Splintered, Part V, Supernatural, NC-17

[phantisma]

Fandom:  Supernatural
Title:  Splintered, Part V (Part I Here, Part II Here, Part III Here, Part IV Here)
Characters/Pairing:  John/Dean, Dean/Sam, John/Dean/Sam
Rating:  VERY NC-17
Word Count:  20,787 (total)
Summary:  Dean is always in the middle, struggling to hold his family together, to take care of his father and Sam...no matter what that means...no matter what that costs.

Warnings & A/Ns:  Written for johnsgillygirl who bought me in the Sweet Charity Auction.  Please read the Pairings and understand that this includes father/son incest as well as brother incest.  This is also dubious con/non-con (depending on how you read Dean's choices) and contains under age sex (Dean's 16 when it begins.  Sam is 15 when sexual interaction begins with him).  This is dark and scary and creepy and not a John I'd like to encounter. 

Big thanks to my betas and hand holders: 

varkelton, ysbail, and shotofjack

It’s easier after the first time.  Your resistance is worn down and he seems to know…tells you he loves you…tells you it’s going to be okay…and you want to believe him…you want it to be okay…want it so bad you can taste it…it burns in your belly with your father’s come and the tequila you drink to eliminate the taste.  The bathroom mirror in the new place is fractured…and you think maybe its reflection…your splintered face…is more real than you are…that maybe it really is you…fractured…splintered…and the only reason you’re still in one piece is the frame of Sam and Dad that holds you together…

Fresno, of all places is where it all came together…or all fell apart.  Dean wasn’t sure which was more true.  Fresno, with a rash of demon possessions that lead to a rash of unpredictable crime.

It was hot and sticky and John left Sam and Dean languishing in an apartment barely big enough for the three of them to not bounce off one another while he hunted.  Money was tight and Dean took to hustling pool at night, dragging Sam off to a different bar every other night.  When they’d pull themselves into the apartment at 2am, it was still near 90 degrees and they’d share a cool shower before crashing into bed.

They’d been there two weeks, and Dean had seen his father maybe twice.  He was only wearing boxers as he collapsed on the couch.  It groaned in protest as he sank deep into the cushion.  Sam fell in beside him, his left hand automatically falling against the bare flesh of his brother’s leg, his right hand holding a bottle of beer.

“Sam…it’s too hot.”  Dean flung his brother’s hand away, but Sam dropped it back onto him, a little higher up his thigh.

“Never thought I’d hear Dean Winchester turning down sex because of the heat.”  Sam said wryly, staring at the television.

Dean took his hand and tugged at it.  “This isn’t an offer of sex, Sam.  This is.”  He put Sam’s hand flush with his cock, which sort of lifted itself in interest.

Sam grinned and squeezed with that hand.  “Then I wonder what you’d consider this.”  Sam lifted the sweating beer bottle and poured icy cold beer over his brother’s chest.  Dean hissed at the contact, but before he could move, Sam was on top of him, licking it up.

If his dick was sort of interested in Sam’s hand, it was definitely looking up at the feeling of Sam’s tongue lapping over his abs.  Sam poured more beer, this time soaking Dean’s boxers, and the cold cotton settling over his cock was enough to make it sit up and take notice.  Sam licked and kissed over the waistband, sucking at the material, at Dean’s cock through the material.

Sam grinned up at him as Dean moaned and adjusted his position, opening his legs so that Sam could rearrange himself.  Sam slipped down to one knee and slowly worked Dean’s boxers down until he’d released his cock.  It bobbed between them, until Sam’s tongue moved closer…until Sam’s tongue slid up to the tip and circled around it…then his mouth was just engulfing him.

Dean’s head fell back against the back of the couch, letting Sam work up and down his cock, and trying not to thrust up into his throat…trying and not entirely succeeding.  He moaned wordlessly and fisted one hand in the ratty blanket covering the stained seat cushions and the other in Sam’s hair.

Neither of them heard the door when it opened.

They both heard it when it slammed shut.  Sam was up and on his feet in a split second, whirling to face the door.  John Winchester stood just inside the apartment, fury and disgust rolling off of him.  Dean struggled back into his boxers, his slippery wet erection not really assisting him.  He managed to get to his feet…but his brain was stuck. 

“Dad…I…we…”  He shook his head.  What could he say?

“Dean.  What the hell is going on?”

“It isn’t Dean’s fault.”  Sam said, shifting so he was standing between Dean and their father.

“No Sam?  Last I checked he was the older brother.  The one who should know it isn’t right.”

Sam snorted and Dean reached for him, suddenly knowing where this was going to go.  “Sam.  No.  Stop.”

Sam shook him off. “That’s rich, coming from you Dad.”

“You gonna blame me for this Sam?  I’m sorry, I don’t see how this is my fault.”

“No you don’t, but I can fix that.”

Sam was angry, Dean realized slowly.  “Sam.  Let it go.  Dad…you’re right.  It’s sick and wrong and I shouldn’t—“

“As I recall Dean, you didn’t.  I was the one who came after you.”  Sam said, though his eyes never left John’s.  “Someone had to take care of you…he certainly wasn’t doing it.”  Sam pointed at John with his chin. 

John glowered at them, his hands in fists.  “You got something to say to me, boy, you better say it before I come over there and beat it out of you.”

“You…you and your damn, fucking hunts and heroics.  Don’t tell me you don’t realize how much time you’re missing…all those holes in your memory?  Went after that fucking incubus in Boston, came home all fucked up.  Bobby asked you to wait for him…told you he’d back you up, but you had to do it on your own.”

“Boston?  Sam, what the hell are you talking about?”

Some of John’s fury had drained, but Sam was just getting started.  “The incubus Dad.  It got you.  We’re not sure how…but its blood got inside you. And when you came home you fixated on Dean.”

“Sam, stop.”  Dean pulled on his arm.  “Let it go.  It’s okay.”

“No.  Dean.  It’s time he knew.  It’s time he understands what you’ve done to protect him.”

Dean’s stomach churned.  No.  It would kill his father…just as sure as if he pulled the trigger.  “Sam…it’s okay.  We don’t have to do this.”

Sam turned away from John for the first time since the door slamming, raising a tender hand to Dean’s cheek.  “We can make it better, Dean…we can make it right again…us, all of us together.”

Dean couldn’t make the words make sense.  He shook his head, and started to say something, but Sam was gone, moving over to their father.  “You don’t remember.  Probably never will.  It comes and goes, flares up like a virus you can’t cure.  When it comes, there’s only one way to make it go away.  Dean has to make it go away.”

John’s face was ashen, his eyes rising to Dean’s.  “What is your brother saying, Dean?  What have I done to you?”

Dean shook his head.  “No, no…Dad…it’s me…I shouldn’t have…but you were so…hurting.  You were hurting.”

“Maybe you should sit down.”  Sam said, and John nodded.  When he was on the couch, Sam sat on the coffee table in front of him.  “It started with hand jobs.  Dean would jerk you off.”

John’s eyes closed, his face pained.  “As far as I can figure it, the blow jobs didn’t start until Montgomery.”  Sam said. 

His words were like a blow to the gut for Dean…he’d spent so long hiding it all…and Sam was just laying it bare.  “Now, before you get angry at Dean for lying to you about it, remember he’s only doing this to protect you.”

“Protect me?”  John choked out, looking up. 

Sam reached out for his father’s hands. “If anyone outside our family knew, Dad, if other hunters knew, they’d put you down.  There isn’t a cure.  We’ve searched.  There’s nothing.”

“Dean?”

He could feel the splinters coming apart, little bits of himself falling to the floor.  It should make noise…but there was only the sound of the three of them breathing.  He nodded, as if that was an answer to the question in his father’s voice.  “I tried Dad…but it isn’t a demon…and it…it…”

“No one can blame you, Dad.  It isn’t really your fault…it’s like a virus…makes you need it.  But it was really fucking Dean up…and he needed me.”

Dean looked at Sam.  There was such conviction in his voice.  He believed his words were true.  Believed Dean needed him to…do the things he’d done.  And something in knowing that made Dean splinter just a little more.

John was shaking.  “Are you telling me that I’ve…that you’ve…touched me that way for the last…what? Four years?”

“It escalated slowly.” Sam said, holding John’s hands.  “The incuntabus attack in Montgomery didn’t help.”

“Dean?” 

Dean nodded and moved to sit beside him.  He let one hand fall on his father’s thigh. 

“What…what have I done?”

“It doesn’t matter, Dad.”  Dean said.

“It does.”  John’s eyes were wet with unshed tears.  “How far…I mean…”

It was Sam who answered, squeezing his hands.  “Yes, Dad.  Since Chicago.  When blow jobs weren’t enough.”

“I won’t let it take you away from us.  I made that decision when I realized what the options were.”  Dean said, cutting off his father’s reaction to that revelation.

“What options?”  John’s voice was shaky, trembling in a way Dean had never heard.

“We give you what you need whenever it flares up, or we let you hurt others trying to satisfy the need…or we kill you.” Sam said softly.

John took a deep, shuddering breath.  “You should have killed me.”  John said.  “Should have fucking killed me, Dean.”  He tried to pull his hands away, but Sam held them.  “Before I…”  He shook his head, couldn’t say the words.

Dean closed his eyes and leaned in close.  “No, Dad.  No.  We need you.  We need you here with us.”

“I don’t want to hurt you…I don’t want to be a monster.”  A single tear slipped from John’s eye and before Dean could think about it, he leaned in and kissed it away.  John stiffened.

Sam slipped to one knee, dropping John’s hands and moving in close beside Dean.  “Let us help you.” Sam whispered.  “Let us make it okay.”  He brushed a kiss over Dean’s face, then turned his head and brushed his lips over John’s.

John stiffened even more, and Sam’s hand slid up into his hair, tilting his head as he pressed his lips in for more.  Dean watched his father fight, watched Sam hold on until John loosened up just a little.  “It’s okay, Dad…it’s going to be okay.”  Sam whispered, his free hand stroking over John’s face. 

“Sam.”  John’s voice was a dark growl, not dissimilar to the sound it had when he said Dean’s name while buried deep inside him. 

Sam pulled Dean in, directed him up, urged him to kiss their father.  His lips were dry and tight and Dean glazed over them with his own.  Kissing wasn’t something they did…the only time had been in that alley in Montgomery.  Dean swallowed and closed his eyes and let Sam’s hand guide him back, slanting his mouth over his father’s, letting his tongue glide over his full bottom lip.  “It’s okay, Dad…I’m here.  I’ve got you.”  Dean whispered, falling easily into the mantra that held him together on those nights. 

“No…no…”  John pushed up, off the couch.  “This is wrong…dirty.  Fuck!”  He paced away, over to the door and back.  “You…we end this.”

Dean was up fast, faster than Sam, trying to reach his father before his father reached the gun in the drawer in the kitchen.  “We end this now.”  John had the gun and thrust it at him.  Dean looked down at the heavy metal in his hands.  “You do what you should have done.  You do the right thing.  You shoot me now, Dean.”

Dean shook his head.  Sam was behind him, his arms slipping around Dean’s waist, his head on Dean’s shoulder.  “No, Dad.”  Dean put the gun on the table.  “I’ll take you…this…however wrong it is, over losing you…over losing the good that you do.”

John shook his head miserably.  “The good can never repay for this…you’re my son…my god Dean, what have I done to you?”

Together Sam and Dean took two steps closer.  “Truthfully, Dad?  You’ve needed me, and every step of the way I gave you what you needed, willingly.”  He reached for John, reached out to touch him and John flinched.  “I wait for you, when I know.  When it’s one of those nights…I wait because I want it.  I want you.  I’ll do anything for you.  Do you hear me Dad?”

John shook his head, tears falling.  Dean knew the feeling…it was everything he felt when Sam touched him the first time.  “We love you.” Sam said, his voice barely above a whisper.

John’s arms folded around his stomach, his eyes squeezed shut.  “Stop.” 

Sam disentangled himself from Dean and went to him, slipping between Dean and their father, both hands holding John’s face.  He kissed over the tear stained skin, and Dean could imagine the tiny flicks of tongue, tasting the salty sting.  He stepped up behind Sam, his turn to slide arms around his waist and press in against him. 

This was so many kinds of fucked up…but now that he knew, they had to make it okay… had to make it good…or they’d wake up and find that John Winchester had finished his final hunt…and the whole fucking mess would have been for nothing.

Dean reached around Sam, his hand sliding up against his father.  He wasn’t hard, but his dick knew Dean’s touch and Dean knew his way around it…knew that his father liked it when he pressed in on the base, just where it gave way to his balls…knew the tender spot just under the head…

“Dean…God…Dean, stop.”

“No.”  Dean unzipped him, despite the hands trying to push him away.  His hand closed around it, then he moved, guiding Sam to one side and going to one knee.  His father bucked, but Sam was already soothing him, kisses and touches and soft words Dean couldn’t quite make out.  Dean looked up, at his father’s face.  There were touches of the darkness there…something in the arousal bringing it into his eyes. 

He was fighting it, now that he understood what it was, now that he could recognize it.  “It’s okay…just let it come.  We’ll take care of you.”  Dean opened his mouth and slid it down over his father’s cock, and he felt his father try to pull away, felt the shudder as he twisted his mouth over the head and then there was a hand in his hair, pushing him faster.  Hips thrust forward.

Dean dared a glance up and John’s other hand was wrapped in Sam’s hair, holding his head while they kissed…Dean’s cock was stirring back to life and he reached for it, but his father’s fist in his hair pulled at him, and Dean looked up.

His face was dark, but not slack…the fever was there in his eyes, but he wasn’t gone from them, not like before…the need warred with his disgust, and won. 

“Bedroom.”  John’s voice ordered, that familiar growl sending a shiver down Dean’s back.  In all the years since it had started they’d never done it in a bed.  John kept one hand on the back of Sam’s neck, as Dean led the way into John’s room…and stopped, an arousal unlike anything he’d ever known sweeping through him.

John kissed Sam roughly and pushed him toward the bed.  “On your back.”

Sam peeled off his boxers and laid down on the bed, spreading his legs obscenely.  John was pulling off his clothes, another first.  Dean was starting to panic, when John pushed him toward Sam.  “Wanna see you…”

Dean stumbled forward, his heart pounding.  Sam leered up at him as he moved closer, dropping his wet boxers and suddenly realizing they didn’t have lube.  “Check the drawer.” Dean said, his voice scratchy and dry.  Sam wriggled up the bed and pulled open the nightstand drawer, rummaging for a moment before he came up with the bottle of lube Dean had bought months before.

Before Dean could say anything, Sam was back toward the end of the bed squirting lube onto his fingers and reaching for Dean.  He tilted his ass up, his fingers spreading his cheeks.  Dean could feel his father behind him, guiding him.  His hands moved over Dean’s hips, down to his cock, guiding him into Sam.

The lube eased the way, but with no prep, Sam was tight…his face contorted and his breathing hitched…and Dean pulled back, but his father was there, pushing him forward.  “More…Dean…come on…”  Sam encouraged, and Dean breathed out as he finished pushing in. 

“Need…Dean…” John growled behind him and Dean held out his hand to Sam for lube, his hand moving behind him to wrap around his father’s hard cock, slicking him up.

Dean yelled out as his father pushed into him…too much…the combined sensation was too much and the pain sparked behind his eyes as his father’s scruffy chin rubbed across the back of his neck.  Sam’s torso was slick with sweat, his lube-slicked fingers pulling over his own hard on, his eyes squeezed shut.  Dean groaned as his father’s heavy stroke pushed him into Sam, as his teeth grazed over Dean’s shoulder.

It shouldn’t feel this good…it shouldn’t push him to want more…to need more skin against his…it shouldn’t drive him to lick over his brother’s flesh and drag his father’s face closer to kiss him sloppily over his shoulder…but Dean couldn’t stop now, couldn’t remember the reasons he’d fought so hard against this…against what his father needed and what his brother wanted…what his body demanded…couldn’t remember why it was wrong…just more…just this…

Sam came first, his come spurting out over his chest.  John’s hands tightened on Dean’s hips, pushing him forward until Dean could just lick the hot sticky liquid and Sam moaned.  John’s hips snapped forward, pushing Dean deeper into Sam, his come filling Sam’s ass and leaking out around his cock.  John finished last, collapsing forward against Dean.

Then Sam was pulling him, them…pulling and moving up the bed, drawing Dean to lie in the middle of the bed and reaching for John.  He hovered over them, pressing Sam into the bed as he kissed him, then turning to Dean to do the same.

Dean was still panting when John settled between them, Sam curling into their father and reaching for Dean. 

“Dean.”  John’s voice had changed again and Sam lifted up to kiss over his neck.

“Shh…Dad…it’s okay.  Sleep.”  Dean kissed his forehead.  The dark was gone again…and John knew this time…he couldn’t not know…”Not a monster.” Dean whispered, kissing over his face.  “Need you…all for you.”

John whimpered a little even as he was falling into the embrace of his exhaustion.  Dean was vaguely aware of Sam leaving the bed, then coming back to bed, sliding in behind Dean to hold him, nuzzling into his neck.  “Hid it all…no weapons…sleep….he’ll be okay.  We’ll all be okay.”

 

You were sixteen when it started, and no one could lay the blame at your feet, though you do fine taking all the blame yourself…and so does he…the only one not full of blame is Sam…who is happy…who smiles more now than you remember…And it’s so wrong…the way he gives himself to you, the way you can’t help but take what he’s giving…and it’s fucked up…seriously fucked up…but you can’t bring yourself to change your mind…you’re weak…and you let them hold you, let the pressure of them contain your splintered pieces…And Sam is wrong…because this will never be okay…but if it keeps him alive and with you, if it keeps the family together…then it’s something you can live with…