
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12318357.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/John_Winchester, Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Dean
      Winchester/John_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      John_Winchester, Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      POV_John_Winchester, Fuck_Or_Die, Teen_Winchesters, Extremely_Dubious
      Consent, Incest, Angst, Porn_With_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-09 Words: 1742
****** Rescue and Ruin ******
by Been_Winchestered
Summary
     John would give anything to save his sons from this violation, but he
     won’t sacrifice their lives. He’s never played by the rules, anyway.
Notes
     Lots of gratitude and cookies for Ghostie, who read the first draft
     and boosted my confidence.
     Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, it is not intended to justify
     abuse or predatory behavior.
See the end of the work for more notes
By the time John finds his boys, he’s too late. They’ve been stripped and
infected and strung up by their wrists, ribs jutting out like the corpus of a
crucifix, toes barely touching the floor.
Sam’s chest is heaving with the strain of breathing. He blinks slowly when John
touches his face with a shaky hand, but there’s no awareness in his eyes, just
the curse working its way through him and fogging his pupils.
“I got you Sammy, I got you. Easy now.” John cuts his son down and rests him
against the wall. He tries to rub the circulation back into Sam’s wrists and
Sam’s only response is a soft whimper of his brother’s name.
Dean’s lips are blue, his skin is cold and mottled with dark bruises. He must
have fought back with all he had, or taken on more suffering for his brother’s
sake. John is certain he is dead until he feels the faint flutter of a pulse.
He cuts Dean down, lays him out on the dirty basement floor and smacks his face
lightly, trying to rouse him.
“Dean! Wake up, Dean!” Dean remains unresponsive, and John’s vision blurs with
tears. He covers his son’s mouth with his own and breathes for him, then pumps
his chest. War flashbacks come suddenly, adding adrenaline to his blood. He
blinks the memories away. Tears hit Dean’s cheek just as he sucks in a breath
and coughs.
Without the cure, Dean will be dead in minutes and Sam will follow soon after.
There’s no one else who can help them, not for miles, and that is John’s fault.
He didn’t trust the county sheriff enough to tell him the truth about the
assaults and deaths. He didn’t call Caleb in as back up, even though he
promised he would. He let Dean and Sam tag along instead, against his better
judgement. He thought this hunt would be a piece of cake.
John would give anything to save his sons from this violation, but he won’t
sacrifice their lives. He’s never played by the rules, anyway.
“Easy, Dean. Just stay still, I’m gonna help you. I’m gonna fix it.”
John digs through his wallet for a condom and then realizes it’ll defeat the
purpose of the act he’s about to do. His hands shake as he pushes Dean’s knees
toward his chest. He prays Mary isn’t watching. He prays for forgiveness.
Dean’s eyes open, fogged and confused like his brother’s. John looks away from
Dean’s face and pushes apart the cheeks of his ass. Dean’s hole has already
been abused, it’s sore and puffy and red. John’s anger flares at the sight and
he wants to kill the incubus all over again. Instead, he ducks his head to
tongue his son’s hole. It’s the best he can do to lessen the pain he’s about to
put Dean through.
John doesn’t have time to do this right - the way he would for Mary on lazy
Sunday mornings - but he tries his best to get Dean as slick as he can. When he
pulls out his dick, it’s soft and disinterested, and he curses himself while he
tries to jack himself hard. He shuts his eyes and conjures up his usual
fantasy, a beautiful woman taking his cock into her mouth. He can’t use any
thought of Mary to get off, memories of her are too painful.
His dick fattens up reluctantly, but soon he’s hard enough to push inside. Dean
makes a soft noise of pain and his body clenches in reaction to the intrusion
as John’s cockhead breaches his rim. His body is cold in John’s arms, but
inside he’s still warm. He’s still alive. John grunts softly and hates how good
it feels to thrust into his son. Such a tight hole, soft as velvet and
squeezing his cock.
It’s tough to get a good rhythm going with barely anything to slick the way and
the hard floor biting into his knees, but John manages. Dean makes soft little
noises of pain with each thrust, but his breathing is already better. John
isn’t sure if he’s ever heard  more beautiful sounds than this, his son coming
back to the world of the living.
“Stop it,” Sam says weakly from where he’s propped against the wall, and John’s
heart breaks. Sam will understand when it’s all said and done.
John nuzzles Dean’s cheek and talks softly in his ear. “Don’t you leave me,
kid. Don’t you leave. Sammy needs you. I need you. Don’t leave us.”
Dean shivers. Warmth and color slowly return to his body. He moans and shudders
like he’s starting to feel pleasure despite the pain.
“That’s my boy, come on.”
Dean frowns as more awareness comes back to him.  He fumbles with his hands and
pushes at John’s chest, trying to push him away. John pins his wrists against
the floor and fucks him harder, just as Dean’s eyes begin to clear.
“Dad? Dad, what the - oh,  fuck... ” He trails off into a moan. John covers
Dean’s mouth with his hand, he knows he won’t be able to bear it if Dean begs
him to stop.
Dean’s cock twitches between their bellies. His eyes grow wide and soft and
guileless. Bottle green, just like his mother’s. He breathes harder and makes
wordless pleas. John shushes him quietly and tries to spur himself on toward
orgasm. He comes abruptly and bites his lip hard to keep from groaning too
loud. He spills his release deep inside of Dean and feels something else leave
him too, the life force Dean needs to survive the curse.
John shrinks back from his son a little too quickly, and Dean winces as his
hole is emptied. He looks dazed and ruined and his cock is pink and aroused,
laying on his thigh. He’s watching John with such betrayal in his expression
that John might puke.
To their left, Sam slumps to the floor. John swears and moves toward the boy,
nearly tripping as his jeans slide down his thighs. His cock has gone soft and
his refractory time isn’t what it used to be, and Sam’s running out of time.
“Let me,” Dean says, trying to get to his feet. “Let me do it. He won’t be so
scared if it’s me.”
“No,” John warns, fisting his cock desperately.
“You’re not even hard, Dad. I gotta do it.” Dean stumbles over. He braces
himself against the wall.
“Your soul isn’t strong enough yet, it could kill you!”
Dean doesn’t seem to be deterred by his father’s words, he sinks to his knees
anyway. John extends his free arm to keep Dean away from his brother, but Dean
has different intentions. He pulls John’s hand from his cock and slides it into
his mouth.
John lets out a startled noise and goes still, and  oh god,  Dean has done this
before, he’s a goddamn pro at sucking cock -
He pulls off with a sloppy noise and glares at John. “You’re not getting hard
fast enough. Move out of the way.” He shoves John aside and then kisses his
brother.
Dean kisses Sammy again and John looks away; he tucks his cock into his
underwear and zips up. He doesn’t realize Dean is talking to him until Dean
kicks at him with a dirty bare foot.
“Give me your damn jacket,” Dean growls. “I don’t wanna scrape up his back.”
John complies, and Dean spreads the leather jacket out and lays Sam out on it.
With Dean’s back in view, John can see his skin has been scraped raw because
John failed to show him the same courtesy. His heart aches with guilt.
“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, before spitting on his fingers and pushing
them into Sam’s hole. Sam whimpers and Dean apologizes again, nuzzling his
hair. “I know it hurts, Sammy. I’ll try to go easy on you.”
Dean doesn’t struggle to keep it up, he doesn’t even hesitate. He embraces his
brother as a lover and rocks into him with care. John should look away, he
knows he should, but he can’t.
Sam mewls soft noises as his brother fucks him, and when the curse begins to
recede he holds onto Dean. He digs his nails into the raw skin of Dean’s back,
and though Dean hisses with pain he doesn’t make Sam stop, even when he draws
blood. Sam’s toes curl and he moans out his brother’s name and John knows he
should be disgusted but instead he feels relieved.
John shuts his eyes but he can still hear them, how they breathe and moan, and
the soft slap of Dean’s hips thrusting against Sam’s ass. Dean murmurs
something low and loving but John doesn’t quite catch it. Then Sam starts
begging, but he isn’t begging Dean to stop, he begs for more -  more, Dean
please, harder, Dean please -  and then he cries out as he comes and Dean
follows soon after and the cure is finished and they are safe.
They kiss, afterward. John hears it and tells himself it’s only because of
teenage hormones. He gets up and looks for their clothes, finds them stuffed
into a crawl space in the wall, along with the clothes and possessions of the
incubus’s other victims. The fly of Sam’s jeans has been torn and ruined, and
Dean’s boxers are in shreds. John wishes he could have made the creature suffer
more before it died.
When John comes back, the boys are standing and Dean has draped the leather
jacket around Sam’s shoulders. They mutter thanks and dress gingerly, keeping
their eyes down. John wants to wrap his arms around them and tell them he’s
sorry, but he knows he’s too perverse to touch them now. He wants to tell them
they shouldn’t be ashamed, but the words are stuck in his throat. He wants to
kneel and beg for their forgiveness,but he knows he doesn’t deserve it. He
fixes his eyes on a spot on the floor, and then realizes it’s a cumstain.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah, Dean.”
“I’m sorry. The fucker got the drop on me and --”
John sighs. “Don’t. It’s not your fault.”
Dean doesn’t answer, which means he absolutely believes this whole mess is his
fault. He slings his arm around Sam protectively and guides him up the stairs
and out to the car. John follows. He wonders how long suffering will dog his
family’s heels.
End Notes
     Thank you for reading! Feedback of all kinds is appreciated as
     always.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
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