Better Men, Supernatural, NC-17, Broken!Verse
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Better Men
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John, Ellen, Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim, OMC, OFC
Rating: NC-17 (for thematic reasons)
Word Count: 3417
Summary: Broken!Verse, chapter 39 ( Click here for Index of all chapters)
Summary: Dean tries to make up for his outburst, and it isn't exactly helpful. Sam gets his turn with Pastor Jim, and Thomas gets what's coming to him.
A/Ns and Warnings: Very dark. Includes memory of torture and rape and very dark violence.
Sam knew he should have gone to bed. Should have, but couldn’t. He didn’t want to disturb Dean. He’d done that enough for one lifetime. It was after midnight. He sat alone in the living room, the remote control for the DVD player in his hand. The picture on the TV was paused on the image of him and Jess, smiling, his arms around her as she leaned into him.
It was strange, seeing her again…seeing them together. It felt like another lifetime…a world away from the one he was in. Some small part of him missed it….missed her…missed the simplicity of normal. The bigger part though…that just wanted to be able to make Dean okay…to give Dean everything he had left to give.
“Is that her?”
Sam looked up, startled to find Dean standing beside him. He looked back at the screen with a rush of panic. He couldn’t see this…his torment documented and delivered to torment their father. “Yeah…Jessica.”
“She’s pretty.”
Sam closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, she is.”
“You didn’t come to bed.”
“I didn’t think you wanted me…wanted me to.” Sam said.
Dean’s hand was on his shoulder. He moved slowly until he was between Sam and the TV. It took a moment, but he looked up, looked Sam in the eye. Sam was startled by how much it was Dean…his brother…that looked at him.
“I always want you, Sam.” He said. He made a face, his hand settling now on Sam’s knee, just above the cast. “I’m sorry I got so upset. I didn’t communicate very well.”
Sam shook his head. “You…you were right Dean.”
“I’m not saying I wasn’t right.” There was a hint of a smile. “I was angry.” He held up his hand as Sam opened his mouth. “Let me say this, okay? I wasn’t jealous of Jessica…not entirely. I was…the whole thing, Sam. I didn’t fight with you over leaving, because you seemed to want it so much…you seemed to feel guilty for what we were doing and you never asked me what I wanted…how I felt…never gave me the chance to tell you.”
Sam sighed and swallowed with some difficulty. “I thought…when we started, you seemed reluctant, like you only did it because I wanted it. I always thought I forced you.”
“Forced me to fuck you Sam?” Dean’s voice was soft, but it cut and Sam gasped. “I felt guilty…felt like I was taking advantage of you…but I wanted you. I have always wanted you.” Dean was on his knees now, his hands on Sam’s thighs.
Sam wasn’t sure what to say, so he leaned forward to kiss Dean. It was tender, chaste. “So you aren’t angry about Jessica?” Sam asked.
Dean glanced over his shoulder at the television and shrugged. “I’m prettier.”
Sam smiled. It was such a Dean thing to say. “Yes…you really are.” Sam said, reaching to pull him in for another kiss.
“Girly much, Sammy?” Dean joked as Sam released him.
Sam ran a hand over Dean’s face in amazement. It was nearly like having his brother back. Dean grimaced as if he could hear Sam’s thoughts.
“Its not…”
Sam nodded. “I know.” Some of it was still pretend…but some of it wasn’t.
“Come to bed?” Dean stood, holding out a hand to help Sam up. Sam turned off the TV and let Dean pull him to his feet. Once Dean had the door closed, he pulled Sam closer to kiss him, tender at first, then stronger, his tongue slipping over Sam’s lips until he opened them, until he melted against Dean. “Want you, Sammy…always…want you.”
Dean’s hands, strong, sure, moved over Sam’s back, gentle over wounds, and down to his ass. Sam gasped and stiffened. “Shh…Sam…won’t hurt you….could never hurt you….”
“Dean…just…slow.” Sam tried to relax, but Dean’s hands were hot and Sam couldn’t stop from pulling back, pulling away.
Dean followed, his arms circling back around Sam’s waist, his lips tracing over Sam’s chin. “It’s okay Sam.”
“I know Dean…just…please…”
Sam pulled free and limped to the bed, breathing hard and trying to overcome the sense of panic that filled him with Dean’s touch. “I can…just…give me a minute, okay?”
Dean was behind him, touching…wanting…”Love you Sammy….love you so much.”
Sam was shaking, Dean’s hands ghosted over Sam’s shoulders. “Been so long…so long…”
Sam swallowed hard. “I know Dean…I know.” He closed his eyes as Dean’s hands slid up his sides. Dean was hard, Sam could feel him pressing against him. He could feel a half dozen hands on him besides Dean’s…could hear Thomas telling him to say please…Robert saying he loved him. Dean was pushing him forward…pushing him to the bed, tugging at his pants. “God…just…stop Dean.” Sam whispered, crawling forward onto the bed…onto the bed and away from his hands. “Just…give me…let me…let me do it.”
His heart thundered as the bed dipped. He turned, moving so his head was on a pillow, his back to Dean. Sam’s hands trembled as he hooked a thumb in the waist of his sweats and eased them down. His ass was still bruised, but healing and Dean’s touch was soft.
Dean’s lips caressed over his exposed skin…his tongue tracing over bruises…tender, careful. Sam turned his face into the pillow. He couldn’t help the tears, but didn’t want Dean to see them. Sam grunted as the first finger penetrated, biting into the pillow to keep it from being more…to keep from crying out. Dean was whispering to him, telling him he loved him…telling him he’d go slow…saying things like need you and please and miss you…miss this.
Sam wanted to…wanted it to be okay…wanted to give Dean everything he needed…but it hurt…and his head reeled with images and sounds…and all he could think was that he wanted it to be over. He gripped the comforter as he cried into the pillow and Dean sank into him.
“Is it okay, Sam?” Dean breathed and Sam could only nod, because he couldn’t let Dean see him falling apart…couldn’t let Dean think he was hurting him…that it was too much…too soon…because Dean wanted him…Dean was hard and wanted him…and that was progress and Sam could handle it…he could give Dean what he needed. He could pretend.
He was coated in a cold sweat as Dean moved gently against him. “Please…Dean.” Just finish.
And then Dean was coming…and fuck if that wasn’t worse. The feeling sent Sam right back to the cage…to the van…to Dennis and Robert and all the rest. He couldn’t help the sob that escaped him.
“Sam?”
Sam shook his head. He moved his hips forward, away from Dean.
“Sam?”
He forced himself to let go of the comforter and brought his hand up to rub his face, trying to hide the tears. “Its okay, Dean.” His voice was thick, and Dean turned him onto his back, hovering over him.
“Damn it Sam. You should have told me no.”
Sam struggled to sit up, to reach for him. “No…it’s okay. I’m okay.”
“No you’re not. Look at you.” Dean’s hand shook as it rose to caress Sam’s face. “You promised me you’d tell me when you couldn’t handle it.”
“I can…I did….it’s okay…it’s okay…”
Dean held him while he shook. “I’m sorry Sam…I…I wasn’t thinking. I wanted you to know how much I want you…needed you to know.”
“I do know Dean. I know…and I wanted you to…I did…I…just…it was…it’s too much.”
Dean kissed over his face, kissed away the tears. “You want me to help you clean up…or just go to sleep?”
Sam clung to his hand. “Can we…just sleep? ’M tired.”
Dean nodded and guided Sam back to the mattress with one hand behind Sam’s head. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Don’t…don’t leave.” Sam said, suddenly afraid Dean was going to go to the other bed and leave him alone.
Dean shook his head. “Not going anywhere, Sammy. Just fixing the bed, okay?” Dean eased off the bed and rearranged the sheets and comforter, pulling them up over Sam after easing the sweat pants back up over him. When he crawled in, Sam pulled him close and Dean settled in with his head on Sam’s shoulder. “Sleep, baby. Everything will be a little better tomorrow.”
“Here. Pull over here.”
“Here?” Gabe asked, glancing over his shoulder at Caleb.
“Yeah, in the meadow.”
Gabe nodded and guided the car off the road. His palms were sweaty. Their prisoner was asleep…or pretending. Gabe thought it was pretend, because in his situation, Gabe wasn’t sleeping.
It was Caleb that had him worried though. Caleb was a calm man…a man known for his ethical stand. The very fact that he had agreed to so much death and destruction only showed Gabe that their cause was a good one. Now though…now Gabe wasn’t sure anymore that Caleb was thinking clearly.
Thomas was bound with duct tape at the wrists and ankles, his mouth taped shut. He had two black eyes and there was dried blood under his nose. Caleb had hit him repeatedly about an hour before in a fit of anger unlike anything Gabe had seen from him. “Caleb? Can I talk to you without our audience?”
He got out of the car, pacing a little until Caleb was there beside him. “Give me the gun.”
“What?” Caleb looked at him like he was crazy. “No. It ends here. Now.”
“I’m not saying it shouldn’t. I’m saying you’re not doing it.”
Caleb shook his head. “No. No. Gabe, I’m not letting you…your father would kill me. Kill me.”
Gabe crossed his arms. “You aren’t doing it. You’re in no shape for it.”
“I’m in the only shape I can be to do it, Gabe.”
“Exactly.” He held out his hand for the gun. “Caleb.”
“No.”
“Then we knock him out and take him back to the others like Gorlian.”
Caleb glared at him. “I won’t let that piece of shit anywhere near Sam.”
Gabe took a step closer, his hand still there between them. “Then give me the gun and walk away.” Caleb’s jaw tightened. “You beat a man, Caleb, an unarmed, defenseless man. That isn’t you.” He stepped still closer, the button of his jacket rubbing against the front of Caleb’s shirt. That was when he saw it. “God, Caleb.”
Gabe couldn’t look him in the eye as his hands came up, around Caleb’s neck, nimble fingers unbuckling the collar and sliding it off him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
Caleb apparently hadn’t either, his free hand rising up to rub at his now empty neck. “I-I-shit.” His hand loosened on the gun, dropping it into Gabe’s waiting hand. “I…he dies.”
Gabe nodded. “Go on…pull yourself together. I’ll take care of this.”
Thomas was watching as Caleb walked away and Gabe thought he saw something like relief in his eyes. He watched Caleb until he was sure he was actually walking, then opened the door. Thomas looked up at him and Gabe leveled the gun at him. “Don’t get comfortable. That man who just walked away is a far better man than I will ever be.”
He grabbed Thomas by the hair and yanked him out of the car. He flopped to the ground, unable to do more the way Caleb had bound him. Gabe pulled a knife from under the seat and cut through the tape on Thomas’ wrists and ankles. “Stand up slowly, keep your hands where I can see them.”
Thomas did, though Gabe watched his eyes dart around, looking for a way out he supposed. “Strip.” He glared at Gabe. “Naked, now…or I start shooting random body parts.
Gabe watched as Thomas pulled his shirt off, then his pants. “Underwear too.”
When he was stark naked, Gabe moved behind him, pushing the gun into his shoulder. “Walk.” He took him a good hundred feet from the car. “On your knees.” Gabe glanced for Caleb. He was nearly to the road. “If I had time, I’d give you a taste of your own medicine. Bet I could line up about 10 hunters who’d love to take a piece of you.”
He pressed the gun into the man’s temple. “I just want you to know that I aim to email your wife the video footage of you holding Sam while the others raped him so she can know just what kind of man she was married to.”
Gabe took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. The gun echoed over the flat field and Thomas sagged to the ground. “Fuck you.” Gabe said through clenched teeth as he fought the urge to throw up. He dragged air in through his mouth to hold it down. Leaving DNA at the crime scene wasn’t a good thing.
He squatted beside the body, staring down at the man’s dick, then at the knife in his hand Dean had dismembered James…not that he’d seen it, but he heard. Certainly this dickhead deserved no less. Dickhead. Gabe tucked the gun in the pocket of his suit jacket and reached down to do it. He held the dick with one hand and sliced through it with the other.
He stared at it for a minute, then turned and forced the dead man’s mouth open. “Dickhead.” He shoved the dick into his mouth and laughed a little. The laughter sounded wrong…flat, dead.
Gabe looked up, looked for Caleb. He was already starting down the road. Gabe stood, staring down at his handiwork. He’d never killed a human being before. The urge to vomit returned and he stumbled away, back toward the car. There was blood on his hands. He stared at them. Couldn’t leave it…couldn’t transfer evidence to the car.
He shook his head. “Pull it together Gabe.” He grabbed the shirt he’d made Thomas remove and scrubbed at the blood on his hands while he got in the car. They could burn the shirt later. Right now they had to go. They had to catch up to his father and the others. Had to get back to the cabin…had to deal with Gorlian. Had to tell Sam and Dean they were safe.
Gabe had helped make them safe. Gabe had killed a man in cold blood. He shook his head. No. A monster. He’d killed a monster. A monster with a family...with kids. He stopped the car next to Caleb. Couldn’t look at him as he got out. Caleb said nothing as he got behind the wheel. Gabe crawled into the back seat, unconsciously cradling the bloody shirt to him.
Sam didn’t think he’d sleep after…after…but he did. He slept and he dreamed…long, brutal nightmares of men on top of him, raping him…men who whispered Nothing. No One. Along. and Love you…men who always turned into his brother. He woke sweaty and nauseous and very aware that someone was in the room.
He couldn’t look, not at first. He regulated his breathing, let his pounding heart settle. Then he slowly opened his eyes. Pastor Jim sat in the chair next to the bed, cradling a cup of coffee. His eyes were concentrated on his coffee, but Sam could see. “How long have you been there?”
Jim looked up…looked at him, through him. “Long enough. You all right?”
Sam nodded, sort of, and shifted so he could sit up. He was very conscious of the fact that he hadn’t showered and Dean had…they had…he shook his head and looked up at Jim. “Why are you…are you waiting for me?”
Jim smiled, soft, but there was knowing in his eyes. It made Sam uncomfortable. “Dean came downstairs a while ago and emphatically told me that today was your turn.”
“My turn?” Sam made a face and tried to find a comfortable position to sit. His ass hurt, the bruises tender as if reminded by…by what happened…that they were supposed to hurt. “You bring me any?” He pointed at the coffee cup and Jim smiled.
He set his cup aside on the nightstand and brought a thermos up off the floor. “Dean insisted I bring it.” He poured some into a second cup and handed it to Sam.
“Dean seems to be full of insistence this morning.” Sam murmured as he held the cup up to his face. The steam felt nice on his face.
“Your brother’s worried about you.”
Sam closed his eyes and nodded. “He’s Dean. Of course he’s worried about me, that’s how he copes…he ignores anything that’s wrong with him and worries about me. Always has.”
“Funny, he said the same about you…that you were burying what was wrong and worrying over him.”
Sam frowned. “Me? No. I’m…I’m figuring out that I’ve never thought about Dean enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve always thought about me…what was good for me. Never bothered to see what Dean wanted…never thought about how it would affect him.” He chewed on his lip. “I’m a selfish bastard….and Dean…Dean always made it so easy.”
Jim nodded, though Sam wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or just to encourage him to continue. “Dean would always do anything for you, Sam.”
“Yeah…I know. And I took advantage of that.” Sam sipped at his coffee. “I have always just taken it…everything he gave me…just took it like it was somehow supposed to be mine.”
“And now?”
Sam sighed. Now. Now when everything was fucked to hell and Dean was so broken Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to put it all back together… “I don’t know.”
“Maybe we should start with what you and Dean fought about.”
Sam shook his head. No. He wasn’t having that conversation with Pastor Jim. “It was…” He moved so that he could lean against the headboard. “When I first got him back, when he was so deeply conditioned he didn’t even know his own name, I had to give him things to do to placate the conditioned need to please his owner…and…there was this thing he used to do when I was little…where he soothed me to sleep by touching and kissing my face….” Sam swallowed and glanced up. Jim’s face was the same, open, patient.
“He…he was doing that and I stopped him. He didn’t understand…and before I could explain, I got a phone call.”
“The one from Jessica?”
Sam nodded miserably. “It was a reminder that I had a whole other life…that while he was being…abused…I was living my life…one he knew nothing about. And he was there…”
“Being raped and beaten.”
Sam huddled into himself, sipping at his coffee and trying to hide the shaking of his hands. “He was angry. And he had every right to be. I…I didn’t…I left him…you know? I…pushed him away…left to go to school…”
“Do you think it was the wrong thing to do?”
“No….I mean…not for me. I was trying to…find something…”
“Something more?”
“More?” Sam looked at him, confused.
“Dean thinks you left for school because he wasn’t enough.”
Sam groaned and took a slow breath. “No…Dean…if anything he was too much. He was everything. I didn’t know anything outside of him…Him and Dad.”
“He thinks that you look at him differently now.” Jim said, watching Sam closely.
He could feel the older man’s eyes. “I know he looks at me differently.” He closed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean…I am different, you know?”
“Then why do you pretend to be the same?”
Panic welled up inside Sam. He swallowed and looked away. “I…don’t…”
“I know why Dean does. He tries to be who he remembers being, who he remembers you loved.”
“God.” Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “I love him…I don’t care if he’s never the brother he used to be.” He squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear Dean’s urgent whisper the night before, feel his hands. “Fuck.”
“Sam?” Jim’s hand was on his cast, careful not to touch skin.
Sam shook his head and tried to breathe more slowly. “Just….a flashback…” he curled forward as the gentle caress of Dean’s hand gave way to a fist in his hair, a cock thrust into his mouth. “Fuck.” He reached out for Jim’s hand, squeezing it as he pushed the memory away. “Sorry.” He drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes.
“Dean said he may have triggered some bad memories last night.”
Sam nodded, letting go of his hand. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“No offense Sam, but no, you really aren’t okay. None of you are. That’s why I’m here.”
Title: Better Men
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John, Ellen, Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim, OMC, OFC
Rating: NC-17 (for thematic reasons)
Word Count: 3417
Summary: Broken!Verse, chapter 39 ( Click here for Index of all chapters)
Summary: Dean tries to make up for his outburst, and it isn't exactly helpful. Sam gets his turn with Pastor Jim, and Thomas gets what's coming to him.
A/Ns and Warnings: Very dark. Includes memory of torture and rape and very dark violence.
Sam knew he should have gone to bed. Should have, but couldn’t. He didn’t want to disturb Dean. He’d done that enough for one lifetime. It was after midnight. He sat alone in the living room, the remote control for the DVD player in his hand. The picture on the TV was paused on the image of him and Jess, smiling, his arms around her as she leaned into him.
It was strange, seeing her again…seeing them together. It felt like another lifetime…a world away from the one he was in. Some small part of him missed it….missed her…missed the simplicity of normal. The bigger part though…that just wanted to be able to make Dean okay…to give Dean everything he had left to give.
“Is that her?”
Sam looked up, startled to find Dean standing beside him. He looked back at the screen with a rush of panic. He couldn’t see this…his torment documented and delivered to torment their father. “Yeah…Jessica.”
“She’s pretty.”
Sam closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, she is.”
“You didn’t come to bed.”
“I didn’t think you wanted me…wanted me to.” Sam said.
Dean’s hand was on his shoulder. He moved slowly until he was between Sam and the TV. It took a moment, but he looked up, looked Sam in the eye. Sam was startled by how much it was Dean…his brother…that looked at him.
“I always want you, Sam.” He said. He made a face, his hand settling now on Sam’s knee, just above the cast. “I’m sorry I got so upset. I didn’t communicate very well.”
Sam shook his head. “You…you were right Dean.”
“I’m not saying I wasn’t right.” There was a hint of a smile. “I was angry.” He held up his hand as Sam opened his mouth. “Let me say this, okay? I wasn’t jealous of Jessica…not entirely. I was…the whole thing, Sam. I didn’t fight with you over leaving, because you seemed to want it so much…you seemed to feel guilty for what we were doing and you never asked me what I wanted…how I felt…never gave me the chance to tell you.”
Sam sighed and swallowed with some difficulty. “I thought…when we started, you seemed reluctant, like you only did it because I wanted it. I always thought I forced you.”
“Forced me to fuck you Sam?” Dean’s voice was soft, but it cut and Sam gasped. “I felt guilty…felt like I was taking advantage of you…but I wanted you. I have always wanted you.” Dean was on his knees now, his hands on Sam’s thighs.
Sam wasn’t sure what to say, so he leaned forward to kiss Dean. It was tender, chaste. “So you aren’t angry about Jessica?” Sam asked.
Dean glanced over his shoulder at the television and shrugged. “I’m prettier.”
Sam smiled. It was such a Dean thing to say. “Yes…you really are.” Sam said, reaching to pull him in for another kiss.
“Girly much, Sammy?” Dean joked as Sam released him.
Sam ran a hand over Dean’s face in amazement. It was nearly like having his brother back. Dean grimaced as if he could hear Sam’s thoughts.
“Its not…”
Sam nodded. “I know.” Some of it was still pretend…but some of it wasn’t.
“Come to bed?” Dean stood, holding out a hand to help Sam up. Sam turned off the TV and let Dean pull him to his feet. Once Dean had the door closed, he pulled Sam closer to kiss him, tender at first, then stronger, his tongue slipping over Sam’s lips until he opened them, until he melted against Dean. “Want you, Sammy…always…want you.”
Dean’s hands, strong, sure, moved over Sam’s back, gentle over wounds, and down to his ass. Sam gasped and stiffened. “Shh…Sam…won’t hurt you….could never hurt you….”
“Dean…just…slow.” Sam tried to relax, but Dean’s hands were hot and Sam couldn’t stop from pulling back, pulling away.
Dean followed, his arms circling back around Sam’s waist, his lips tracing over Sam’s chin. “It’s okay Sam.”
“I know Dean…just…please…”
Sam pulled free and limped to the bed, breathing hard and trying to overcome the sense of panic that filled him with Dean’s touch. “I can…just…give me a minute, okay?”
Dean was behind him, touching…wanting…”Love you Sammy….love you so much.”
Sam was shaking, Dean’s hands ghosted over Sam’s shoulders. “Been so long…so long…”
Sam swallowed hard. “I know Dean…I know.” He closed his eyes as Dean’s hands slid up his sides. Dean was hard, Sam could feel him pressing against him. He could feel a half dozen hands on him besides Dean’s…could hear Thomas telling him to say please…Robert saying he loved him. Dean was pushing him forward…pushing him to the bed, tugging at his pants. “God…just…stop Dean.” Sam whispered, crawling forward onto the bed…onto the bed and away from his hands. “Just…give me…let me…let me do it.”
His heart thundered as the bed dipped. He turned, moving so his head was on a pillow, his back to Dean. Sam’s hands trembled as he hooked a thumb in the waist of his sweats and eased them down. His ass was still bruised, but healing and Dean’s touch was soft.
Dean’s lips caressed over his exposed skin…his tongue tracing over bruises…tender, careful. Sam turned his face into the pillow. He couldn’t help the tears, but didn’t want Dean to see them. Sam grunted as the first finger penetrated, biting into the pillow to keep it from being more…to keep from crying out. Dean was whispering to him, telling him he loved him…telling him he’d go slow…saying things like need you and please and miss you…miss this.
Sam wanted to…wanted it to be okay…wanted to give Dean everything he needed…but it hurt…and his head reeled with images and sounds…and all he could think was that he wanted it to be over. He gripped the comforter as he cried into the pillow and Dean sank into him.
“Is it okay, Sam?” Dean breathed and Sam could only nod, because he couldn’t let Dean see him falling apart…couldn’t let Dean think he was hurting him…that it was too much…too soon…because Dean wanted him…Dean was hard and wanted him…and that was progress and Sam could handle it…he could give Dean what he needed. He could pretend.
He was coated in a cold sweat as Dean moved gently against him. “Please…Dean.” Just finish.
And then Dean was coming…and fuck if that wasn’t worse. The feeling sent Sam right back to the cage…to the van…to Dennis and Robert and all the rest. He couldn’t help the sob that escaped him.
“Sam?”
Sam shook his head. He moved his hips forward, away from Dean.
“Sam?”
He forced himself to let go of the comforter and brought his hand up to rub his face, trying to hide the tears. “Its okay, Dean.” His voice was thick, and Dean turned him onto his back, hovering over him.
“Damn it Sam. You should have told me no.”
Sam struggled to sit up, to reach for him. “No…it’s okay. I’m okay.”
“No you’re not. Look at you.” Dean’s hand shook as it rose to caress Sam’s face. “You promised me you’d tell me when you couldn’t handle it.”
“I can…I did….it’s okay…it’s okay…”
Dean held him while he shook. “I’m sorry Sam…I…I wasn’t thinking. I wanted you to know how much I want you…needed you to know.”
“I do know Dean. I know…and I wanted you to…I did…I…just…it was…it’s too much.”
Dean kissed over his face, kissed away the tears. “You want me to help you clean up…or just go to sleep?”
Sam clung to his hand. “Can we…just sleep? ’M tired.”
Dean nodded and guided Sam back to the mattress with one hand behind Sam’s head. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Don’t…don’t leave.” Sam said, suddenly afraid Dean was going to go to the other bed and leave him alone.
Dean shook his head. “Not going anywhere, Sammy. Just fixing the bed, okay?” Dean eased off the bed and rearranged the sheets and comforter, pulling them up over Sam after easing the sweat pants back up over him. When he crawled in, Sam pulled him close and Dean settled in with his head on Sam’s shoulder. “Sleep, baby. Everything will be a little better tomorrow.”
“Here. Pull over here.”
“Here?” Gabe asked, glancing over his shoulder at Caleb.
“Yeah, in the meadow.”
Gabe nodded and guided the car off the road. His palms were sweaty. Their prisoner was asleep…or pretending. Gabe thought it was pretend, because in his situation, Gabe wasn’t sleeping.
It was Caleb that had him worried though. Caleb was a calm man…a man known for his ethical stand. The very fact that he had agreed to so much death and destruction only showed Gabe that their cause was a good one. Now though…now Gabe wasn’t sure anymore that Caleb was thinking clearly.
Thomas was bound with duct tape at the wrists and ankles, his mouth taped shut. He had two black eyes and there was dried blood under his nose. Caleb had hit him repeatedly about an hour before in a fit of anger unlike anything Gabe had seen from him. “Caleb? Can I talk to you without our audience?”
He got out of the car, pacing a little until Caleb was there beside him. “Give me the gun.”
“What?” Caleb looked at him like he was crazy. “No. It ends here. Now.”
“I’m not saying it shouldn’t. I’m saying you’re not doing it.”
Caleb shook his head. “No. No. Gabe, I’m not letting you…your father would kill me. Kill me.”
Gabe crossed his arms. “You aren’t doing it. You’re in no shape for it.”
“I’m in the only shape I can be to do it, Gabe.”
“Exactly.” He held out his hand for the gun. “Caleb.”
“No.”
“Then we knock him out and take him back to the others like Gorlian.”
Caleb glared at him. “I won’t let that piece of shit anywhere near Sam.”
Gabe took a step closer, his hand still there between them. “Then give me the gun and walk away.” Caleb’s jaw tightened. “You beat a man, Caleb, an unarmed, defenseless man. That isn’t you.” He stepped still closer, the button of his jacket rubbing against the front of Caleb’s shirt. That was when he saw it. “God, Caleb.”
Gabe couldn’t look him in the eye as his hands came up, around Caleb’s neck, nimble fingers unbuckling the collar and sliding it off him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
Caleb apparently hadn’t either, his free hand rising up to rub at his now empty neck. “I-I-shit.” His hand loosened on the gun, dropping it into Gabe’s waiting hand. “I…he dies.”
Gabe nodded. “Go on…pull yourself together. I’ll take care of this.”
Thomas was watching as Caleb walked away and Gabe thought he saw something like relief in his eyes. He watched Caleb until he was sure he was actually walking, then opened the door. Thomas looked up at him and Gabe leveled the gun at him. “Don’t get comfortable. That man who just walked away is a far better man than I will ever be.”
He grabbed Thomas by the hair and yanked him out of the car. He flopped to the ground, unable to do more the way Caleb had bound him. Gabe pulled a knife from under the seat and cut through the tape on Thomas’ wrists and ankles. “Stand up slowly, keep your hands where I can see them.”
Thomas did, though Gabe watched his eyes dart around, looking for a way out he supposed. “Strip.” He glared at Gabe. “Naked, now…or I start shooting random body parts.
Gabe watched as Thomas pulled his shirt off, then his pants. “Underwear too.”
When he was stark naked, Gabe moved behind him, pushing the gun into his shoulder. “Walk.” He took him a good hundred feet from the car. “On your knees.” Gabe glanced for Caleb. He was nearly to the road. “If I had time, I’d give you a taste of your own medicine. Bet I could line up about 10 hunters who’d love to take a piece of you.”
He pressed the gun into the man’s temple. “I just want you to know that I aim to email your wife the video footage of you holding Sam while the others raped him so she can know just what kind of man she was married to.”
Gabe took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. The gun echoed over the flat field and Thomas sagged to the ground. “Fuck you.” Gabe said through clenched teeth as he fought the urge to throw up. He dragged air in through his mouth to hold it down. Leaving DNA at the crime scene wasn’t a good thing.
He squatted beside the body, staring down at the man’s dick, then at the knife in his hand Dean had dismembered James…not that he’d seen it, but he heard. Certainly this dickhead deserved no less. Dickhead. Gabe tucked the gun in the pocket of his suit jacket and reached down to do it. He held the dick with one hand and sliced through it with the other.
He stared at it for a minute, then turned and forced the dead man’s mouth open. “Dickhead.” He shoved the dick into his mouth and laughed a little. The laughter sounded wrong…flat, dead.
Gabe looked up, looked for Caleb. He was already starting down the road. Gabe stood, staring down at his handiwork. He’d never killed a human being before. The urge to vomit returned and he stumbled away, back toward the car. There was blood on his hands. He stared at them. Couldn’t leave it…couldn’t transfer evidence to the car.
He shook his head. “Pull it together Gabe.” He grabbed the shirt he’d made Thomas remove and scrubbed at the blood on his hands while he got in the car. They could burn the shirt later. Right now they had to go. They had to catch up to his father and the others. Had to get back to the cabin…had to deal with Gorlian. Had to tell Sam and Dean they were safe.
Gabe had helped make them safe. Gabe had killed a man in cold blood. He shook his head. No. A monster. He’d killed a monster. A monster with a family...with kids. He stopped the car next to Caleb. Couldn’t look at him as he got out. Caleb said nothing as he got behind the wheel. Gabe crawled into the back seat, unconsciously cradling the bloody shirt to him.
Sam didn’t think he’d sleep after…after…but he did. He slept and he dreamed…long, brutal nightmares of men on top of him, raping him…men who whispered Nothing. No One. Along. and Love you…men who always turned into his brother. He woke sweaty and nauseous and very aware that someone was in the room.
He couldn’t look, not at first. He regulated his breathing, let his pounding heart settle. Then he slowly opened his eyes. Pastor Jim sat in the chair next to the bed, cradling a cup of coffee. His eyes were concentrated on his coffee, but Sam could see. “How long have you been there?”
Jim looked up…looked at him, through him. “Long enough. You all right?”
Sam nodded, sort of, and shifted so he could sit up. He was very conscious of the fact that he hadn’t showered and Dean had…they had…he shook his head and looked up at Jim. “Why are you…are you waiting for me?”
Jim smiled, soft, but there was knowing in his eyes. It made Sam uncomfortable. “Dean came downstairs a while ago and emphatically told me that today was your turn.”
“My turn?” Sam made a face and tried to find a comfortable position to sit. His ass hurt, the bruises tender as if reminded by…by what happened…that they were supposed to hurt. “You bring me any?” He pointed at the coffee cup and Jim smiled.
He set his cup aside on the nightstand and brought a thermos up off the floor. “Dean insisted I bring it.” He poured some into a second cup and handed it to Sam.
“Dean seems to be full of insistence this morning.” Sam murmured as he held the cup up to his face. The steam felt nice on his face.
“Your brother’s worried about you.”
Sam closed his eyes and nodded. “He’s Dean. Of course he’s worried about me, that’s how he copes…he ignores anything that’s wrong with him and worries about me. Always has.”
“Funny, he said the same about you…that you were burying what was wrong and worrying over him.”
Sam frowned. “Me? No. I’m…I’m figuring out that I’ve never thought about Dean enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve always thought about me…what was good for me. Never bothered to see what Dean wanted…never thought about how it would affect him.” He chewed on his lip. “I’m a selfish bastard….and Dean…Dean always made it so easy.”
Jim nodded, though Sam wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or just to encourage him to continue. “Dean would always do anything for you, Sam.”
“Yeah…I know. And I took advantage of that.” Sam sipped at his coffee. “I have always just taken it…everything he gave me…just took it like it was somehow supposed to be mine.”
“And now?”
Sam sighed. Now. Now when everything was fucked to hell and Dean was so broken Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to put it all back together… “I don’t know.”
“Maybe we should start with what you and Dean fought about.”
Sam shook his head. No. He wasn’t having that conversation with Pastor Jim. “It was…” He moved so that he could lean against the headboard. “When I first got him back, when he was so deeply conditioned he didn’t even know his own name, I had to give him things to do to placate the conditioned need to please his owner…and…there was this thing he used to do when I was little…where he soothed me to sleep by touching and kissing my face….” Sam swallowed and glanced up. Jim’s face was the same, open, patient.
“He…he was doing that and I stopped him. He didn’t understand…and before I could explain, I got a phone call.”
“The one from Jessica?”
Sam nodded miserably. “It was a reminder that I had a whole other life…that while he was being…abused…I was living my life…one he knew nothing about. And he was there…”
“Being raped and beaten.”
Sam huddled into himself, sipping at his coffee and trying to hide the shaking of his hands. “He was angry. And he had every right to be. I…I didn’t…I left him…you know? I…pushed him away…left to go to school…”
“Do you think it was the wrong thing to do?”
“No….I mean…not for me. I was trying to…find something…”
“Something more?”
“More?” Sam looked at him, confused.
“Dean thinks you left for school because he wasn’t enough.”
Sam groaned and took a slow breath. “No…Dean…if anything he was too much. He was everything. I didn’t know anything outside of him…Him and Dad.”
“He thinks that you look at him differently now.” Jim said, watching Sam closely.
He could feel the older man’s eyes. “I know he looks at me differently.” He closed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean…I am different, you know?”
“Then why do you pretend to be the same?”
Panic welled up inside Sam. He swallowed and looked away. “I…don’t…”
“I know why Dean does. He tries to be who he remembers being, who he remembers you loved.”
“God.” Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “I love him…I don’t care if he’s never the brother he used to be.” He squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear Dean’s urgent whisper the night before, feel his hands. “Fuck.”
“Sam?” Jim’s hand was on his cast, careful not to touch skin.
Sam shook his head and tried to breathe more slowly. “Just….a flashback…” he curled forward as the gentle caress of Dean’s hand gave way to a fist in his hair, a cock thrust into his mouth. “Fuck.” He reached out for Jim’s hand, squeezing it as he pushed the memory away. “Sorry.” He drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes.
“Dean said he may have triggered some bad memories last night.”
Sam nodded, letting go of his hand. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“No offense Sam, but no, you really aren’t okay. None of you are. That’s why I’m here.”