
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/742590.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Sam_Winchester/Other(s)
  Character:
      RoboSam_-_Character, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Prostitution, Memories, RoboSam_being_a_dick, Hurt_Dean_Winchester,
      Mentions_of_Underage, mentions_of_John_Winchester_-_Freeform
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-03-31 Words: 1141
****** Revelation ******
by verucasalt123
Summary
     Sam had his own stories to tell, and this was the time he decided to
     tell them.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
It was another awkward night in a motel. The hunt was done, and there was
really nothing left for Dean to say to his soulless brother. He’d accepted the
fact that Sam hadn’t come back exactly “right” from his time in the Cage. He
knew what was missing, he’d seen firsthand what the results were.
They’d come to terms with the fact that there was no point in Sam pretending to
be something he wasn’t, and Dean had gradually become accustomed to this new
person. He wasn’t Sam, that was for damn sure, but they’d agreed that the
pretense was unnecessary when it was just the two of them.
Unlike most nights, Dean was in a conversational mood. He’d had a few too many
to drink and was rattling off childhood stories in a sloppy, tipsy manner,
thinking T1000 over there on the other bed was just ignoring them. He didn’t
mean to get into the stuff that wasn’t pretty. It was just a natural
progression of his whiskey-addled brain/mouth connection that sent him off in
this direction.
“Lots of times, you know, Dad just didn’t come back when he said he would. Food
ran out, money ran out, I did what I could for you…”, he mumbled, not really
sure where this little talk was headed.
“Dean, I lost my soul, not my memory, you dumbass. I know exactly what you did.
And I know what I did, too. It’s not all pretty, but it’s the truth, and it’s
not like I’m in a state of mind to console you anymore. Yeah, I need you to
have my six, I already told you that, but I’m not going to coddle you. If you
want to talk about that shit, we can talk about it. You’re going to get the
truth, though, and you don’t want the truth, so maybe it’s time for you to shut
your hole and pass out.”
“Man, what the fuck? You’re being a dick when I’m trying to remind you that I
went hungry for days before I found a secret stash of Dad’s cash in our
apartment, or that I risked going to jail so I could shoplift you something
warm when the weather started to turn. You were my brother, asshole.”
“I am your brother, asshole. And I’m saying you’re not the only one who made
sacrifices. You’re not the only one who did things they didn’t want to do so
that we could get by another few days. Dad’s secret stash of money. Honestly,
Dean? Come on.” Sam let out a bitter, low chuckle that sent chills up Dean’s
spine.
“The fuck are you talking about, man?”
“You don’t want to know this, Dean. If you never believe anything else I say,
ever, as long as we live, whether I get my soul back or not, believe that. You
do not want me to give you the answer to that question.”
Dean bristled. “Fuck you, don’t start that shit if you’re not going to end it.
You got something to say, dick, say it.”
“You’re going to regret this, Dean. I said I wasn’t going to fucking coddle
you. Just back off and forget about it, I’m serious.”
“No. You have something to say? You have some kind of deep dark secret that you
never would have told me before you…”, Dean hesitated, not sure exactly how to
finish his sentence, “well, just before. That’s fine. I’m a grown man, just
come on out with it, I remember you as a kid, you’re not going to tell me
anything I can’t deal with.”
“Well, all right”, Sam-not-Sam-RoboSam-no-soul-Sam replied. “I was twelve the
first time. I knew you’d stolen me a coat but there still wasn’t enough food.
I’d seen the boys across the street. I knew what they did.”
Dean didn’t think his heart could break into more pieces than it had already
been smashed into, but he had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going.
Still, he stayed quiet.
“I watched them a day or two, figured out what worked. Then I went out after
you were asleep. I wore clothes that I knew were too small for me. Had to
intimidate a few of the other kids who took exception to me encroaching on
their territory, but that wasn’t hard. The first time was…I can’t really call
up the feeling right now but I think it was scary. I was nervous, maybe,
apprehensive. But I knew what had to be done. We had no Dad, and no food, and
no money. So when the guy pulled up in his car, and offered me $40 to get in, I
said yes. What the hell? $40 was a shitload of money. We could eat for a week
on forty bucks, easily, maybe even longer than that. So I got in. We drove
around the block, I choked on the guy’s cock for ten minutes, did the best I
could not to spit out too much jizz, and took the money.” He stopped there, not
thinking that there was really all that much more to say.
“Twelve? You were fucking twelve, Sammy?”
Sammy. Seriously? Dean hadn’t called him by his name, hadn’t called him Sam,
let alone the sometimes affectionate and sometimes insulting Sammy for weeks.
“Yeah, I was twelve. It was the first time but it wasn’t the last but you’re in
your thirties now, for God’s sake, and I’m not going to let you go on thinking
you miraculously found secret stashes of money that John might have left hidden
in a drawer or a closet in some motel room or month-to-month apartment. You
wanted to know the truth? Fine, there you go. Truth. Maybe I’m a soulless
bastard, and maybe you don’t want to acknowledge that I’m in some way still
your brother, but I’m not going to lie to you now. No point, really.”
He waited for a response and didn’t get one. So he added, “Just something that
had to be done, man, don’t flip out or anything. Wasn’t any worse than the
first time I had to slash an iron bar through the restless spirit of a six year
old, and that wasn’t even six months later.”
Dean was reeling. He thought he had a handle on it for a few seconds, but then
made a mad dash for the bathroom, where he puked and then dry-heaved for a
solid half an hour.
So, he still had these protective feelings for his little brother. The little
brother who didn’t exist anymore.
Or maybe he did.
Sam didn’t feel any remorse for having recounted this bit of his history for
Dean. He did, in some abstract and hard-to-understand way, feel something when
Dean started throwing up.
Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Too late now.
End Notes
     Written for kinkmeme prompt ages ago.
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