
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/942587.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, Azazel_(Supernatural), Bobby_Singer,
      Missouri_Moseley
  Additional Tags:
      Dominant/Top_Dean, Jealous_Dean_Winchester, Possessive_Dean_Winchester,
      Top_Sam
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-26 Updated: 2013-11-14 Chapters: 10/? Words: 31262
****** Blood Bound ******
by Xiathia
Summary
     Samuel Singer, unable to fight off the bullies at his new school,
     turns to the only person that everyone fears for help: an introverted
     loner named Dean. As Sam struggles to get closer to the unwilling and
     rebellious teen, he finds that they're connected in a way that not
     even he can comprehend. Attempting to uncover the truth, Sam soon
     realizes that some secrets were meant to stay hidden.
***** Prologue *****
                                   PROLOGUE
                               Lawrence, Kansas
                               November 10, 1983
 Black smoke polluted the night air as firefighters rushed to stoke the fiery
 flames surrounding the Winchester household, their attempts to save the lives
of the people inside fruitless. The entire neighborhood flooded the streets in
 a panic as sirens echoed in their abused eardrums, the colored lights of the
 police cars casting an eerie glow on their frightened faces. Resting against
the back door of an ambulance was a little boy, the cries coming from the baby
 in his arms quieting almost immediately when he placed his quivering lips to
                            the infant's forehead.
"Don't you worry, little man," he whispered. "Everything's gonna be alright. I
                                   promise."
 The older boy glanced up at the window of his bedroom in terror, desperately
 searching for the pair of yellow eyes that met his as he escaped the burning
house with his baby brother. The demon inside was gone, he was sure of it. But
         the damage he'd left behind would stay with the boy forever.
 "We're going to be separated for a while, Sammy," he said, tears falling from
his green eyes. "I'm sure of it. But don't you worry 'cause I'm gonna find you.
                       I'll always find you, baby boy."
The stoic boy remained calm as he came to grips with the knowledge that both of
  his parents were dead. He remained calm as he was taken away by the strange
   people who promised both him and little Sammy a good home, their words as
  meaningless to him as the situation in which he currently found himself. He
  figured there was no need to get hysterical over bullshit that he couldn't
  control, no matter how badly his entire body was screaming for the volcano
  inside of him to erupt. It wasn't until they tried taking Sam away from him
 that he finally gave in to the impulses telling him to break, falling to the
   his knees before everyone and begging for them to bring his brother back.
 Rather than listen to the pleas of the little boy before them, they took the
screaming infant to whereabouts unknown, leaving the child left behind to pick
up the fragmented pieces of his shattered heart. He was so distraught over his
current predicament that the hunting skills his father began teaching him over
the course of a few months failed to kick into action, leaving him clueless to
 the attention he seemed to have attracted by a certain someone peering at him
                               from a distance.
 Beyond the tears and pain, far from the prying eyes of the people surrounding
  the screaming boy, was a man hiding in the shadows, carefully watching the
agony displayed all over the sobbing child's face with an intense curiosity. He
appeared to be in his late forties, with graying hair and piercing yellow eyes.
 His nasty sneer gave his already sinister features an even greater edge, the
 menacing look he exhibited enough to frighten any passerby that dared take a
   step into the darkness he retreated to in an attempt to mask his all too
   foreboding presence. When his appetite for inquiry was sated, he made his
 escape through the double doors leading out of the building and headed to the
        nearest pay phone, extracting a number out of his coat pocket.
                 "What?" said a gruff voice on the other end.
"They're going to be separated. I'm going to need you to keep an eye on them as
       I have…other matters to attend to. You know what you need to do?"
                         "Affirmative. But…which one?"
 "Doesn't matter, really. They're both important to me. I need you to keep on
top of things. If my plans get derailed because of you, I'll be sure to pay you
           a visit personally. You do not want that, I assure you."
For a brief moment, there was nothing but silence. The yellow-eyed man scowled
 at the phone, clearly irritated at the lack of communication coming from the
                                  other end.
"I want you to keep your end of the bargain, Azazel. I'm not goin' into this if
                     you don't plan on bringin' her back."
"Don't you worry," Azazel grinned. "I'll keep up my end. Just keep your eye on
                                 those boys."
  The line disconnected as Azazel dropped the phone without placing it on the
 receiver, exiting the booth and disappearing down a long stretch of road that
led to a secluded cabin away from the general public. As he entered the living
    room, he sat on a nearby recliner and stared disinterestedly at the man
   standing beside the fireplace, the anguish he suffered made all the more
 apparent by his disheveled appearance. His masculine features, combined with
    the ragged jeans and heavy boots he wore, made Azazel think of him as a
  "mountain man" type, one of those guys that could hoist a woman over a hard
 shoulder and drag her kicking and screaming to his bed. The thought made him
smile, the image of this man raping an unsuspecting female too great a thought
                                  to ignore.
The man being so carefully dissected by his irreprehensible foe turned to face
the detestable creäture before him with a disdain so palpable, it was a wonder
the object of its glare didn't burst into flames. Azazel smiled wickedly at the
   primal hatred all over his face, the sinful desires of the flesh a potent
                         aphrodisiac to the evil man.
                     "So, we meet again…John Winchester."
                    "Just tell me what you want me to do."
  Azazel's brows furrowed in confusion. "Do? I don't want you to do anything,
Johnny boy. I'm goin' to do it all for ya. You see,-" he leaned forward in his
  chair to pick up the handle of a large dagger, pointing it at John while he
  spoke- "I'm going to kill you. And when I do, you are going to do something
 very important for me. You are going to help me realize my vision. An entire
army of demons will be grateful to you for your service to our cause…but let's
      not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me, does your offer still stand?"
"Yes," he replied unhesitatingly. "Take my lousy soul if that's what you want,
                           just don't hurt my boys."
             "Oh, don't you worry…they'll be well taken care of."
   Getting up from his place on the chair, Azazel stood in front of John and
placed the sharp point of the dagger to the other man's chest, a lopsided grin
              tugging at the corner of his lips. "Do you accept?"
    John took a deep breath and relaxed as every bone in his body loosened,
  thoughts of his boy's smiling faces washing away each painful emotion that
        threatened to take hold of whatever control he still possessed.
                     This is for them. It's all for them.
                                  "I accept."
   Azazel plunged the blade deep into the heart of the man in front of him,
 watching with fascination as the life drained from his chocolate-brown eyes.
   Blood dripped from the wound in thin rivulets, staining the thick carpet
 beneath the demon's feet. Disgusted at the mess left behind by the irritating
   mortal, he shoved the body off of his weapon and stepped over the crimson
 puddle to the kitchen, washing the dagger meticulously. When he was finished,
  he shot a glance behind him to the dead body now laying on the floor of his
       living room, shaking his head at the man's astounding ignorance.
"And to think, you actually thought your boys were safe from me. Little do you
know, those darlings of yours will soon be mine. You can bank on that, Johnny."
  The demon fell to the floor as his deranged laugh penetrated the night air,
completely oblivious to the pair of brown eyes watching him from the outside of
                              his kitchen window.
 
 
***** Damaged Goods *****
"You've got to be kidding me."
Sam Singer stared at his new school in disgust, desperately trying to find
something positive about the terror his father had just reigned upon him. All
those years of home schooling down the drain because Bobby insisted on sending
him to one of these oppressive institutions which would no doubt force their
fascist views down his fucking throat. They didn't even give the kids a chance
to express their individuality, everything that makes them different stripped
away in the form of those atrocious school uniforms as if they weren't allowed
to have an identity of their own. He wouldn't have been surprised if they had
rules on proper etiquette as well, because god forbid the children that come
there to learn have a personality that defies the impossible standards set
forth by the dictatorial ass jockeys educating them.
As Sam contemplated turning around and walking home, he caught a glimpse of a
boy approaching the building, the cigarette dangling from his full lips
lighting up with every drag he took. Sam swallowed hard at the sight of him,
the boy's muscles making his pupils dilate with lust. The student glanced up
and caught Sam's eye, his brows furrowing in confusion before a tiny, knowing
smile formed on his handsome face. He leaned up against the brick wall and took
another drag, keeping his attention focused on Sam as he inhaled the black
smoke into his abused lungs. When his tongue came out to massage his pink lips,
Sam almost came in his uniform, the sex appeal oozing from the kid's every pore
doing strange things to the love-sick boy.
"Ok, I change my mind," Sam said to himself. "Maybe this won't be a bad place
after all."
The spell he was placed under was disrupted by the sound of the bell, the sound
making Sam wince. Tension mounted as he made his way to his first class, the
jitters that came with being a new student finally managing to take hold of his
insides. He couldn't remember a time when he had felt this nervous, even on
those rare occasions when his father allowed him to go on hunts. He assumed it
was because he was never very good with people, the idea of locking himself up
in his bedroom and burying his nose in a book a hell of a lot more tempting
than interfacing with someone who was most likely a supernatural creature of
some sort. Maybe if he allowed himself to believe that certain people could be
trusted, he'd have more luck in the friendship department. Being normal would
also be a plus, but that was a no go as far as he was concerned.
"Hey!"
Sam turned at the shouting coming from behind him, eyes widening as he took in
the form of the boy he'd been ogling over just moments before. He was even more
beautiful up close, with long eyelashes that fell over intense blue eyes in
soft wisps of black hairs which fluttered shamelessly in the bright sunlight
peeking through the hallway windows. The chestnut strands of his long bangs
were parted to the side of his face, his fingers reaching out to smooth them
behind his ears as he shot a seductive smile Sam's way.
"So, what's cookin,' good lookin'?
"I beg your pardon?"
"Don't play coy with me," the boy smiled. "I saw you outside earlier, lookin'
my body up and down as if I were a piece of prime rib. I'm Seth."
"I-I'm Sam."
"So, Sam…wanna go out tomorrow night? A couple of the guys are gonna have a
bonfire. You're welcome to join us."
Sam could feel his heart beating through his chest as he contemplated Seth's
offer, completely ignoring the little voice inside of him advising against the
attraction he felt for the strange boy. His instincts told him that he should
take this slow, make sure his crush wasn't some bloodthirsty vampire before
allowing him to get too close. But the call of his wild loins was too strong a
force to ignore, the raging fire burning deep within his soul silencing all
rational thought. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself accepting
the boy's request, the shame he felt for giving away his address so easily
disappearing when Seth's bottom lip found its way between his pearly white
teeth.
"Great! So, I'll see you tomorrow night. Pick you up around…seven?"
Seth was gone before Sam could give his answer, his retreating form vanishing
beyond the group of bodies invading the hallway. He was on cloud nine, he could
feel it. His first day at a real school and instead of the hell he was
expecting to walk into, he gets a date within the first five minutes of being
there to the hottest guy this side of the Mississippi. It finally looked like
things were starting to turn around for him. He just hoped he didn't screw
things up the way he always did.
===============================================================================
"Hey, how was your day?"
Sam threw his backpack on the floor of the living room and plopped down on the
couch next to his father, grabbing the bag of Cheetos on the coffee table.
"Fine. I got a date tomorrow night."
Bobby's happy expression turned suspicious. "Did you make sure he was okay?"
"Okay? Believe it or not, not everyone on the damn planet is an agent of hell,
dad."
"Well, they damn well could be," he grumbled, turning his attention back to the
television. "Saw a kid with the most gorgeous car today. Looked like he went to
your school."
Sam groaned, his head falling back on the couch cushions. "I don't want to talk
about school. My entire time there was an absolute disaster, with the exception
of Seth. All of my teachers seemed to have a stick up their ass about me being
there. And this one guy? Total freak. He's always staring at me as if he knows
something I don't. It's kind of creepy."
Bobby snorted. "No offense, but we're the last people on earth who should be
calling anybody creepy."
"Yeah, but you weren't there, Bobby. He has this thing in his eyes when he
looks at me. It's almost as if…as if he knows me. Is that crazy?"
"You really need to get out more, kid. I think I've cooped you up in this damn
house for far too long. It's about time you got out in the real world and
learned to stand on your own two feet. I think I'm glad you're going on this
date of yours. It'll give ya a chance to mingle with something other than your
dusty old books."
Sam watched his father get up and walk out of the living room, letting out a
sigh as he looked out of the open window. Sometimes he wondered why he was so
different from other people. For as long as he could remember, the only person
he'd ever had to lean on was Bobby. He was the only thing in this world capable
of making him feel an emotion other than total despondence, depression
evaporating at the touch of his father's rough yet gentle hand. That seemed to
work for him when he was a child, all of his worries nonexistent just as long
as he had Bobby by his side. But ever since he became a teenager, he started
noticing that the little things he once took comfort in didn't seem to give him
the peace of mind that it used to. He…wanted more. The overwhelming guilt he
felt as a result of his own selfish desires took its toll on his sanity, making
him feel like the worst son in the world for feeling like he needed something
more than the one person who took him in when his own parents abandoned him. He
wouldn't be anywhere without Bobby and yet the poor man who'd been his life
from the very beginning suddenly wasn't good enough for his spoiled ass. It was
no wonder his own family didn't want him. He was a brat who couldn't be
satisfied with what he had, constantly unhappy regardless of the many blessings
he received.
Folding his arms over his chest, Sam leaned back and sulked on the plush
furniture underneath him, hoping that someday he'd be able to find the strength
to appreciate what he knew he didn't deserve.
I'm sorry, Bobby. I'm so sorry for being me.
===============================================================================
The chiming of the clock on the wall signaled the awaited hour of Sam's date,
the sound springing the teenager up and out of the bathroom before he even
realized he'd moved. Taking the steps two at a time, he stopped at the front
door and caught a glimpse of Seth from the other side, the smile the boy gave
him wreaking havoc on his frazzled nerves. This is it, Sammy. Don't scare this
one off.
"Hi," Sam said shyly.
"Hey there, Sam. You look great."
He says I look great. He must be lying. "Thanks."
"Ready to go? I stole my grandmother's Mercedes so we'd have a ride. Hope you
don't tell on me."
"You stole an old lady's car? Wow. Looks like I have a little outlaw on my
hands," Sam joked.
Leaning in so that their foreheads were touching, Seth responded. "Baby, you
have no idea."
Sam gulped and followed Seth to the car, desperately trying to ignore the
painful bulge tenting the front of his jeans. As he slipped into the front seat
beside his date, he turned around and noticed the boys in the backseat staring
at him as if he'd just murdered their mothers, each scornful expression more
menacing than the next.
"Don't you worry about them," Seth said cheerfully. "They're upset because they
just found out I used to fuck all their girlfriends."
"You're a dick," one of the boys spat. "Why didn't you tell me you used to have
a thing with Naomi?"
"None of that matters right now, Roger. Come on. Let's get this show on the
road. Maybe some booze will turn those frowns upside down."
Seth peeled out of the parking lot at full speed, cruising down the street so
fast that all of the scenery on Sam's side of the car passed by in a total
blur. They drove for what seemed like an hour, finally coming to a secluded
beach on the other side of town. As they got out of the car and made their way
down to the water, Sam took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, having
never been to the beach a day in his life. Seth noticed his instant attraction
and put an arm around his waist, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his
mouth.
"C'mon," he whispered. "Let's go."
Sam gasped at the warmth of the boy's hard body, their close proximity sending
waves of pleasure shooting straight up his shivering spine. Seth smiled at him
as they sat by the fire his friends started, snuggling up to Sam's side as a
way of escaping from the cold. The rays of the setting sun split into pieces
across the darkening sky, the dull light shining lightly across the boy's
flawless face. He looked so beautiful, each part of him exhibiting a perfection
that had Sam fighting for air every time he set his eyes on the kid, which
tended to be pretty often, judging by the way he kept hyperventilating.
The entire night was terribly romantic. Seth's friends would roughhouse and
talk about stupid shit that Sam didn't give a rat's ass about and Seth would
whisper filthy words into his ears that made his cheeks blush a dark shade of
red. It was if the boy only had eyes for Sam, a fact that he couldn't help but
find extremely endearing. He somehow knew, even before he'd stepped foot
outside of his house, that he was going to end up in the backseat of Seth's
car, and that didn't seem to bother him nearly as much as he thought it would.
"Wanna go someplace where we can be alone," Seth whispered. "Please, Sam. Need
you."
Sam's breath hitched. "Okay."
Fast forward fifteen minutes and Sam is on his back underneath the stars, the
top of the car down so he could see the night sky. Seth's fist was wrapped
tightly around his aching cock, pre-come slicking the way as he ran his fingers
up and down the hard length. Sam moaned in ecstasy as the boy jacked him off
fast and hard, the orgasm he'd felt building for the last fifteen minutes
coming closer and closer with every stroke. Just when he was about to come, the
boy's hand squeezed him at the base, forcing a sound of protest from Sam's kiss
swollen lips.
"What are you doing? Don't stop, Seth. I want you."
"Don't worry, baby," Seth murmured. "I'm not gonna stop. I just want to be
inside you. Don't you want me inside you?"
Sam froze. He should have known something like this was going to happen, but he
was too caught up in the pleasure Seth was giving him to care. The thought of
losing his virginity sent shivers of trepidation coursing through his tense
muscles. He liked the boy, liked him enough that giving his innocence away to
him didn't seem like such a bad idea…but he couldn't do it now. Not now.
"I'm sorry, Seth. I want to. I really do. But I'm just not ready. I could…maybe
suck you off. You know…if you want."
"C'mon, Sam. Don't hold out on me. I can make it so good for you, baby."
Sam sighed in ecstasy as the hand on his cock resumed its strokes, the urgency
from before coming back tenfold at the sensations spreading through every inch
of his body.
"I want to, Seth. I want you so bad. But I can't. I'm…I'm just not r-ready."
Sam opened his eyes and stared at Seth in confusion when he felt the boy moving
away, desperately trying to hide the panic swirling in his body at the thought
of being dumped because he couldn't find the courage to put out. He let out a
surprised gasp as his legs were forcibly spread wide open, his eyes widening in
horror as he realized what was about to happen.
"You know something, Sam? This is all your fucking fault. First you stare at me
and get me all hot for you, then you tease me all night and use me like all I'm
good for is strokin' your prick?"
"No!" Sam yelled. "No, it's not like that. Please, Seth. Please, don't do this
to me. I'm a virgin. I'm just not ready!"
"You're a virgin?" Seth asked, an evil grin forming on his face. "Christ, Sam.
Why didn't you tell me? Fuck, this is gonna be great. You're my little whore,
baby. Myvirgin whore. You're gonna get fucked so good, baby boy. Just you wait
and see."
Sam tried to fight him off, but it was impossible. The boy overpowered him by a
mile. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself naked and moaning as
Seth's tongue wiggled around inside his ass, ashamed of himself for getting off
on being raped. He'd given up fighting a long time ago, instead letting his
body fall limp as Seth got what he wanted. The tip of the boy's tongue licked
at his prostate and Sam screamed, confused at the intense sensations flooding
through him. He'd never felt anything like this before, the pleasure from being
slowly eaten out intensifying as a hand wrapped tightly around his aching cock,
pulling hard at it until Sam screamed in bliss. When Seth ceased his
ministrations, Sam actually whimpered in protest, his body aching to be fucked.
"I just knew you were a cockslut, Sam," Seth whispered, sliding his dick inside
Sam in one fluid motion.
Sam's whole body shook as Seth slid in and out of his body, forcing Sam to look
into his eyes the entire time. The small thrusts massaged him in just the right
spot, the feeling making him gasp. His hands squeezed Seth's shoulders as the
boy fucked into him, a tingling sensation swirling low in his belly with every
in and out movement. His vision blurred when his rapist sped up the motion of
his hips, a pleasure unlike anything he'd ever known taking hold of him as he
came hard all over the boy's skin.
Seth roared in ecstasy when Sam's inner walls clenched tight around his cock,
filling the boy's abused passage with his seed. When it was all over, he fell
panting on top of the boy underneath him, laughing quietly at Sam's soft sobs.
"Hey," he whispered, running his fingers through Sam's floppy brown hair. "Stop
being a pain in the ass. You fuckin' liked it. We'll make sure to do it
someplace nicer next time, and when we do, you're not gonna pull any of this
cryin' shit, you hear me?"
When Sam didn't answer, Seth's gentle touch turned violent. Slapping the boy
across the cheek, Seth grabbed his chin and forced him to look at his face, his
eyes hardening in anger at Sam's insolence.
"When I tell you something, you fucking do it. See, you're new here so you have
no idea how things run in this town. I'm the fucking boss, Sam. Do you hear me?
And what I want, I get. Right now, what I want is you. You're my whore. You're
always gonna be my whore. I own you now, Sammy boy. You better start accepting
that. Now get the hell out of my face."
===============================================================================
Sam struggled through the pain coursing through his entire body as he made his
way along the deserted streets of town, trying his hardest to remember where it
was he lived. When Seth had kicked him out of his car, he'd tried escaping the
beach. He'd really tried. But apparently the other boys there decided they
wanted a turn with him too. He was bruised and bloodied and he just wanted to
go home but he couldn't seem to remember where home was. The tears he'd been
holding back for the sake of his sanity spilled traitorously down his purple
cheeks, the pain that came with the realization that he was nothing more than
used goods like a sharp knife to his bleeding heart. His virginity was gone,
which meant he had no value. His parents didn't want him and Seth only seemed
to want him for the whore he apparently was. He certainly felt like one. What
kind of person enjoys being raped? Seth was right; he really was a cock slut.
Sam stopped in the middle of the road as his legs gave way underneath him,
falling to the ground in agony. He began sobbing into the dirty concrete, the
will to survive slowly fading. He heard a door opening somewhere in the
distance, the strange sound of cursing getting louder and louder as the owner
of the voice approached his battered body.
"Oh god," a woman said in horror. "Honey, you just hold on. I'm gonna get you
some help. Dean! Get over here and help me with him! I don't think he can
walk."
Dean? Who the fuck is Dean?
Before he knew what was happening, he felt someone pick him up off the ground
and carry him to lord knows where, the feel of the stranger's hard muscles
oddly comforting. The person smelled like leather, oil and cheap soap, an
intoxicating mixture that had him inhaling the boy's scent before he could
wonder why. Trying desperately to open his eyes, he moaned silently when he
realized they weren't going to budge.
"Shh," the woman from before whispered. "Hush, baby. You're going to be just
fine. Dean's got you."
"Dean?" he replied, his voice hoarse.
Sam groaned as he felt an overwhelming sleepiness come over him, the urge to
drift off into the abyss too strong a desire for him to ignore. Giving in to
the surrounding darkness, he was out before he could comprehend the strange
sensation that had taken hold of him at the touch of the boy's strong arms, the
comforting feeling he brought Sam following him into the bottomless pit known
as sleep.
 
***** Meet The Moseleys *****
Missouri Moseley was a woman on a mission. She was an independent, shrewd,
fire-breathing termagant who wasn't about to let some hoity-toity man with a
blue blazer and Louis Vitton sunglasses get in the way of the one thing she
knew she deserved, especially after the night she'd just had.
The boy who'd been rescued had kept her up the entire night. She'd stayed with
him the whole time, hushing him back to sleep whenever he woke up delirious and
panicked. His frightened screams had filled the bedroom in a resounding wave of
vibrating sound, piercing her ears and breaking her heart with its brutal
intensity. At one point, when she'd finally fallen asleep, the poor child had
somehow managed to make his way into the kitchen where he grabbed a knife and
attempted to slit his wrists, almost succeeding before the utensil was ripped
from his quivering hands by her beautiful boy, Dean.
God, how she loved that kid. The boy's wails had kept Dean awake as well, which
was a good thing for both Missouri and the young man because there was no way
she would have gotten there in time to stop him from killing himself. She woke
up at the sound of yelling and, when she realized the child wasn't beside her,
ran downstairs to find her son hoisting the loud boy over his shoulder and
walking past her to plop him down on his bed. He'd told her to go to sleep
while he watched over the poor thing, ignoring her protests about him having to
go to school in the morning. That's the thing with Dean; when he's made his
mind up about something, there's no changing it. The boy's as strong and
stubborn as an ox. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't able to sleep after that.
So, fast forward five hours and here she is now, rushing past the asshole who
had the nerve to venture down into her part of the supermarket to obtain the
last jelly filled donut resting peacefully inside its glass enclosure. As they
reached their destination, Missouri backhanded him without thinking about the
consequences, kicking him in the rear when the powerful smack turned his whole
body over to the other side. He fell to the floor and looked up at her in an
odd combination of anger and fear, lifting his upper lip in disgust when she
brought the powdered pastry to her red lips.
"What now, bitch?" she exclaimed, mouth full of food. "Neva mess with a black
woman and her food, motherfucker."
Missouri's head snapped up at the many stares she was getting from other
customers, their expressions giving her time to fully appreciate what it was
she'd just done. Widening her eyes in surprise, she watched as security made
their way toward her with as much professionalism as they could muster,
arresting her for assault when the dumbass she'd slapped decided he wanted to
press charges.
Just look at it this way, Missouri, she thought to herself. At least you got
the last donut.
===============================================================================
Sparks of white light burst beneath Sam's eyelids as he sat up in bed, the pain
from his rectum spreading through his entire body. A sense of dread came over
him as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings, the fear he'd felt from last
night attacking him with harsh pants and a rapid heartbeat. He couldn't
remember most of what happened to him after the incident at the beach, though
he faintly recalled a comfortable smell invading his nostrils sometime after
his assault. It's funny…he'd been gang raped for an entire hour by Seth's
cronies and yet the only thing that occupied his mind was that jaw dropping
aroma. He didn't know why the retrieval of that memory meant so much to him,
but he still found himself closing his eyes in concentration, trying to bring
back the smell that had managed to calm the raging sea wreaking havoc on his
very being. Unable to capture the scent in his mind's eye, he fell to the bed
in frustration, putting a hand over his face as the action caused more pain to
travel through his abused opening.
He wished there was a way for him to remember exactly what happened to him
between the time he walked off the beach and the time he got to where he was
now. Everything in between was fuzzy, little bits and pieces coming together to
form a mass of muffled sounds and blurry visions that were more than a little
unrecognizable. The puzzle wasn't fitting together and he couldn't figure out
why. He eventually chalked it all up to trauma and closed his eyes in an
attempt to sleep this whole thing away, hoping against hope that a trip to
dreamland would trigger something about last night that would help him make
sense of the situation in which he currently found himself. But before he could
drift off into unconsciousness, the sound of a door slamming had him jerking in
surprise. Thinking that someone was coming to hurt him, he scrambled to get
himself untangled from the cotton sheets he was enveloped in, only to scream in
pain as he fell face first on the hardwood floor. Footsteps rushed in his
direction as if the person walking was in a panic, the clicking of high heels
reverberating loudly off the bedroom walls. Realizing it was a woman, he froze
in place as she made her way towards him in a frenzy, dropping to her knees
beside him.
"Oh, you poor boy! Here, let big mama help you up."
Missouri managed to get Sam back into bed before she heard the flying of gravel
as Dean disappeared down the street, heading back to school in his beloved
Chevy Impala.
"Who was that?" Sam whispered.
"Oh, don't you worry. That was just my son. You'll meet him later on. So…it's
nice to finally meet you, honey. I'm Missouri, and you are…?"
Sam hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Sam."
Missouri smiled the sweetest smile Sam had ever seen, her brown eyes crinkling
with the force of it. She was a pretty woman, with black hair and a full figure
that he'd always appreciated a hell of a lot more than society's coveted skinny
minny. She bit at her lip unconsciously as they both allowed a comfortable
silence to pass between them, each mentally sizing up the other. When the woman
finally spoke, the smile she'd had on her face was gone, the worry replacing it
an unwelcome sight to Sam's eyes.
"Hon…I have to ask you something. Do…do you remember last night?"
"No."
"You were a wild one, young man. May I ask what happened to you?"
Sam closed his eyes beneath the onslaught of questions he wasn't quite ready to
answer, psychological pain sending sparks of agony through his entire body. He
knew he'd have to talk about it eventually, but the very morning after it
happened was just too short a time frame for him. The abuse was still fresh in
his mind, like taking stitches out of a gash that hadn't been properly healed
yet. The rape he'd been subjected to had stripped away his self-respect, any
preconceived notions he'd had about saving himself for the person he loved
ripped from him by someone he should have known better than to trust. How could
he tell Missouri about the events that put him to shame when just thinking
about them made him want to crawl under the blankets and stay there until he
died? If what happened was enough to get him to want to kill himself, what
would it mean for her? Would she be just as ashamed of him as he was of
himself? He couldn't risk having someone so kind see what a dirty, soiled boy
he really was. If she knew, she'd send him away. He couldn't have that, not
when the only person in this town that he had to lean on was probably miles
away.
Deciding to give her a version of the truth, he said, "I was attacked by a
couple of guys."
"Was it a fight?"
"Yes."
Missouri's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she tried to get a look inside the
boy's head, his lies as obvious to her as the pain on his face. Penetrating the
walls of his consciousness, a scene of brutality played before her like a
horror movie, each scene making it more and more difficult for her to breathe.
"Stop it!" Sam screamed, his body shaking with the force of the stranger's
thrusts.
Sam was being held down by two guys, the third pounding into him at an erratic
pace, his expression of pleasure deepening the closer he got to his inevitable
orgasm.
"You feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty boy," he groaned, crying out
as he came deep inside the opening he was currently buried in. "Fuuuck! He
feels so damn goood."
The laughter from the others pierced the night air as the boy finished raping
Sam, leaning down to lick at his victim's tears in a mockery of sympathy.
"You're next, Roger. This one here is a fighter but don't you worry, his
struggling makes it better. He squeezes around your dick, see? It's so damn
good. Hurry up. We don't have much time left. I want to get back home before my
parents have a cow, man."
The young man known as Roger took his place between Sam's spread legs, using
the come from the other boy to slick the way as he pushed past the tight ring
of muscle, eyes rolling back in his head at the powerful feeling. His hips
started moving slowly, his gaze focused on Sam's tear-stained face.
"You can't tell me you don't like this, slut," he panted.
"Please, leave me alone," Sam sobbed, crying so hard his vision was starting to
blur.
"Aww. Ya hear that, fellas? Poor guy here wants us to leave him alone. I say we
shut his mouth up. Seth?! Get over here and put your dick in there. Little shit
should be having his mouth and ass fucked at the same time."
Seth laughed as he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, rubbing the head
against Sam's lips.
"You bite this and I'll fucking kill you," he said, shoving himself in and out
of the wet cavern hard enough to swell Sam's cheeks with every thrust inside.
The boy inside of Sam switched angles and smirked triumphantly as he hit the
bundle of nerves deep within Sam's aching body, making the boy cry out around
Seth's dick as he came hard all over himself. The others hooted and hollered at
the huge victory awarded to them, a victory made even more sweet when their
victim's walls clenched tight around the member inside of him. Roger screamed
as his climax hit him like a ton of bricks, pulling out so that he could shoot
his load all over Sam's belly.
Sam sputtered when he tasted Seth's release, vomiting all over the sand when
the boys finally let him go. Positioning himself on his hands and knees, he
emptied the contents of his stomach in an attempt to expel whatever filth was
forced down his throat. Coughing hard enough to make his ribs ache, he found
the strength to stand on his wobbly legs, wincing at the words being hollered
at him as he made his way off the beach.
"Thanks for the fuck, Singer!"
"See you around, cock whore!"
"You'd better be ready on Monday, Sam," Seth yelled. "'cause I'm comin' after
you! Don't ever forget who that ass belongs to!"
Their taunts echoed in Sam's mind as tears streamed down his handsome face,
stumbling over himself as he tried to remember which way Seth had driven to get
to where he was. His fuzzy brain made no attempt to help him, instead confusing
him further as the memories jumbled up in a twisted game of Torture the Sammy,
mocking him for his inability to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Giving
up, he began to walk in whichever direction he chose to go in, the blur of
headlights passing him by as he started to fade into darkness, the world
spiraling out of control beneath the weight of his sorrow. He moved without
knowing what he was doing, the earth still spinning faster and faster while he
remained a slave to the power of fate, powerless to stop its continued
existence.
"M-Missouri?"
The psychic snapped out of her trance in a daze, feeling her energy drain from
the strength it took to see inside Sam's mind. The poor boy looked worriedly at
her, clueless as to the dark turn her thoughts had taken. It was a good thing
that she'd seen the faces of the boys who did this to him, because she planned
on making them all pay. There wasn't going to be a single thing they'd done
that wouldn't go unpunished, she'd make sure of that. Now all she had to do was
get Dean on board…
"I'm fine, honey. I've just had a long morning. I got arrested today. Had to
call my son from school to come bail me out. Bless his little soul for being
the boy that he is. But enough of that. I-"
"What did you get arrested for?" Sam interrupted.
"Oh, I attacked some guy over a jelly donut. No big deal."
Sam's eyes widened in shock. "Who the hell would get into a fight with someone
over something so trivial?"
"A fat person with a penchant for donuts, that's who. Now you hush before I
beat you senseless. You best mind your manners in my house, boy. Here's the
deal; you agree with everything I say, and I'll order us some pizza for supper.
How's that sound?"
Sam smiled, some of the tension from earlier fading in light of his recent
luck. How he'd managed to find such a wonderful person after the hell he'd been
through was nothing short of a miracle, and he'd be damned if he was going to
do anything to upset the bond he could feel forming between him and Missouri.
Reaching his hand out, he waited for her to put her own into it before he
responded, the compassion in her kind eyes giving him the strength he needed to
trust the endearing stranger.
"Deal."
===============================================================================
It was nearly seven at night by the time Sam had finally worked up the courage
to call his father, spending damn near three hours on the phone listening to
him get yelled at for making him worry the way he did. Sam's story about
getting into a physical altercation with some boys didn't fool his dad one bit.
He knew this, yet he continued to stick to the fabrication he'd created,
refusing to let Bobby know the truth, lest he get arrested for murder. When
asked about Seth, Sam played it cool, trying his best to keep up the fake
façade he knew Bobby probably wouldn't be swayed by.
Finally managing to calm the raging storm that was Bobby Singer, Sam assured
him that he'd be home as soon as it was humanly possible before hanging up and
taking another slice of his pepperoni and mushroom pizza, groaning in
satisfaction at the taste.
The sound of the door slamming shut made Sam jump in surprise, forgetting for a
moment that Missouri kept mentioning something about having a son named Dean.
Boots from the boy's shoes stomped across the floors in a heavy thump, the
footsteps retreating to what sounded like the room Sam had woken up in.
Deciding to meet the young man and perhaps make a little polite conversation,
Sam got up off the living room floor and made his way to the bedroom, stopping
at the closed door that blocked his view of who he could only guess was the
person who'd lifted him from the dirty pavement and carried him inside from the
cold.
Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he reached a hand out and
pushed open the door before he could stop himself, watching the wood creak as
it carefully slid to the other side of the doorway. The boy's back was turned
away from him, his head down as he did something Sam couldn't see. Deciding to
speak up, he cleared his throat and watched as the boy visibly stiffened,
lifting his head as he slowly turned around to face Sam.
Sam's breath caught in his throat as he found himself drowning in the most
beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, the flecks of gold peppering the emerald colored
irises blending in with the ocean of green assaulting Sam's vision. The boy's
full lips shifted downwards into a frown as his brows furrowed in anger, the
sight of it bringing Sam back to the looks of disgust he'd seen on the faces of
the boys who'd violated him.
"The fuck do you think you're doing?" Dean growled, his deep voice sending a
shiver down Sam's back.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just barge in on you but I thought that maybe I
could-"
Dean was up in Sam's face before he could finish his sentence, the smell of him
cutting off the words the boy had been trying to form. The intoxicating scent
of Missouri's son was driving him crazy, the aroma he'd been trying to place
earlier coming back to him in full force. He felt his cock stiffen in his jeans
as Dean glared spitefully at him, the dominance oozing from his every pore
doing things to Sam he'd never thought possible.
"Dean! You best hold your tongue in my house, boy!"
Sam turned as Missouri approached the two boys, her disapproving glare focused
entirely on Dean. "The hell is it with you, boy? Can't you say hi to the nice
kid? Show some hospitality. I know I raised you better than this, Dean
Moseley."
The anger on Dean's face disappeared as he blew out a breath in annoyance,
turning around and slamming the door shut behind him. Missouri shook her head
and let out a resigned sigh, looking apologetically at Sam.
"You'll have to excuse my son, Sam. He hasn't had the best life in the world,
and that boy's trust issues are…you don't even wanna know. You should get use
to him eventually. I mean, after all…he does go to school with you."
Sam's face contorted in confusion. "Wait, what?"
"Well…you do go to school here, right? You're a young boy so I just
figured…anyway, everyone in that place is scared of Dean so if there are boys
giving you trouble, your best bet is to make friends with him as soon as
possible. That boy'll be your lifeline, trust me. Nobody in their right mind
would dare mess with my son."
Sam looked back at the closed door as he tried to picture having a grumpy guy
like Dean as his guard dog. For some odd reason, he felt a strange connection
to the Moseley boy that he couldn't quite rationalize or explain. That alone
scared the living shit out of him as the last thing he needed was to feel
something for a boy that closely resembled what he felt for Seth when he'd
first seen him. He knew Dean would never hurt him like that, but the thought
that he could be raped one minute and be hot for someone he barely knew more
than a few minutes the next had him rushing to the bathroom as fast as his weak
legs could carry him, emptying his stomach into the toilet in disgust. Missouri
was at his side in a flash, rubbing his back in soothing, concentrated circles
as she softly shushed him into silence.
"Hush, baby. It's okay. You're going to be okay, hon. I'm here now.
Everything's alright."
Sam sobbed into the toilet bowl as shame washed all over him for the connection
he felt when he'd first seen Dean's face, the words of the boys who'd raped him
coming back to haunt his brain as harsh taunts echoed in cruel memories.
"You're such a cock slut, Sammy. Don't you ever forget it."
They were right. He was a filthy boy, climaxing when being raped and then
getting hard at the sight of someone he didn't even know. He was mortified at
his body's reactions to everything that's been happening to him. A guilt unlike
anything he'd ever known was slowly beginning to ravage him from the inside
out, self-loathing breaking down his defenses little by little as he started
descending into the depths of his own madness. He felt like he was never going
to get out of the hell those boys had put him in, each painful memory holding
their own power over him that he couldn't seem to control, no matter how hard
he tried.
Missouri's voice pierced through the self-deprecating thoughts floating around
inside Sam's brain, the warmth of her hand creating a ripple effect of calm
within the waters of his despair.
"Listen to me, child. You are going to get through this, ya hear? I'm going to
help you. Look at me."
Missouri took his face in both of her hands, giving him a little shake to
emphasize her point. "You are not gonna give up Sam. I won't let you. There's a
whole other world out there that you still need to see. One that doesn't
involve violence. I swear to you that none of this is your fault and I promise
you that those boys are never going to hurt you again."
Sam buried his head in the woman's shoulder and cried openly as she wrapped her
arms around his shaking body, holding the sad boy tight to her breast. A creak
in the floor had her glancing up and locking eyes with her son, his look of
worry for the boy he'd yelled at just moments earlier fading as soon as he
realized his mother had caught wind of his presence. Schooling his features
into the mask he always wore for other people, he walked past the bathroom and
disappeared out the front door, the sound of his Impala zooming to life as he
sped out of the driveway at a speed Missouri was going to kill him for later.
Sam drifted off in Missouri's arms, his soft snores making the woman smile as
she lifted him up in her arms and carried him to Dean's bed, knowing full well
that the rebellious boy would probably be out most of the night. She tucked Sam
into the covers and ran her fingers through his floppy brown hair, smiling
affectionately at the boy who'd managed to capture her heart in the span of two
nights. She knew he had a long road ahead of him, but she also knew that he was
a survivor, just like Dean. Those two boys were going to need each other
eventually, she could sense it. The strong bond that they had already formed
might have been lost to the teenagers, but Missouri relied on her powers of
intuition, and those powers did not lie. Sam and Dean were soul mates, and the
pull between them was only going to get stronger as time went on. That thought
alone made the woman smile in triumph, joy coursing through her at the idea
that such a sweet boy like Sam could be a part of Dean's life. But beyond the
happiness was fear, fear for the evil she knew surrounded the boys like a
plague, its very existence threatening the peaceful tranquility of their strong
connection.
Ignoring the negative thoughts that had suddenly taken hold of her, Missouri
made her way into the living room and picked up the phone, punching out a
number as she stared fondly at an old picture of Dean when he was twelve, his
folded arms letting the photographer know just how unhappy he was about having
his picture taken.
"Yeah?"
"It's Missouri. I've found him. He's been hurt pretty bad. I think you outta
come down here and keep an eye on him. I have a feeling that you know who is
somewhere close by and I don't want to chance anything bad happening to the
poor boy."
She listened to the mischievous voice on the other end convey dirty thoughts to
the girls at his side before once again acknowledging Missouri, assuring her
he'd find a way to keep tabs on Samuel without anybody knowing about it, least
of all the man they were all trying to protect the kid from. When she hung up,
she felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders. He was never
going to win, not when she had both of his boys safe from harm. She wasn't
going to let the prophecy come to pass; she'd rather die.
Walking to her bedroom in silence, she fell upon her bed with a sigh, staring
up at the ceiling as she thought of what her next move was going to be. She
figured out the answer before she'd even asked the question, the faces of Sam
and Dean taking center stage in her mind's eye. As she fell into a deep sleep,
she was unaware of the yellow eyes peering at her from within the contents of a
blood filled chalice, a smirk creeping across the lips of Azazel as he giggled
softly into the crimson waters.
"I've got you now, bitch," he murmured. "Sam and Dean Winchester are mine."
***** Trapped *****
  Sam woke up the next morning feeling the same way he did the night before:
 depressed, angry, confused, and completely exhausted. There was, however, one
 very significant detail missing from the many emotions circling around in his
 overloaded brain; he didn't feel suicidal. Any thoughts about ending the life
   he didn't see as exceptionally valuable had all but faded away under the
 compassionate care of Missouri Moseley. She was a woman of fierce loyalty and
    abounding love, a feisty mother hen with a penchant for both empathetic
understanding and unmerciful punishment. She could be your best friend or your
worst enemy, though the latter was usually reserved for people who took it upon
  themselves to harm someone she cared about. She was a stern disciplinarian
capable of capturing the obedience of anyone under her wing, a firecracker of a
    woman who stole Sam's heart from his chest in a matter of 24 hours and
suspended it above his head as if to show him that he still had the capacity to
     love, the action leaving him wholeheartedly under her powerful spell.
Sam and Missouri were finishing up breakfast dishes when the front door opened
 to reveal a very somber Dean, his beautiful eyes immediately locking on Sam's
 as he made his way into the kitchen. Pushing past the shy boy, he opened the
orange juice on the counter and drank straight from the carton, using the back
 of his hand to wipe the orange liquid from his full lips. Sam watched in avid
 fascination as he shucked his leather jacket and threw it over a chair before
   reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of Salem 100's, smirking
  defiantly at his mother as he lit up a cigarette right in the middle of the
                                     room.
 "So," Missouri began, her expression murderous. "Where did you go last night,
                                    Dean?"
                           "Nowhere," he responded.
"Oh, cut the bullshit! I can smell perfume all over you! Did you at least have
 the presence of mind to use a condom? Or am I gonna have to whoop your ass?"
Dean and Missouri stared each other down for five full minutes without saying a
 word, leaving Sam behind to bask in the awkward silence their battle of wills
had created. The show for dominance was a losing battle for Missouri; Sam could
see it written all over both their faces. Missouri may have been a tough woman,
  but Sam had a strange feeling that when Dean was in whatever mood he was in
                     now, there was no reasoning with him.
  "Hey!" Sam spoke up. "Why don't we all watch a movie or something? I'm sure
               it'll be a hell of a lot more fun than fighting."
  Both heads turned in his direction, the corners of Missouri's lips curving
  upwards into a tiny smile. Dean scowled at Sam as he practically shoved him
    into the kitchen table on the way to his bedroom, the sound of the door
      slamming shut something Sam was starting to get more than used to.
                       "Does he always slam that door?"
 Missouri sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam. Sometimes not even I can control him. Dean
has…a wildness about him. He has a free spirit that I can't contain, nor would
I ever want to. I just wish that he'd confide in me more than he does. There's
something bothering him but I can never figure out what it is because he never
   tells me. I could look inside his mind but I don't want to intrude on his
          privacy. Looks like I might not have a choice though, huh?"
              Sam looked puzzlingly at her. "Look into his mind?"
 Oh…I suppose I should have told you. I'm a bit of a psychic. Now I know that
                    you'll probably think I'm crazy, but-"
"No!" Sam interrupted. "I believe in psychics! As a matter of fact, I sometimes
believe I'm psychic. I can see things before they happen. They come with awful
headaches though, and I can't ever be sure of when they appear. The last time I
  had anything like that happen to me was last year. I remember 'cause Bobby
    freaked out and wanted to send me to the hospital because of the pain."
Missouri looked at Sam with a curiosity he wasn't sure he liked, the weight of
her gaze making him uncomfortable. "You get visions, huh? Infrequent visions…"
    Sam watched Missouri slip into a trance of sorts, obviously thinking of
something he wasn't meant to be privy to. Her pupils dilated as she looked deep
   into his hazel eyes, something within its murky depths caving beneath her
                              forceful scrutiny.
   "Well," she spoke suddenly, shaking her head and clearing her throat. "If
you're anything like me then it'll take some time for your powers to manifest.
 If you need any help channeling something specific, let me know and I'll see
                          what I can do to help you."
                              "Yeah, sure…okay."
"I'm going to take a nap, Sam. I'm awfully tired. Do me a favor and see whether
or not you can get Dean to go to the store and pick up the items I have here on
 my list. If he doesn't agree then don't fret, he'll go later when he's calmed
             down. I swear, that boy is gonna be the death of me."
  Sam smiled sadly as Missouri left him alone to reflect on his thoughts, the
idea of talking to Dean sending a shiver down his back. How such a good-looking
 boy could be so stubborn and mean, Sam would never know. But for the sake of
    his new friend, he was going to get that oaf to do his mother this tiny
                       favor…whether he liked it or not.
 Determined to display whatever intimidation necessary to get what he wanted,
 Sam puffed out his chest and put on the best bitchface he could muster before
 stomping down the hallway to Dean's bedroom, banging his knuckles against the
 wood repeatedly. He nearly leapt out of his skin when the door burst open and
 he was pulled inside by the front of his shirt, his brain short-circuiting on
   him as he was once again transported back to that night with Seth and his
  friends. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears as his breathing began to
 quicken, his vision going blurry with every second that passed by in the tiny
                                     room.
  "Hey!" Dean yelled sternly, slapping him across the face. "Snap out of it!"
               Sam stared at Dean in horror. "Why'd you hit me?"
Dean froze, his face scrunching up in a combination of contempt and confusion.
It seemed as though he couldn't decide which feeling he wanted to express, the
 emotions that must have bubbled up inside him obviously too much information
  for him to process all at once. He seemed to have made up his mind when he
   shrugged his shoulders and put on the most disgusted expression he could
  accomplish on such short notice, the action making Sam smirk in amusement.
 "You were acting like a fuckin' spaz," he replied rudely. "The hell is wrong
                                  with you?"
              "Uh…well, I…I got hurt. These guys, you see, they-"
"That's a nice story," Dean interrupted. "Really, it is. Now, why don't you be
  a good little boy and get the hell out of my room. I've got more important
                   things to do then hang around with you."
               "Like what? Be an ungrateful son to your mother?"
Sam's eyes widened as a gasp escaped his mouth, the look of pure rage on Dean's
   face making him realize that he'd gone too far. Dean was up in Sam's face
before he had a chance to react, slamming him up against the door with one fist
 aiming in his direction. The older boy breathed heavily through his nose, his
fingers clenched so tight that his knuckles turned a bright shade of white. Sam
 turned his head and clenched his eyes shut, trying to prepare himself for the
blow that he knew was coming. He would have deserved it too. He had no right to
 speak that way to Dean and he certainly had no place back talking someone in
 their own house. By being disrespectful to the boy, Sam had signed his death
                                   warrant.
    Now, if only Dean would hurry up and get it done and over with already…
 But he didn't. He just stood there in the exact same position for the longest
   time, whether he was working up the courage to dole out his punishment or
trying to talk himself out of it, Sam wasn't sure. When the boy finally let go
of Sam's shirt and lowered his raised fist, Sam stared up at him in confusion,
trying his best to comprehend how it was possible that he hadn't turned into a
  pile of dust atop Dean's bedroom floor yet. The anger was still evident on
 Dean's features, but more than that; Sam saw regret. Regret because what Sam
had said was true. Dean seemed to really love his mother, and Sam had no doubt
        in his mind that Missouri loved him just as much, if not more.
              "What do you want from me?" he whispered ominously.
 "I just want you to go to the store and get your mother a couple of things on
 her list. I need to get home today so you can drop me off on the way. I know
    that I should probably tell her I'm leaving, but I'm not really good at
  goodbyes. Besides, if she really wants to see me again, she'll know where I
                                    live."
Dean considered Sam's offer, the suspicious glare making Sam roll his eyes. If
  Dean was going to be difficult about this then there was really no point in
                       arguing with him, now was there?
   "Never mind," Sam huffed, turning to open the door. "I'll do it myself."
Sam flinched as he saw Dean's hand slam the door shut in his face. Turning back
   around, he stiffened as he found himself inches away from the older boy's
   mouth, his full lips sending waves of desire crashing through Sam's body.
"Don't," Dean growled. "Don't you dare fucking move. What? You think I'm going
 to let you go and take all the glory? She's my mother, and I'll be damned if
 I'm going to let a snot nosed little brat like you take her away from me. Do
you understand what I'm saying?-Dean leaned forward and stared Sam straight in
                         the eye- She…belongs…to me."
   The possessiveness dripping from every word Dean spoke had Sam's breaths
 speeding up beyond what was considered normal for someone who was supposed to
  have everything under control. He couldn't help but wonder if Dean was like
that with everything that he considered his. Pushing that unwelcome thought to
the deepest recesses of his brain, Sam nodded in understanding, a tinge of fear
                               twisting his gut.
                   "Yeah, sure. C-can you take me home now?"
  Dean's eyes stayed on Sam for a brief moment before turning to grab his car
  keys, the sense that he was being blocked out too great for Sam to ignore.
           "Get your whiny little ass out of my room and follow me."
===============================================================================
 The next couple of days passed by in a total blur. Sam may have been able to
 calm his father and stop him from finding out the identities of the boys that
 "jumped" his son, but the storm brewing deep within his soul was still raging
    on with a wild abandon, each day that came and went bringing with them
 depression so acute, it was a wonder Sam made it to Monday without ending his
 pain and misery with the blade of his knife. How he'd managed to talk his dad
 into letting him go to school was a miracle, yet not so much a miracle as was
          the fact that Sam had the courage to go in the first place.
School was uneventful for the most part, with the exception of Sam looking over
 his shoulder every two seconds for the faces of his tormenters to appear. For
some reason, he didn't see them anywhere, which was just fine as far as he was
 concerned. The last thing he needed was to look upon the faces of his rapists
 before he'd even had a chance to fully heal from the damage they'd caused to
 both his mind and his body. At the end of the day, when the last school bell
    rang, he breathed a sigh of relief, happy that he wouldn't have to face
                      anything he wasn't ready to handle.
Walking home from school with a newfound pep in his step, he smiled as he found
 himself whistling in contentment, looking up at the blue sky with a brand new
  set of eyes. He felt as if he'd transcended past the realm of his physical
reality and transported his soul to somewhere deep within the heavens, the high
 he got from the blanket of turquoise that covered the earth overwhelming. It
  was like everything was seen through a magnifying glass, the beauty of the
    world amplified ten times over, screaming for Sam to take notice of its
                                   radiance.
  Sam was so caught up in his own happiness that he didn't catch sight of the
 figures approaching him until they were right in front of him, their smirking
                       faces making Sam gasp in horror.
"Well, well, well," Seth chuckled wickedly, eyeing Sam up and down. "What do we
       have here, boys? I think our day is finally starting to improve."
                                        
***** An Unlikely Ally *****
Red and yellow flames spread across wood and fabric in a fiery battle for
domination as hurried footsteps danced around the raging inferno ravaging the
house of Mary and John Winchester, untied shoelaces creating a flapping sound
that was drowned out by the burning foundations of the building surrounding a
four-year-old Dean. He raced to the front door with the precious bundle in his
arms screaming into the cruel night, wails of sorrow piercing his brother's
heart. Stumbling in his haste to escape from danger, Dean tightened his firm
hold on little Sammy as he toppled to the ground, his head turning toward the
right and freezing at the sight befalling him.
There, by the blackened recliner that reached just inside the living room, was
an amber glow located inside hollow eye sockets. The owner stared ominously
from his place across the room, the light of the fire illuminating his black
jacket and pale skin. His face was covered by the collar of his coat, the flaps
pulled up to protect anonymity. Dean gasped as a whisper traveled across the
room with the languid ease of a serpent's body slithering in motion, reaching
deep inside his ears to taunt him with his own name.
"Dean," it hissed, chuckling softly. "Come to me."
Dean ignored the irresistible urge to obey the command and ran out of the house
as fast as his little legs could carry him. The world around him faded into
darkness, the many colors of the neighborhood morphing into a sea of
multilayered strokes. Each shade of gray merged into the blacks and greens of
the sky and trees, afflicting the little boy's eyes with a confused blindness
which rendered him incapable of seeing anything apart from the disabling
coloration assaulting his vision. Panic seized him as he tried in vain to
regain some semblance of sanity, the words spoken to him from afar
reverberating off the walls of his mind in a symphony of protracted S's and
hoarse whispers, the sound of the man's voice coming closer and closer until he
felt hot breath burning into his sensitive skin. He whirled around and
screamed, the presence of his parents barely recognizable beneath the charred
flesh sizzling off their bones.
"You can't have him!" Dean screamed. "I won't let you have my brother! Go away!
Go away!"
Darkness enveloped Dean in a blanket of oppressive opaqueness as the baby was
ripped from his arms and given to the man from inside the house, his blood
dripping into the child's mouth the last thing Dean saw before spiraling down
the hole of an unfamiliar abyss, his screams fading in the background as death
washed over his broken form…
Dean gasped as he sat straight up in bed, sweat causing his bare chest to gleam
in the sunlight peeking through the curtains of his bedroom window. His eyes
immediately focused on the woman standing in the doorway, her worried
expression coming closer as she walked slowly toward the confused boy.
"Dean? You okay, baby?"
"I'm fine," he mumbled tiredly, rubbing roughly at his eyes.
"You had that dream again, didn't you? The one about your brother?"
"Doesn't matter."
Missouri tried reaching a hand out to run through the short strands of her
son's hair when he grabbed her wrist, holding it in place. They both stared at
each other in silence, the tension in the room mounting with every second that
ticked by.
"Dean…you don't have to do this. Don't shut me out. I want to help you."
"You want to help me?" Dean laughed. "Alright. You can start by keeping your
hands to yourself. I don't need your pity, mother."
"It's not-"
"I don't have time for this right now." he interrupted, getting up and putting
on a black t-shirt he had lying around his bedroom floor. "I have to get ready
for school."
"It's damn near three in the afternoon, Dean. You slept all day long."
Dean sighed in annoyance, pushing past his mother to grab his car keys. "I'm
going out. I'll be back later."
"I love-"
The slam of the front door cut off Missouri's words, the absence of her son's
presence leaving a dull ache in her chest. She hated how her sensitive boy
acted so cruel and callous around other people. His heart was guarded by the
walls he'd built around himself, the strength of them preventing anyone access
to the very parts of him that were vulnerable. By shutting everyone out, he was
protecting himself. Unfortunately, while his method of self-preservation kept
the bad people out, it also kept the good people from coming in. Missouri knew
Dean loved her, his actions last night proved it. She just wished he'd show it
every once in a while.
Missouri smiled to herself as a memory of the previous night replayed in her
head of Dean coming in her bedroom when he thought she was sleeping, his even
breaths the only thing keeping her from running to his side and asking what was
wrong. She'd kept her eyes closed to make him believe she was unconscious,
hoping against hope that he wouldn't catch on to her ruse. He slowly walked
toward the bed where she lay and grabbed the sheets that bunched around her
feet, covering her body until she was warm and cozy. Just when she thought he'd
leave, she felt him lean down and place a tentative kiss to her forehead, his
whispered 'I love you' making tears burn beneath her eyelids. She waited until
he left the bedroom to cry quietly into her pillow, empathy for her son
spreading through her like a plague. She cried for the life he'd led up until
this point, everything he'd ever been through making her feel as if it was her
fault for not keeping him safe the way she was supposed to. She cried for the
love Dean still had inside his heart despite everything that's happened to him,
the knowledge that nothing could take away his feelings for her too much to
bear. She cried for all those things, but most of all? She cried for the person
her son had become: hollow, skittish...a shell of his former self. He'd stopped
trusting people a long time ago, blocking everyone out so that nobody could
ever hurt him again. He was lonely, rebellious and the self-loathing he
exhibited followed him around wherever he went, that little devil on his
shoulder never-ceasing to whisper words of discouragement in his abused ears.
She could sometimes hear his thoughts when he let his guard down long enough
for her to get inside his head, the things she found in there like a knife to
her heart.
You're worthless.
You're never going to amount to anything. Why do you think you couldn't save
your parents or hold on to your brother? Why do you think you couldn't help
your other father when he needed you most? Why do you think all those children
in school hated you? It's because you're nothing, Dean. All you do is cause
trouble. I'll bet your birth parents started the fire on purpose, just so they
wouldn't have to put up with you anymore. Can't say I'd blame them. Would you?
You're such an asshole to your mother. She hates you. Thinks you're slime, just
like those men that kidnapped and raped you. You deserved it, you disgusting
little shit. You deserved everything that's ever happened to you and one of
these days, your mother is going to leave you. Everybody leaves you,
Dean…everybody.
The telephone brought Missouri out of her memories, the ringing doing nothing
to improve the headache thinking about what went on inside Dean's mind had
caused her. As she reached for the phone, a vision ripped through her head like
wildfire, the intensity causing her to fall to the ground in pain. An image of
Sam and those boys played before her eyes like a movie, what they were about to
do to him making her blood run cold. Forcing herself onto her haunches, she
grabbed at the phone and put it up to her ear.
"Yes?" she panted.
"Hey there, girlie! I just thought you'd like to be the first to know that
yours truly is officially going to be teaching-"
"Thank god you called!" Missouri interrupted. "I just had a vision. Something
is going to happen to Sam. Those boys are going to hurt him again. You need to
stop it."
The voice on the other line huffed in annoyance. "Did you really need to
interrupt to tell me that? I was talking in case you hadn't noticed."
"Damn you! Didn't you listen to a goddamn word I just said? Sam is in danger!"
"You really are adorable when you're angry," the voice laughed. "I wonder what
your reaction would be if I made you relive this day over and over again."
"Gabriel, I am two seconds away from whooping your ass!"
"You don't have to worry about Sam, Missouri. He's in good hands."
Missouri stared incredulously at the phone. "What the hell is that supposed to
mean?"
"Easy," Gabriel responded, smirking flirtatiously at a pair of girls that
walked by his living room window. "Big brother's here."
===============================================================================
Dean gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could, the force of it turning
his knuckles white. He felt as if he was breaching the edge of insanity, ready
to fall over at any second. The anger welled up inside of him needed an outlet,
and a bar was just the place for that. He'd go there, flash one of his fake ids
his mother didn't know anything about, and then he could cheat dumb bastards
out of their money and kick their ass when they were stupid enough to pick a
fight with him. He knew it was childish, but he didn't really give two shits as
long as he could beat on something that wasn't his own ego.
As he turned a corner onto the street that usually led up to his school, he
frowned as he caught a glimpse of that Sam kid walking down the sidewalk with
his book bag firmly secured on his wide shoulders, smiling up at the sky like
the little dweeb he was. His upper lip lifted in contempt at the boy who seemed
to have captured his mother's heart, jealousy pouring off of him in waves at
the thought of someone else being the center of Missouri's world. He knew that
he didn't show his mother how much he loved her, but he didn't have to. It
wasn't like she didn't already know. Besides, she's already got a son. She
doesn't need another one…right?
Just as he was about to speed past Sam and his disgustingly cheerful attitude,
he felt a growl rip through his throat as Seth and those horrible friends of
his surrounded Sam. He felt a strange surge of protectiveness seep into his
veins when they grabbed the boy and forced him down to the ground, heat
building up inside his skin at the sight of someone hurting Sam. What the hell
did he care about what happened to that kid? Where was this urge to kill and
protect coming from?
He watched as Seth pulled down Sam's pants and forcibly spread his legs, what
they were about to do hitting Dean like a ton of bricks. Watching them hurting
Sam had him seeing red, the force of his anger making him jump out of the car
and run to the bastards daring to lay a hand on his Sammy.
My Sammy? What the hell is wrong with me?
Not giving himself a chance to dwell on his thoughts, Dean practically
teleported over to the scene, ignoring the screams of 'Shit, it's Moseley!' as
he grabbed Seth by the hair and forced him to his feet.
"You think you're a big, tough guy, raping a fourteen year old boy? I'm gonna
show you what happens to rapists in my neighborhood, motherfucker."
Grabbing Seth's legs and pulling them out underneath him, Dean watched as he
toppled to the ground before shoving his boot in between the boy's legs. Seth
howled in pain, the sound going unnoticed as Dean fell to his knees and began
beating him senseless. The other boys fled, leaving Seth to face the wrath of
Dean's fury. The energy pumping through his veins stopped noise from entering
Dean's eardrums, losing himself completely in the moment as he took out all of
his anger on the boy underneath him, not even noticing when he went limp from
unconsciousness. It wasn't until Sam began to scream that Dean stopped ramming
his fist into Seth's nose, a strange need to comfort the weeping boy scaring
him senseless.
"Dean, stop! You're gonna kill him!"
Dean stood up and walked over to Sam, lifting him up in his arms and carrying
him to the Impala. Ignoring the boy's protests, he threw him in the passenger
side of the car before making his way to the driver's seat, slamming the door
shut and glaring at the steering wheel in front of him.
Silence reigned upon the two boys as the air thickened between them, each one
not willing to start a conversation that they knew would be awkward. When Dean
cursed under his breath and started the car, Sam saw that as a chance to take
Missouri's advice and ask her son for help.
"So, uh…I'm having trouble in school and I was wondering if…if um…you'd want
to, like…I don't know…help protect me?"
Dean glanced at Sam, his hard expression softening under the onslaught of what
he was going to call Sam's "puppy dog eyes." He mentally beat himself up for
even considering helping the kid, not liking the idea of being someone's guard
dog unless they were his own mother. What if he got attached to Dean and
followed him around all the time? How the hell would he ever escape the little
brat? More importantly, why on earth did he feel that overwhelming
protectiveness when those boys tried hurting Sam? All of these questions kept
running through his mind as he ignored Sam and drove them back to his place,
hating himself for the connection he felt to the strange boy.
When they reached the house, Dean sighed as Missouri ran out and opened the
passenger door, pulling Sam into a bear hug from which he couldn't escape. Dean
watched the scene play itself out in silence, the fires of jealousy
intensifying as he dwelled on the fact that it wasn't him his mother went to
first.
"I'm so glad you're okay, Sam. I missed you so much, you little shit. Don't you
ever scare me like that again or it's gonna be me you'll be running from."
Sam smiled through his tears, squeezing Missouri tighter. "Everything is gonna
be okay. Dean saved me."
Missouri looked up at her son and flashed him a knowing smile, chuckling when
Dean folded his arms like a child and put his head down. She watched as his
cheeks flushed red with envy, his bottom lip puffing out into a pout that she
thought was just about the cutest thing she'd ever seen.
"Yes, he sure can be an amazing boy…on occasion."
She laughed as Dean shot a glare her way before storming into the house, no
doubt going to lock himself in his room for the rest of the day. How a grown
ass boy could be such a child when it came to emotions, she had no idea. All
she knew was that Sam was safe and that was more than she could have ever hoped
for.
"I'm going to see Dean," Sam said. "I think I've got him right where I want
him."
Missouri smiled sadly, nodding her acquiescence. "Go. But don't ever think you
have Dean, because I can guarantee you that you don't. Remember what I said,
Sam. He is a wild boy. It's gonna take a hell of a miracle to tame him."
"Don't worry," Sam said, smiling. "I've got what it takes."
===============================================================================
"Why the hell can't you just leave me alone?" Dean yelled. "I saved your ass
once, you hear me? Once. I'm not doin' it again. It's your fault for walking
home alone in the first place. Don't your parents have a car?"
"Yes, Dean. My father has a car but he works so I have no choice but to walk
home by myself. I wouldn't have to worry about that with you around though.
C'mon. I won't bug you. Just take me to and from school and make sure they
don't bother me in between classes. Why is that so hard for you?"
"Because you're not my problem!" Dean argued, pointing his hands at himself to
make his point. "I am not your father. Looking out for you is not my job. Tell
your dad to start taking care of his fucking kid so that he doesn't have to
come around here and be a pain in my ass anymore."
Sam smiled. "If I'm such a pain in your ass then why did you help me? More
importantly, why did you automatically bring me here to your house instead of
asking me where I lived and taking me there?"
That brought Dean up short. "I…well…it doesn't matter! Go away and leave me
alone. I've got better things to do than babysit you."
"Pwease?" Sam begged, puffing his bottom lip out and tilting his head to the
side, staring at Dean from beneath his eyelashes.
Dean stared at him in disgust. "What the fuck, man? What the hell is it with
those puppy dog eyes of yours? Why you gotta play me like that?"
He was completely serious; Sam knew that. But he still laughed so hard he fell
to the floor in agony, the sight of Dean folding his arms and tapping his foot
in annoyance making him laugh harder. When Dean decided he couldn't take it
anymore, he plopped himself down on his bed and took out a revolver, pointing
it at Sam.
"I'm going to count to three, and if you aren't out of my room by then, I'm
going to shoot you in the fucking face."
Sam was out the door before Dean could wrap his tongue around one, running to
Missouri's station wagon and telling her it was time for him to go home. When
she got to the car, she leaned down and spoke to Sam through the window.
"What happened?"
Sam smiled as he buckled his seatbelt, staring fondly at the house.
"He's mine."
***** Gabriel *****
Running water surged through the pipes of Missouri's two-story house on Wicker
Ave, the groaning metal waking the woman from her peaceful slumber. Glancing at
 her clock, she sighed and got up from her bed to go check on Dean, curious as
             to what her son was doing up at five in the morning.
         "Dean! What are you doing up so early, babe? It's only five."
 Dean scrambled out of the shower naked as the day he was born, reaching for a
      towel while glaring daggers at the sudden intrusion on his privacy.
                        "Woman, don't you ever knock?"
 "Don't you take that tone with me, young man. Everyone else may be scared of
          you, but I could take your ass down in a New York minute."
                            "Whatever," he mumbled.
 Missouri watched as Dean brushed past her on the way to his bedroom, waiting
until the door slammed shut to run as fast as she could toward the telephone in
the kitchen. Dialing Sam's number, she waited patiently for the sleeping boy to
 pick up, a small smile forming on her face when she heard the sound of Sam's
                  groggy voice on the other end of the line.
"Sam!" she hissed. "You need to get up. I can't be certain but….I think Dean is
                              coming to get you."
                 "What?!" Sam exclaimed, suddenly wide awake.
             "You did it, boy. I don't know how, but you did it."
                    "I told you he was mine," Sam smirked.
 Missouri hung up on Sam when she heard Dean come into the kitchen to grab his
  wallet, the thud of his heavy boots the only sound in the otherwise silent
 house. He was dressed in a dark green jacket over faded blue jeans, the holes
  cut into the knees exposing the skin beneath the denim fabric. The black t-
shirt he had on underneath was the same one he wore yesterday, the realization
 making Missouri shake her head in exasperation at her son's apparent lack of
                   cleanliness when it came to his clothes.
                 "I'm leavin,' ma. I'll be back after school."
"That's just it, Dean…you don't have to be to school for a couple of hours. Why
                        on earth are you leaving now?"
 Dean looked at her as if she'd just grown a third leg. "What, are you kidding
  me? I've gotta go pick up the kid. I figure if I'm going to put up with his
 scrawny ass then he might as well put up with goin' with me to grab breakfast
                                 beforehand."
 "You're going to pick Sam up? Not only that…but you're buying him breakfast?"
  Dean wasn't sure he liked the knowing smirk on his mother's face. "Yeah, so
 what? What the fuck's the big deal? Just shut up and let me do what I have to
                                 do, will ya?"
 Missouri waited until her son was at the front door before she called out to
             him, trying her best to keep her amusement in check.
            "Sammy sure does have a hold on you, doesn't he, boy?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean growled, keeping his back turned
                     to her and his hand on the doorknob.
  "Well, you never actually gave your consent to protecting the kid, now did
                              you?" she giggled.
Dean stood there in silence, his brows furrowing in confusion as he took in his
  mother's words. After a few minutes, realization dawned on him and he found
    himself stomping outside with a resounding 'son of a bitch!' Missouri's
hysterical laughter the last sound he heard before the door slammed shut behind
                                     him.
===============================================================================
                         You've got to be kidding me.
   That was the first thought that Sam had when he got to school and saw the
frightened faces of everyone around him as he clung to the arm of a very stern
looking Dean Moseley, watching in fascination as all of the students parted for
  them as if they were Moses commanding the Red Sea. Gasps and soft whispers
could be heard throughout the hallways of Lawrence High School, webs of gossip
winding around the two boys like an invisible thread binding them together for
      all eternity. Dean stared straight ahead while Sam looked around in
 embarrassment, his rosy cheeks turning a darker shade of crimson as he found
               himself burying his nose in the older boy's arm.
                      "Where's your class?" Dean mumbled.
                          "Right around the corner."
 Dean grunted in acknowledgment, leading him to his destination while advising
 him to alert his teachers to the situation so that they could make the proper
precautions to protect him while Dean wasn't around. Sam nodded before watching
the boy walk out the door, suddenly feeling very naked without him by his side.
It was funny; Dean barely said anything during breakfast or the ride to school
    and yet his body spoke volumes the entire time he was with Sam. He was
  very…protective of him. He wanted him safe, but at the same time, he didn't
 like being the guard dog. Sam couldn't help but smile as he remembered trying
   to start a conversation with Dean in the diner, only to have him snap and
threaten to use his gun if Sam didn't keep his mouth shut. So hostile. He would
have found it hot, if he didn't want Dean's approval so badly. Maybe if he was
  lucky, Dean would eventually realize how much he really liked Sam, and then
         they would start dating and have lots of hot sex…yeah, right.
                                "Hello class!"
The sound of the teacher's voice pulled Sam out of his impure thoughts, the man
  before him a pleasant sight to behold compared to the last person they had
  teaching this particular class. Apparently, the last English instructor was
 caught sleeping with one of his students. Sam wishes he could say that he was
  surprised, but the lust shining through the eyes of Mr. Cromwell every time
Sally Sewell walked by the classroom door was enough for him to put two and two
          together before he was finally arrested for statutory rape.
                      Rape must happen here an awful lot.
 "I'm your new teacher here at the-" the man stopped talking to run his index
finger over the desk in the front of the room, sniveling his nose in disgust at
   the dust gathered on his pale skin- "very dusty high school of Lawrence,
  Kansas. My name is Gabriel and I understand that the last teacher left off
           somewhere with…I almost want to say independent clauses."
"Close, but no cigar. The old coot before you didn't do much of anything other
            than snore during tests and chase pretty little girls."
   Everyone in the room turned to the voice that spoke from the doorway, the
piercing blue eyes of Evelyn Boyle immediately setting on Sam with a smile that
 made the young boy blush furiously. From the moment Sam had met the vivacious
 Evie, she'd done nothing but flirt shamelessly with him the entire time they
were in class together. She was nice enough, but the fact that she wasn't a boy
  was something Sam would have to get used to. For someone who had never been
    attracted to the opposite sex, Sam sure as hell found himself flustered
 whenever the buxom beauty so much as shot a glance in his direction. It was a
 bit unnerving, but rather than question it, Sam decided to explore it instead
  and see where it went. Maybe he would ask her out. After all, it certainly
     didn't look like Dean was going to be cozying up to him anytime soon.
"Yes, I heard about the man's unfortunate brush with the law. May I ask how the
  proper authorities were able to discover his…extra curricular activities?"
  Evie smiled at Gabriel as she plopped down in the seat next to Sam. "Easy.
                      She's preggers. Tough break, huh?"
   "Well, maybe if he had pulled out, none of this would have happened, eh?"
The entire classroom erupted into a fit of giggles at Gabriel's words, and the
next thing Sam knew, the likeability factor for the new teacher had pretty much
tripled by the time English had reached its untimely end. Rather than teach his
students anything even remotely related to the lesson plan with which Cromwell
    had become accustomed, he instead decided to devote the entire hour to
discussing the importance of birth control, going so far as to demonstrate the
 proper way to put on a condom using Evie's more than eager fist as a prop. By
   the time the bell rang, everyone with the exception of Sam had just about
                laughed their lungs right out of their chests.
  "Samuel," Gabriel's voice rang out, stopping Sam dead in his tracks. "Don't
        leave just yet. I'd like to speak with you, if that's alright."
  Sam sighed, turning around to face the mischievous eyes of his new teacher.
          "Can't it wait? I don't want to be late for my next class."
    "This'll only take a minute. I've taken an interest in you, kid. Out of
everyone in this entire class, you seem to be the brightest out of the bunch."
 "Yeah? How the hell do you know that? You didn't teach a goddamn thing worth
                             paying attention to."
 "And yet you were the only one who noticed that. Anyway, I heard you were new
    here and I was just wondering how everything was going for you so far."
 Sam found himself inexplicably drawn to the interesting turn the conversation
   had taken. Sitting on the edge of the desk, he peered thoughtfully at the
  strange man before him. "How did you know about me being new? You just got
                                    here."
Gabriel smiled knowingly. "I know a lot about you, Samuel. I understand you've
         been having problems with some boys that go to school here."
                Sam's eyes widened. "You…you know about that?"
 "I'm a friend of Missouri's. She had a vision that you were in trouble. Lucky
                 for you, her boy was there to save you, huh?"
 Sam was stunned. He was pretty sure that this Gabriel was mainly here to keep
an eye on him, though how Missouri was able to get a friend of hers a position
at his high school, he wasn't sure. He knew he should be grateful for the extra
pair of eyes, but something about this man rubbed him the wrong way. He almost
 reminded Sam of a child, the mischievous behavior and the complete disregard
 for order and authority flashing warning signs in front of Sam's face that he
    found himself incapable of ignoring. The entire situation stuck out as
 extremely bizarre, and Sam had a strange feeling that whatever was happening
here was a part of a much larger problem that he couldn't quite put his finger
                                      on.
                       "You're here for me…aren't you?"
   "I want you to be safe, Sam. So does Missouri. I know Dean thinks he can
 protect you, and I'm sure that he can. But you have bigger problems to worry
 about, and let me tell you, they have nothing to do with a couple of teenage
    boys who think they can take whatever they want without consequences."
                     "I don't understand what that means."
 "You don't have to worry about any of that right now, Sam. Just know that you
  can come to me anytime you're having trouble. Dean isn't the only one who's
 looking out for your wellbeing. His mother seems to have taken quite a liking
                                   to you."
  Sam smiled softly the way he always did when he thought about Missouri, the
  woman's beautiful smile and warm embrace permanently etched into his brain.
 "I've taken a liking to her too. Alright, I'll accept that you're here for me
 but if you're going to be here then you need to actually teach. I'm not going
 to allow my education to go down the drain just because I've got an immature
          child for a professor who has a hard time following rules."
  Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Whatever, kid. Glad we were able to get all that
     straightened out. You better get to your next class. See you around,
                                 Winchester."
Sam froze, something about the name he'd just heard making his blood run cold.
                                 "Winchester?"
 Gabriel looked up with wide eyes, an emotion that looked a hell of a lot like
   fright taking over his handsome features. "Uh…Singer. Sorry, I once knew
              someone with the last name Winchester. My mistake."
 Sam's response was cut off by the sound of Dean's voice. "Sammy! Get your ass
                        out here. We're leaving early."
 Sam's eyes narrowed at Gabriel before he got up and followed Dean out of the
room, questions swimming through his brain at such a rapid rate that he barely
paid attention to Dean's rant about his mother always needing to be bailed out
 of jail. It wasn't until the older boy snapped his fingers in front of Sam's
 face that he was finally able to break out of the trance his thoughts had put
                                    him in.
                     "Dude, are you even listening to me?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry, man. I just have a headache. Um…Dean? Do you like…wanna hang
                                  out later?"
 Dean stopped walking, his muscles tensing beneath his black t-shirt. "Sam, I
know you're trying to be friendly, but I really don't need this shit right now.
 It's bad enough that I have to babysit my mother every two seconds. I really
don't want to have to put up with your garbage anymore than I already do. Let's
                          just get mom and go home."
 Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about? I just thought
                                 that maybe-"
  "Sam, give it a fucking rest. I don't want to be your friend. Can't you get
 that through your head? I'm only here to make sure that your dumb ass doesn't
                  get abused anymore than you already have."
 "Oh, I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't realize that I was such a big inconvenience to
                                     you."
"Well, you are!" Dean yelled, turning to face Sam. "I already have enough shit
 going on right now, Sam. Now, I have to take care of you too! I don't get it,
kid. Why can't you just learn to fight back like a normal dude? Why the fuck is
 it up to me to fight your battles for you? I'm not your fucking father, Sam!
 Protecting you is supposed to be your job and yet I'm stuck with it. It's not
                                fucking fair!"
Sam felt tears burn beneath his eyes as the amount of suppressed rage that had
 been growing inside of him since that fateful night with Seth finally boiled
    over and reared its ugly head, leaving Sam powerless in the wake of its
 blinding hatred. Before Sam knew what was happening, he was up in Dean's face
with his finger in the older boy's chest, the pain on his face pulling Dean up
                                    short.
  "You know what? Can't you just…for once…stop acting like everything that's
happening here is happening to you? First of all, I can't protect myself, Dean.
 In case you've forgotten, I'm only fourteen years old. FOURTEEN! I don't even
know how to fucking drive and yet you expect me to fend off a bunch of rapists
on my own? Yes, I said rapists because in case you've forgotten; I was the one
   who was raped, goddammit! I'm the one who has to constantly look over his
shoulder waiting for that next shoe to drop. I'm the one with tearing inside my
asshole that burns every fucking time I try to sit down! I'm the one who wakes
up screaming from nightmares in the middle of the night while you're out there
gallivanting with booze and cheap sex. I'm the one who has to deal with all of
   this shit and you'd think that would be enough, but no! As if all of that
   wasn't enough, now I get to deal with the only person who can protect me
  calling me a worthless burden! So, why don't you man the fuck up, show some
                compassion, and get off my motherfucking back!"
 Dean stood in complete silence during Sam's outburst, the tears that cascaded
 down the boy's pale cheeks touching a part of Dean that until now was thought
to have been dead and buried. Before he could even begin to process everything
that had just happened, Sam ran off down the block and left Dean by himself in
    the parking lot. It took a full minute for realization to kick in, the
 knowledge that the younger boy wasn't by his side hitting Dean like a ton of
                                    bricks.
  Sam!" he yelled, sprinting off like a bat out of hell. "Sam, come back! I'm
                                    sorry!"
 Sam didn't answer, and after spending the entire day searching for him, Dean
    had no choice but to come to the conclusion he wanted so badly to deny.
                                 Sam was gone.
                                        
***** Hank *****
 Bright yellow eyes peered out from within the leafy branches to glance at the
 boy walking languidly along a dirt path that led to an abandoned cabin in the
woods. His steps were sloppy and unsure, his bent head causing sweaty bangs to
plaster to his forehead in the scorching heat of the summer sun. From where he
was standing, Azazel had a hard time seeing the child's face, but the whimpers
         falling from his lips were enough to know that he was crying.
 As the prowling demon struggled to see the child's face, a rumble of thunder
 from somewhere in the distance had the boy glancing worriedly at the incoming
    clouds. The dark hazel eyes made the scheming man smile in triumph, the
   beautiful satisfaction that came with being so close to Samuel Winchester
better than any orgasm he could ever remember having. The boy was finally here,
             right in front of him. It was time to make his move.
                        "Psst. Hey, kid! You alright?"
   Sam whirled around at the sound of the tiny hiss. His body began to shake
 uncontrollably from the sobs threatening to spill from his mouth. The heaving
   breaths erupted into a fit of cries when the strange man in front of him
  immediately wrapped his arms around his shoulders and asked what was wrong.
 Without thinking of the consequences, the tired boy relayed the events of the
   past 24 hours into the chest of the kind stranger, glad to have the heavy
    burden of information lifted off his tense shoulders. The idea that he
  shouldn't be so forthcoming with someone he'd known for less than a minute
 hadn't crossed his mind, for he was too enraptured in his own misery to care
 about how reckless he was being with himself and the people he knew and cared
  about. The flood of pain and despair raging within him was too strong, the
self-loathing too intense for him to think of anything other than releasing it
         all into the summer air where it could no longer bother him.
 "Well," the stranger chuckled, "it certainly seems like you've had your hands
full. You poor, poor thing. Why don't I take you to my little cabin just around
     the corner and get you a nice glass of fresh lemonade. Whaddya say?"
Sam smiled through his tears, his sad eyes gleaming in the daylight. "O-okay."
 Azazel tried to contain his excitement at Sam's response. Ushering the child
 around the corner, he walked up the steps to the cabin and held the door open
   for his boy. Making sure Sam was safe and sound at the kitchen table, he
   proceeded to retrieve two tall glasses from the overhead cupboard before
 pouring the dull yellow liquid into the cups, lifting his head long enough to
send a tiny smile Sam's way. When he was finished, he cautiously approached the
                                sniffling boy.
                   "Drink this. It'll help you feel better."
Sam took a long sip while looking up from beneath his long eyelashes. Azazel's
      hands tightened around each other, the sudden urge to take the boy
  overwhelming. He had no idea he was destined for such greatness, but Azazel
   would make him see. He'd turn that fragile innocence into something else
 entirely, warp the child's naïve mind to his way of thinking until he had the
perfect little fighting machine. Sam would then be ready to do his bidding, to
        be the key ingredient in his master plan for world domination.
  "Are you okay?" Sam's quiet voice rang out in the tiny room, disrupting the
                           demon's wicked thoughts.
 "Huh? Oh, yes, yes. I'm fine. Now…why don't you tell me about yourself, uh…?"
                                    "Sam."
 Azazel smiled. "Sam. Nice to meet ya, kid. You can call me Hank. I like that
                                    name."
                            "Is it your real one?"
     "Well, no. But I don't like my real name so Hank will do just fine."
                              "Okay," Sam smiled.
 Azazel listened intently to Sam's life story, most of which he already knew.
 What surprised him was the amount of time he spent talking about his brother.
 Of course, he didn't know that Dean was his brother yet, but the way he spoke
 about him was enough for the demon to know that he was sexually attracted to
               the young man, regardless of how he treated him.
"So, then Dean just…I don't know. He yelled at me and I freaked out on him and
just…took off. Now I have no idea where I am and I've been walking all day and
                                  all night."
  "So…you've been walking since yesterday afternoon? How is it possible that
these people who care about you haven't found you yet? You mentioned something
                              about a Missouri?"
  Sam's soft smile took the demon by surprise. "I have no doubt that she will
find me eventually. But I'm not sure if I want to go home. There's too much to
deal with over there and I feel overwhelmed. It's like I have this huge weight
on my shoulders and I have so much to worry about. There are people who want to
               hurt me and all Dean can think about is himself."
 "Again with this Dean. You've mentioned him a lot since you've been here. Is
                           this boy special to you?"
  Sam's brows furrowed in confusion. "Well…I know he shouldn't be. You know,
because I hardly know him and all. But it's like I feel this strange connection
                    to him and I have no idea what it is."
                           "Well, in my experience-"
                     "Which I'm guessing is considerable."
"Yes. When someone feels a special connection to another human being, I believe
that that's the universe's way of trying to tell you something. Maybe this Dean
 is your soul mate. Either that or maybe he's just someone you're destined to
                              have in your life."
"Maybe. But I just don't see how I can make him like me. I want him to like me.
I try to get him to like me. But it's like…it's like he purposefully pushes me
 away. He doesn't seem to want anyone near him and I think he feels that if he
 needs to insult you or be a jerk to you to get his message across and to get
  you to hate him then that's what he'll do and it's just…impossible to break
                           through his force field."
  Azazel smiled. "Everyone has a chink in their armor, Sam. You've just gotta
                                   find it."
  Sam looked fondly at his newfound friend, glad to finally have somebody who
genuinely cared about what he was feeling. Well, he knew Missouri cared and he
knew his dad cared. But with Hank, he felt like he could tell him anything and
never get judged for it. That alone was worth more to Sam than anything else in
                                  the world.
"Do you think we could hang out more? You know…like friends? I don't have many
                                   friends."
  Sam put his head down in shame and Azazel looked at him rather intently. "I
   can't understand why. You're a special boy, Samuel. More special than you
                                   realize."
 Azazel lifted the boy's chin and looked deeply into his eyes, reveling in the
 tiny shiver he got in return for the intimate gesture. The silence the action
  caused gave the demon time to truly appreciate the face of his most prized
 possession. If he leaned in any closer, he'd be able to feel those soft lips
     against his own. He had no doubt the boy would take what he gave him
gratefully. Hell, his vulnerability would probably make him susceptible to much
  more than a kiss from his new "friend." It was for this reason that he had
   inhabited the body of that thirty year old doctor from Kentucky with the
 beautiful blue eyes and the dazzling smile, knowing full well that the man's
 handsome face would render the child before him incapable of rational thought
           when the time was right…but it wasn't. At least…not yet.
      "Um…I-I should probably be going," Sam stuttered, his face flushed.
  "I could take you," Azazel murmured, dragging the pad of his thumb over the
                               boy's lower lip.
Sam recoiled, fear and arousal warring for dominance inside his befuddled mind.
                      "Okay. Um, yeah. That'll be fine."
    Azazel smiled warmly, turning his head to hide the flash of yellow that
overtook the blue irises of his detestable meat suit. After all this time, the
    tide was finally turning. He was on the verge of getting what was his,
and nothing was going to stand in the way. After all this time, he finally had
                                what he wanted.
                            He had Sam Winchester.
===============================================================================
The repeated ticking of the clock on the wall rang loudly in the ears of Bobby
  and Missouri, the silence between them doing nothing to lessen the mounting
  frustration that came from waiting for Dean to get back from his search for
Sam. 24 hours had passed since he'd been gone, and after the fight between Dean
  and Bobby that almost turned physical, tensions were still high enough that
 Missouri couldn't get Bobby to say one word to her in the entire time her son
                          had been out there looking.
  Ever since Dean came to bail her out from yet another run in with the law,
Missouri had been reexamining her parenting skills when it came to her stubborn
 boy, convinced that his outburst where Sam was concerned was just him taking
   out all the anger that was supposed to be directed at her out on the only
 person that was there to hear him. Knowing this was as good as admitting her
 guilt in everything that had happened, and she wasn't able to look at herself
 in the mirror without feeling like the whole situation she was in now was her
  fault. If anything happened to Sam, she didn't think she'd ever be able to
 forgive herself. More importantly, she knew Dean would never forgive himself
                                    either.
Deciding that her dark thoughts had gone on long enough, she attempted to make
conversation with the angry man beside her on the living room couch, his folded
 arms and deep scowl a huge indication that he was still fuming from his fight
    with Dean. Knowing this, she thought it best to approach with caution.
 "You have a beautiful boy, Mr. Singer. Not only that, but a smart boy. I know
                         he's going to be just fine."
   Bobby's mouth twitched, but other than that, he stayed completely silent.
                   Encouraged by this, Missouri spoke again.
"I know that what Dean said to him made him run away but this isn't his fault."
 "Not his fault?" Bobby whispered, his eerily calm tone making her fall short.
"My boy-" Bobby choked on his words as he struggled not to cry- "my boy is out
 there, lord knows if he's okay or not, walking around in a town that he's not
at all familiar with, and all you can say is that none of this is Dean's fault?
    Sam never would have walked off if it wasn't for that little bastard."
"And that 'little bastard' is doing all that he can to make it right and bring
   your boy home," Missouri countered, rage building up inside of her at the
                              insult to her son.
"Heh," Bobby chuckled darkly, standing to his feet and pacing back and forth on
    the thick carpet under his feet. "Makin' it right, eh? Let me tell you
  something, Missouri; that boy of yours is no good. He can't even muster up
enough sympathy to treat my boy with some damn respect after the hell he's been
 through, a hell that up until now, I wasn't even aware of. Instead of showing
 Sammy some goddamn love and affection, he acts as if my son is nothing but a
   fucking burden to him. God forbid he show a little fucking compassion for
 anyone but himself. Your son is a menace! He's a motherfucking brat who needs
to get a good ass whoopin' and let me tell you, if he doesn't bring my son home
safely, I am going to kill that punk. I will rip his insides out and shove them
down his fucking throat! I swear I'll kill him for doing this to me…to my son.
                     He's all I have left in this world!"
   The sight of the tears spilling from the older man's cheeks made Missouri
  spring up and wrap Bobby in her arms, falling with him to the ground as his
                        legs caved out from under him.
 "Where's my boy?" he sobbed. "I want my son. Please, give me back my Sammy."
 Missouri held on as the heart wrenching sobs coming from the man in her arms
 threatened to push her over the edge of despair. She had to be strong for the
both of them, to have faith that Dean would bring Sam home safe and sound. The
 poor boy was probably out there with Dean's awful words ringing in his head,
  perhaps thinking that maybe he was right and that Sam really was a burden.
  Little does he know, his feelings of self-loathing were nothing compared to
  Dean's, who had a look of such stinging pain on his face the entire time he
 told Missouri exactly what happened between him and Sam. Her son may have his
problems, but he was capable of love. It was just too bad she was the only one
                               who could see it.
  The sound of the Impala's engine made both parents stand at attention, each
 holding their breath as the front door opened to reveal a very somber looking
  Dean. When he shot a glance in their direction and shook his head, both of
 their faces fell. Bobby uttered a cry of anguish and fell back to the ground
 while Missouri stared at the tears her son was trying to keep in for the sake
 of appearances. Her heart felt as if it would cave in on itself if she didn't
 find their Sammy, a threat that was becoming more and more promising as time
went on. With Dean's lack of luck after a 24 hour search, it was doubtful that
                      any of them would find the boy now.
   Just as Missouri was considering calling on Gabriel for help, another car
pulled into the parking lot. Dean stared in shock as Sam got out of the strange
  Jeep Wrangler accompanied by an even stranger man who walked with his arms
               around the boy in a slightly possessive gesture.
 "Sam!" Bobby yelled, rushing to take his loving boy into his arms. "Oh, god.
Oh, Sammy. Don't you ever do that to me again, damn you. What the hell were you
                                  thinking?"
"I'm sorry, dad," Sam whispered, not returning the hug his father gave him. "It
                        won't happen again, I promise."
A familiar feeling of connectivity surged through the recovered boy, making him
  look up and lock eyes with Dean. Both boys stared at each other as a visual
    dance of longing and relief displayed itself in the looks they gave one
 another, a tiny, humorless smile tugging at the corners of Sam's lips at the
 reluctant desire showing up in Dean's expression. The stubborn teenager could
 hide it all he wanted, but Sam knew that he was getting to the older boy and
him being away where Dean couldn't find him must have deepened the ache he just
      knew was developing inside Dean, an ache Sam knew was all for him.
Breaking free of his father, Sam slowly made his way over to Dean, stopping in
    front of him. He could feel the older boy's body stiffen from the close
 proximity, his jaw clenching and unclenching in perfect rhythm with the fists
   he held at his sides. Stepping up close until their lips were just inches
apart, Sam looked into his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to hide his anguished
                                  expression.
                           "Miss me?" he whispered.
Dean's pained look became more pronounced, the sight of it capturing so much of
 Sam's attention that the feeling of Dean's possessive grip at his waist took
  him by surprise as he pulled Sam flush against him, putting their foreheads
                                   together.
   "Don't you ever do that again," his deep voice rumbled, breathing heavily
                               through his nose.
  "Okay…sir," Sam replied teasingly, a tiny sigh escaping his lips at the low
                              growl Dean let out.
                            "Sam!" Hank called out.
Both boys turned to face Sam's rescuer. "I gotta head out. I was just speaking
  to your dad and he asked if I wanted to have dinner with you guys on Friday
                               night. You game?"
"Sure!" Sam replied excitedly, his happiness short-lived as he felt hands grip
the sides of his hips once again. He was pulled so his back was pressed against
                  Dean's chest, the action making Sam smile.
               "Who the hell is that?" Dean snarled in his ear.
   "The man who saved me from roaming the streets, that's who. He's become a
                               friend of mine."
                "I don't trust him. Invite me over on Friday."
                                    "But-"
                                  "Now, Sam."
 Sam chuckled darkly, turning his head so that he could gaze into Dean's green
                                     eyes.
              "Okay, then," Sam murmured. "Come over on Friday."
                          Dean glared at Sam. "Fine."
As Dean pushed Sam away and stormed off inside the house, Sam caught Missouri's
 eye and smirked conspiratorially at her. She returned his grin with a knowing
smile, the events of the last couple of minutes not lost upon the smart woman.
So…Dean was capable of jealousy when it came to Sam as well as his mother. Sam
 knew the older boy didn't realize it yet, but this entire experience had made
 him more possessive of Sam than ever, and the scheming boy had absolutely no
doubt that he was going to use Friday to exploit that. He could see of no other
 alternative to getting close to the reluctant teenager. If Dean wouldn't open
  up to Sam on his own, then he'd just have to give him a little push in the
  direction he wanted Dean to go in. Maybe after all this was over, he could
            finally get what he just now realized he wanted...Dean.
 
***** Don't Hold Back *****
Bobby observed the dreamy smile on his son's face with an uncomfortable sense
of unease, silently taking in every detail of the boy's features, from the
upturned lips to the stars glittering in the hazel irises of his catlike eyes.
He was sitting on the loveseat in the living room, his legs folded to the side
and one arm resting comfortably on his thigh, the other on the armrest. His
chin rested on the palm of his right hand while he stared off at something in
the ceiling that Bobby couldn't see, his entire demeanor screaming unknown
words his father tried desperately to hear.
"Sam? Are you okay?"
Sam breathed in sharply through his nose as he lifted his head off his palm,
looking at Bobby as if he just now realized he was there. "Huh?"
"It's just that you seem so…distracted."
Sam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Distracted?"
Well, this is going nowhere fast. "Never mind. I was just worried, that's all.
So, how you holdin' up? You know, after all this stuff with that Seth and all."
Bobby would have to have been stupid not to notice the deflation of the happy
balloon Sam was riding on at the mention of his rapist and he almost cursed
himself for taking the light away from his son's eyes.
"I'm fine, dad. Really, I am. I just don't wanna talk about it, okay?"
"Sure," Bobby smiled sadly. "Yeah, okay."
"I'm going up to my room. I'll be back down later for supper."
Bobby watched Sam walk away in silence, waiting until his son was out of
earshot before picking up the phone and dialing a number he really didn't feel
like calling. He debated whether or not to hang up the entire time it rang,
only to have someone pick up and make his final decision for him.
"Yeah?"
Bobby's hand tightened on the phone at the deep growl on the other end of the
line, his anger steadily rising. "Where's your mother?"
The scoff he got in return had Bobby seeing red. "Answer me, you little brat."
"Where's Sam?"
"That's none of your concern. He's fine and that's all you need to know so put
your goddamn mother on the fucking phone."
"I want to talk to your son first."
Bobby's eyes widened at the nerve of this boy, his demands to speak to a child
that he made disappear with his sharp tongue more than a little laughable. "You
ain't speakin' to my kid so fuck you."
"Then you ain't speakin' to my mama," the voice countered, mocking Bobby's
accent.
Bobby threw the phone across the room in anger, a string of colorful
profanities spilling from his lips. Dean Moseley was one giant pain in the ass.
It had been almost a full week since Sam had come back, and his adamant refusal
to let Dean see his son was rapidly becoming a battle of wills as much as a
battle for Sam. But this was one war Bobby was going to win. His boy was the
most important thing in the world to him and he'd be damned if he was going to
let some snot nosed kid like Dean ruin him. The Moseley boy was a menace to
society, a stain on the underwear of humanity. He was one person that Sam
didn't need in his life, especially after all he'd been through. If Bobby had
to take drastic measures to prevent Dean from seeing Sam then he'd do whatever
it took.
Grabbing his coat from the other room, he glanced upstairs where Sam's room was
located before walking out the door and getting into his car. It was about time
he paid that Moseley kid a little visit.
===============================================================================
"Bobby?"
Missouri looked confusedly at the man before her, the sleep clouded eyes she
was trying to see out of blinking their bewilderment through parallel slits.
"Can I come in?"
Before she could answer, she felt the presence of her son and let out a
hesitant breath. Dean opened the door wider and stared at Bobby, the smirk he'd
perfected over the years disappearing when he realized Sam wasn't there.
Missouri knew this conversation wasn't going to be pleasant as soon as she
noticed the scowl on Dean's face.
"Where's Sam?" he growled menacingly.
"Hey, guys? Let's not get into a fight right here in the middle of the doorway,
okay?"
Bobby and Dean stared each other down as if Missouri hadn't just spoken.
"You're not going to see him, Dean. That's actually why I came here. I want you
to stay away from my son. I don't care if I have to kick your ass to get that
message across. You're a rotten boy who refused to protect him when the going
got tough. Instead, you yelled at him and made him feel like he was nothing but
a burden. You don't deserve to be anywhere near that kid."
"I said I was sorry," Dean said through clenched teeth. "I'd take it back if I
could. Hell, I spent 24 hours looking for your boy while you just sat on your
whiny little ass sobbin' like a little bitch!"
"You wouldn't have had to go chasing him down if you hadn't of bitched him out
in the first place!" Bobby yelled.
Missouri leaned against the doorway and looked from one macho male to the
other, boredom evident on her features. She watched the shouting match for five
minutes without any real fascination, wishing that they'd both shut the hell up
so she could ask about Sam's wellbeing. When it looked like it was about to get
physical, she finally took it upon herself to intervene.
"Alright, now everyone shut the hell up!"
Bobby and Dean immediately ceased the fight and stared at the shouting woman in
awe. She allowed herself a moment to relax before speaking in a much more civil
tone.
"Look, I highly doubt you two fighting is doing Sam any favors. Now, I know you
both care for him-"
"Your boy doesn't give a fuck about anyone but himself!" Bobby interrupted.
"You watch your tone when talking about my son," Missouri warned ominously,
getting up in the old man's space. "Now, I know Dean can be a little asshole
who don't like to show no emotion but let me tell you something about my boy;
he cares about your son more than you'll ever know. It scares him because he
feels a connection to a child that he barely knows but more importantly, it
scares him because he believes caring about anyone or anything makes him weak
and vulnerable. My son has been through more than you'll ever know and so
excuse him for taking it out on Sam because it's the only way he knows how to
handle the clusterfuck of emotions that's been shoved his way, thanks to his
feelings for that kid."
"I don't have feelings for Sam," Dean muttered at the ground.
Missouri whirled around and stared her son dead in the eye. "You don't, huh?
Then tell me why the hell I heard you pacing the floor of your bedroom all
night last week when Bobby told you that you wouldn't see Sam again? Why do you
want to see him so badly anyway?"
"To protect him. Keep him safe. That's what you all wanted, wasn't it?"
"Ah, but Bobby doesn't want that anymore. He's convinced that he can take care
of good ole Sam all on his own. So, let me ask you again; why the hell do you
want to see Sam?"
Dean's silence was all the answer Missouri needed. "That's what I thought. Stop
denying it, boy. You and I both know that this thing between you and Sam means
something, even if you don't want to admit it."
"Oh, balls!" Bobby exclaimed. "There's nothing between him and Sam! How could
there be? Sam is a sweet child who wouldn't hurt a fly. Dean's a miserable and
rebellious little boy who thinks his problems are so much worse than anyone
else's. He doesn't deserve to be within five yards of Sammy."
"You know what," Dean said, throwing his hands up in the air. "Fine. You win.
I'm not going to waste my time trying to protect a kid that I don't give a damn
about. Yes, mother. I don't give a flying fuck about Sam. I was just trying to
do what was expected of me but clearly, I overstepped my bounds. You can go
fuck yourself, Bobby. You don't want my help? FINE! Be responsible for killing
your son because I'm done with this shit!"
Dean stormed off into the house and slammed his bedroom door so hard, Missouri
could have sworn the entire house shook. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she
turned around to face Bobby, feeling more tired now than she did before her
nap. "Why did you call earlier, Bobby? Was it just to upset my son or was there
another reason?"
Bobby's eyes softened for the first time since she'd answered the door, all of
the anger evaporating from his shrewd appearance. "Look…I'm sorry about this,
Missouri. I don't got nothin' against you. I know that you and Sam are close so
I figured I'd see if maybe you wanted to see him and help me figure out just
what's wrong with him because I'm startin' to get the feelin' that I don't know
my boy as well as I should."
"He wants to see Dean, Bobby. I can tell you that much."
"He's not going anywhere near my son!" Bobby yelled.
"Calm the fuck down, boy!"
Bobby stared at her in silence.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"Look, Bobby; I know that you care about Sam but what you fail to realize is
that Dean cares too. He says he doesn't but I know my boy and I can guarantee
you that he does. I also know that Sam cares for Dean as well. I know you ain't
crazy about him and lord knows I sure as hell can't stand the little shit half
the time myself, what with his mood swings and all, but Sam likes him, Bobby.
He likes him a lot."
"But-but why? He doesn't even…he…Christ, he called my boy a burden for fuck
sake!"
Missouri smiled sadly. "That's my fault. He was so upset about me and with
everything that's on his plate already, I'm afraid he ended up taking it out on
Sam without even meaning to."
"I don't give a fuck about his reasons. He still put Sam in danger. I don't
want him seeing my son."
"He already invited Dean over for your little dinner tomorrow, Bobby. That man
that saved Sam made him…well, I think he made him a little jealous."
"You've gotta be kidding me," Bobby groaned.
"Just let nature take its course, honey. Because fighting it isn't goin' to do
no good. Besides, if there's one thing I know about my boy, it's that he never
gives up on the people he cares about. If he truly has any kind of feeling for
Sam whatsoever, which he does, he's going to ignore your wishes and go after
him regardless of what you say. There's nothing you can do, Bobby. I'm sorry."
Bobby swore under his breath. "Listen, Missouri; I know that I'm not the best
father in the world, but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to do whatever it
takes to protect my kid. I don't trust your son as far as I can throw him. Now,
I might not be able to change Sam's feelings for this boy, but I can sure as
hell do my best to make sure that they have as little interaction as possible.
I'll let them see each other on Friday, but after that, I'm pulling Sam out of
school and we're moving as far away from that little brat as possible. Mark my
words; he will never see Sam again."
Missouri watched Bobby storm off before looking toward Dean's bedroom. This
unfortunate turn of events posed a huge problem for everyone involved. There
was no way in hell that she could allow those boys to separate, not after all
the time it took for them to be reunited again. If she couldn't change Bobby's
mind, they would all be screwed. Azazel was drawing close to them all, she
could feel it. It was only a matter of time before he came and wreaked havoc on
these boys, and then she wouldn't be able to protect them anymore.
The sound of a door opening forced her negative thoughts into the deepest
recesses of her mind. Dean stared at her with an expression she'd never seen on
his face before today, the sight of it bringing a lump to her throat.
"He wants to take Sammy away," he said quietly.
"Yes, yes he does."
Missouri sighed as she watched Dean walk out of the house before she could stop
him, all the fight she had left draining out of her. With every second that
passed by, she could feel the stirrings of the approaching storm getting
stronger, the situation in which they all faced lost upon everyone except the
perceptive clairvoyant. Azazel was drawing near, and the first person he was
going to target would be Sam. She just hoped that Dean could let go of all his
fear and anger long enough to allow Sam to melt his frozen heart. Because
without them both…they would not survive.
"I'm getting too old for this shit," she said to herself, making her way back
to her bedroom for a much-needed second nap. As she laid in bed waiting for
sleep to claim her, a vision flashed through her mind of Sam and Dean in a
rather compromising position, the images playing before her drawing her full
lips into a tiny smile that not even the unconsciousness she fell into could
wipe away.
===============================================================================
Sam shot straight up in bed with an audible gasp, ignoring the sweaty bangs
plastered to his forehead as he glanced around the room in fright. It took five
minutes for him to realize that his nightmare was over and that he was no
longer with Seth and his cronies, but the horrible dream still lingered, the
parts of his body they touched still tingling uncomfortably in the summer air.
His brain struggled to come back to reality, allowing him to breathe in one
slow breath at a time as he began grounding himself back to the present. His
efforts to stave off the impending flashbacks proved fruitless, however, and
the memories of his assault came flooding back to the surface of his mind
before he could stop them, salty tears falling profusely down his rosy cheeks.
The sound of tapping startled him out of his misery, the pained look on his
face vanishing as he glanced at Dean starring back at him with an expression
that told Sam he was just as upset as he was, though what could have put that
look on Dean's face was a mystery Sam could only guess at. Rushing to the
window separating them, he lifted it with great ease and pulled the older boy
inside, immediately pulling back in shock.
"Dean? What are you doing here? What's wrong?"
Dean looked up at Sam and stared at him for what felt like forever, his eyes
growing dark with an odd combination of pain and lust. The struggle for whether
or not to show his emotion warred within his soul like stray dogs fighting for
scraps, despair clinging helplessly to his shaking frame. One long look into
the eyes of the boy before him helped him make up his mind as he allowed
everything to come to the surface for the first time in a long time, the tears
spilling down his face disappearing in between trembling lips.
"C'mere," he said, his voice cracking beneath the weight of his sorrow.
Sam took hesitant steps towards the boy perched on the window ledge, unsure of
what to make of this side of Dean. When he stood in front of him, he gasped
quietly as he felt Dean's hands grip his hips and rest his forehead against
Sam's chest, letting out a shaking breath that tingled the younger boy's bare
skin.
"Dean? Dean, you're scaring me."
Dean looked up and placed a gentle kiss over Sam's left nipple, the sensation
making him moan quietly.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
Those two words spoke volumes to Sam. Without another word, he took Dean's hand
and led him to the bed, keeping his eyes focused on Dean's the entire time. It
was then that Dean realized the room was illuminated by candles placed atop the
boy's nightstand and dressers, the fiery glow playing across Sam's face and
making his eyes glitter. The full moon fell through the curtains and hit the
bed in an open invitation, an invitation made all the more promising when Sam
took off his boxers and laid down on the mattress, spreading his legs
shamelessly for Dean.
"Lick me open. Dean," he whispered, dried tears leaving clear streaks across
his handsome face, "Show me how good sex can be when I'm not being forced."
Dean fell on the bed between Sam's legs before he could stop himself, licking a
long stripe up the boy's sensitive flesh. Sam moaned quietly, arching his back
against the intense pleasure of Dean's talented tongue. He lapped greedily at
Sam's hole, each tentative lick bringing the child closer and closer to the
edge of ecstasy. Wanting to give him as much pleasure as possible, Dean placed
his mouth over the tight, pink rim and sucked hard on the puckered skin,
reveling in the screams he got in return for his efforts.
"Dean," Sam whined, squeezing the older boy's hair in his fist.
Dean abandoned his ministrations and crawled up the bed until he was eye level
with Sam. "What is it, baby?" he whispered. "Tell me what you want."
Sam stretched his neck out and licked at Dean's lips. "I want your cock."
Dean shivered. "Sammy…"
"Please, De. I need it. Need you. Want you inside my body."
Sensing the older boy's hesitation, Sam sat up and began removing Dean's
clothes in silence, occasionally rubbing a hand down each stretched of exposed
skin being revealed to him. When Dean was completely naked, Sam stared in awe
at the size of his dick, the sight of it bringing blood to the surface of his
cheeks.
"Put it in me, Dean. Do it nice and slow. Make love to me."
Dean's face betrayed his desire to hold back, but Sam wasn't having any of it.
He knew it was probably too soon for him to be getting this intimate with
someone after everything that's happened to him. He also knew that this must
have been the closest Dean's been to someone emotionally in a very long time.
But he needed Dean on top of him, needed him to take away the nightmares and
replace the anguish with pleasure so keen, it would border on pain. He needed
to close his eyes at night and feel Dean's skin pressed against his, needed to
erase the scent of Seth and bathe himself in Dean's sweat. He needed to make
Dean lose control, to show him that it was okay to let go.
Pulling on Dean's hand until he was blanketed over him, Sam ran his fingers
through the boy's wet hair and looked deeply into his emerald eyes.
"How do you want me, Dean?" he whispered. "I want you to take me. I want you to
have me however you want."-Sam stopped to kiss him heatedly on the lips,
whimpering when Dean's tongue slid sensually into his open mouth- "Don't hold
back."
Dean's breaths quickened as he laid Sam down on the bed, poising himself over
the debauched boy. When he hesitated once more, Sam leaned forward and
whispered sassily into his ear, "Would you like Hank to do it instead?"
Dean growled, and before Sam knew what was happening, he felt the entire length
of the older boy's cock ram into him in one fluid motion, the intense pleasure
making him cry out in surprise.
"Ooh, De. Big. You're so big. Oh, fuuuck."
"Mine, Sammy," he snarled.
"Yours," Sam moaned, resting his ankles on Dean's thighs. "All yours."
Sam grabbed onto Dean's sweat slicked shoulders as he slowly slid in and out of
Sam's body. The bed creaked gently from their movements, harsh pants and long,
drawn out sighs of pleasure filling the room as they made love as quietly as
they could, trying not to wake up Bobby. Sam had never felt this way before.
Dean's arms surrounded him, making him feel safe and cherished. He wasn't being
forced to do any of this. He could stop anytime he wanted but he didn't. He
wanted this to last forever, to spend an eternity wrapped up in Dean's skin.
Sam sighed when Dean maneuvered them so that they were on their sides, back
pressed against Dean's chest. His leg was lifted onto the boy's hip as he
reentered him, the sensation too much for him to handle. He tried pulling away,
but Dean's arms tightened around his shaking body.
"Shh. Hush, baby. You told me to take you however I wanted. Well, I want you
like this. I want you fucking losing it for me. I want you to feel it all,
Sammy. My hand on your cock, my prick in your wet little asshole, my whispered
words in your ears. I want you to know you're mine. I'll never let anyone else
have you again."
Sam groaned loudly, the sound cut off by Dean's hand over his mouth.
"Be quiet, Sam. I don't want Bobby to hear us. Your daddy hates me, Sammy. It's
no wonder. He said I was bad news and I guess he was right, huh? I mean, look
at me now: making love to his precious Sammy in his own bed, making the wood
creak while I impale his good little boy with my thick cock, pleasuring him so
good he can't see straight."
Sam sobbed into Dean's palm, removing it long enough to whisper back, "You're
not bad, Dean. You're good. So fucking good. I love you, De. I love you."
Dean let out a strangled cry resembling that of a wounded animal. Flipping them
so that Sam was once again on his back, Dean sat on his haunches and forcibly
spread Sam's legs wide open, grabbing his thighs and pulling him down the bed
and onto his prick. The force of his thrusts had Sam's eyes rolling in the back
of his head, Dean's name spilling repeatedly from his lips. Just when he
thought he couldn't take it anymore, he felt his climax surge through every
inch of his body, the sensation ripping out moan after shivery moan. His
muscles clenched around Dean's cock, triggering the older boy's orgasm. Dean
fell on top of Sam and groaned his pleasure into Sam's mouth, a steady chant of
'mine' whispered over and over as both heartbeats slowly returned to a normal
rhythm.
"I love you," Sam whispered, running his hands all over Dean's body.
Dean bit his lip as he stared down at Sam.
"Sammy," he moaned."I-"
Dean's words were interrupted by the slamming of Sam's door as it banged open
against the wall. A gasp of horror escaped Sam's lips as he pushed at Dean and
sat up in bed, using the sheets to cover his frame. His eyes widened in
realization as he looked upon the last person he ever expected to see, his
heart doing flip flops in his chest.
This can't be happening. Tell me this isn't happening.
"Oh, god…dad?"
***** Slip Of The Tongue *****
For the first few moments following Bobby's emergence, it seemed as though the
world fell off its axis as time froze solid, the minutes held perfectly still
beneath the weight of danger emanating from the man across the room. The scent
of sex wafted through the air in direct opposition to the hatred seeping from
Bobby's every pore, each breath pulled from his flared nostrils becoming more
frequent with every second he spent glaring at the boy beside his son. Both
teenagers slipped into their boxers without once taking their eyes off of Sam's
father, his murderous snarl when Dean whispered a 'hush, baby' in response to
Sam's sniffle making the young boy wonder how it was possible they didn't burst
into flames from it.
Sam recognized his father's stare for what it was and grabbed at Dean
instinctively, trying to shield him from the older man's apocalyptic rage.
However, before he could so much as throw himself in the way, Dean was up and
off the bed in record time, just seconds away from being tackled to the
mattress by a leaping Bobby. Sam flinched as the man fell beside him, the whole
thing happening so fast he barely had time to catch his bearings before Bobby
jumped off the bed and got right up in Dean's face, spitting curses at him that
would make a sailor blush.
"You cocksuckin' whore! Why the fuck couldn't you go out and play with some
girl's cunt if you wanted your dick wet that fuckin' badly? Why did you have to
go after my boy! He was raped for fuck sake! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Dean stood there in silence, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
"Answer me, goddammit!"
"Because I wanted to!" Dean yelled. "You wouldn't let me see him. What the fuck
was I supposed to do, old man? Huh? Just forget about him? How the hell am I
gonna do that when I can't get your son out of my fucking head!"
"You had NO right to touch my boy! He didn't want this. He's confused!"
"Oh, but I did," Dean shot back, his voice shaking with anger and pain. "I did
the whole manly thing right there in that bed and trust me…your son wanted it"-
Dean broke from his words to advance on Bobby, chuckling humorlessly when the
older man took a few steps back in surprise- "You should have heard all the
pretty noises he was makin' for me. He begged me to make love to him and that's
exactly what I did. I gave him what he needed, what he wanted. I got all up
inside of him and slid in and out of that sweet little asshole so good, he kept
chantin' my name like I was his fuckin' salvation. Your boy wanted every
inch of my cock and you bet your ass, I gave it. You certainly weren't takin'
care of him so I figured I might as well pick up your slack. You can't tell me
you've been doing your job when it comes to caring for Sam. 'Cause if you were,
he wouldn't be all over my stick."
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Bobby screamed, tackling Dean to the ground.
Sam watched in horror as both males fought with an intense ferocity, struggling
to find the strength to separate one from the other. Eventually, he got it into
his head to scream at the top of his lungs for them to stop, but his pleas went
unnoticed as Dean got the upper hand and delivered a brutal punch to Bobby's
jaw. Not one to be owned in a fight, Sam's father jumped to his feet at the
same time as his opponent, grabbing the fist flying towards his face and
kicking hard at the boy's stomach, the action sending Dean spiraling across the
room.
"I'm gonna take care of you real good, boy," Bobby growled.
"Not as good as I took care of your son," Dean gasped, his lip contorting into
a nasty sneer.
"You think you're funny? You're nothing, Dean. You're nothing but a parasite, a
worthless piece of shit that can't even muster up the strength to make his mama
proud because there's nothing to be proud of. Look at you! What the hell have
you done with your life besides burden everyone with your detestable presence?
Do you even know why you're adopted? It's because your parents didn't want
anything to do with you. They took one long look at that ugly face and saw you
for what you were; a demon! You're a dirty, worthless, filthy little beast! You
deserve everything you get and if it was up to me, I would have replaced Sam
with you and watched you get your ass gang raped while God himself watched!"
Dean's face made a number of transformations as Bobby stood screaming over him,
but the expression that won out was fear. As soon as the older man yelled the
words "filthy beast" at him, the look of malice disappeared and Sam watched as
fright took over. His eyes widened and his bottom lip trembled, his entire body
shaking with something Sam couldn't define.
"Dad, stop it!" Sam yelled. "You're scaring him!"
Bobby whipped around at the sound of Sam's voice. "You think I'm scaring
him now? You just wait."
Sam waited until his father stormed out the door before running to Dean's side.
"Dean? Dean, come on. You have to get out of here. Dean? Dean!"
Dean looked up at the mention of his name, blinking the confusion out of his
green eyes. He struggled to morph the hazy patches of his brain into a picture
of clarity, weeding out the unwanted memories Bobby's tirade drudged up in
favor of shedding some light on the situation in which he currently found
himself. Understanding mixed with dread and just a touch of guilt plagued his
mind as he stood to his full height, shaking his head when Sam tried placing a
tentative hand on his shaking shoulders.
Bobby's footsteps stormed up the stairs before anything could be said between
the two teenagers, the sight of his shotgun giving Dean all the encouragement
he needed to dart out the window before the old man could so much as pull the
trigger.
"Gone, huh? I knew that kid was chicken shit."
Sam whirled around to face his father, anger evident in every inch of his
shaking body. "How dare you! I can sleep with whoever I want!"
"Goddammit, boy!" Bobby snarled, grabbing Sam's shoulders and giving him a
shake. "What the hell is wrong with you? You were raped, son! I can help you
but you've got to let me. You don't have to give your body away like you mean
nothing! You're worth something, Sam. I promise."
Sam recoiled from Bobby's touch, throwing his hands up in the air. "You don't
know shit! I didn't do this because I felt worthless. I did this because I
wanted to! Yes, I do believe that I'm worthless but that's only when I'm not
around Dean. You don't have the slightest clue what I've been through and you
would never understand."
Bobby's face fell at his son's tears. "Then help me understand, Sam. Tell me
what's wrong!"
"I just-" Sam broke off as sobs wracked his thin form, the cries pulled out of
him making it hard to understand what he was saying- "I just wanted it to stop!
I keep having these dreams about Seth and his friends and I can't shake it.
It's all I ever think about. I can still feel their calloused hands on my skin,
can still hear the names they call me echoing in my ears. Whenever I close my
eyes, I can see his face pressing against mine and it makes me sick! I just
wanted to replace it all with something else, to be able to open my eyes and
find someone other than Seth or his wretched friends on top of me or in between
my spread legs! Then Dean came and I was so confused because I felt so scared
and his presence makes me feel so safe and I just…I wanted him to make it all
go away. I wanted him to do it because I have this connection to him that I
can't figure out and he's the only one who could make those memories disappear
and replace them with…him. When he was with me, it was his hands on my body, it
was him inside me, and it was his voice whispering in my ears. I thought that
now I could finally wake up and think about this night and smile instead of
screaming myself awake every morning trying to fight off invisible rapists who
only exist in my fucking head! But now you're making me feel as if what I did
was wrong, like I'm just some worthless cock slut who just couldn't get enough
and so now it's like I can't win. I can't do this anymore, daddy. I just want
it to stop! Please! Please, make it stop!"
Those last couple of words were uttered with such anguish that Bobby could feel
his heart melt with sympathy for his bruised and battered son. Falling to the
bed beside his boy, he wrapped Sam up in his arms and ran his fingers over the
chestnut strands as his very life cried openly into the crook of his neck,
letting out all the agony and confusion those evil boys had inflicted upon him.
"It's gonna be okay," Bobby murmured into his son's head, tears streaming down
his face. "Nothing is ever going to happen to you again, Sam. I promise you
that."
Sam looked up at his father with an expression so childlike, the sight of it
destroyed whatever was left of Bobby's shattered soul. "I just want to make it
stop, daddy."
Unable to respond to the heartbreaking admission, Bobby tightened his arms
around the boy's shaking frame and held on for dear life as Sam's shuddering
breaths evened out by the claiming of sleep, leaving his father behind to weep
softly against his forehead.
"I'll make it stop, son," he said. "Don't you worry...they're all gonna pay."
===============================================================================
Missouri awakened to the sound of objects being hurled across Dean's room, her
maternal instincts kicking in gear as she high tailed it to her son's doorway,
stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of her boy's anger. The muscles hidden
beneath his t-shirt flexed with every rapid movement needed to destroy whatever
was left of his small bedroom, his loud curses echoing through the bare walls
of what used to be his sanctuary. Broken glass littered the floor in jagged
patterns of dull crystal, the sharp blades crunching beneath Dean's feet as he
ripped drawers from their respective places, the contents of each one flying
through the air to land beside the pointed edges of Dean's shattered mirror.
Knives etched themselves into the wall from the force of Dean's throws,
chipping the paint and leaving tiny holes inside the plaster. When the last one
flew in her direction, she barely had time to duck before it whirled past her
head and clanged against the bathtub across the hallway, making Missouri's son
gasp in horror as the realization of what he'd done hit him like a ton of
bricks.
Within the span of two seconds, he was on his knees beside her, running his
hands all over to check for damage that wasn't there. His concern made her
smile, and she reached out to drag her palm over his tear-stained cheek in a
blatant attempt to give the boy the kind of love she knew he needed. She waited
in silence, understanding flashing across her sympathetic eyes, until her boy
lunged at her the way she knew he would, sobbing violently into the soft fabric
of her nightgown. She wrapped her arms around him and watched as he let go of
everything he'd been holding in since the day the child she once knew stumbled
on her doorstep, releasing all of his pent-up emotion through the salty
droplets trailing down his sensitive skin. His sorrow ripped her apart, the
evidence of her son's pain the cruelest joke fate could inflict upon the heart
of a mother.
"Hush, baby," she whispered. "Tell me what happened. He found you in bed with
Sam, didn't he?"
Dean stiffened in her arms, slowly raising his head to peer shockingly into her
knowledgeable face. His tiny sniffle was masked by his hand as he wiped the
back of it over his nose, erasing the wetness there until it was nothing more
than a distant memory.
"I had a vision of you two tangled together between the boy's sheets. I'm not a
moron though. I could see it coming even before I received that special vision.
Doesn't take a rocket scientist to see you boys care for each other. Lord knows
why when you've only just met. Now, while I'm happy as a pig in shit that
you've found someone you have a real honest to god connection with, sleeping
with that child is not in his best interests. Not now. He's been through far
too much and as much as he cares for you, what happened with you both was just
his way of coping with a lot of emotions thrown his way. It wasn't necessarily
an act done out of love, though I know for a fact that your blushing boy loves
you somethin' fierce."
Dean's pained whimper made the rest of Missouri's words turn to ash in her
mouth. "He called me a filthy beast, mama. Bobby said I was worthless just like
those men did all those years ago. I did a horrible thing. I was careless with
a damaged boy. I used him just as much as he used me. It was all wrong and now
I don't know what to do. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I'm so sorry
that I couldn't be the kind of son you wanted me to be, ma. I disappoint
everyone around me and no matter how hard I try, it's like I can't do anything
right. It's so much easier to hold everything inside of me than risk being
vulnerable and getting my heart broken. I know you're going to throw me away
eventually, just like everyone else does so I try so hard to ignore my love for
you and it's like I can't even do that right. I'm so sorry I'm such a bad boy,
mama. I'm so fuckin' sorry."
Missouri watched her weeping son pour his soul out with an intensity that
surprised even her, a slow build up of righteous anger creeping up her spine
and tinghtening her muscles. Hearing about Bobby's words to Dean had her seeing
red, and it wasn't long before she crushed her weeping son to her breast and
plotted the man's demise while openly comforting the boy wrapped in her loving
arms.
"Don't you worry, son. Mama's gonna make it all better. Look at me, baby."
Dean mustered up whatever strength he had left and allowed himself to stare
into his mother's eyes, the hurt Missouri saw there far more than she could
bear. Grabbing his face in both of her hands, she leaned forward and pressed
their foreheads together, placing a soft kiss to his trembling lips.
"You are my boy, Dean. There is nothing you could do that would ever make me
turn away from you. I don't care what it was Bobby said to you. He only said it
out of anger for Sam. You are the best son I could ever ask for and I accept
all of your faults because you're a strong young man who has been through more
than his fair of troubles and, being the resilient son of a bitch that you are,
you've survived every single one of them. Nothing could make a mother prouder.
So, don't you dare go and talk about how you're worthless because you are worth
something. You're worth something to me."
Dean buried his face in Missouri's neck and tightened his hold on her middle,
sobbing his 'I love you's' into her damp skin. The words made her smile and
tears sprang to her eyes before she could stop them. After all this time, she
finally had the proof of her boy's love for her. As the Moseley's clung to each
other in the dead of night, Missouri was sure of two things. First, she loved
her son more than anything else in the world, and she vowed right then and
there that nobody would ever hurt that boy again as long as she lived. Second,
she was going to beat the living hell out of Bobby Singer.
===============================================================================
Sunlight peeked through the curtains of Sam's bedroom window as he sat up and
groggily stepped foot outside his doorway in the direction of the kitchen, the
sweet aroma of bacon and eggs filling his body with a voracious hunger that
refused to be sated by anything other than food. He smiled at his father,
plopping down in a kitchen chair while reaching awkwardly for the orange juice
across the table, spilling the container in the process and staining the
hardwood floors with bright splotches of orange liquid.
"Shit!" he cursed silently, grabbing napkins off the table and wiping up the
mess with a few pats of his hand.
Bobby chuckled, turning his attention to the boy behind him. "You were always
clumsy when you first woke up. I remember you being five and reaching to open
up your window before you fell through it."
"I fell through my window?"
"Don't worry. It was only a couple of inches off the ground. You're lucky we
weren't in the place we have now. If we were, you'd have had a couple of broken
bones."
Sam smiled, sitting back down and smoothing his bangs away from his forehead.
Bobby's smile faded as they shared an awkward silence, trying to come up with
the courage to say what was on his mind. "You know, Sam...I just wanted you to
know that I'm...I'm glad you confided in me last night. I'm always going to be
there for you and I just really hope you know that."
"Can we just not talk about it, dad?" Sam responded, looking at the ground.
"I'm just so sick of talking about it. The past is the past and I just want to
put it behind me."
"That's a pretty good idea," Bobby said.
Sam's brows furrowed in confusion before Bobby could turn back to his
breakfast, the look on his face flashing warning signs in front of the old man.
"What is it, kid?"
"I just...dad, please don't get mad at me when I say this...but I just wanted
to know if I could, well, if maybe I could see Dean?"
Bobby stiffened and turned his back on Sam, ignoring the boy's pleading eyes.
"Dad, you can't be mad at him for this. I'm the one that wanted him to do it. I
know we made a mistake and we both did it for the wrong reasons...but I don't
regret it. Well, I do, but not in the way you think I do. I just wish it had
been more special. Our first time and all that"- Sam cut himself off to rise
from the table, putting both hands up as if in prayer-"Look, I know you think
he's a bad seed and I know he said all that stuff to you back there but he was
just reacting. He didn't mean any of it, I swear-"
"Goddammit, boy!" Bobby snapped, slamming the pot on the stove. "That child is
bad news and I refuse to just sit here and allow him to poison my son's mind.
Now, I don't want to hear another word in this house about Dean Winchester. Do
you understand me?"
Sam's body whipped back as if he'd just been slapped, his blood turning to ice
in his veins. "What did you just say?"
The color drained from Bobby's face as soon as Sam shot suspicious eyes his
way, hanging his head down as if he'd just been caught stealing cookies from a
cookie jar. "Dammit, Sam. Just do what your daddy tells you and stop poking
your nose in where it don't belong. Now, I want you to sit there, eat your
breakfast, and help me clean up before our guest arrives. It's about time we
properly thanked him for saving your life."
Bobby stormed off before Sam could stop him, walking up the stairs and slamming
his door shut with a resounding bang. Sam fell back on his chair and put his
palms over his face, desperately trying to remember something important about
that name. When it finally clicked, he gasped in recognition as it all came
back to him.
Gabriel. That man in school had used the exact same name when referring to Sam.
None of it made any sense and the weary teenager sighed in frustration, unable
to understand why the mention of it had him shivering in recollection, almost
as if he'd heard it somewhere long before Gabriel ever brought it to his
attention. He decided then and there that when Hank came over, he would ask him
if he knew anything about it. He'd had a brief conversation with him in the car
on the way back to his house and one of the things he'd learned was that Hank
seemed to know an awful lot about the goings on in this neighborhood, with the
exception of Dean's family, of course. If he knew so much about most of the
residents, maybe he'd heard of the name "Winchester" as well.
Sam leaned back and closed his eyes as a sudden fatigue swept through his
entire body, thinking so hard after the night he'd had draining whatever was
left of his remaining energy. His whispered words fell on deaf ears as he
drifted off into a peaceful sleep, questions of an unknown nature threatening
whatever was left of his precious sanity.
"Winchester...where the hell have I heard that name before?"
***** Warrior Sammy *****
Bobby Singer stood in front of his bathroom mirror with a pensive look on his
face, the resemblance to Sammy's faraway expressions so striking, it would have
stopped the old man dead in his tracks had he not been so preoccupied with the
movement of his fingers as they formed intricate knots into an unruly necktie.
His thoughts kept haunting him with recollections of Sam's tears frozen in a
moment of overwhelming sorrow, the words he'd used to convey his feelings
playing on repeat in Bobby's head like some recurring nightmare meant to
torture him. But what bothered him even more was how his mind kept turning its
attention from Sam to Dean, making Bobby snort in disgust at the nagging voice
in his head telling him that what he did to the Moseley kid was wrong. He
didn't want to believe that, especially after discovering the boy's true
origins.
Receiving a dream in the middle of the night from a bloodthirsty demon hell-
bent on the destruction of the world through your only son was…shocking, to say
the least. After all this time, it seemed as though Azazel had finally managed
to track him down, despite his attempts to shield Sam from his prying eyes. He
could still hear the voice of the treacherous demon, smooth as silk and just as
menacing as the yellow orbs which twinkled with glee at the old man's obvious
discomfort. Finding out that your son had just fucked his brother was one
thing, but finding out that Dean was, in fact, the one person Bobby was trying
so hard to keep from Sam was too much to handle. He'd tried so hard to keep
both Azazel and Dean from finding Samuel, but it seemed as though all of his
efforts had proven futile. Now he had his son to contend with on top of it all.
There was, after all, no way in hell that Sam was going to want to stay away
from Dean. Not unless the kid did something to change Sam's thoughts about him.
Looks like I'm gonna have to do somethin' about that boy…
A loud bang broke Bobby from his scheming thoughts, the incessant pounding
making him frown in confusion. Walking down the stairs, he froze in horror as
he took in the countenance of a very angry Missouri Moseley, her murderous
glare making it quite clear that she was out for blood, or more
specifically, his blood. Gulping in large lungfuls of air, he forced his fear
down into the pit of his stomach and carefully unlocked the door. Before he
could even think to open it, Missouri barged in and punched him in the face,
the sharp knuckles hitting his nose head on. Blood gushed from between his
fingers as he cupped his face with his hand, falling to the floor and looking
up at the vengeful woman with tear filled eyes.
"Ow! Missouri! What the hell did you do that for?"
"Shut up!" she screamed, kicking him hard in the ribs. "You aren't going to
make another peep, Bobby Singer. I'm going to speak and you're going to listen
to every goddamn word I have to say. Are we clear?"
Bobby hesitated a second before nodding, ignoring the sound of Sam's footsteps
as he came to the last step of the staircase, placing one hand over the newel
post while staring confusedly at Missouri. The angry woman kept her eyes
focused on Bobby, approaching the injured man with a scowl scary enough to ward
off demons.
"I woke up last night, Bobby," she began, the stillness with which she spoke
sending shivers up Sam's spine. "Do you know what I woke up to?"
Bobby shook his head, too frightened to speak.
"I woke up to my son destroying his bedroom. Lamps and dresser drawers flying
everywhere, jagged pieces of glass crunching beneath his feet as he hurled a
fucking knife at my head. You're lucky I ducked in time because he could have
fucking killed me! There were tears in his eyes, Bobby. You know why they were
there, yes?"
Bobby's face wanted to contort in anger at the mention of her wretched son, but
his trepidation at the woman's reaction had him acknowledging her words in
reluctance, holding her gaze as she continued to speak words he didn't want to
hear.
"I heard every single word you said to him. I gotta tell ya, Bobby, with the
way I'm feeling right now, you're lucky I don't kill you and make your son
watch. Thank god I love Sammy too much to leave him fatherless, huh?"
When Bobby didn't answer, Missouri kicked him again, enjoying the howl of pain
she received for her actions. "I kept repeating everything that you said to my
son and do you know what stuck out most? Filthy…little…beast."
Sam and Bobby both watched befuddled as tears spilled down the woman's cheeks.
"Did you know that Dean was abducted when he was thirteen? He got kidnapped by
a bunch of child rapists. Yes, Bobby. That's exactly what I said.
Child…rapists. You know what they liked to do for fun with my boy? I can't tell
you how many nights that kid laid in the bed they chained him to crying out for
his mama, only to be slapped across the face…hard. That was just about the time
he had a cock shoved so far down his fucking throat, he couldn't breathe. He
almost choked to death. That's basically what happens when someone has your
nose in between their fingers while simultaneously trying to shove something
into your windpipe."
Missouri stopped the pacing she'd been doing and fell into a chair in the
entryway, her eyes faraway as she recounted a story so painful, Sam could feel
it with every breath he took, squeezing his heart with its deathlike grip.
Tears fell down the woman's cheeks, an uncomfortable cloud settling over the
three occupants of the Singer household as the woman began once more, her quiet
words voicing the evidence of her son's pain.
"He was raped for twelve hours straight once. Two guys held him down while one
occupied his mouth, and two shoved themselves into his ass…his thirteen year
old ass. He screamed as loud as he could but that didn't do a goddamn thing.
They raped him over and over and over again. They put a shock collar on the boy
and forced him to bark like a dog, telling him that he was worthless and that
his mother was never gonna come for him. When they were inside him, they'd tell
him that he was a filthy little beast and that his parents abandoned him
because they knew he wouldn't amount to shit. For a while, they actually had
him believing that I was the one who told them to take him, to dispose of the
child that I'd rather die than love. For four years, they had him, Bobby. It
wasn't until they decided they was gonna kill him that his will to survive
outshined his depression and self loathing, and he somehow managed to escape
once they'd opened their car door, running off into the woods where his body
was supposed to be buried and outrunning them all into the city. Amazing that
he was able to do that for being as malnourished as he was. See, that's the
thing with my son; he's one hell of a stubborn boy. Not only that, but he's
strong. He's so damn strong. He's so strong he was able to tough it out and
deal with everything he'd been through, and not once did he fall over and die
like anyone else would have at the words you spewed from your disgusting mouth
last night. You brought back every single wretched memory that he's been trying
so hard to ignore and rather than give in to the urge to put a bullet through
his brain, he instead fought with everything he had in him, throwing his shit
all over the place in a blinding rage."
Missouri got up and walked over to Bobby, kneeling beside him and taking his
throat in her hand. "If you ever do anything to my son like that again, I will
make sure you spend the rest of your life regretting it. I'll find a way to put
you through every single torture Dean endured, and I'll watch the whole fucking
thing go down without once interfering. Do. You. Understand?"
"Yes," Bobby whispered.
Without another word, Missouri got up, gave Sam a sorrowful smile, and walked
out the front door. The room fell completely silent, the gears in Sam's brain
working overtime at everything he'd just heard. When he didn't think he could
stand the quiet any longer, he ran outside without a word to his father and
chased down the woman who'd become like a mother to him, catching her just as
she was about to pull out of the driveway.
"Sammy! What the hell are you doing out here, boy? You best go inside that
house right now, ya hear?"
"I can't!" Sam exclaimed. "You can't expect me to go inside and forget
everything you told my father. Not when all I can think about right now is
Dean. I want to see him, Missouri. I…I have to."
Missouri sighed sadly, shutting off her engine and putting her head down. When
she finally looked at Sam, it was as if the woman he'd fallen head over heels
for had disappeared, leaving behind only a shell of her former self. "I know
you care about Dean, Sammy. But the last thing that boy needs right now is
anyone's pity. He feels weak after breaking down in front of me the way he did
last night. Damn boy is already making it up by acting like the whole thing
never happened and treating me like I'm his enemy. I can't stand to see my
child this way and having you there…it would only cause more problems. I just…I
have…to take care of my boy now. Can you understand what I'm saying, Sam?
I have to put him first. I can't do that with you there. The sight of you
causes too many feelings for him, honey. He's not ready to handle them yet."
Sam ignored the tears stinging his eyes and nodded, sniffling as he tried to
keep his emotions in check. "I understand."
Missouri smiled. "Good. You'll see him in school on Monday. I promise you that
much. Just keep away until then, okay? I love you, Samuel. You do know that,
right?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then get back inside that house and tend to your father. Despite all his
faults, he seems like a good man. Take care of yourself, hon. I'll see you
soon."
Sam watched as she pulled out of the driveway and folded his arms over his
chest, scowling at the empty space her car had left.
"No you won't."
===============================================================================
"And then she just left! Told me to stay away from Dean and everything!"
Hank tried to hide his scheming smile as he sat on the edge of the mattress,
watching Sam pace back and forth across his bedroom floor. Listening to his
complaints, as well as his questions about the history of the town's residents
was both a breath of fresh air and a curse Hank wasn't quite so eager to deal
with just yet. The child's persistence would most certainly serve him well when
he was on the front lines of hell's army. There was no doubt about that. But as
much as the demon wanted it, he couldn't allow Sam the privilege of becoming
privy to his destiny so quickly, not when he still had so much to learn. The
child needed to hone his skills, to get out in the real world and take down the
so-called "bad guys" long enough for the devil on his shoulder to mold him into
the kind of fighting machine needed to lead his fellow brethren in the fight
against the forces of light. There was no way Hank could grant him access to
the many secrets hidden just beneath the surface, ready to be discovered at the
hands of a meddlesome boy who was smack dab in the middle of it all. But while
keeping such a perspicacious boy from the answers he so desperately sought was
proving more problematic than the demon ever thought possible, it was the close
ties existing with both Bobby and Missouri that was rapidly becoming Hank's own
undoing. But that was something he could dwell on later, when he didn't have a
troubled child in his face digging for clues he wasn't ready to discover. He
had to find a way to bring him to a different direction other than the one he
wanted to go in, but still in the same ballpark as the truth. As Sam kept
hammering on and on about the brother he didn't know he had, Hank came up with
a plan.
"Sam, I don't want you to get so bent out of shape about this whole Winchester
thing. The name may ring a bell for me, but as of now, I have no idea where
I've heard the name before. However, I have been meaning to tell you something
for a while now about your friend, Dean. I've been a bit reluctant based on the
lack of facts I've acquired, but I believe that you should know, being that you
seem to be so attached to this particular boy. May I have the pleasure of
sharing my news with you without being judged?"
Sam sat beside Hank on the bed with a look of pure wonderment. "Um…y-yeah,
sure."
Hank sighed warily. "This may sound…strange and not at all what you're used to
but I'm thinking that I can trust you with what I believe to be valuable
information. It goes back to a dark secret that I don't know if you're quite
ready to hear yet, but you are my friend and I'm pretty sure that I can trust
you to be…discreet about what I'm about to divulge."
Hank took a deep breath, prepping himself for the myriad of emotions he was
about to fake for Sam's sake before looking into the boy's eyes. Placing a hand
over Sam's, he continued, "There are certain things about the world that people
don't know. Well, some people do, but the rest of them ignore it. Basically,
I'm talking about supernatural beings. You know, monsters under the bed and all
that. As much as you probably want to believe that I'm crazy or that none of
this stuff is real, it is. I assure you that not only do these things exist,
but there are certain people out there who protect us from them. They're
called-"
"Hunters," Sam interrupted, voice full of bewildered confusion.
Hank blinked. "You know about them." It wasn't a question.
"Hank…dad was a hunter. Still goes on hunts, as a matter of fact. He taught me
some stuff about vamps, werewolves and the like. Never gave me enough
information to do it on my own though. Said I was too young and that he wanted
more for me."
Hank smirked to himself. He thought he was so slick, keeping the boy from me.
Too bad that plan backfired.
"Wait…how do you know about hunters anyway?"
"Because I used to be one," Hank replied. "Way back when I was a young boy."
"What happened?"
"Certain circumstances prevented me from continuing on. But none of that's
important. What's important is that I believe your friend just might be one of
us."
Sam nearly choked on his own tongue. "You think Dean is a hunter?"
"You can't tell me it doesn't make sense, Sam. You've mentioned his fighting
skills, I've seen him with certain weapons known only to hunters on more than
one occasion and just the other day, I caught him following what I believed to
be a Rigaru. You told me that this Missouri is a psychic so that could somehow
work into the equation as well. Maybe she finds the hunts for him and he goes
on them. Or…well, I suppose he could do it alone. I'm not really sure but I
have this strange feeling that your boy is not who he claims to be."
Sam opened and closed his mouth, trying to find words to add to a conversation
he never thought he'd be having about Dean. He supposed it made sense for a
loner like Dean to be a hunter, especially with the array of books he'd
discovered in the boy's bedroom pertaining to the supernatural. But if he was
who Hank claimed, then Missouri was keeping one hell of a secret from Sam. Or
maybe the men who'd abducted Dean weren't human, thus paving the way for the
boy they'd mistreated to seek revenge and ultimately become a hero to the
people of Kansas. Either way, Sam was burning for some sort of truth to it all,
something that would link Dean to the same lifestyle as Bobby. If Dean was a
hunter, maybe he could teach Sam how to become one as well. If he knew how to
protect himself, then there would be no need for a bodyguard at school. Sam
could just take out those bastards who violated him all on his own, without
anyone's help. Not only that, but he could also discover the mystery behind
Dean Moseley, and maybe save him from himself in the process.
"Do you think I should confront Dean about this?"
Hank furrowed his brows in thought. "Not sure that's such a good idea. Try to
keep an eye on him first. You could do a little spying. I'm sure I could help
you with that, if you were willing to go down that route. Maybe the clues will
come together on their own. You could be a hunter too, you know. Think about
it, Sam; there'd be nobody to hurt you anymore. You'd be able to protect
yourself and pick up some useful skills that your father obviously doesn't plan
on teaching you. You deserve to be independent, Sammy, not a maiden in
distress."
Sam thought about taking out Seth and all the others who'd turned his world
upside down and smiled to himself. He could be a hero. He could finally stand
up to those bastards and take down others just like him. He sought vengeance, a
way to personally make everyone who'd left him bruised and bloodied pay for all
that they'd done. He could save others from the same cruel fate and while he
was at it, destroy all the supernatural ghouls and goblins threatening to take
over the world. For once in his miserable existence, he would be the strong
one.
But what about Dean? Wasn't Dean the most important person of all? Shouldn't he
figure out how to help him first? And what about the strong connection they
both shared? Wasn't that another subject worth exploring? So many mysteries
lied within seeing distance and Sam's mind was so jumbled full of possible
answers that his head spun. But while he may have felt overwhelmed by it all,
one thing was for sure; everything here was strategically interwoven in some
way, like some kind of complicated web spun by an intelligent spider of fate
intent upon devouring the flies that couldn't figure a way out of the cruel
thread. Sam had to find that way, and find it he would...with Hank's help.
Sam looked up at Hank with fierce determination, all traces of the battered boy
he'd become disappearing as a new strength took over his fragile bones,
replacing fear with a bravery he didn't even know he had. Tonight, he was going
to start getting answers, and nothing on God's green earth was going to stop
him from getting what was his.
"So...when do we start?"
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