has been taken and is raised by a family dedicate to the demon who killed Mary. One night after a hunt, Dean runs into him in a bar in Palo Alto, never a clue who he really is.
Warnings: Overall-Incest, m/m sex, blood play, bondage, non-con. Babies and demons and blood and come...No sex...a little more unraveling...Evil!Sam may have met his match...
This is my thirty-second ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
Dean pulled the Impala over within sight of the sign, getting out of the car without saying a word and pacing away. His father stopped behind him, getting out to lean against the truck.
Dean didn’t want to be here. He agreed with the idea, the overall idea that they needed help…that they needed someone who could see past the enchantments, through the defenses…someone like Missouri. But this was Lawrence…Kansas. Dean’s last memories of his mother were held here. The image of a house in flames. The feeling of confusion and despair and grief.
He wasn’t really ready for that. It didn’t help that Missouri gave him a serious case of the creeps. He paced back toward the Impala, his eyes rising to meet his father’s. He didn’t have to say anything. His father waited. Just waited.
Finally, Dean nodded and got back in the car. John followed suit, pulling out in front of Dean to lead them into town.
“What was that about?” Sam asked.
Dean shot him a look. “Do you really not know?”
Sam shifted in the confined space, sitting up and looking around them. “No. What?”
Dean’s jaw worked a little, his eyes back on the road. “It’s Lawrence, Sam. We lived here.”
“We did? As in, we.”
“Yeah, we. This is where it happened.”
Dana gurgled in the back seat and Dean glanced over his shoulder. “I know baby, long ride. We’re almost there.”
Sam chuckled, trying to hide it behind his hand. “What?” Dean asked, his tone irritated.
Sam shook his head. “Nothing. Did you hear yourself?”
Dean smacked his arm. “That’s my little girl.”
“Ow. No need for violence.”
“Shut up.”
Missouri was on her front porch when John pulled in and climbed out of the cab of the truck. “John Winchester, as I live and breathe!”
John smiled at her, and accepted her sweeping hug with gratitude. “Hey Missouri. How you been?”
She stepped back and swatted at him. “Is that all you got to say? I ain’t seen you in close on a year, and that’s it?”
John looked down at his toes and shuffled them a little. “We got into a spot of trouble, Missouri, and we need your help.”
She snorted at him, looking up as the Impala pulled in behind John’s truck. “Yeah, and if that isn’t the understatement of the century. You and that boy of yours.” She stopped, quirking her head to the side and staring at the car. “I stand corrected.”
She turned to look at him, her smile fading. “I told you, didn’t I, John. I told you he was alive.”
John nodded, turning to watch as Dean got out of the car, waving at Missouri before he opened the back door and started fumbling with the car seat. Sam was slower to get out, eyeing Missouri with suspicion as her face lit up and she moved over to Dean, already reaching for the baby. “What is this child going to do with all of these men around her. Give her to me child. She needs some woman love.”
Dean rolled his eyes, but let Missouri take Dana. “You trust her with your kid?” Sam asked and Missouri looked at him.
“Don’t you start with me boy, I can see right through you.” She cooed at Dana then waved her free hand. “Come on, dinner’s almost ready and then we can talk like civilized folk. Dean, you bring in that playpen, you hear?”
“Yes ma’am.” Dean said, already moving to the trunk to pull out his duffle and the baby’s things. “Just, don’t make her angry, okay Sam?”
As dinner was ending, John rose to clear the table and Dean yawned. “First door on the right, top of the stairs.” Missouri said and Dean just looked at her. “What? You need sleep more than either of these two, and I’ll have my hands full with them tonight. Take a shot of whiskey and go on. Your daddy will keep an eye on the little one.”
Dean shook his head, standing slowly. “Someday you’re going to be wrong.”
She just smiled. “Not tonight. Go on with you.”
Dean glanced at his father who nodded and then Dean turned to Sam. “Just…I don’t know…don’t provoke her.” Sam snorted at him and Dean walked away shaking his head.
When he was gone, Missouri stood and reached a hand out for Sam. “What’s say you and me go into the den, Sam. I think we have a lot to talk about.”
Sam looked at John, as if expecting something, then back to Missouri. “I’m not exactly comfortable with this,” he offered quietly and Missouri chuckled.
“As if I care what you’re comfortable with, boy. Go on now. We got business.”
John was settling Dana into the playpen in the living room, when Missouri and Sam finally emerged from the den and Missouri sent a very quiet, very subdued Sam up the stairs. He turned expectantly and she shook her head, watching him go. When he was gone, and they heard a bedroom door close, she sank into a chair, waving him to another.
“That boy….” She sighed. “That boy, he’s had bad, John. Bad like you don’t want to know about.”
John sank into a chair opposite her, his hand scrubbing over his face. “How bad?”
“Ain’t my place to tell you that. He’s carrying around a mess of pain, secrets and stories and it’s no wonder he’s done the things he’s done.” She sighed and hugged herself.
“And what has he done, Missouri? Dean isn’t telling me everything I know it. And Sam, he’s barely said ten words to me since we met.”
“You’ll have to get one of them to tell you. Ain’t my place.”
“What can you tell me?”
She shrugged. “He’s afraid. Knows that he was meant to die that night. Knows his whole life was a lie, and everything he believed is probably gone. He’s afraid of you, afraid for Dean. Knows them demons he’s spent his life around are gonna want payback.”
John shook his head. “I really don’t know what to do here. I don’t know how to help Dean. I don’t know what to do with Sam. The only thing I’m sure about here is Dana. I never dreamed of grandchildren.”
“She’s beautiful. You are very blessed John Winchester.”
He smiled, then yawned. “I seem to always come to you seeking shelter, Missouri.”
She smiled and stood. “And you’ll always have it here.”
“What about the house?”
“We’re safe enough. No demon’s gonna dare step on my land.”
John nodded and stood. “I’m going to check on the boys.”
“Yeah, you do that. I’ll get you a pillow and some blankets. The couch isn’t as nice as the guest beds, but there’s no lumps…and you’ll be close to Dana.”
Sam wasn’t tired. He’d spent most of the driving time either sleeping or in a state like sleep. His time with Missouri had left him unsettled and anxious and while he took her advice and went to his room, the bed lay untouched and he sat in the window seat, with his knees folded up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, staring out into the night.
She saw through him, and she pulled no punches. Her words had left him a quivering puddle of weepy, weak child…huddled in the dark in the punishment closet, afraid to breathe.
She’d known things no one alive knew, but him. Seen them in his eyes. Things he didn’t even admit to himself anymore. Relegated to a place in his mind where he could pretend. He hadn’t realized how much of his childhood had gone there, into that place. He’d cried, not five minutes in, he was bawling like he was eight and his father had beat him over missing classes because his stomach hurt.
Sam hated himself. The problem was he wasn’t sure why, or how or which part hurt the most. He hated the crying, the weakness. He hated the way he’d let her in, let her see. He hated the memories he thought were gone, exorcised like the demons in that closet.
Sam shuddered and hugged himself tighter. If he let himself, he could almost admit he hated himself…hated who he’d become because he’d believed the lies. Hated what he’d done…the lives he’d ruined through casual cruelty, or more direct deception. He laid his head down on his knees and stared into the darkness outside his window.
She’d seen more than all that too. She saw past the dark, that she said ate at the edges of himself like acid eating its way into flesh. She saw the power inside him.
“It’s gonna eat you alive, boy…from the inside out, just like that darkness is eating its way in. ‘Less you do something to stop it,” she’d said.
But, she hadn’t said what.
There was a soft knock on the door and Sam stirred just enough to lift his head. “You okay?” John asked from the door.
“What? Like you care?” Sam said, misery dripping from his voice.
John hesitated, then looked over his shoulder before slipping into the room and closing the door. He crossed the floor awkwardly before he sat on the bed. “I don’t like coming here. Lot of memories in this town.” He fiddled with the him of his shirt, avoiding looking at Sam. “But things are different this time. You’re here.”
Sam turned so that his chin was on his knee, his green eyes eating the space between them. “I don’t remember this place. It almost feels like I should.”
John attempted a smile, and failed. “You…you were…a baby, Sam. You couldn’t remember it any more than Dana will.”
Sam sighed, his eyes closing. John ran a hand through his hair. “Missouri is a good woman. I trust her.”
“But you don’t trust me.”
John’s eyes narrowed. “I’d like to, Son. But you have to admit, you haven’t given me much to go on.” After a long moment, he stood. “You’re safe here, Sam. Once Missouri offers you shelter, nothing will harm you. The rest is up to you.”
John turned to go, but Sam’s voice stopped him before he reached the door. “I asked about you once. I think I was 8. I asked where you were and why I wasn’t with you. They never hid from me that you were still alive.” Sam stretched out his legs, putting them on the floor as his body turned toward John. “They told me you didn’t want me. That you didn’t want a boy who would let his own mother die to save himself. Then the put me in the closet.”
John turned to look at Sam. Sam’s arms were wrapped around himself, as if letting go would cause him to shatter. His eyes wouldn’t meet John’s. His lips trembled. “Do you have any idea what demons will do to an 8 year old boy when they’re locked in a closet with him?”
John inhaled, his eyes tearing. Sam shook Tears streamed down his face. When his eyes finally did meet John’s it was John that shattered, crossing the room in two strides and kneeling in front of this son he didn’t know. He touched Sam’s hand, stroked it, tears streaming unchecked down his face. “Sam. Oh, Sam. Never believe I didn’t want you. Never.”
Sam didn’t pull his hand away. He hated himself even more, but couldn’t stop the shaking, couldn’t stop the crying. He wanted John to hold him and he wanted him to go away and he wanted to curl into a ball and die. He settled for turning back to the window, and John took the hint, withdrawing from the room, taking his anguish and fear and leaving Sam to his.
Title: My Brother's Keeper, Part Thirteen( Part One Here, Part Two Here, Part Three Here, Part Four Here, Part Five Here, Part Six Here, Part Seven Here, Part Eight Here, Part Nine Here, Part Ten Here, Part Eleven Here, Part Twelve Here)
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Table: #1
Prompt: 012 Shelter
Word Count: 1969
Summary: Complete AU. On the night the demon kills Mary Winchester, John saves Dean, but before he can go back for Sam, the fire spreads. It is assumed that Sam is dead along with his mother. In reality, he has been taken and is raised by a family dedicate to the demon who killed Mary. One night after a hunt, Dean runs into him in a bar in Palo Alto, never a clue who he really is.
Warnings: Overall-Incest, m/m sex, blood play, bondage, non-con. Babies and demons and blood and come...No sex...a little more unraveling...Evil!Sam may have met his match...
This is my thirty-second ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
Dean pulled the Impala over within sight of the sign, getting out of the car without saying a word and pacing away. His father stopped behind him, getting out to lean against the truck.
Dean didn’t want to be here. He agreed with the idea, the overall idea that they needed help…that they needed someone who could see past the enchantments, through the defenses…someone like Missouri. But this was Lawrence…Kansas. Dean’s last memories of his mother were held here. The image of a house in flames. The feeling of confusion and despair and grief.
He wasn’t really ready for that. It didn’t help that Missouri gave him a serious case of the creeps. He paced back toward the Impala, his eyes rising to meet his father’s. He didn’t have to say anything. His father waited. Just waited.
Finally, Dean nodded and got back in the car. John followed suit, pulling out in front of Dean to lead them into town.
“What was that about?” Sam asked.
Dean shot him a look. “Do you really not know?”
Sam shifted in the confined space, sitting up and looking around them. “No. What?”
Dean’s jaw worked a little, his eyes back on the road. “It’s Lawrence, Sam. We lived here.”
“We did? As in, we.”
“Yeah, we. This is where it happened.”
Dana gurgled in the back seat and Dean glanced over his shoulder. “I know baby, long ride. We’re almost there.”
Sam chuckled, trying to hide it behind his hand. “What?” Dean asked, his tone irritated.
Sam shook his head. “Nothing. Did you hear yourself?”
Dean smacked his arm. “That’s my little girl.”
“Ow. No need for violence.”
“Shut up.”
Missouri was on her front porch when John pulled in and climbed out of the cab of the truck. “John Winchester, as I live and breathe!”
John smiled at her, and accepted her sweeping hug with gratitude. “Hey Missouri. How you been?”
She stepped back and swatted at him. “Is that all you got to say? I ain’t seen you in close on a year, and that’s it?”
John looked down at his toes and shuffled them a little. “We got into a spot of trouble, Missouri, and we need your help.”
She snorted at him, looking up as the Impala pulled in behind John’s truck. “Yeah, and if that isn’t the understatement of the century. You and that boy of yours.” She stopped, quirking her head to the side and staring at the car. “I stand corrected.”
She turned to look at him, her smile fading. “I told you, didn’t I, John. I told you he was alive.”
John nodded, turning to watch as Dean got out of the car, waving at Missouri before he opened the back door and started fumbling with the car seat. Sam was slower to get out, eyeing Missouri with suspicion as her face lit up and she moved over to Dean, already reaching for the baby. “What is this child going to do with all of these men around her. Give her to me child. She needs some woman love.”
Dean rolled his eyes, but let Missouri take Dana. “You trust her with your kid?” Sam asked and Missouri looked at him.
“Don’t you start with me boy, I can see right through you.” She cooed at Dana then waved her free hand. “Come on, dinner’s almost ready and then we can talk like civilized folk. Dean, you bring in that playpen, you hear?”
“Yes ma’am.” Dean said, already moving to the trunk to pull out his duffle and the baby’s things. “Just, don’t make her angry, okay Sam?”
As dinner was ending, John rose to clear the table and Dean yawned. “First door on the right, top of the stairs.” Missouri said and Dean just looked at her. “What? You need sleep more than either of these two, and I’ll have my hands full with them tonight. Take a shot of whiskey and go on. Your daddy will keep an eye on the little one.”
Dean shook his head, standing slowly. “Someday you’re going to be wrong.”
She just smiled. “Not tonight. Go on with you.”
Dean glanced at his father who nodded and then Dean turned to Sam. “Just…I don’t know…don’t provoke her.” Sam snorted at him and Dean walked away shaking his head.
When he was gone, Missouri stood and reached a hand out for Sam. “What’s say you and me go into the den, Sam. I think we have a lot to talk about.”
Sam looked at John, as if expecting something, then back to Missouri. “I’m not exactly comfortable with this,” he offered quietly and Missouri chuckled.
“As if I care what you’re comfortable with, boy. Go on now. We got business.”
John was settling Dana into the playpen in the living room, when Missouri and Sam finally emerged from the den and Missouri sent a very quiet, very subdued Sam up the stairs. He turned expectantly and she shook her head, watching him go. When he was gone, and they heard a bedroom door close, she sank into a chair, waving him to another.
“That boy….” She sighed. “That boy, he’s had bad, John. Bad like you don’t want to know about.”
John sank into a chair opposite her, his hand scrubbing over his face. “How bad?”
“Ain’t my place to tell you that. He’s carrying around a mess of pain, secrets and stories and it’s no wonder he’s done the things he’s done.” She sighed and hugged herself.
“And what has he done, Missouri? Dean isn’t telling me everything I know it. And Sam, he’s barely said ten words to me since we met.”
“You’ll have to get one of them to tell you. Ain’t my place.”
“What can you tell me?”
She shrugged. “He’s afraid. Knows that he was meant to die that night. Knows his whole life was a lie, and everything he believed is probably gone. He’s afraid of you, afraid for Dean. Knows them demons he’s spent his life around are gonna want payback.”
John shook his head. “I really don’t know what to do here. I don’t know how to help Dean. I don’t know what to do with Sam. The only thing I’m sure about here is Dana. I never dreamed of grandchildren.”
“She’s beautiful. You are very blessed John Winchester.”
He smiled, then yawned. “I seem to always come to you seeking shelter, Missouri.”
She smiled and stood. “And you’ll always have it here.”
“What about the house?”
“We’re safe enough. No demon’s gonna dare step on my land.”
John nodded and stood. “I’m going to check on the boys.”
“Yeah, you do that. I’ll get you a pillow and some blankets. The couch isn’t as nice as the guest beds, but there’s no lumps…and you’ll be close to Dana.”
Sam wasn’t tired. He’d spent most of the driving time either sleeping or in a state like sleep. His time with Missouri had left him unsettled and anxious and while he took her advice and went to his room, the bed lay untouched and he sat in the window seat, with his knees folded up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, staring out into the night.
She saw through him, and she pulled no punches. Her words had left him a quivering puddle of weepy, weak child…huddled in the dark in the punishment closet, afraid to breathe.
She’d known things no one alive knew, but him. Seen them in his eyes. Things he didn’t even admit to himself anymore. Relegated to a place in his mind where he could pretend. He hadn’t realized how much of his childhood had gone there, into that place. He’d cried, not five minutes in, he was bawling like he was eight and his father had beat him over missing classes because his stomach hurt.
Sam hated himself. The problem was he wasn’t sure why, or how or which part hurt the most. He hated the crying, the weakness. He hated the way he’d let her in, let her see. He hated the memories he thought were gone, exorcised like the demons in that closet.
Sam shuddered and hugged himself tighter. If he let himself, he could almost admit he hated himself…hated who he’d become because he’d believed the lies. Hated what he’d done…the lives he’d ruined through casual cruelty, or more direct deception. He laid his head down on his knees and stared into the darkness outside his window.
She’d seen more than all that too. She saw past the dark, that she said ate at the edges of himself like acid eating its way into flesh. She saw the power inside him.
“It’s gonna eat you alive, boy…from the inside out, just like that darkness is eating its way in. ‘Less you do something to stop it,” she’d said.
But, she hadn’t said what.
There was a soft knock on the door and Sam stirred just enough to lift his head. “You okay?” John asked from the door.
“What? Like you care?” Sam said, misery dripping from his voice.
John hesitated, then looked over his shoulder before slipping into the room and closing the door. He crossed the floor awkwardly before he sat on the bed. “I don’t like coming here. Lot of memories in this town.” He fiddled with the him of his shirt, avoiding looking at Sam. “But things are different this time. You’re here.”
Sam turned so that his chin was on his knee, his green eyes eating the space between them. “I don’t remember this place. It almost feels like I should.”
John attempted a smile, and failed. “You…you were…a baby, Sam. You couldn’t remember it any more than Dana will.”
Sam sighed, his eyes closing. John ran a hand through his hair. “Missouri is a good woman. I trust her.”
“But you don’t trust me.”
John’s eyes narrowed. “I’d like to, Son. But you have to admit, you haven’t given me much to go on.” After a long moment, he stood. “You’re safe here, Sam. Once Missouri offers you shelter, nothing will harm you. The rest is up to you.”
John turned to go, but Sam’s voice stopped him before he reached the door. “I asked about you once. I think I was 8. I asked where you were and why I wasn’t with you. They never hid from me that you were still alive.” Sam stretched out his legs, putting them on the floor as his body turned toward John. “They told me you didn’t want me. That you didn’t want a boy who would let his own mother die to save himself. Then the put me in the closet.”
John turned to look at Sam. Sam’s arms were wrapped around himself, as if letting go would cause him to shatter. His eyes wouldn’t meet John’s. His lips trembled. “Do you have any idea what demons will do to an 8 year old boy when they’re locked in a closet with him?”
John inhaled, his eyes tearing. Sam shook Tears streamed down his face. When his eyes finally did meet John’s it was John that shattered, crossing the room in two strides and kneeling in front of this son he didn’t know. He touched Sam’s hand, stroked it, tears streaming unchecked down his face. “Sam. Oh, Sam. Never believe I didn’t want you. Never.”
Sam didn’t pull his hand away. He hated himself even more, but couldn’t stop the shaking, couldn’t stop the crying. He wanted John to hold him and he wanted him to go away and he wanted to curl into a ball and die. He settled for turning back to the window, and John took the hint, withdrawing from the room, taking his anguish and fear and leaving Sam to his.