To Be Good, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: To Be Good
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2667
Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from nanakomatsu, Nothing and Something. Dean was kidnapped and made into a slave. Sam bought him back. Now Dean is starting to remember who he is, but breaking through the conditioning proves to be difficult, and John's presence seems to once again be a breaking point for Dean
A/Ns and Warnings: Slave!Dean, references to torture and rape...not exactly pretty stuff here.
The knock on the door was soft, but Dean stiffened. Sam got up, peeking through the window and grimacing. “It’s Dad. He…really wants to see that you’re okay.”
Dean licked his lips. “Should I…” He looked down at himself, clad only in boxers. “Pants. I should put on pants.”
Sam nodded. “That would be good.”
Dean reached for the faded gray sweatpants that lay on the bed. They were comfortable, even if they were too big. Once he had them on, he nodded. Sam opened the door. “Come on in Dad.”
John looked nervous as he came into the room, his eyes sweeping over Dean. “Hello Dean.”
The sound of his voice ripped through Dean and he swayed a little on his feet. Sam was at his side in a second and Dean shook his head. “I’m okay. Just…memory.”
“Dean’s been remembering…it’s been hard.”
“I’ve been worried, with the two of you locked up inside here for days on end.”
Dean swallowed and attempted a step out of the corner he’d unconsciously backed into. “Forgot so much.” He looked to Sam, then toward his father not quite getting to his face. “I’m sorry.”
John exhaled softly. “What? You…it’s me…I’m sorry, Dean.”
Dean cringed, turned away as a memory surfaced.
”My son, Dean. Pretty face, might be hard to break.
Sam’s hand was on his shoulder, but Dean’s stomach churned and he was dizzy. “Dean, what are you saying?”
He looked up, unaware he’d spoken out loud. “Sam…I…he…traded…” He was breathing heavily as the memory flooded him. He’d been there a long time, subjected to sensory deprivation, starvation, rape, beatings…and he clung to the hope that they would come. He’d been close to cracking when they came…his handler Thomas and the trainer Razz.
Dean closed his eyes, sinking to the floor, to his knees next to Sam. He could feel the cold metal floor of the cage, the heavy weight of the shackles on his wrists and ankles. His lip was split, but had stopped bleeding.
”We figured it was time you knew the truth, slave. About why you’re here.” Thomas tugged his head back and Razz held the tape player.
He pushed the button and Dean gasped as his father’s voice poured out of it. “My son, Dean. Pretty face, might be hard to break. Once you do though, he’s obedient. Trained him that way myself.”
Sam’s hand was on his head, as Dean sobbed, folding nearly to the floor. “It…I was sure…it was him…it sounded like him.”
“Shh…Dean…it’s okay.” Sam let him rock against his leg for a minute, then Dean looked up.
He felt shattered, like any breath could send him spiraling into the blackness. “Fair trade, he said. Fair trade, two turnips.”
Sam squatted beside him, wiping away the tears. “Two turnips? For someone as pretty as you? Doesn’t sound like our father, does it Dean?”
Sam turned Dean’s face toward John. “He didn’t trade you Dean. I don’t know how they faked his voice, and maybe he didn’t look for you right away, but he thought you were blowing off steam, isn’t that right Dad?”
John didn’t come closer, but he nodded. “I thought, after our fight, that you found some pretty girl and would be back in a few days…I never…thought…God Dean…” He ran a hand over his face and Dean noticed he looked haggard…hadn’t shaved in a while, dark circles under his eyes.
Dean shook his head. “I know…I mean…they lied. Like when they said you were dead, Sam.” Dean held to his brother’s hand for a minute. “They played it, over and over…for days. I stopped fighting so hard…I stopped…” He’d stopped being defiant, even if he wasn’t flat out obedient. It took the pictures of Sam to do that. He took a deep breath. “May I go to the bathroom?”
Sam’s hand brushed through his hair. “Of course, Dean. Take your time.”
Dean stood shakily and closed the bathroom door behind him. It wasn’t privacy, because he’d given up expecting privacy when he’d woke to find himself naked and chained in a cage. His hands were shaking as he turned on the water to splash over his face. They’d played the tape and something inside him stopped working. He didn’t want to believe it…but they hadn’t stopped there.
”I told your daddy what would become of you, slave. He asked if he could watch.” Thomas said as Razz pushed Dean’s face toward the floor, positioning him with his ass up. “Maybe we’ll send him pictures.”
Razz was one of the bigger trainers, and his cock was larger than most. Thomas laughed as Razz drove into Dean, playing the tape again and again while Razz raped him. He hadn’t cried, not once through the whole ordeal, not until that moment. He knew then he was doomed…that his father wasn’t coming, and Sam would never know. He surrendered then…and Razz knew it because he plowed that much harder into him, pressing him against the metal underneath him.
Dean cussed into the sink, his hands beating against the porcelain. Rage filled him, white hot and burning in his throat…an emotion he hadn’t felt in months. He looked up, looked into his own eyes in the mirror. He hated what he saw there. Hate, rage…things forbidden him…and yet…it was if the man in the mirror was someone else, the old Dean…then man Sam expected to find, the one John wanted to see…the one Dean wasn’t anymore…
He didn’t even register the pain as his fist slammed into the mirror, as the glass shattered and sliced his knuckles, not until the door was bursting open and there was blood in the sink and Sam looked so scared. Dean sank to his knees and offered up his bloody hand. “I’m sorry. Sorry…Sammy…I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay Dean, let me see.” Dean ducked his head while Sam picked glass out of the wounds. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move. Never flinch, Master can do anything he desires. He shook his head. “Okay, let’s clean this up. Stand up Dean.”
Sam pushed his hand under the water and turned to call their father. “Dad, could you get the first aid kit from my bag. I’m gonna need some bandages.”
“I’m sorry.” Dean said again, the rage drained and replaced by shame. He breathed out. Punishment was due. He damaged himself. He’d done it once before, cut himself shaving. He dared a glance up at Sam. He didn’t seem angry. Maybe he’d wait until their father was gone. That was worse. The waiting.
John was back with the first aid kit, passing it through to Sam who was bent over examining the wounds. “How bad?”
Sam shook his head. “Won’t need stitches.” He pressed a towel over the hand, drying it. Dean looked anywhere but at Sam or the hand or their father. He was better trained. He should have known better. “Come on Dean, let’s get this bandaged.” Sam maneuvered him until he was sitting on the toilet, setting the first aid kit behind him. “Want to tell me what that was about?” Sam asked as he dabbed antibiotic ointment on the cuts.
Dean’s eyes stayed on his lap. “I was angry,” he said sullenly. “I’m sorry. I know better. I can be better.”
“Stop apologizing, it’s fine.”
“No, I damaged…” He looked up at his father, then back to Sam before dropping his gaze. “Your property. I damaged what belongs to you.” He said it quietly, hoping only Sam would hear. The look his father was giving him made him feel dirty, broken.
Sam stopped and looked at him. “What?” His hand rose to Dean’s face. “Look at me, Dean.”
Dean swallowed the lump of fear in his throat and looked up, looking away almost instantly. “Please Sam.”
“I’m not angry.” Sam said, caressing his cheek. “I was worried, that’s all.”
Dean nodded, but wasn’t sure if he believed him. John paced away and Dean sagged a little. He was tired, unbelievably tired. “There. Better.” Sam said, taping down the last of the bandage. “I’m going out into the other room with Dad. Take your time.”
Sam pulled the door closed part way and Dean listened as he and their father spoke quietly. He couldn’t make out the words, but he knew it had to be about him. Sam wouldn’t want him now…damaged goods. He’d give him away…send him-No, Sam promised him he’d never go back. Maybe he’d send him away with their father.
“You what?” Dean heard Sam shout and stood abruptly. He couldn’t make out what his father said in return, but Sam’s voice was loud. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Fuck Dad!”
“Watch your mouth, Sam. I’m still your father.”
“You know, sometimes I wonder!” It sounded like Sam was moving now, back toward the bathroom door. Dean moved into the corner by the toilet instinctively. If Master raises his voice to someone in the room, go to the corner, stay out of the way.
“Is there anything else you’d like to confess here, Dad? I mean, while we’re at it?”
“What about you? What have you two been doing in here?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t you think I see it? The way he acts like…like you fucking own him?”
“Of course he does. What did you think? A year’s worth of conditioning would disappear just because I found him? Dad, I bought him, in a fucking slave market. I paid for him and led him out of there on a fucking leash…he sat there, in an unlocked cage on his fucking knees.”
Dean’s face flushed. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard Sam talk about the cage like that. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what Sam expected. To leave the cage would mean punishment, of the worst kind.
“I don’t like it Sam. I don’t like this. We should be doing something. Make him remember.”
“Yeah, because remembering is helping so much. God Dad, you don’t have any idea do you? Can you even begin to imagine what they had to do to him to break him? I don’t even. I know a little, what he’s remembered, what he talks about in his sleep…the nightmares…I thought mine were bad.”
“We should be hunting down the bastards that did this.”
Dean felt Sam’s eyes from the doorway but didn’t look up. “Let’s not talk about that here, Dad. Let me…let me settle Dean in for the night. I’ll come to your room when I know he’s asleep. We can talk then.”
Dean heard them move away. He took a deep breath to steady himself. Best to present himself for punishment before he was called. He slipped from the bathroom and moved between the beds. Before Sam turned back from closing the door, Dean was on his knees, hands behind his head, leaning forward so that his back was exposed.
“Dean?”
“I’m ready.”
“For what?”
“My punishment.” He didn’t look up. “I was bad…wrong…I shouldn’t have broken the mirror. You have to punish me.”
“No, Dean. I’m not going to-“
“Please Sam. You have to. So I can be good.” He dared to look up. “I want to be good, Sam.”
Sam shook his head and sat on the bed. “I think you’ve had enough pain for one day.”
Dean closed his eyes. “You have to.” His voice was small. It confused him when Sam didn’t understand.
Sam sank to his knees in front of his brother, his hands rising to hold his face as he leaned in to kiss him. He sighed then, almost sounding defeated. “What is it you need, Dean?”
“I should be whipped.” Dean said, his eyes dropping to Sam’s chest.
Sam’s voice was gentle. “We don’t have a whip, Dean.”
Dean choked on the words, “Belt will do.”
“God, Dean, I’m not taking a belt to you. Not for something like this. Anger is good. I’m proud of you.”
Dean shifted uncomfortably, despair eating at him. He had to make Sam see. He leaned forward, putting his head in Sam’s lap. “I was bad. I damaged property. I damaged me. If you don’t…it means it doesn’t matter…I don’t matter…I’m not good enough to discipline…not worth keeping…nothing…I don’t want to be nothing any more, Sam…” Dean sobbed, his body rocking into Sam’s until Sam’s hands slid down his bare back, soothing, caressing.
“Shh…Dean…it’s okay…it’s okay…I understand…calm down.” Sam’s lips pressed kisses into Dean’s back. “Calm down. Just…give me a minute.” He slipped away, standing and pacing over to the dresser and back. The third trip to the dresser, he came back with a belt. “I don’t know if I can do this Dean.”
“It’s okay, Sammy. You can do it. I trust you.” Somehow that sounded wrong, but Dean couldn’t place why, just bent forward again so his back was exposed. “Three…okay…its enough…so I can be better.”
“God…Dean…” He could hear pain in Sam’s voice, and felt a twinge of guilt. He shouldn’t be causing Sam pain. He was supposed to give him pleasure.
“Please.” Dean whispered. The sound of leather slapping against skin startled him, before he even felt the bite. It wasn’t hard…and he thought he heard Sam sob. “Please.” The second one fell a little more strongly, over his left shoulder. The third barely registered, as Sam dropped the belt before it fully connected and fell to his knees, gathering Dean up in his arms.
“I’m sorry, Dean…I shouldn’t...” He cried as he held Dean and Dean found himself folding his arms around Sam and petting his hair like he had when they were younger.
“It’s okay, Sammy. I’m okay now. I’m better.” He kissed the tears away from Sam’s cheeks and smiled. “Everything’s okay.”
It took a while, but slowly Sam nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m okay too Dean.” His kiss pressed softly to Dean’s lips. “I love you so much…I don’t want to do that again, okay?”
Dean smiled and nodded. “I’ll be good. I’ll be yours.” His hand rose to the black leather around his throat. “Yours forever.”
“Good. Now, you must be tired. You were up early today and it’s been rough. Why don’t you get some sleep.”
“Are you going to him?” Dean asked, trying not to sound petulant.
Sam nodded. “I’m going to try to explain things to him, and maybe we’ll figure out what we should do next.”
“He wants to hunt.”
“Yes, he does. But I don’t know if he’s ready for what he’ll find.”
“He wants to hurt them…for what happened to me.”
Again, Sam nodded. “Yes Dean, but no more than I do. It’s just you’re my first priority. I’m not going near them until you’re strong enough…and then only when I know you’re someplace safe. Then…I’m going to shut Gorlian and the whole fucking mess down.”
Dean yawned and Sam encouraged him up off the floor. “Let’s tuck you into bed.”
He stripped out the sweats and crawled into bed. “May I ask you something?”
Sam nodded as he adjusted the blankets. “What did he say? Why did you yell at him?”
Sam licked his lips. “The recording they played for you…he said that they probably got it from his cell phone…that he’d use most of those words on his cell, either to you or others in the two weeks before they grabbed you. It wouldn’t take much to put it together with the right equipment. He said that he thought he’d heard voices on the line, and he got a new phone shortly after you went missing.”
Dean closed his eyes. “It was his voice then, not a fake.”
“Probably.”
“That doesn’t make it feel better.”
“I know. Will you be okay alone for a bit?”
Dean nodded. “I’ll be fine.” He meant good, but Sam didn’t look like that was what he wanted to hear. Fine was better…and Dean was going to make sure he was better, from now on.
Title: To Be Good
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2667
Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from nanakomatsu, Nothing and Something. Dean was kidnapped and made into a slave. Sam bought him back. Now Dean is starting to remember who he is, but breaking through the conditioning proves to be difficult, and John's presence seems to once again be a breaking point for Dean
A/Ns and Warnings: Slave!Dean, references to torture and rape...not exactly pretty stuff here.
The knock on the door was soft, but Dean stiffened. Sam got up, peeking through the window and grimacing. “It’s Dad. He…really wants to see that you’re okay.”
Dean licked his lips. “Should I…” He looked down at himself, clad only in boxers. “Pants. I should put on pants.”
Sam nodded. “That would be good.”
Dean reached for the faded gray sweatpants that lay on the bed. They were comfortable, even if they were too big. Once he had them on, he nodded. Sam opened the door. “Come on in Dad.”
John looked nervous as he came into the room, his eyes sweeping over Dean. “Hello Dean.”
The sound of his voice ripped through Dean and he swayed a little on his feet. Sam was at his side in a second and Dean shook his head. “I’m okay. Just…memory.”
“Dean’s been remembering…it’s been hard.”
“I’ve been worried, with the two of you locked up inside here for days on end.”
Dean swallowed and attempted a step out of the corner he’d unconsciously backed into. “Forgot so much.” He looked to Sam, then toward his father not quite getting to his face. “I’m sorry.”
John exhaled softly. “What? You…it’s me…I’m sorry, Dean.”
Dean cringed, turned away as a memory surfaced.
”My son, Dean. Pretty face, might be hard to break.
Sam’s hand was on his shoulder, but Dean’s stomach churned and he was dizzy. “Dean, what are you saying?”
He looked up, unaware he’d spoken out loud. “Sam…I…he…traded…” He was breathing heavily as the memory flooded him. He’d been there a long time, subjected to sensory deprivation, starvation, rape, beatings…and he clung to the hope that they would come. He’d been close to cracking when they came…his handler Thomas and the trainer Razz.
Dean closed his eyes, sinking to the floor, to his knees next to Sam. He could feel the cold metal floor of the cage, the heavy weight of the shackles on his wrists and ankles. His lip was split, but had stopped bleeding.
”We figured it was time you knew the truth, slave. About why you’re here.” Thomas tugged his head back and Razz held the tape player.
He pushed the button and Dean gasped as his father’s voice poured out of it. “My son, Dean. Pretty face, might be hard to break. Once you do though, he’s obedient. Trained him that way myself.”
Sam’s hand was on his head, as Dean sobbed, folding nearly to the floor. “It…I was sure…it was him…it sounded like him.”
“Shh…Dean…it’s okay.” Sam let him rock against his leg for a minute, then Dean looked up.
He felt shattered, like any breath could send him spiraling into the blackness. “Fair trade, he said. Fair trade, two turnips.”
Sam squatted beside him, wiping away the tears. “Two turnips? For someone as pretty as you? Doesn’t sound like our father, does it Dean?”
Sam turned Dean’s face toward John. “He didn’t trade you Dean. I don’t know how they faked his voice, and maybe he didn’t look for you right away, but he thought you were blowing off steam, isn’t that right Dad?”
John didn’t come closer, but he nodded. “I thought, after our fight, that you found some pretty girl and would be back in a few days…I never…thought…God Dean…” He ran a hand over his face and Dean noticed he looked haggard…hadn’t shaved in a while, dark circles under his eyes.
Dean shook his head. “I know…I mean…they lied. Like when they said you were dead, Sam.” Dean held to his brother’s hand for a minute. “They played it, over and over…for days. I stopped fighting so hard…I stopped…” He’d stopped being defiant, even if he wasn’t flat out obedient. It took the pictures of Sam to do that. He took a deep breath. “May I go to the bathroom?”
Sam’s hand brushed through his hair. “Of course, Dean. Take your time.”
Dean stood shakily and closed the bathroom door behind him. It wasn’t privacy, because he’d given up expecting privacy when he’d woke to find himself naked and chained in a cage. His hands were shaking as he turned on the water to splash over his face. They’d played the tape and something inside him stopped working. He didn’t want to believe it…but they hadn’t stopped there.
”I told your daddy what would become of you, slave. He asked if he could watch.” Thomas said as Razz pushed Dean’s face toward the floor, positioning him with his ass up. “Maybe we’ll send him pictures.”
Razz was one of the bigger trainers, and his cock was larger than most. Thomas laughed as Razz drove into Dean, playing the tape again and again while Razz raped him. He hadn’t cried, not once through the whole ordeal, not until that moment. He knew then he was doomed…that his father wasn’t coming, and Sam would never know. He surrendered then…and Razz knew it because he plowed that much harder into him, pressing him against the metal underneath him.
Dean cussed into the sink, his hands beating against the porcelain. Rage filled him, white hot and burning in his throat…an emotion he hadn’t felt in months. He looked up, looked into his own eyes in the mirror. He hated what he saw there. Hate, rage…things forbidden him…and yet…it was if the man in the mirror was someone else, the old Dean…then man Sam expected to find, the one John wanted to see…the one Dean wasn’t anymore…
He didn’t even register the pain as his fist slammed into the mirror, as the glass shattered and sliced his knuckles, not until the door was bursting open and there was blood in the sink and Sam looked so scared. Dean sank to his knees and offered up his bloody hand. “I’m sorry. Sorry…Sammy…I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay Dean, let me see.” Dean ducked his head while Sam picked glass out of the wounds. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move. Never flinch, Master can do anything he desires. He shook his head. “Okay, let’s clean this up. Stand up Dean.”
Sam pushed his hand under the water and turned to call their father. “Dad, could you get the first aid kit from my bag. I’m gonna need some bandages.”
“I’m sorry.” Dean said again, the rage drained and replaced by shame. He breathed out. Punishment was due. He damaged himself. He’d done it once before, cut himself shaving. He dared a glance up at Sam. He didn’t seem angry. Maybe he’d wait until their father was gone. That was worse. The waiting.
John was back with the first aid kit, passing it through to Sam who was bent over examining the wounds. “How bad?”
Sam shook his head. “Won’t need stitches.” He pressed a towel over the hand, drying it. Dean looked anywhere but at Sam or the hand or their father. He was better trained. He should have known better. “Come on Dean, let’s get this bandaged.” Sam maneuvered him until he was sitting on the toilet, setting the first aid kit behind him. “Want to tell me what that was about?” Sam asked as he dabbed antibiotic ointment on the cuts.
Dean’s eyes stayed on his lap. “I was angry,” he said sullenly. “I’m sorry. I know better. I can be better.”
“Stop apologizing, it’s fine.”
“No, I damaged…” He looked up at his father, then back to Sam before dropping his gaze. “Your property. I damaged what belongs to you.” He said it quietly, hoping only Sam would hear. The look his father was giving him made him feel dirty, broken.
Sam stopped and looked at him. “What?” His hand rose to Dean’s face. “Look at me, Dean.”
Dean swallowed the lump of fear in his throat and looked up, looking away almost instantly. “Please Sam.”
“I’m not angry.” Sam said, caressing his cheek. “I was worried, that’s all.”
Dean nodded, but wasn’t sure if he believed him. John paced away and Dean sagged a little. He was tired, unbelievably tired. “There. Better.” Sam said, taping down the last of the bandage. “I’m going out into the other room with Dad. Take your time.”
Sam pulled the door closed part way and Dean listened as he and their father spoke quietly. He couldn’t make out the words, but he knew it had to be about him. Sam wouldn’t want him now…damaged goods. He’d give him away…send him-No, Sam promised him he’d never go back. Maybe he’d send him away with their father.
“You what?” Dean heard Sam shout and stood abruptly. He couldn’t make out what his father said in return, but Sam’s voice was loud. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Fuck Dad!”
“Watch your mouth, Sam. I’m still your father.”
“You know, sometimes I wonder!” It sounded like Sam was moving now, back toward the bathroom door. Dean moved into the corner by the toilet instinctively. If Master raises his voice to someone in the room, go to the corner, stay out of the way.
“Is there anything else you’d like to confess here, Dad? I mean, while we’re at it?”
“What about you? What have you two been doing in here?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t you think I see it? The way he acts like…like you fucking own him?”
“Of course he does. What did you think? A year’s worth of conditioning would disappear just because I found him? Dad, I bought him, in a fucking slave market. I paid for him and led him out of there on a fucking leash…he sat there, in an unlocked cage on his fucking knees.”
Dean’s face flushed. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard Sam talk about the cage like that. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what Sam expected. To leave the cage would mean punishment, of the worst kind.
“I don’t like it Sam. I don’t like this. We should be doing something. Make him remember.”
“Yeah, because remembering is helping so much. God Dad, you don’t have any idea do you? Can you even begin to imagine what they had to do to him to break him? I don’t even. I know a little, what he’s remembered, what he talks about in his sleep…the nightmares…I thought mine were bad.”
“We should be hunting down the bastards that did this.”
Dean felt Sam’s eyes from the doorway but didn’t look up. “Let’s not talk about that here, Dad. Let me…let me settle Dean in for the night. I’ll come to your room when I know he’s asleep. We can talk then.”
Dean heard them move away. He took a deep breath to steady himself. Best to present himself for punishment before he was called. He slipped from the bathroom and moved between the beds. Before Sam turned back from closing the door, Dean was on his knees, hands behind his head, leaning forward so that his back was exposed.
“Dean?”
“I’m ready.”
“For what?”
“My punishment.” He didn’t look up. “I was bad…wrong…I shouldn’t have broken the mirror. You have to punish me.”
“No, Dean. I’m not going to-“
“Please Sam. You have to. So I can be good.” He dared to look up. “I want to be good, Sam.”
Sam shook his head and sat on the bed. “I think you’ve had enough pain for one day.”
Dean closed his eyes. “You have to.” His voice was small. It confused him when Sam didn’t understand.
Sam sank to his knees in front of his brother, his hands rising to hold his face as he leaned in to kiss him. He sighed then, almost sounding defeated. “What is it you need, Dean?”
“I should be whipped.” Dean said, his eyes dropping to Sam’s chest.
Sam’s voice was gentle. “We don’t have a whip, Dean.”
Dean choked on the words, “Belt will do.”
“God, Dean, I’m not taking a belt to you. Not for something like this. Anger is good. I’m proud of you.”
Dean shifted uncomfortably, despair eating at him. He had to make Sam see. He leaned forward, putting his head in Sam’s lap. “I was bad. I damaged property. I damaged me. If you don’t…it means it doesn’t matter…I don’t matter…I’m not good enough to discipline…not worth keeping…nothing…I don’t want to be nothing any more, Sam…” Dean sobbed, his body rocking into Sam’s until Sam’s hands slid down his bare back, soothing, caressing.
“Shh…Dean…it’s okay…it’s okay…I understand…calm down.” Sam’s lips pressed kisses into Dean’s back. “Calm down. Just…give me a minute.” He slipped away, standing and pacing over to the dresser and back. The third trip to the dresser, he came back with a belt. “I don’t know if I can do this Dean.”
“It’s okay, Sammy. You can do it. I trust you.” Somehow that sounded wrong, but Dean couldn’t place why, just bent forward again so his back was exposed. “Three…okay…its enough…so I can be better.”
“God…Dean…” He could hear pain in Sam’s voice, and felt a twinge of guilt. He shouldn’t be causing Sam pain. He was supposed to give him pleasure.
“Please.” Dean whispered. The sound of leather slapping against skin startled him, before he even felt the bite. It wasn’t hard…and he thought he heard Sam sob. “Please.” The second one fell a little more strongly, over his left shoulder. The third barely registered, as Sam dropped the belt before it fully connected and fell to his knees, gathering Dean up in his arms.
“I’m sorry, Dean…I shouldn’t...” He cried as he held Dean and Dean found himself folding his arms around Sam and petting his hair like he had when they were younger.
“It’s okay, Sammy. I’m okay now. I’m better.” He kissed the tears away from Sam’s cheeks and smiled. “Everything’s okay.”
It took a while, but slowly Sam nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m okay too Dean.” His kiss pressed softly to Dean’s lips. “I love you so much…I don’t want to do that again, okay?”
Dean smiled and nodded. “I’ll be good. I’ll be yours.” His hand rose to the black leather around his throat. “Yours forever.”
“Good. Now, you must be tired. You were up early today and it’s been rough. Why don’t you get some sleep.”
“Are you going to him?” Dean asked, trying not to sound petulant.
Sam nodded. “I’m going to try to explain things to him, and maybe we’ll figure out what we should do next.”
“He wants to hunt.”
“Yes, he does. But I don’t know if he’s ready for what he’ll find.”
“He wants to hurt them…for what happened to me.”
Again, Sam nodded. “Yes Dean, but no more than I do. It’s just you’re my first priority. I’m not going near them until you’re strong enough…and then only when I know you’re someplace safe. Then…I’m going to shut Gorlian and the whole fucking mess down.”
Dean yawned and Sam encouraged him up off the floor. “Let’s tuck you into bed.”
He stripped out the sweats and crawled into bed. “May I ask you something?”
Sam nodded as he adjusted the blankets. “What did he say? Why did you yell at him?”
Sam licked his lips. “The recording they played for you…he said that they probably got it from his cell phone…that he’d use most of those words on his cell, either to you or others in the two weeks before they grabbed you. It wouldn’t take much to put it together with the right equipment. He said that he thought he’d heard voices on the line, and he got a new phone shortly after you went missing.”
Dean closed his eyes. “It was his voice then, not a fake.”
“Probably.”
“That doesn’t make it feel better.”
“I know. Will you be okay alone for a bit?”
Dean nodded. “I’ll be fine.” He meant good, but Sam didn’t look like that was what he wanted to hear. Fine was better…and Dean was going to make sure he was better, from now on.