Yours, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Yours
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John, Caleb
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3009
Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from nanakomatsu, Nothing, Something, To Be Good, Broken, To Be Strong and Nothing, No One, Alone. John and Caleb got Sam and Dean away, but Dean is lost inside the conditioning, adrift without a Master to hold on to, Sam is hurt and John is slowly cracking open...
A/Ns and Warnings: Slave!Dean, torture and rape...not exactly pretty stuff here.
Nothing. No one. Alone.
Dean stared into the corner, at the peeling wallpaper. His knees hurt from kneeling. How long had he been there? It didn’t matter. He knelt, his hands on the back of his neck, covering the bare skin where his collar belonged. But he lost his collar. He was bad. Master took it. Not good enough.
Dean rocked forward, putting his head against the wall. Punishment would come…punishment for leaving…for believing Sam…for hurting Razz. Bad. Bad slave. Master was angry. His left had slipped down from his neck to trace the tiny “J” carved into the skin over his left nipple.
Master had been angry. Master never touched, always sent a trainer. Master said Sam was nothing. Dean shook his head. Sam was something. But Sam was marked. It didn’t make sense. Sam was bad. Sam stole from Master.
On the bed, Sam whimpered, shifting in his drug induced sleep. Dean looked up at him. Sam was hurt. His face was black and blue. Razz did that. Razz had done that to him once. Sam was hurt, shot. Master shot Sam. Master was angry with Sam. Sam hadn’t done what he was supposed to. Sam didn’t obey.
Dean hadn’t wanted to, but couldn’t stop himself. Always kneel when Master enters a room. Stop what you are doing and kneel Sam didn’t. Sam only knelt when Dean was threatened. He could still taste the flat metal taste of the gun. Dean closed his eyes.
Nothing. No one. Alone.
His head hit the wall and he rocked back and forward again. A dull pain was starting to develop, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
Nothing. No one. Alone.
John opened the door, his eyes skimming over Sam, then looked for Dean. The room was already getting dark and it took him a minute to pick Dean out of the gloom. He was in the corner, his head beating against the wall. “Dean?” He moved to stand behind him, his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, stop.”
Dean’s only response was to hit himself harder, the sound making John’s stomach churn. “Dean.” John put both hands on his shoulders and pulled, getting him far enough away that he wasn’t hitting the wall anymore. There was blood dripping down his face. “Let’s get you up.” Dean was dead weight on the floor, not moving, but not actively fighting him. John sighed and closed his eyes.
“Dean, get up off the floor and sit on the bed.”
Dean hesitated, and didn’t look up, but slowly did as John told him. John sighed again. It killed him. Hurt in ways he didn’t even begin to understand. He followed Dean and leaned in to examine the wound. “Shit, what were you doing?” He walked to Sam’s bed, coming back with the first aid kit. “I’m going to get this cleaned up. Sit still.”
He focused on the wound, on the knot already growing there under the cut, because seeing his son sitting with his hands in his lap, his eyes on his knees was too much. Too much…and if he let himself see Dean he’d lose it all over again. Dean didn’t move, didn’t flinch as John cleaned the wound, as he pressed a bandage over it…nothing. John sighed yet again. “Dean, you…it’s been a rough day, why don’t you get some sleep?”
Dean didn’t respond and John shook his head as he went to check on Sam. He was concerned about the concussion, more so than the gunshots. Both shots were clean. John stood with his back to Dean, looking down at Sam. He pushed damp, sweaty bangs off Sam’s forehead. He didn’t like to admit it, but they were in over their heads.
Sam stirred, his eyes opening, cloudy and hazed. “Dad?”
John nodded. “It’s okay, Sam. We’re okay for now.”
“Dean?”
“He’s…” John moved so Sam could see Dean still sitting on the bed. “I don’t know.”
“What happened? Was that bastard dead? Where are we?”
“Settle Sam. Caleb shot him. He was…I don’t know. I don’t know if he was dead. I was more concerned with you and Dean. Caleb is cleaning out the old rooms. We’re on the other side of town.”
“We need to get out of here.” Sam started to sit up, then made a face, closing his eyes. “Shit.”
“We will. In the morning. Let’s get you stable first.”
“We can’t…no more help. Someone…someone turned them on to Dean in the first place, Dad. Someone we know. No more.”
John shook his head. “We can’t do this alone Sam. Especially not with you hurt.”
Sam looked at Dean, then back at his father. “What are you thinking?”
John was thinking he wanted everything to just go away and give him his boys back. He was thinking that when he found out who had done this to his beautiful son, he was going to make him pay. He was thinking that a drink sounded really good right then. “Bobby…we’ll go to Bobby’s. It’s safe…you and Dean can rest. Caleb and Bobby and I will hunt them down.”
“Not enough. Too big.” Sam yawned and twitched a little, pain flitting across his face. “Has Dean said anything?”
John shook his head. “I-he banged his head into the wall…he’s just…sitting.”
“His-the collar…did you get it?”
“What?”
“The bastard took it off of him, dropped it on the floor. Did you get it when we left?”
John shook his head. “No. Why?”
“Shit.” Sam forced himself to sitting, wincing. “The collar was a sign…I replaced the one he was wearing when I found him. It was a promise to him, that I’d look out for him, protect him…it was a promise that he was good enough…fuck. Without it…they use it as a fucking reward.”
“A reward?” John stared at Dean, uncomprehending. How could a tool of ownership be seen as a reward?
“After they broke him, he got to earn the right to wear the collar. It meant he learned his lessons, that he was good. God.” He looked up at his father. “Can you…give us a few minutes?”
“You need to rest, Sam.”
“I need to try to figure out what he’s thinking. Just…go for a walk or something.”
Slowly John nodded. “I’ll be just outside.”
As his father left the room, Sam pulled himself gingerly to the edge of the bed and pushed himself up to his feet. “Dean.” Sam shuffled to his brother’s side, touching his shoulder. “Dean look at me.”
Dean’s face turned, but his eyes didn’t lift beyond Sam’s waist. “Dean, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
Dean’s eyes closed. “We’ll replace it, okay? I’ll still…you still…” Sam’s voice broke. “Dean? Please say something.”
He hung his head, his shoulders hunching forward. “Nothing. No one. Alone.”
“No…no Dean. Never again. You’re never alone. I’m here. Right here.”
“Stolen. Not yours.”
Sam felt his heart stop. His hand shook as he pressed it to Dean’s face. “You’ve always been mine, Dean…long before you were his…remember? Remember…I loved you…and you…you promised me…promised me always…” He was struggling to breathe, half from his wounds and half because Dean probably didn’t remember…and if he didn’t…if he believed…if he believed the bastard Sam didn’t have a prayer of reaching him.
A tear rolled down Dean’s face. “Master told me I wasn’t yours.” Dean said after a long silence.
Sam groaned and knelt beside Dean. “He’s gone, Dean. He’s never going to touch you again.” Sam couldn’t stop the tears as he took Dean’s hands in his. “Hear me? You don’t belong to him, Dean. You belong here, with me…I want you here with me.”
He gasped for air as a sob shook him and he laid his head on Dean’s knee. “Please Dean. I need you…I need you to be with me.” Dean pulled his hands away and when Sam looked up, his brother’s face was tight with an emotion he couldn’t read.
“Can’t touch. Can’t. Don’t. Rules.”
“Dean?”
Dean stood, moving away from Sam and over to the corner between the bed and the bathroom. “No collar. No Master. Not good enough. Bad. Dirty. Nothing. No one. Alone.”
“Sam?”
Sam looked up from where he still knelt on the floor by the bed, his face wet with tears as John opened the door. “Caleb’s back. Can we come in?”
Sam nodded absently. John’s eyes swept over Dean and back to Sam. “I-he’s worse-he won’t let me touch him.”
John nodded and came into the room, carrying duffle bags while Caleb came in behind him with bags of food. “You should be in bed.”
Sam nodded. “Yes, I know. I had to try.”
“Let me help.” Caleb slipped an arm under his shoulder and helped him up and over to the bed. “I brought food. Are you hungry?”
“See if you can get Dean to eat. He might for you. He doesn’t really remember you.” Sam said as he settled against the pillows.
“He responds better to direct commands right now.” John added as he set the food out on the small table.
Caleb nodded and crossed to Dean. Sam and John watched as Caleb pointedly kept his hands away from Dean. “Dean, come with me.”
Dean didn’t look up, but he turned and as Caleb stepped away, so did Dean. Caleb touched the chair. “Sit here Dean.” As he sat, Sam sighed in relief. “I’ll get you some food.” Caleb glanced at John, then set out to fill a plate with the fried chicken and other food he’d brought. When it was full, he set it in front of Dean. “I want you to eat all of this, Dean.”
Once Dean was doing as he’d been told, Caleb looked up at John. “Are you going to explain this now? You’ve gotten into some bad shit before, John, but nothing like this.”
John scrubbed both hands over his face and gestured toward Sam. “Let’s let Dean eat in peace.” He and Caleb went to sit on the bed with Sam, their voices lowering. Sam wiped his face and took a deep breath. “He’s been…programmed.” Sam said a little shakily. “I had started to get through to him…but now he’s convinced…” He winced and held his sides. “He’s convinced he’s not mine…that I didn’t buy him…and if I didn’t, then he…he still belongs to those fuckers.”
“Did he say that?” John asked, disbelief in his voice.
“Pretty much.” Sam sighed and looked at Caleb. “I don’t know how much Dad’s told you.”
“Not much. He said something about slaves.” Caleb looked up at John and back at Sam as if he couldn’t believe that.
Sam nodded. “I think someone sent them looking for Dean over a year ago. Someone who knew how hunters think, how we work. They grabbed him, and broke him…convinced him Dad had sold him, that I was dead. Then they trained him. I…when I found him…he was…” Sam took a deep breath. “I bought him from the men who run the market…with money that wasn’t money. As long as Dean thought he belonged to me, we were making progress. He was remembering…he was…getting better…now…”
“Who was the bastard I shot?” Caleb asked softly.
“The man behind Dean’s…education. His….M-master.” Sam choked on the word. “And now, Dean knows I didn’t really buy him…and he won’t let me touch him because that fucking bastard told him…and the rules…and…” Sam’s closed his eyes and bent forward.
“Sam?” John’s hand was on his arm and Sam shook his head.
“Hurts…my stomach.”
“Let me see.” John pushed him back. Blood was seeping through the bandage on his right side. “Okay…lay down. Let me take care of it.”
“I need to take care of Dean.”
“You need to do what I tell you. You’re hurt pretty bad and if it weren’t for Dean I would have dragged your ass into an ER. I still will if you fight me.” John poked and prodded at the wound, then redressed it. “I’m giving you more pain killers.”
“I don’t want them.”
John filled the syringe and tapped out the air bubbles. “I don’t remember asking you what you wanted.” Before Sam could move, John shoved the needle into his arm.
“Fuck you, Dad.”
“You too Sammy.” John said with a sad sort of smile as Sam’s eyes drooped and the drugs pulled him into sleep. He sighed and looked to Caleb. “I want to sedate Dean too, and get on the road by midnight. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
Caleb nodded. “What about the truck and the Impala?”
John sighed. “We don’t know how they found us, so…as much as it pains me, we leave them. I’ll get Sam dressed, you deal with Dean.”
“You really should sleep some.”
“I can sleep on the road.” John said.
“Eat then?” Caleb said, his face showing his concern. “I’m here to help John…but if I have to take care of you on top of the two of them, we’re not going to get very far.”
John bit off a curse, because he knew Caleb was right, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they needed to run…run fast and run far. “Yeah, okay.”
Dean woke in the dark. He was disoriented. Sitting up. Voices, soft and indistinct. Warm. There was a body next to his. He didn’t move, afraid to let anyone know he was awake. They were moving. The last thing he remembered was eating. The man with his father had talked to him. Told him to eat. Caleb. His father called him Caleb.
One of the voices was his father. The other wasn’t Sam. It must be Caleb. Sam must be beside him. A quick glance confirmed that. It was dark outside the windows. He had to relieve himself. He needed to clean himself and prepare himself. He had to show that he was good enough, that he could be-He stopped himself. There was no one to show. Master was gone.
He must have made some noise, because the voices stopped and John was looking at him. “Dean? You okay?”
Dean nodded. “I need to…please, may I relieve myself, sir?” Sir. Not Master, but sir. He needed that at least. John’s face looked strained but he nodded and Dean felt the car slowing.
“It’s a long way to the nearest bathroom, so the side of the road will have to do.”
Dean nodded, and John got out of the car to open the back door. Dean slipped out and took a few steps. “Don’t go too far Dean. It’s pretty dark.”
Dean stopped and unzipped. It was difficult. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There should be a bathroom with a shower, water hot enough to burn off the bad, filthy, not-worthy from his skin so that he could present himself. There should be a razor to take the hair from his face. Finally the need to pee over rode his need for the rest and he swallowed the panic. When he was done he tucked himself back into his pants before realizing he was forgetting rules. He should be naked. He started pulling his jeans down, and got one foot out of them before John had a hold on him.
“Not now, Dean.”
Dean screamed and pulled away, turning and tripping over the puddle of denim at his feet…landing in the gravel on his hands. “Shit. Stay there Caleb. Dean…” John squatted beside him. “Let me see.”
Dean was shaking as John took one hand and then the other, brushing his finger over the scrapes and gravel imbedded in the skin. “Dad?” Dean’s voice quavered.
“It’s okay Dean. It doesn’t seem bad. I’ll have to look in the light.”
Dean heaved a sigh into the dark. “I’m sorry. I can be good. I know I can.”
John’s hand skimmed over his face. “I know, Dean. You are good.”
“No.” He held his hands up. “Damaged. I just…I don’t know…who…everything’s wrong. There’s no water. I can’t clean myself properly and then…I don’t know who…when I’m ready…who?”
John’s face was close, very close. “What are you asking Dean?”
“Who is my owner now?” He bit off his sob, and couldn’t look at his father. “I need…someone…please…he took away my Sam…said my Sam was his…and what am I then? He took the collar…the collar made me Sam’s. I don’t have anyone. I’m nothing. No one. Alone.”
His father groaned, as if he was in pain and he took Dean’s hands in his. “No Dean. You aren’t nothing. You aren’t alone. You have me. You have Sam. You don’t have to believe anything that man said.”
“Am I yours?” Dean asked, a small hope in his voice.
“You have always been mine, Dean.” John said, choking back a sob. “You’re my son.”
“I can be good. I can be. I’ll be good for you.”
John nodded. “I know Dean. Let’s start by getting up and getting back in the car. You can go back to sleep, and the next time you wake up, I promise there will be a shower and everything you need. Okay?”
Dean nodded and let his father help him up. “Yours.”
John pulled him into a hug and Dean relaxed a little. They walked back to the car and Dean got into the back beside Sam. John kissed his forehead. “Sleep Dean.”
“Yes, sir.” Dean responded, his eyes already closed. John shut the door and leaned against it for a minute. He was shaking and his face was hot with tears.
He took a few deep breaths, but they only served to rile up his stomach further. He staggered away from the car and retched, falling to his knees as he threw up everything he’d eaten and kept right heaving even after his stomach was empty. “John?”
He nodded as Caleb put out a hand to help him to his feet. “I’m…” He’d started to say okay, but he was far from that. “Let’s just drive. Just…get us to Bobby’s Caleb. Okay?”
Caleb nodded. “Yeah John. Okay.”
Title: Yours
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John, Caleb
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3009
Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from nanakomatsu, Nothing, Something, To Be Good, Broken, To Be Strong and Nothing, No One, Alone. John and Caleb got Sam and Dean away, but Dean is lost inside the conditioning, adrift without a Master to hold on to, Sam is hurt and John is slowly cracking open...
A/Ns and Warnings: Slave!Dean, torture and rape...not exactly pretty stuff here.
Nothing. No one. Alone.
Dean stared into the corner, at the peeling wallpaper. His knees hurt from kneeling. How long had he been there? It didn’t matter. He knelt, his hands on the back of his neck, covering the bare skin where his collar belonged. But he lost his collar. He was bad. Master took it. Not good enough.
Dean rocked forward, putting his head against the wall. Punishment would come…punishment for leaving…for believing Sam…for hurting Razz. Bad. Bad slave. Master was angry. His left had slipped down from his neck to trace the tiny “J” carved into the skin over his left nipple.
Master had been angry. Master never touched, always sent a trainer. Master said Sam was nothing. Dean shook his head. Sam was something. But Sam was marked. It didn’t make sense. Sam was bad. Sam stole from Master.
On the bed, Sam whimpered, shifting in his drug induced sleep. Dean looked up at him. Sam was hurt. His face was black and blue. Razz did that. Razz had done that to him once. Sam was hurt, shot. Master shot Sam. Master was angry with Sam. Sam hadn’t done what he was supposed to. Sam didn’t obey.
Dean hadn’t wanted to, but couldn’t stop himself. Always kneel when Master enters a room. Stop what you are doing and kneel Sam didn’t. Sam only knelt when Dean was threatened. He could still taste the flat metal taste of the gun. Dean closed his eyes.
Nothing. No one. Alone.
His head hit the wall and he rocked back and forward again. A dull pain was starting to develop, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
Nothing. No one. Alone.
John opened the door, his eyes skimming over Sam, then looked for Dean. The room was already getting dark and it took him a minute to pick Dean out of the gloom. He was in the corner, his head beating against the wall. “Dean?” He moved to stand behind him, his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, stop.”
Dean’s only response was to hit himself harder, the sound making John’s stomach churn. “Dean.” John put both hands on his shoulders and pulled, getting him far enough away that he wasn’t hitting the wall anymore. There was blood dripping down his face. “Let’s get you up.” Dean was dead weight on the floor, not moving, but not actively fighting him. John sighed and closed his eyes.
“Dean, get up off the floor and sit on the bed.”
Dean hesitated, and didn’t look up, but slowly did as John told him. John sighed again. It killed him. Hurt in ways he didn’t even begin to understand. He followed Dean and leaned in to examine the wound. “Shit, what were you doing?” He walked to Sam’s bed, coming back with the first aid kit. “I’m going to get this cleaned up. Sit still.”
He focused on the wound, on the knot already growing there under the cut, because seeing his son sitting with his hands in his lap, his eyes on his knees was too much. Too much…and if he let himself see Dean he’d lose it all over again. Dean didn’t move, didn’t flinch as John cleaned the wound, as he pressed a bandage over it…nothing. John sighed yet again. “Dean, you…it’s been a rough day, why don’t you get some sleep?”
Dean didn’t respond and John shook his head as he went to check on Sam. He was concerned about the concussion, more so than the gunshots. Both shots were clean. John stood with his back to Dean, looking down at Sam. He pushed damp, sweaty bangs off Sam’s forehead. He didn’t like to admit it, but they were in over their heads.
Sam stirred, his eyes opening, cloudy and hazed. “Dad?”
John nodded. “It’s okay, Sam. We’re okay for now.”
“Dean?”
“He’s…” John moved so Sam could see Dean still sitting on the bed. “I don’t know.”
“What happened? Was that bastard dead? Where are we?”
“Settle Sam. Caleb shot him. He was…I don’t know. I don’t know if he was dead. I was more concerned with you and Dean. Caleb is cleaning out the old rooms. We’re on the other side of town.”
“We need to get out of here.” Sam started to sit up, then made a face, closing his eyes. “Shit.”
“We will. In the morning. Let’s get you stable first.”
“We can’t…no more help. Someone…someone turned them on to Dean in the first place, Dad. Someone we know. No more.”
John shook his head. “We can’t do this alone Sam. Especially not with you hurt.”
Sam looked at Dean, then back at his father. “What are you thinking?”
John was thinking he wanted everything to just go away and give him his boys back. He was thinking that when he found out who had done this to his beautiful son, he was going to make him pay. He was thinking that a drink sounded really good right then. “Bobby…we’ll go to Bobby’s. It’s safe…you and Dean can rest. Caleb and Bobby and I will hunt them down.”
“Not enough. Too big.” Sam yawned and twitched a little, pain flitting across his face. “Has Dean said anything?”
John shook his head. “I-he banged his head into the wall…he’s just…sitting.”
“His-the collar…did you get it?”
“What?”
“The bastard took it off of him, dropped it on the floor. Did you get it when we left?”
John shook his head. “No. Why?”
“Shit.” Sam forced himself to sitting, wincing. “The collar was a sign…I replaced the one he was wearing when I found him. It was a promise to him, that I’d look out for him, protect him…it was a promise that he was good enough…fuck. Without it…they use it as a fucking reward.”
“A reward?” John stared at Dean, uncomprehending. How could a tool of ownership be seen as a reward?
“After they broke him, he got to earn the right to wear the collar. It meant he learned his lessons, that he was good. God.” He looked up at his father. “Can you…give us a few minutes?”
“You need to rest, Sam.”
“I need to try to figure out what he’s thinking. Just…go for a walk or something.”
Slowly John nodded. “I’ll be just outside.”
As his father left the room, Sam pulled himself gingerly to the edge of the bed and pushed himself up to his feet. “Dean.” Sam shuffled to his brother’s side, touching his shoulder. “Dean look at me.”
Dean’s face turned, but his eyes didn’t lift beyond Sam’s waist. “Dean, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
Dean’s eyes closed. “We’ll replace it, okay? I’ll still…you still…” Sam’s voice broke. “Dean? Please say something.”
He hung his head, his shoulders hunching forward. “Nothing. No one. Alone.”
“No…no Dean. Never again. You’re never alone. I’m here. Right here.”
“Stolen. Not yours.”
Sam felt his heart stop. His hand shook as he pressed it to Dean’s face. “You’ve always been mine, Dean…long before you were his…remember? Remember…I loved you…and you…you promised me…promised me always…” He was struggling to breathe, half from his wounds and half because Dean probably didn’t remember…and if he didn’t…if he believed…if he believed the bastard Sam didn’t have a prayer of reaching him.
A tear rolled down Dean’s face. “Master told me I wasn’t yours.” Dean said after a long silence.
Sam groaned and knelt beside Dean. “He’s gone, Dean. He’s never going to touch you again.” Sam couldn’t stop the tears as he took Dean’s hands in his. “Hear me? You don’t belong to him, Dean. You belong here, with me…I want you here with me.”
He gasped for air as a sob shook him and he laid his head on Dean’s knee. “Please Dean. I need you…I need you to be with me.” Dean pulled his hands away and when Sam looked up, his brother’s face was tight with an emotion he couldn’t read.
“Can’t touch. Can’t. Don’t. Rules.”
“Dean?”
Dean stood, moving away from Sam and over to the corner between the bed and the bathroom. “No collar. No Master. Not good enough. Bad. Dirty. Nothing. No one. Alone.”
“Sam?”
Sam looked up from where he still knelt on the floor by the bed, his face wet with tears as John opened the door. “Caleb’s back. Can we come in?”
Sam nodded absently. John’s eyes swept over Dean and back to Sam. “I-he’s worse-he won’t let me touch him.”
John nodded and came into the room, carrying duffle bags while Caleb came in behind him with bags of food. “You should be in bed.”
Sam nodded. “Yes, I know. I had to try.”
“Let me help.” Caleb slipped an arm under his shoulder and helped him up and over to the bed. “I brought food. Are you hungry?”
“See if you can get Dean to eat. He might for you. He doesn’t really remember you.” Sam said as he settled against the pillows.
“He responds better to direct commands right now.” John added as he set the food out on the small table.
Caleb nodded and crossed to Dean. Sam and John watched as Caleb pointedly kept his hands away from Dean. “Dean, come with me.”
Dean didn’t look up, but he turned and as Caleb stepped away, so did Dean. Caleb touched the chair. “Sit here Dean.” As he sat, Sam sighed in relief. “I’ll get you some food.” Caleb glanced at John, then set out to fill a plate with the fried chicken and other food he’d brought. When it was full, he set it in front of Dean. “I want you to eat all of this, Dean.”
Once Dean was doing as he’d been told, Caleb looked up at John. “Are you going to explain this now? You’ve gotten into some bad shit before, John, but nothing like this.”
John scrubbed both hands over his face and gestured toward Sam. “Let’s let Dean eat in peace.” He and Caleb went to sit on the bed with Sam, their voices lowering. Sam wiped his face and took a deep breath. “He’s been…programmed.” Sam said a little shakily. “I had started to get through to him…but now he’s convinced…” He winced and held his sides. “He’s convinced he’s not mine…that I didn’t buy him…and if I didn’t, then he…he still belongs to those fuckers.”
“Did he say that?” John asked, disbelief in his voice.
“Pretty much.” Sam sighed and looked at Caleb. “I don’t know how much Dad’s told you.”
“Not much. He said something about slaves.” Caleb looked up at John and back at Sam as if he couldn’t believe that.
Sam nodded. “I think someone sent them looking for Dean over a year ago. Someone who knew how hunters think, how we work. They grabbed him, and broke him…convinced him Dad had sold him, that I was dead. Then they trained him. I…when I found him…he was…” Sam took a deep breath. “I bought him from the men who run the market…with money that wasn’t money. As long as Dean thought he belonged to me, we were making progress. He was remembering…he was…getting better…now…”
“Who was the bastard I shot?” Caleb asked softly.
“The man behind Dean’s…education. His….M-master.” Sam choked on the word. “And now, Dean knows I didn’t really buy him…and he won’t let me touch him because that fucking bastard told him…and the rules…and…” Sam’s closed his eyes and bent forward.
“Sam?” John’s hand was on his arm and Sam shook his head.
“Hurts…my stomach.”
“Let me see.” John pushed him back. Blood was seeping through the bandage on his right side. “Okay…lay down. Let me take care of it.”
“I need to take care of Dean.”
“You need to do what I tell you. You’re hurt pretty bad and if it weren’t for Dean I would have dragged your ass into an ER. I still will if you fight me.” John poked and prodded at the wound, then redressed it. “I’m giving you more pain killers.”
“I don’t want them.”
John filled the syringe and tapped out the air bubbles. “I don’t remember asking you what you wanted.” Before Sam could move, John shoved the needle into his arm.
“Fuck you, Dad.”
“You too Sammy.” John said with a sad sort of smile as Sam’s eyes drooped and the drugs pulled him into sleep. He sighed and looked to Caleb. “I want to sedate Dean too, and get on the road by midnight. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
Caleb nodded. “What about the truck and the Impala?”
John sighed. “We don’t know how they found us, so…as much as it pains me, we leave them. I’ll get Sam dressed, you deal with Dean.”
“You really should sleep some.”
“I can sleep on the road.” John said.
“Eat then?” Caleb said, his face showing his concern. “I’m here to help John…but if I have to take care of you on top of the two of them, we’re not going to get very far.”
John bit off a curse, because he knew Caleb was right, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they needed to run…run fast and run far. “Yeah, okay.”
Dean woke in the dark. He was disoriented. Sitting up. Voices, soft and indistinct. Warm. There was a body next to his. He didn’t move, afraid to let anyone know he was awake. They were moving. The last thing he remembered was eating. The man with his father had talked to him. Told him to eat. Caleb. His father called him Caleb.
One of the voices was his father. The other wasn’t Sam. It must be Caleb. Sam must be beside him. A quick glance confirmed that. It was dark outside the windows. He had to relieve himself. He needed to clean himself and prepare himself. He had to show that he was good enough, that he could be-He stopped himself. There was no one to show. Master was gone.
He must have made some noise, because the voices stopped and John was looking at him. “Dean? You okay?”
Dean nodded. “I need to…please, may I relieve myself, sir?” Sir. Not Master, but sir. He needed that at least. John’s face looked strained but he nodded and Dean felt the car slowing.
“It’s a long way to the nearest bathroom, so the side of the road will have to do.”
Dean nodded, and John got out of the car to open the back door. Dean slipped out and took a few steps. “Don’t go too far Dean. It’s pretty dark.”
Dean stopped and unzipped. It was difficult. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There should be a bathroom with a shower, water hot enough to burn off the bad, filthy, not-worthy from his skin so that he could present himself. There should be a razor to take the hair from his face. Finally the need to pee over rode his need for the rest and he swallowed the panic. When he was done he tucked himself back into his pants before realizing he was forgetting rules. He should be naked. He started pulling his jeans down, and got one foot out of them before John had a hold on him.
“Not now, Dean.”
Dean screamed and pulled away, turning and tripping over the puddle of denim at his feet…landing in the gravel on his hands. “Shit. Stay there Caleb. Dean…” John squatted beside him. “Let me see.”
Dean was shaking as John took one hand and then the other, brushing his finger over the scrapes and gravel imbedded in the skin. “Dad?” Dean’s voice quavered.
“It’s okay Dean. It doesn’t seem bad. I’ll have to look in the light.”
Dean heaved a sigh into the dark. “I’m sorry. I can be good. I know I can.”
John’s hand skimmed over his face. “I know, Dean. You are good.”
“No.” He held his hands up. “Damaged. I just…I don’t know…who…everything’s wrong. There’s no water. I can’t clean myself properly and then…I don’t know who…when I’m ready…who?”
John’s face was close, very close. “What are you asking Dean?”
“Who is my owner now?” He bit off his sob, and couldn’t look at his father. “I need…someone…please…he took away my Sam…said my Sam was his…and what am I then? He took the collar…the collar made me Sam’s. I don’t have anyone. I’m nothing. No one. Alone.”
His father groaned, as if he was in pain and he took Dean’s hands in his. “No Dean. You aren’t nothing. You aren’t alone. You have me. You have Sam. You don’t have to believe anything that man said.”
“Am I yours?” Dean asked, a small hope in his voice.
“You have always been mine, Dean.” John said, choking back a sob. “You’re my son.”
“I can be good. I can be. I’ll be good for you.”
John nodded. “I know Dean. Let’s start by getting up and getting back in the car. You can go back to sleep, and the next time you wake up, I promise there will be a shower and everything you need. Okay?”
Dean nodded and let his father help him up. “Yours.”
John pulled him into a hug and Dean relaxed a little. They walked back to the car and Dean got into the back beside Sam. John kissed his forehead. “Sleep Dean.”
“Yes, sir.” Dean responded, his eyes already closed. John shut the door and leaned against it for a minute. He was shaking and his face was hot with tears.
He took a few deep breaths, but they only served to rile up his stomach further. He staggered away from the car and retched, falling to his knees as he threw up everything he’d eaten and kept right heaving even after his stomach was empty. “John?”
He nodded as Caleb put out a hand to help him to his feet. “I’m…” He’d started to say okay, but he was far from that. “Let’s just drive. Just…get us to Bobby’s Caleb. Okay?”
Caleb nodded. “Yeah John. Okay.”