To Be Strong, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: To Be Strong
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John, Caleb
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3241
Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from nanakomatsu, Nothing, Something, To Be Good and Broken. Dean was kidnapped and made into a slave. Sam bought him back, but he paid for him with a bunch of paper conjured to look like $85,000...now the men who sold Dean want their money...or their slave back.
A/Ns and Warnings: Slave!Dean, references to torture and rape...not exactly pretty stuff here.
Dean started as the car jerked and veered, pulling out on the road. He’d been withdrawn, but Sam wasn’t in the car. He looked up, saw Sam at the door being yanked backward. “Sam.” He grabbed his father over the seat, clawing his shoulder. “Sam.”
“I know, Dean. I know. We’ve got a problem. Just hold tight.”
Dean turned to look out the back window, but Sam’s face was gone from the door. “No. No. Can’t go. Not without him.”
He turned back to his father. “Can’t go.”
“We aren’t. Just making it look like we are.”
The car swerved, and they were in the parking lot of a strip mall. Dean followed John’s eyes out the window, back toward the thrift store. There was something familiar in it, in the looking out the window this way. “No one’s left the store.” John said, making
Dean look back at him.
“We left Sam. You took me from Sam.”
John spared him a look, before turning back. From here they could see the front and back of the store and still no one had left it. “Sam needs my help Dean. I’m not sure what to do. I can’t leave you alone. I can’t take you in there.”
“I want to help Sam.”
John smiled. “I’m sure you do, Son, but I’m fairly sure the men who grabbed him are the ones who…hurt you. I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
“They want me back?” Dean shook his head. Sam bought him. Paid for him. “Sam bought me. They don’t get to have me back. Sam said I wouldn’t go back.” He was starting to hyperventilate as he recognized the feeling racing through him. He was afraid.
“It isn’t that simple, Dean. Sam…tricked them. Paid for you with money he didn’t have.”
Dean stared at him. “I don’t understand.”
“He used magic to make it look real. There was no way he could come up with that much money.”
Dean shook his head. No, that couldn’t be true. If it was he…he wasn’t Sam’s…didn’t belong. They would hurt Sam. They would take him back. His fingers played with the collar. Sam said he was his. Sam said. Dean wanted Sam. Wanted to be Sam’s. “They’ll kill him.” Dean breathed. “For real this time.”
He grabbed his father’s shoulder again. “I can’t let that happen. Not like that. I know what they’ll do to him. They showed me once.”
”Time for your last show and tell, slave.”
Dean was in his cage, forced up to his knees, which were bloody from the violence the day before. “You know Daddy doesn’t want you.” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest, his whip hanging over one shoulder and wrapped around an arm. “Baby brother isn’t coming for you either.”
Razz laughed and the sound shook Dean out of the stupor he’d been in since hearing his father’s voice. “Well, he came for me, didn’t he Thomas?” Razz leaned over to talk into his ear. “I fucked him in front of his girlfriend. Told him how pretty you looked with your mouth full of my cock, choking on it. He came all over himself.”
Dean reached for him, getting a hand on his arm, before Thomas’s whip hit his back. “Wanna see?” Razz held out his hand and someone handed him a folder. The first picture was Sam on the Stanford quad. Then one of him holding some blonde’s hand. The third was Sam bent over the hood of a car, his ass bare. The fourth was Razz buried in him. Dean looked away, but Thomas was behind him, forcing his eyes back. There were five or six of Razz raping him…then blood everywhere, the blonde laying in a pool of it, Sam’s bare back and ass covered in it.
“I fucked him, then I killed them both.”
Dean shook his head, tried to pull free as his stomach erupting and he was vomiting up the very little he’d eaten. “You are nothing. You are no one. You are alone.”
Razz pulled his face up. Sam was dead…Sam…
“I’m not letting them kill him. Not again.” Dean was shaking, partly with the memory, partly from the fear running through him. If they were there, if they had Sam…they could want him too. “I want a gun.”
John looked at him. “I don’t think-“
“I won’t go in…but if they come out…I-I want a gun.” Dean swallowed. “I don’t want to be nothing again. I don’t want…” Slaves don’t have desires. He took a deep breath. “Please.”
John nodded and handed Dean a gun from under the front seat. Dean looked at it for a minute, then popped the magazine, checking the load before reseating it. John picked up his phone and dialed a number. “Where are you?”
Dean watched the store, while his father spoke to someone on the phone. When he saw three men coming out of the back he touched his father’s arm. “Hang on Caleb. I see them Dean.” The two big men half carried a third, who had a hood over his face. “Can’t tell if that’s Sam.”
“Razz.” Dean breathed. “On the right. Razz. Trainer. It’s Sam. They’ve got Sam.”
“Calm down, Dean. Caleb…they’re moving. I can’t follow them in the Impala.”
Dean watched as they pushed Sam into a black Explorer. With his heart stammering in his chest he climbed out of the car, watching the Explorer and crawling over to a station wagon parked next to the Impala. Once upon a time he knew how to steal a car.
“Dean?”
“Watch them.” Dean said, easing open the driver’s side door, hoping he could remember. He put his hand down on the mat as he reached under the dash, then stopped. He pulled the mat aside and found a key. He smiled triumphantly at his father through the passenger window and started the car, still on his knees beside it. John cursed, then was opening his door and getting in the passenger’s seat.
“Come on.”
Dean hesitated only briefly before he was behind the wheel and feeling his way around. “I can do this.” He looked at his father. “I was good at this, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, Dean, better than me. Go…”
Dean looked up and saw the explorer pulling away on the street. “For Sam. I can do this.” He put the gun on the seat next to him and put the car in reverse, accelerating a little too much, then throwing it into drive.
Beside him his father put his seat belt on, then put the phone back to his ear. “Caleb, we’re following. I’ll call you back.”
Sam could tell they were in a vehicle, moving at pretty good clip. His face was already starting to swell from the blows that landed there. He was going to have at least one black eye. He blew out, realizing that was likely the least of his worries.
The hood was hot and confining. There was blood drying at the corner of his mouth. His hands were bound behind him, tightly enough that it hurt. The big man had said he was Razz, a name he knew from his brother’s memories. This was really not good. He tried to figure out how they’d found them. There hadn’t been any signs. Not since the first stop. They’d been careful, using credit cards as little as possible, and different ones each time. No calls from local phones, no contact with people who knew them.
They hit a bump and Sam was jostled around, his face slamming into the back of the seat. Either they were just that good, or…His father had called someone, from the hotel line. Or worse. Someone his father called wasn’t really the ally he thought they were. Sam’s stomach churned. Someone his father trusted betrayed him in the first place. Someone they knew had turned Dean over to these men.
He tried to breath through the nausea. It wouldn’t help him to throw up in the hood. He needed to think it through. He had to find a way out of this…hopefully his father had done what he said and took Dean away.
Dean. He was going to see this as abandonment. Sam left him…after promising him. That was worse than anything Razz could do to him.
They were slowing down. Turning. Stopping. Sam steeled himself for the rough handling he was sure would follow. Doors opened, closed. Air kissed his hands as the door near his head was opened and he was yanked out, falling to the floor. His nose cracked against the ground. He was jerked to his feet and pushed, pulled, and finally thrown.
Big hands caught him and his hands were freed briefly, then he was pressed into a chair, his hands fed through the bars that formed the high back of the chair and re-bound. The hood was pulled free while his ankles were tied to the legs and he looked around trying to get his bearings. A big hand against his cheek encouraged him to keep his attention a little closer to hand.
In front of him was a big desk. Old, oak and big…designed to intimidate. He flicked his eyes up to the man behind the desk. “My name is Master James. I handle collections and fugitive retrieval for Mr. Gorlian.” He had silver hair, but was in no way older than maybe forty. His suit was white with a navy blue shirt. Impeccable, perfectly tailored. Even his glasses fit the image. “Now, I have been tasked with recovering $90,000 from you…or the recovery of the property you stole.”
Sam tried to be cool about it. “Ninety? Our deal was for 85.”
“The deal that you failed to keep, Mr. Silvers?” He looked up at Sam briefly, his eyes gray, lined in the darkest blue Sam had ever seen. He had Sam’s wallet, and emptied it out on to the desk, lining up the cards and ids, stacking the bills and setting them aside. “It appears you have an identity problem, Mr. Silvers.” He held up a credit card. “Or is it Mr. Davery? Mr. O’Malley?” He smiled and held up another. “Ah, this must be the one, Mr. Dong Shai.”
“I, ah…found those. Makes my wallet look better…impresses the girls.”
James flicked his gaze over Sam. “As I recall, your taste runs to men, Mr. Winchester.”
Shit. “Okay…so you know my name. Big deal.”
James smiled again, and Sam was really beginning to dislike that expression. “I’ve known your name for some time, Mr. Winchester. When the money for which you paid for your slave disappeared and in it’s place was a pile of paper, Mr. Gorlian showed me the surveillance video. Seeing as I was the one who commissioned the pictures of you at Stanford, I knew your face.”
“You took pictures of me?”
Again the smile. “I see your brother hasn’t remembered everything. That’s good. It means that re-training him won’t take much.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, Mr. Winchester. I guarantee you, I’m not the one who will be getting fucked.” He picked up the gun and knife they’d taken from his boot. “You, on the other hand…I’m told that there’s a pretty price to be had for brothers, and I’m sure Razz here would love to break you the way he did Dean.”
Sam couldn’t keep himself from looking up at the big man beside him. Many of Dean’s nightmares included this man.
“Now, shall we discuss the issue of the money you owe? As I said, the fee is now $90,000, less the actual money in the briefcase you gave us. That’s $86,450. I trust that these credit cards won’t provide me with that much?”
Sam didn’t respond, just closed his eyes.
“You will look at me when I am speaking to you Mr. Winchester, or you will be instructed.” A hand closed in his hair and pulled on his head. “Tell me, have you ever felt the sting of a cane across your bare back?”
Sam opened his eyes, leveling a glare at the man. “That’s better. Now, if you can not provide me the money that you owe, we will simply collect the merchandise, and take out the difference in your hide.” James stood, smoothing his jacket. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to take his place.” He eyed Sam up and down. “I thought not.”
He moved around the desk. “You can keep him of course, provided you pay for him.” He squinted at Sam. “With cash, I’ve brought along a witch, by the way, so that you can’t trick us again…or with an equal value in merchandise.”
“You’re insane.” Sam said finally. The hand crashed into his face again and Sam grimaced.
“You should check your own grip on sanity, Mr. Winchester. I promise you, my offer of repayment is limited. You have an hour to consider your options. After that, all recourse is null and void. I will repossess the merchandise and you will pay for your deception with your own flesh. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some phone calls to make.” James walked away, raising a cell phone to his ear before turning back. “Oh, and Razz, do remember not to mar the merchandise permanently.” His eyes trained back on Sam’s. “He gets over zealous sometimes. You should see what he did to the poor guy we dressed like you for your brother’s edification.”
Razz’s lips were wet against his ear. “Fucked him bloody, I did. Ripped him up inside before I beat him so his mama wouldn’t know him. You shoulda seen the slave’s face when he saw. Threw up all over himself. He opened his mouth like a good slave after that. Took my cock and sucked it good.”
He came to stand in front of Sam, unzipping his pants and pulling out his limp cock. Sam couldn’t help but stare, he was huge. “Did you know he could open that big? Sight to see…those lips of his, split his bottom lip every time though. Pity I can’t see how you compare just yet. Course, you think about it…maybe you like cock as much as that slave-whore brother of yours.”
Sam forced himself to look away, to breath deep and not rise to the bait. That’s all it was. He wanted Sam to say or do something. Instead he tried to ignore him and come up with a way out of this…a way to come up with the money. He had no doubt that James was the kind of man who didn’t make idle threats.
John got back into the station wagon, glancing at Dean who had a death grip on the steering wheel. “Caleb will be here soon. I don’t want to try to go in there without him.”
“Caleb?” Dean asked, his eyes trained on the doors to the building.
“You remember Caleb, right?”
Dean turned to look at him, his expression a combination of frustration and annoyance. It was his you’re-kidding-right look. “I barely remember entire months out of the last year.”
John couldn’t help himself, he laughed out loud and clapped a hand to Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Dean. But damn, you sounded like yourself.”
Dean smiled and looked away. “Did I?”
“Yeah.”
“Good?”
“Very.”
John looked up as a non-descript older model car pulled up beside them. “Good, Caleb.”
“You trust him?” Dean was back to looking uncertain and John patted his shoulder.
“With my life.”
“Okay.”
“Give me a minute with him.” John got out of the stolen station wagon and leaned into the driver’s side window. “They’re inside. I don’t know how many.”
“What about Dean?”
John shook his head. “He can’t go in there. It’s a really long story. It’s just you and me.”
“So you said on the phone.” Caleb leaned around John to look at Dean. “Is he going to be okay out here alone?”
“I don’t know.” John admitted. “I’ve given him a gun, in case.”
“Okay, let’s do this thing then.”
Sam’s nose was most certainly broken. Blood trickled from one nostril and his left eyes was swollen shut. Razz was certainly good at this part.
“Broken noses show character. Yours was too pretty for market anyway.” Razz was wiping blood from his knuckles. Sam had felt the force of those knuckles on his face, stomach, even his thighs.
So far the only thing broken was his nose. He was under the impression that wouldn’t last. The hour had to be almost up. The door opened and James returned, two other men with him. “You have about another five minutes, Mr. Winchester. At the end of that time you will be stripped, beaten and raped by these men. You will then be transferred to the facility where we will break you down or kill you in the process. Now, for my tastes, I really prefer your stubborn streak continue. I rather enjoy a challenge, and seeing as I was the Master in charge of your brother’s breaking and subsequent training, I am intrigued on what differences might lie in handling you.”
He put his cell phone on the desk and looked Sam over. “I see Razz has been entertaining himself. He’s one of my more…hmmm, enthusiastic trainers.” He smiled and sat, crossing his legs almost daintily. “Trainer is really a misnomer. Our trainers are employed to break our new recruits. They seek out the weaknesses and exploit them…and when that fails, they resort to brute force.”
James removed his glasses and picked up a cloth. He polished them slowly, glancing up at Sam. “Three minutes, Mr. Winchester. Our instructors take over from there. I don’t normally allow my recruits to know this much, in fact they’re generally kept in the dark. I find it helps in the breaking.”
Sam was beginning to panic. The restraints that held him weren’t budging. Nothing indicated there was a rescue working. “Okay…look…I don’t have the money on me, obviously. I can get it. It might take a few hours.”
“You don’t have a few hours, Mr. Winchester.” James slipped his glasses back on and flicked a finger toward him. Razz smiled viciously. “You have thirty seconds.”
Dean watched his father and Caleb disappear into what seemed to be a broken down old office building. He knew from experience that the interior probably didn’t match its exterior. He licked his lips.
He was very alone. It made him uncomfortable. Sam was inside. With the men who…who would hurt him…with the man who hurt Dean…the man who took him and made him…what he was.
Dean looked down at the gun, then up at the building. “Sam.”
Sam came for him, even after he’d given up. After he believed Sam was dead and gone. Sam came.
Dean lifted the gun. Slowly, he got out of the car, his heart pounding in his chest. His free hand caressed the collar. The weight of the gun was familiar, comfortable. He felt awkward though as he reached the door. He hadn’t done this in a long time. Seeing those men again could prove to shut him down, shove him back into the dark.
You are nothing. You are no one. You are alone.
Maybe he was all those things. But Sam wasn’t. Sam was someone…someone that mattered. Sam came for him when no one else would. That was something…something Dean could be strong for.
Title: To Be Strong
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John, Caleb
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3241
Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from nanakomatsu, Nothing, Something, To Be Good and Broken. Dean was kidnapped and made into a slave. Sam bought him back, but he paid for him with a bunch of paper conjured to look like $85,000...now the men who sold Dean want their money...or their slave back.
A/Ns and Warnings: Slave!Dean, references to torture and rape...not exactly pretty stuff here.
Dean started as the car jerked and veered, pulling out on the road. He’d been withdrawn, but Sam wasn’t in the car. He looked up, saw Sam at the door being yanked backward. “Sam.” He grabbed his father over the seat, clawing his shoulder. “Sam.”
“I know, Dean. I know. We’ve got a problem. Just hold tight.”
Dean turned to look out the back window, but Sam’s face was gone from the door. “No. No. Can’t go. Not without him.”
He turned back to his father. “Can’t go.”
“We aren’t. Just making it look like we are.”
The car swerved, and they were in the parking lot of a strip mall. Dean followed John’s eyes out the window, back toward the thrift store. There was something familiar in it, in the looking out the window this way. “No one’s left the store.” John said, making
Dean look back at him.
“We left Sam. You took me from Sam.”
John spared him a look, before turning back. From here they could see the front and back of the store and still no one had left it. “Sam needs my help Dean. I’m not sure what to do. I can’t leave you alone. I can’t take you in there.”
“I want to help Sam.”
John smiled. “I’m sure you do, Son, but I’m fairly sure the men who grabbed him are the ones who…hurt you. I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
“They want me back?” Dean shook his head. Sam bought him. Paid for him. “Sam bought me. They don’t get to have me back. Sam said I wouldn’t go back.” He was starting to hyperventilate as he recognized the feeling racing through him. He was afraid.
“It isn’t that simple, Dean. Sam…tricked them. Paid for you with money he didn’t have.”
Dean stared at him. “I don’t understand.”
“He used magic to make it look real. There was no way he could come up with that much money.”
Dean shook his head. No, that couldn’t be true. If it was he…he wasn’t Sam’s…didn’t belong. They would hurt Sam. They would take him back. His fingers played with the collar. Sam said he was his. Sam said. Dean wanted Sam. Wanted to be Sam’s. “They’ll kill him.” Dean breathed. “For real this time.”
He grabbed his father’s shoulder again. “I can’t let that happen. Not like that. I know what they’ll do to him. They showed me once.”
”Time for your last show and tell, slave.”
Dean was in his cage, forced up to his knees, which were bloody from the violence the day before. “You know Daddy doesn’t want you.” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest, his whip hanging over one shoulder and wrapped around an arm. “Baby brother isn’t coming for you either.”
Razz laughed and the sound shook Dean out of the stupor he’d been in since hearing his father’s voice. “Well, he came for me, didn’t he Thomas?” Razz leaned over to talk into his ear. “I fucked him in front of his girlfriend. Told him how pretty you looked with your mouth full of my cock, choking on it. He came all over himself.”
Dean reached for him, getting a hand on his arm, before Thomas’s whip hit his back. “Wanna see?” Razz held out his hand and someone handed him a folder. The first picture was Sam on the Stanford quad. Then one of him holding some blonde’s hand. The third was Sam bent over the hood of a car, his ass bare. The fourth was Razz buried in him. Dean looked away, but Thomas was behind him, forcing his eyes back. There were five or six of Razz raping him…then blood everywhere, the blonde laying in a pool of it, Sam’s bare back and ass covered in it.
“I fucked him, then I killed them both.”
Dean shook his head, tried to pull free as his stomach erupting and he was vomiting up the very little he’d eaten. “You are nothing. You are no one. You are alone.”
Razz pulled his face up. Sam was dead…Sam…
“I’m not letting them kill him. Not again.” Dean was shaking, partly with the memory, partly from the fear running through him. If they were there, if they had Sam…they could want him too. “I want a gun.”
John looked at him. “I don’t think-“
“I won’t go in…but if they come out…I-I want a gun.” Dean swallowed. “I don’t want to be nothing again. I don’t want…” Slaves don’t have desires. He took a deep breath. “Please.”
John nodded and handed Dean a gun from under the front seat. Dean looked at it for a minute, then popped the magazine, checking the load before reseating it. John picked up his phone and dialed a number. “Where are you?”
Dean watched the store, while his father spoke to someone on the phone. When he saw three men coming out of the back he touched his father’s arm. “Hang on Caleb. I see them Dean.” The two big men half carried a third, who had a hood over his face. “Can’t tell if that’s Sam.”
“Razz.” Dean breathed. “On the right. Razz. Trainer. It’s Sam. They’ve got Sam.”
“Calm down, Dean. Caleb…they’re moving. I can’t follow them in the Impala.”
Dean watched as they pushed Sam into a black Explorer. With his heart stammering in his chest he climbed out of the car, watching the Explorer and crawling over to a station wagon parked next to the Impala. Once upon a time he knew how to steal a car.
“Dean?”
“Watch them.” Dean said, easing open the driver’s side door, hoping he could remember. He put his hand down on the mat as he reached under the dash, then stopped. He pulled the mat aside and found a key. He smiled triumphantly at his father through the passenger window and started the car, still on his knees beside it. John cursed, then was opening his door and getting in the passenger’s seat.
“Come on.”
Dean hesitated only briefly before he was behind the wheel and feeling his way around. “I can do this.” He looked at his father. “I was good at this, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, Dean, better than me. Go…”
Dean looked up and saw the explorer pulling away on the street. “For Sam. I can do this.” He put the gun on the seat next to him and put the car in reverse, accelerating a little too much, then throwing it into drive.
Beside him his father put his seat belt on, then put the phone back to his ear. “Caleb, we’re following. I’ll call you back.”
Sam could tell they were in a vehicle, moving at pretty good clip. His face was already starting to swell from the blows that landed there. He was going to have at least one black eye. He blew out, realizing that was likely the least of his worries.
The hood was hot and confining. There was blood drying at the corner of his mouth. His hands were bound behind him, tightly enough that it hurt. The big man had said he was Razz, a name he knew from his brother’s memories. This was really not good. He tried to figure out how they’d found them. There hadn’t been any signs. Not since the first stop. They’d been careful, using credit cards as little as possible, and different ones each time. No calls from local phones, no contact with people who knew them.
They hit a bump and Sam was jostled around, his face slamming into the back of the seat. Either they were just that good, or…His father had called someone, from the hotel line. Or worse. Someone his father called wasn’t really the ally he thought they were. Sam’s stomach churned. Someone his father trusted betrayed him in the first place. Someone they knew had turned Dean over to these men.
He tried to breath through the nausea. It wouldn’t help him to throw up in the hood. He needed to think it through. He had to find a way out of this…hopefully his father had done what he said and took Dean away.
Dean. He was going to see this as abandonment. Sam left him…after promising him. That was worse than anything Razz could do to him.
They were slowing down. Turning. Stopping. Sam steeled himself for the rough handling he was sure would follow. Doors opened, closed. Air kissed his hands as the door near his head was opened and he was yanked out, falling to the floor. His nose cracked against the ground. He was jerked to his feet and pushed, pulled, and finally thrown.
Big hands caught him and his hands were freed briefly, then he was pressed into a chair, his hands fed through the bars that formed the high back of the chair and re-bound. The hood was pulled free while his ankles were tied to the legs and he looked around trying to get his bearings. A big hand against his cheek encouraged him to keep his attention a little closer to hand.
In front of him was a big desk. Old, oak and big…designed to intimidate. He flicked his eyes up to the man behind the desk. “My name is Master James. I handle collections and fugitive retrieval for Mr. Gorlian.” He had silver hair, but was in no way older than maybe forty. His suit was white with a navy blue shirt. Impeccable, perfectly tailored. Even his glasses fit the image. “Now, I have been tasked with recovering $90,000 from you…or the recovery of the property you stole.”
Sam tried to be cool about it. “Ninety? Our deal was for 85.”
“The deal that you failed to keep, Mr. Silvers?” He looked up at Sam briefly, his eyes gray, lined in the darkest blue Sam had ever seen. He had Sam’s wallet, and emptied it out on to the desk, lining up the cards and ids, stacking the bills and setting them aside. “It appears you have an identity problem, Mr. Silvers.” He held up a credit card. “Or is it Mr. Davery? Mr. O’Malley?” He smiled and held up another. “Ah, this must be the one, Mr. Dong Shai.”
“I, ah…found those. Makes my wallet look better…impresses the girls.”
James flicked his gaze over Sam. “As I recall, your taste runs to men, Mr. Winchester.”
Shit. “Okay…so you know my name. Big deal.”
James smiled again, and Sam was really beginning to dislike that expression. “I’ve known your name for some time, Mr. Winchester. When the money for which you paid for your slave disappeared and in it’s place was a pile of paper, Mr. Gorlian showed me the surveillance video. Seeing as I was the one who commissioned the pictures of you at Stanford, I knew your face.”
“You took pictures of me?”
Again the smile. “I see your brother hasn’t remembered everything. That’s good. It means that re-training him won’t take much.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, Mr. Winchester. I guarantee you, I’m not the one who will be getting fucked.” He picked up the gun and knife they’d taken from his boot. “You, on the other hand…I’m told that there’s a pretty price to be had for brothers, and I’m sure Razz here would love to break you the way he did Dean.”
Sam couldn’t keep himself from looking up at the big man beside him. Many of Dean’s nightmares included this man.
“Now, shall we discuss the issue of the money you owe? As I said, the fee is now $90,000, less the actual money in the briefcase you gave us. That’s $86,450. I trust that these credit cards won’t provide me with that much?”
Sam didn’t respond, just closed his eyes.
“You will look at me when I am speaking to you Mr. Winchester, or you will be instructed.” A hand closed in his hair and pulled on his head. “Tell me, have you ever felt the sting of a cane across your bare back?”
Sam opened his eyes, leveling a glare at the man. “That’s better. Now, if you can not provide me the money that you owe, we will simply collect the merchandise, and take out the difference in your hide.” James stood, smoothing his jacket. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to take his place.” He eyed Sam up and down. “I thought not.”
He moved around the desk. “You can keep him of course, provided you pay for him.” He squinted at Sam. “With cash, I’ve brought along a witch, by the way, so that you can’t trick us again…or with an equal value in merchandise.”
“You’re insane.” Sam said finally. The hand crashed into his face again and Sam grimaced.
“You should check your own grip on sanity, Mr. Winchester. I promise you, my offer of repayment is limited. You have an hour to consider your options. After that, all recourse is null and void. I will repossess the merchandise and you will pay for your deception with your own flesh. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some phone calls to make.” James walked away, raising a cell phone to his ear before turning back. “Oh, and Razz, do remember not to mar the merchandise permanently.” His eyes trained back on Sam’s. “He gets over zealous sometimes. You should see what he did to the poor guy we dressed like you for your brother’s edification.”
Razz’s lips were wet against his ear. “Fucked him bloody, I did. Ripped him up inside before I beat him so his mama wouldn’t know him. You shoulda seen the slave’s face when he saw. Threw up all over himself. He opened his mouth like a good slave after that. Took my cock and sucked it good.”
He came to stand in front of Sam, unzipping his pants and pulling out his limp cock. Sam couldn’t help but stare, he was huge. “Did you know he could open that big? Sight to see…those lips of his, split his bottom lip every time though. Pity I can’t see how you compare just yet. Course, you think about it…maybe you like cock as much as that slave-whore brother of yours.”
Sam forced himself to look away, to breath deep and not rise to the bait. That’s all it was. He wanted Sam to say or do something. Instead he tried to ignore him and come up with a way out of this…a way to come up with the money. He had no doubt that James was the kind of man who didn’t make idle threats.
John got back into the station wagon, glancing at Dean who had a death grip on the steering wheel. “Caleb will be here soon. I don’t want to try to go in there without him.”
“Caleb?” Dean asked, his eyes trained on the doors to the building.
“You remember Caleb, right?”
Dean turned to look at him, his expression a combination of frustration and annoyance. It was his you’re-kidding-right look. “I barely remember entire months out of the last year.”
John couldn’t help himself, he laughed out loud and clapped a hand to Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Dean. But damn, you sounded like yourself.”
Dean smiled and looked away. “Did I?”
“Yeah.”
“Good?”
“Very.”
John looked up as a non-descript older model car pulled up beside them. “Good, Caleb.”
“You trust him?” Dean was back to looking uncertain and John patted his shoulder.
“With my life.”
“Okay.”
“Give me a minute with him.” John got out of the stolen station wagon and leaned into the driver’s side window. “They’re inside. I don’t know how many.”
“What about Dean?”
John shook his head. “He can’t go in there. It’s a really long story. It’s just you and me.”
“So you said on the phone.” Caleb leaned around John to look at Dean. “Is he going to be okay out here alone?”
“I don’t know.” John admitted. “I’ve given him a gun, in case.”
“Okay, let’s do this thing then.”
Sam’s nose was most certainly broken. Blood trickled from one nostril and his left eyes was swollen shut. Razz was certainly good at this part.
“Broken noses show character. Yours was too pretty for market anyway.” Razz was wiping blood from his knuckles. Sam had felt the force of those knuckles on his face, stomach, even his thighs.
So far the only thing broken was his nose. He was under the impression that wouldn’t last. The hour had to be almost up. The door opened and James returned, two other men with him. “You have about another five minutes, Mr. Winchester. At the end of that time you will be stripped, beaten and raped by these men. You will then be transferred to the facility where we will break you down or kill you in the process. Now, for my tastes, I really prefer your stubborn streak continue. I rather enjoy a challenge, and seeing as I was the Master in charge of your brother’s breaking and subsequent training, I am intrigued on what differences might lie in handling you.”
He put his cell phone on the desk and looked Sam over. “I see Razz has been entertaining himself. He’s one of my more…hmmm, enthusiastic trainers.” He smiled and sat, crossing his legs almost daintily. “Trainer is really a misnomer. Our trainers are employed to break our new recruits. They seek out the weaknesses and exploit them…and when that fails, they resort to brute force.”
James removed his glasses and picked up a cloth. He polished them slowly, glancing up at Sam. “Three minutes, Mr. Winchester. Our instructors take over from there. I don’t normally allow my recruits to know this much, in fact they’re generally kept in the dark. I find it helps in the breaking.”
Sam was beginning to panic. The restraints that held him weren’t budging. Nothing indicated there was a rescue working. “Okay…look…I don’t have the money on me, obviously. I can get it. It might take a few hours.”
“You don’t have a few hours, Mr. Winchester.” James slipped his glasses back on and flicked a finger toward him. Razz smiled viciously. “You have thirty seconds.”
Dean watched his father and Caleb disappear into what seemed to be a broken down old office building. He knew from experience that the interior probably didn’t match its exterior. He licked his lips.
He was very alone. It made him uncomfortable. Sam was inside. With the men who…who would hurt him…with the man who hurt Dean…the man who took him and made him…what he was.
Dean looked down at the gun, then up at the building. “Sam.”
Sam came for him, even after he’d given up. After he believed Sam was dead and gone. Sam came.
Dean lifted the gun. Slowly, he got out of the car, his heart pounding in his chest. His free hand caressed the collar. The weight of the gun was familiar, comfortable. He felt awkward though as he reached the door. He hadn’t done this in a long time. Seeing those men again could prove to shut him down, shove him back into the dark.
You are nothing. You are no one. You are alone.
Maybe he was all those things. But Sam wasn’t. Sam was someone…someone that mattered. Sam came for him when no one else would. That was something…something Dean could be strong for.