Don't Leave Me, Supernatural, NC-17
Mar. 26th, 2008 08:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Don't Leave Me
Pairing/Characters: Dean, Sam, Sam/OMCs, John.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4124
Summary: John disappeared and Dean is left to take care of Sam. When Dean gets himself into big trouble with a bad guy, it's up to Sam to bail him out, but the consequences that follow spiral out of control when John shows back up. This is the sequel to Don't Go Out Tonight and Don't Say No, and Don't Say You're Sorry
A/Ns & Warnings: This is Hooker!fic. Dean is hooking to make money for him and Sam to live on. This is pimp!fic, in that Dean has to give Sam to the guy who he owes money. It is underage (Sam is 17). There is no real sex in this, only the implication that it happened. This is very dark and angsty. Apparently this has also sort of spawned a verse...because everytime I think I reached the end, I realize there's more story to tell.
Sam didn’t ask where Dean stole the sleeping pills. He took them and swallowed them down and curled up in a ball and he slept. The whole weekend was a blur of sleep and showers.
Monday morning Sam woke to a cold panic. Sometimes it was the feeling of Dean’s body in the bed behind his that did it. Other times, it was the absence of Dean’s body in the bed behind his.
Dean’s touch was light on his forehead. Sam opened his eyes to find Dean squatting beside the bed fully dressed. Sam looked at the clock. He was late for school.
“Easy, I already called you in sick. Sleep, pull yourself together. You can go tomorrow.”
Normally Sam would have argued. Instead, he just nodded.
“I have a few errands to run, okay? I’ll be gone a few hours.”
Dean kissed his forehead and Sam closed his eyes, willing himself back to sleep.
Dean shut the door to the apartment, checking the lock. He had nearly $800 in his pocket, and he had every intention of buying some beat up piece of shit car that would get them far enough away they could forget they ever met Mosely Aims.
But not before Mosely Aims came to regret the day he’d ever laid eyes on the Winchester brothers.
Dean wasn’t so much running errands as he was hunting. He’d spent large parts of the weekend watching Mosely and his operation and planning. Whatever he did it had to be untraceable to him or Sam. It had to be quick and it had to be justice. Any number of messy, ugly deaths would make Dean happy.
As long as Sam never knew. He’d do the deed and leave town the same day. Soon. Very soon.
Sam wasn’t really sleeping anymore…he just couldn’t bring himself to get up. He huddled under blankets, sweating in two layers of clothes. He wanted Dean to come home. He didn’t want to be alone.
The knock on the door startled him. So did the voice that followed. “Dean?”
Sam got out of bed and shuffled cautiously across the floor, peering through the peep hole to confirm his suspicion. His heart raced and he had to fight to control the panic. He opened the door slowly.
“Dad?”
John Winchester grinned at him, pushing the door open and stepping inside, then frowning. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“Yeah, hi to you too.” Sam said, shutting the door. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
His father pulled him into a hug and Sam did his best not to stiffen, not to panic. This wasn’t Mosely, or one of his goons. This was his father. “It’s good to see you boy.”
Sam couldn’t quite bring himself to say the same. He was supposed to have time…to adjust, to put it behind him. “I thought you said you’d be a few weeks.”
John nodded and dumped his duffle on the beat up couch. “Got some help, wrapped it up. Where’s your brother?”
Sam shuffled back toward the bed. “Out. Errands or something. Said he’d be back soon.” He crawled into bed and pulled the blanket up. “There’s coffee, and there should be some food in the fridge.”
Inside, his heart was hammering. He was going to know. He was going to look at him and just know. He closed his eyes.
He didn’t sense his father moving closer, not until the bed dipped and his hand touched Sam’s head. “You okay?”
“Tired.” Sam choked the word out.
“Me too, drove all night. Mind sharing with your old man?”
He wanted to say yes that he did mind…that the idea terrified him, but he just burrowed in deeper, and let his father interpret the silence however he wanted. Sam heard the dull thud of boots hitting the floor, felt the bed shift as his father stood to pull off his jeans, then laid down, stretching out on Dean’s side of the bed.
He fought the panic that rose in his stomach, the feeling of dirty that had become so much a part of him. He waited until his father’s breathing evened out and settled, then slid from the bed to head to the bathroom. He had to get clean before his father saw the truth.
He stood under the hot water until it started to run cold, then climbed out and dried off. His body didn’t hurt as much as it had. He decided that was a good sign. He stepped out of the bathroom and looked at the lump of his father on the bed.
Better, but not ready for John Winchester. Sam dressed as quietly as he could, left a note for Dean on the table, telling him he’d gone to pick up his homework from school. He grabbed his backpack and headed out. He’d get to school just as the last bell was ringing.
Sam kept his head down as he walked, stepping around the usual obstacles, bums sleeping on the sidewalk, drug deals he didn’t want to know about, whores already starting to gather on the streets near hooker alley. He’d seen Dean there once. Down hooker alley on his knees. He didn’t know. Sam couldn’t bring himself to tell him.
He averted his eyes now when he walked past. He rounded the corner and bounded across the street, angling behind the drug store to hit the back door of the high school.
The halls were mostly empty, last class not quite done. Sam headed to his locker, propping his back pack up to pull out his books. He hadn’t done any of his homework, but it wouldn’t take him much to catch up.
If they didn’t just take off. Dean had had that look in his eye since…well, since Friday night. Since Sam had gotten him square with Mosely. Sam shook it off. He wasn’t going to think about that. Dean wanted to go. Sam wasn’t entirely sure he disagreed.
And now, their father was back. They could just go.
He sighed and fished out his calculus notebook, shoving it into his now empty backpack. As he did, an envelope fell out and landed on the floor. Sam frowned and squatted down to get it.
He’d forgotten it.
It was there in the mailbox on Friday morning, all alone. Like it had come after the regular mail on Thursday or something. Dean usually got the mail in the afternoon, but Sam always checked on his way out in the morning, just in case.
He turned it over twice, then shoved it in his pocket before grabbing his assignment book and heading for Mr. Glenn’s class. No point hauling books around until he knew what assignments there were.
The bell rang just as he reached the door. Kids poured out of rooms all around him.
“Look Tyrone, the little girl whore is finally recovered from her big night.”
Sam sighed and fought the urge to turn around. “Where’s your skirt, Sweetcheeks?”
Sam’s face blushed red. Rick grabbed him and Sam pulled away, surging closer to the door. “Come on baby, we just want a little taste.”
Sam turned, his eyes flashing over Rick and Tyrone. “Back off.”
“Or what? Your pimp going to come beat us up?”
Sam didn’t know how they knew what they knew. “No, but I might.” His hands were tight fists and they laughed.
“My brother showed us a really interesting movie this weekend.” Tyrone said, leering at Sam. “The Making of a Cheap Whore in Three Easy Steps.”
“Sam, is there a problem?”
They looked up at Mr. Glenn. “No problem.” Sam said.
Rick laughed. “Hey, we’ll catch you later, Sweetcheeks.”
Sam shook his head and exhaled slowly. “Hey, Mr. Glenn. I was hoping…well…” He pulled the envelope out of his pocket and held it up. “I can’t look.”
The teacher grinned and nodded. “Come on in.” He pulled the door shut behind him. “You sure?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. Go on.”
Mr. Glenn reached for the letter opener on his desk and ripped the envelope open. His eyes scanned the letter and his grin broadened. “Congratulations, Sam.”
Sam exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Really? I got in?”
“Not just in.” Mr. Glenn handed the piece of paper across to Sam. “They’re offering you a full scholarship.”
“What?” Sam grabbed the paper. Just like that, everything changed. His eyes skimmed over the page, then up to his teacher. “Stanford. It’s…unreal.”
“No, it’s very real. I’m very proud of you.”
“I don’t even know what to say.” Not to mention how he was going to tell their father…or Dean. His happiness dimmed a little at the thought. He couldn’t leave Dean. No, Dean would come with him. They could find a place and they could make it work. For the moment he chose to ignore his father.
“So, you weren’t in class today?”
Sam tore himself out of his fantasy of him and Dean in California and nodded. “I was sick to my stomach this morning. I…um…I’m feeling better.”
“Yeah, I’d feel better too. You sure that’s all? Nothing you want to tell me?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “No, I’m good. I just came in to get homework assignments so I can get caught up.”
“You want a ride home? I’m headed your way.”
“No, thanks. I’m just getting started. I’ll walk.”
“Just watch your back, okay Sam? Rick and Tyrone…they’re bad news.”
“Yeah. I know. Thanks again Mr. Glenn.”
Dean unlocked the door, then froze. Sam wasn’t there, but someone was. He pulled the gun from his boot and moved in cautiously. Two steps in he dropped the gun. His father grinned at him from the kitchen.
“Nice reflexes.”
Dean shut the door. “It’s a rough neighborhood.” He dropped his keys on the table and hugged his father. “Good to see you.”
“You too.” John patted his back, then stepped back. “I started some dinner.”
“Where’s Sam?”
John shook his head. “He must have been feeling better. Left a note saying he was going to the school to pick up his homework.”
Dean looked out the window. It was starting to get dark. He scratched his head. “How long ago?”
John shook his head. “Not sure. I crashed out pretty hard.”
He didn’t like the idea of Sam out on the streets alone after dark. Not when half the neighborhood knew…”I should go check up on him.”
“He’s a big boy.” John countered, turning back to the stove.
“Like I said, rough neighborhood. He’s been getting some trouble from…” From men that Dean should have protected him from. “I’m just gonna go look for him. I’ll be back before long.” He snatched up his keys, then stopped. “We were leaving. Just so you know. I planned to be gone tomorrow or the next day.”
“Doesn’t Sam have a semester to finish?”
Dean ran a hand over his face. “He can finish it somewhere else. I need to get him out of this place.”
John turned back to face him, concern washing over his face. “Is it that bad?”
“It’s bad Dad. Bad like we haven’t had before.” Dean tried to stop himself, tried, but the anger bubbled up inside him. “Where the fuck were you?”
“New Orleans.” John responded, stepping toward him now. “What’s going on Dean?”
Dean shook his head. “No. No, I’m handling it. Just be ready to move.”
He headed out the door, surprised when his father’s hand closed around his wrist. “You better tell me.”
“Only if you tell me why you’ve been gone for ten fucking months.” Dean countered. His father let go of him.
“I’ll come with you.”
Dean shook his head. “I’ve been taking care of him all this time. I’ll deal with it.”
He left his father standing in the doorway and headed toward the school. Fear nibbled at him. He doubted Mosely would bother Sam…but those kids from school might. Especially since Dean had found out that the brother of one of them was one of the fuckers Mosely had let fuck Sam on Friday.
The rumor on the street was that Mosely wanted to add Sam to his stable of street whores…and he was willing to do almost anything to drive him to it.
It wouldn’t happen. Not if Dean had anything to say about it. In fact, if Dean had any say, Mosely wouldn’t be getting it up anytime soon. It had taken him all day to get the spell finished and the mojo bags stashed where they would do the most good. It was step one of his plan.
A plan that might just get derailed with his father back in town.
Dean was watching the street. With the coming of the dark, it should be busier than this. The normal whores were scarce. Drug dealers were keeping to the shadows.
He was almost to hooker alley.
It was a deep gash of an alley, widening into a triangle toward the back, with a filthy old mattress and a broken-down couch and plenty of wall space for illicit transactions. Dean had used it more than once when he was desperate.
Normally one or another of the local big boys kept watch on the alley, making sure things didn’t get out of hand. Dean didn’t see any of them yet, but it was early. There was laughter and a group of young men appeared at the mouth of the alley, two of them still zipping up, one of them tossing a used condom behind him.
One of them was staring at Dean and Dean stopped, looking back. He recognized the little shit from the altercation on Friday. Rick. That’s what Sam had called him. The ring leader of the little pack that had been harassing Sam.
The kid grinned at Dean, kissed two fingers and held them up in salute, then they all turned and headed off toward Mosely’s club. Dean shook his head and started to walk past the alley once they were all gone.
He glanced aside, half curious to see who the boys had been with, half wondering if they’d left the poor woman able to even walk.
There was a groan. Dean stopped cold. His heart stopped. No.
A shadow lurched.
No.
Dean took two steps into the alley. “Oh my god. No.” He ran deeper, crashing to his knees. Sam cringed away from him.
“Don’t look. Don’t…”
His jeans were around his knees, his shirt hanging off him. His face was bruised and bleeding and swollen, his lip split and he was drooling blood and semen from his mouth. He was holding his stomach.
“Sam…don’t…don’t move.”
All around Sam was blood stained money. He sagged onto one hip. “Okay…okay…Just hold on Sammy. I’ll…I’ll get you to the hospital.”
“No!” Sam grabbed at him frantically. His fingers were bloody, the skin of his palms torn. “I can be okay…I can…” He wouldn’t look at Dean. “Not a whore, Dean.”
“I know Sammy. I know you’re not.” Dean took a deep breath. He needed to get an idea how bad it was. “I’m going to check you over, okay?”
Sam nodded.
Dean felt like he was going to be sick. He turned first to Sam’s face. It looked like he’d been slammed face first into the wall. The nose was broken, and judging from the misshapen swelling under his left eye, his cheek bone might be as well. A few teeth were broken and it looked like he’d bitten his tongue.
Dean reached for the shirt and it just fell off Sam. His ribs were already bruising, purples and blues and greens blossoming from his arm pit down to his hip. “Fuck. Okay, I’m moving behind you.” Dean shifted, and had to drag in air to keep from throwing up. His brother’s ass was open and oozing blood. He reached up to steady him and stopped. “Oh my god.”
“They cut me.” Sam said, the words slurring around his swollen tongue.
Dean nodded, though Sam couldn’t see him. “I see, Sammy.” His back was a bloody mess. The word “whore” carved into his skin. “Okay, let’s get you into your jeans.” He eased them up to cover Sam’s ass. “God, Sam. It’s bad. Okay? I’m going to get us a cab. Do you think you can walk?”
Sam reached for him to be helped up, but he stopped half way up. “Get the money.”
“No.” Dean shook his head and slipped an arm under Sam’s shoulder to support him.
“I earned it. Let them…” He closed his eyes. “They were going to do it…figured it would hurt less…” Sam’s eyes rolled closed and his body went slack against Dean’s.
“Fuck. Sammy, stay with me.” Dean struggled down the alley to the street. He’d had his own share of rough tricks, but nothing like this. “Fuck.” He spotted a cop and flagged him down.
He could see him on the radio before he even came to a stop. “Ambulance is coming.” Dean nodded and eased Sam down. “Trick go bad?”
“I’m the whore, not him.” Dean said, miffed. “This was rape, a big group of guys, go to high school with him.”
“Did you see it happen?”
Dean shook his head. “Got here as they were leaving.”
“Can you identify them?”
“Maybe.” But there was no way in hell he was turning them over to the cops. No, he’d fuck each and every one of them himself.
There were sirens. Sam stirred, grabbing for Dean. “Don’t leave me.”
“Not going anywhere.” Dean said, even as the EMT’s piled out of the ambulance and started assessing Sam. His hand went slack and they were hustling him into the van. Dean sat next to him, holding his hand and whispering that he wasn’t ever going to leave him.
John turned off the food on the stove when Dean and Sam hadn’t come back in almost an hour. He was just thinking he should get in the car and look for them when there was a knock on the door.
He opened it, but no one was there. Then he looked down and found a brown paper bag, the top folded down. He looked around for whoever had dropped it, but there was no one around. After a few minutes, he leaned over and picked it up, bringing it inside with him and opening the bag.
Inside was a note and a video tape. He unfolded the paper. “Sweetcheeks…you’ve got a future. Come see me when you’re ready for the next step.”
John looked for a signature or identifying mark but there was nothing. Just the video. He shook his head and put it down, figuring it was dropped at the wrong apartment.
He reached into his pocket for keys to the Impala, then stopped. Something was wrong. Both boys were acting strangely. John dropped the keys back into his pocket and reached for the video.
“Sam, don’t you leave me. You hear me?” Dean said fervently in Sam’s ear as they reached the hospital. Sam was in and out of consciousness. The EMTs were talking about internal bleeding and stuff Dean wasn’t really following.
He was covered in Sam’s blood, following the gurney into the ER.
They made him stop at the swinging double doors. “Wait here. Let us help him.”
“He’s my brother.”
The nurse smiled and guided him to some chairs. “Let us help your brother. Someone will be out shortly.”
Dean nodded, though he’d stopped really comprehending anything when Sam’s eyes went cold and dark in the ambulance. “Don’t leave me.” Dean whispered, sinking into the chair and holding his breath.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when someone was touching his shoulder. “Are you Dean?”
He nodded and stood. “Yeah, Dean Winchester. My brother, Sam?”
The doctor nodded, her face showing concern. “He’s stable, for the moment…but I have to tell you…it isn’t good. We’re prepping him for surgery. There’s a lot of internal bleeding. It looks like there is damage to his stomach and kidney, five broken ribs, and there’s concern about his left lung.”
Dean shook his head. “Surgery? I…he’s going to be okay, right?”
“A lot will depend on what the surgeon finds once he gets inside. I’m not going to lie to you Dean. He’s in bad shape.”
“I want to see him.”
She nodded. “You’ve got about five minutes before they take him up to surgery. Follow me.”
He looked so small, so young, there on the bed. He was laying on his back, and all Dean could think was that his back was bad too. Sam’s eyes were half open. IVs ran into his arm and his hands were bandaged.
“Sam?”
He blinked and Dean moved to stand beside him. “Hey, they’re taking good care of you okay? I’m just…I’m going to be right here.”
“Don’t tell Dad. Don’t…he can’t know Dean.”
“Shh…you worry about you. I’ll worry about Dad.”
“It’s time, let’s get you upstairs.” Two orderlies and the lady doctor came in and started moving Sam’s gurney.
“I’ll be right here.” Dean called after him, watching until the elevator doors closed.
Dad. Fuck. Dean was going to have to call him.
He headed back to the lobby and the pay phones. He pulled out some change and dialed the number, half expecting it to dump to voice mail.
“Where the fuck are you?” There was a warning in his voice. Dean almost couldn’t speak.
“Hospital.” He cleared his throat, pushed back the fear and the tears. This was his fault. All of it. He’d worked Mosely’s corner without permission. He’d lost money betting in Mosely’s club. He’d let Sam pay back his debt. “I’m…Sam…it’s bad Dad. Really bad.”
“I’m on my way.”
Dean sank into the chair, dropped his head in his hands. They should have run. Stolen a car and run.
He was still sitting there when he felt his father…felt the anger, the disgust. It rolled off of him in waves as he stalked into the ER. Dean stood.
He knew. Somehow he knew.
John’s fist slammed into Dean’s face and dropped him back to the seat. John kept walking up the desk. “John Winchester. My son Sam was brought in?”
Dean didn’t hear the response, didn’t move, not until his father’s hand was grabbing him by the back on the neck and dragging him out the door and throwing him to the pavement.
“You get out of my sight before I kill you.” John spit at him. “Pack your shit and get out. You’re not welcome under my roof.”
“I’m the one paying for it.” Dean said before he could think better of it. He covered his face and rolled away from his father, getting to his feet and keeping his distance. “I can’t leave Sam.”
His father’s hands were tight fists. “You’re not getting near him. Not again.”
Dean shook his head. “I promised him I wouldn’t leave.”
“You fucking stood there and let that man…you watched your brother…” He couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“You’re right.” Dean nodded. “I did. And I hate myself. I don’t…I just…” He sniffed. “I hate myself, and I’ll…I’ll go…but not until I know he’s okay. I have to…I have to tell him something.”
“What about that fuck you gave him to?”
“Mosley. Aims. I…I’m going to kill him.” Dean said without looking up.
The room was icy cold with hatred. Dean could feel his father’s eyes. Sam was going to be okay, though it would be a while before he was up and around. Dean sat beside him, trying to find a way to tell his brother he had to leave.
Sam’s one eye that wasn’t heavily bandaged was filled with tears before Dean even said a word.
“So, Dad…he…he had this job lined up. It’s important, you know?”
“Don’t…” Sam’s voice was small.
“He’s going to stay with you until you’re stronger, then you’re going to go to Bobby’s to rest. I…I’ll catch up with you there.”
“Dean, please. Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you.” His hand clutched at Dean’s.
Dean shook his head, not even trying to hide his tears. “It’s not forever Sammy, just for now. You’re safe. I’m going to take care of everything…and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
“Dean…” Dean closed his eyes and stood.
If he stayed any longer he wouldn’t be able to leave. As he got close to his father, John shifted, his voice low and deep. “You see to it you do take care of everything. You hear?”
Dean nodded. “Yes sir.”
“Dean…Don’t you leave me…” Sam called.
Dean stopped in the door, but one look from his father and he didn’t even look back.
Title: Don't Leave Me
Pairing/Characters: Dean, Sam, Sam/OMCs, John.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4124
Summary: John disappeared and Dean is left to take care of Sam. When Dean gets himself into big trouble with a bad guy, it's up to Sam to bail him out, but the consequences that follow spiral out of control when John shows back up. This is the sequel to Don't Go Out Tonight and Don't Say No, and Don't Say You're Sorry
A/Ns & Warnings: This is Hooker!fic. Dean is hooking to make money for him and Sam to live on. This is pimp!fic, in that Dean has to give Sam to the guy who he owes money. It is underage (Sam is 17). There is no real sex in this, only the implication that it happened. This is very dark and angsty. Apparently this has also sort of spawned a verse...because everytime I think I reached the end, I realize there's more story to tell.
Sam didn’t ask where Dean stole the sleeping pills. He took them and swallowed them down and curled up in a ball and he slept. The whole weekend was a blur of sleep and showers.
Monday morning Sam woke to a cold panic. Sometimes it was the feeling of Dean’s body in the bed behind his that did it. Other times, it was the absence of Dean’s body in the bed behind his.
Dean’s touch was light on his forehead. Sam opened his eyes to find Dean squatting beside the bed fully dressed. Sam looked at the clock. He was late for school.
“Easy, I already called you in sick. Sleep, pull yourself together. You can go tomorrow.”
Normally Sam would have argued. Instead, he just nodded.
“I have a few errands to run, okay? I’ll be gone a few hours.”
Dean kissed his forehead and Sam closed his eyes, willing himself back to sleep.
Dean shut the door to the apartment, checking the lock. He had nearly $800 in his pocket, and he had every intention of buying some beat up piece of shit car that would get them far enough away they could forget they ever met Mosely Aims.
But not before Mosely Aims came to regret the day he’d ever laid eyes on the Winchester brothers.
Dean wasn’t so much running errands as he was hunting. He’d spent large parts of the weekend watching Mosely and his operation and planning. Whatever he did it had to be untraceable to him or Sam. It had to be quick and it had to be justice. Any number of messy, ugly deaths would make Dean happy.
As long as Sam never knew. He’d do the deed and leave town the same day. Soon. Very soon.
Sam wasn’t really sleeping anymore…he just couldn’t bring himself to get up. He huddled under blankets, sweating in two layers of clothes. He wanted Dean to come home. He didn’t want to be alone.
The knock on the door startled him. So did the voice that followed. “Dean?”
Sam got out of bed and shuffled cautiously across the floor, peering through the peep hole to confirm his suspicion. His heart raced and he had to fight to control the panic. He opened the door slowly.
“Dad?”
John Winchester grinned at him, pushing the door open and stepping inside, then frowning. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“Yeah, hi to you too.” Sam said, shutting the door. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
His father pulled him into a hug and Sam did his best not to stiffen, not to panic. This wasn’t Mosely, or one of his goons. This was his father. “It’s good to see you boy.”
Sam couldn’t quite bring himself to say the same. He was supposed to have time…to adjust, to put it behind him. “I thought you said you’d be a few weeks.”
John nodded and dumped his duffle on the beat up couch. “Got some help, wrapped it up. Where’s your brother?”
Sam shuffled back toward the bed. “Out. Errands or something. Said he’d be back soon.” He crawled into bed and pulled the blanket up. “There’s coffee, and there should be some food in the fridge.”
Inside, his heart was hammering. He was going to know. He was going to look at him and just know. He closed his eyes.
He didn’t sense his father moving closer, not until the bed dipped and his hand touched Sam’s head. “You okay?”
“Tired.” Sam choked the word out.
“Me too, drove all night. Mind sharing with your old man?”
He wanted to say yes that he did mind…that the idea terrified him, but he just burrowed in deeper, and let his father interpret the silence however he wanted. Sam heard the dull thud of boots hitting the floor, felt the bed shift as his father stood to pull off his jeans, then laid down, stretching out on Dean’s side of the bed.
He fought the panic that rose in his stomach, the feeling of dirty that had become so much a part of him. He waited until his father’s breathing evened out and settled, then slid from the bed to head to the bathroom. He had to get clean before his father saw the truth.
He stood under the hot water until it started to run cold, then climbed out and dried off. His body didn’t hurt as much as it had. He decided that was a good sign. He stepped out of the bathroom and looked at the lump of his father on the bed.
Better, but not ready for John Winchester. Sam dressed as quietly as he could, left a note for Dean on the table, telling him he’d gone to pick up his homework from school. He grabbed his backpack and headed out. He’d get to school just as the last bell was ringing.
Sam kept his head down as he walked, stepping around the usual obstacles, bums sleeping on the sidewalk, drug deals he didn’t want to know about, whores already starting to gather on the streets near hooker alley. He’d seen Dean there once. Down hooker alley on his knees. He didn’t know. Sam couldn’t bring himself to tell him.
He averted his eyes now when he walked past. He rounded the corner and bounded across the street, angling behind the drug store to hit the back door of the high school.
The halls were mostly empty, last class not quite done. Sam headed to his locker, propping his back pack up to pull out his books. He hadn’t done any of his homework, but it wouldn’t take him much to catch up.
If they didn’t just take off. Dean had had that look in his eye since…well, since Friday night. Since Sam had gotten him square with Mosely. Sam shook it off. He wasn’t going to think about that. Dean wanted to go. Sam wasn’t entirely sure he disagreed.
And now, their father was back. They could just go.
He sighed and fished out his calculus notebook, shoving it into his now empty backpack. As he did, an envelope fell out and landed on the floor. Sam frowned and squatted down to get it.
He’d forgotten it.
It was there in the mailbox on Friday morning, all alone. Like it had come after the regular mail on Thursday or something. Dean usually got the mail in the afternoon, but Sam always checked on his way out in the morning, just in case.
He turned it over twice, then shoved it in his pocket before grabbing his assignment book and heading for Mr. Glenn’s class. No point hauling books around until he knew what assignments there were.
The bell rang just as he reached the door. Kids poured out of rooms all around him.
“Look Tyrone, the little girl whore is finally recovered from her big night.”
Sam sighed and fought the urge to turn around. “Where’s your skirt, Sweetcheeks?”
Sam’s face blushed red. Rick grabbed him and Sam pulled away, surging closer to the door. “Come on baby, we just want a little taste.”
Sam turned, his eyes flashing over Rick and Tyrone. “Back off.”
“Or what? Your pimp going to come beat us up?”
Sam didn’t know how they knew what they knew. “No, but I might.” His hands were tight fists and they laughed.
“My brother showed us a really interesting movie this weekend.” Tyrone said, leering at Sam. “The Making of a Cheap Whore in Three Easy Steps.”
“Sam, is there a problem?”
They looked up at Mr. Glenn. “No problem.” Sam said.
Rick laughed. “Hey, we’ll catch you later, Sweetcheeks.”
Sam shook his head and exhaled slowly. “Hey, Mr. Glenn. I was hoping…well…” He pulled the envelope out of his pocket and held it up. “I can’t look.”
The teacher grinned and nodded. “Come on in.” He pulled the door shut behind him. “You sure?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. Go on.”
Mr. Glenn reached for the letter opener on his desk and ripped the envelope open. His eyes scanned the letter and his grin broadened. “Congratulations, Sam.”
Sam exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Really? I got in?”
“Not just in.” Mr. Glenn handed the piece of paper across to Sam. “They’re offering you a full scholarship.”
“What?” Sam grabbed the paper. Just like that, everything changed. His eyes skimmed over the page, then up to his teacher. “Stanford. It’s…unreal.”
“No, it’s very real. I’m very proud of you.”
“I don’t even know what to say.” Not to mention how he was going to tell their father…or Dean. His happiness dimmed a little at the thought. He couldn’t leave Dean. No, Dean would come with him. They could find a place and they could make it work. For the moment he chose to ignore his father.
“So, you weren’t in class today?”
Sam tore himself out of his fantasy of him and Dean in California and nodded. “I was sick to my stomach this morning. I…um…I’m feeling better.”
“Yeah, I’d feel better too. You sure that’s all? Nothing you want to tell me?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “No, I’m good. I just came in to get homework assignments so I can get caught up.”
“You want a ride home? I’m headed your way.”
“No, thanks. I’m just getting started. I’ll walk.”
“Just watch your back, okay Sam? Rick and Tyrone…they’re bad news.”
“Yeah. I know. Thanks again Mr. Glenn.”
Dean unlocked the door, then froze. Sam wasn’t there, but someone was. He pulled the gun from his boot and moved in cautiously. Two steps in he dropped the gun. His father grinned at him from the kitchen.
“Nice reflexes.”
Dean shut the door. “It’s a rough neighborhood.” He dropped his keys on the table and hugged his father. “Good to see you.”
“You too.” John patted his back, then stepped back. “I started some dinner.”
“Where’s Sam?”
John shook his head. “He must have been feeling better. Left a note saying he was going to the school to pick up his homework.”
Dean looked out the window. It was starting to get dark. He scratched his head. “How long ago?”
John shook his head. “Not sure. I crashed out pretty hard.”
He didn’t like the idea of Sam out on the streets alone after dark. Not when half the neighborhood knew…”I should go check up on him.”
“He’s a big boy.” John countered, turning back to the stove.
“Like I said, rough neighborhood. He’s been getting some trouble from…” From men that Dean should have protected him from. “I’m just gonna go look for him. I’ll be back before long.” He snatched up his keys, then stopped. “We were leaving. Just so you know. I planned to be gone tomorrow or the next day.”
“Doesn’t Sam have a semester to finish?”
Dean ran a hand over his face. “He can finish it somewhere else. I need to get him out of this place.”
John turned back to face him, concern washing over his face. “Is it that bad?”
“It’s bad Dad. Bad like we haven’t had before.” Dean tried to stop himself, tried, but the anger bubbled up inside him. “Where the fuck were you?”
“New Orleans.” John responded, stepping toward him now. “What’s going on Dean?”
Dean shook his head. “No. No, I’m handling it. Just be ready to move.”
He headed out the door, surprised when his father’s hand closed around his wrist. “You better tell me.”
“Only if you tell me why you’ve been gone for ten fucking months.” Dean countered. His father let go of him.
“I’ll come with you.”
Dean shook his head. “I’ve been taking care of him all this time. I’ll deal with it.”
He left his father standing in the doorway and headed toward the school. Fear nibbled at him. He doubted Mosely would bother Sam…but those kids from school might. Especially since Dean had found out that the brother of one of them was one of the fuckers Mosely had let fuck Sam on Friday.
The rumor on the street was that Mosely wanted to add Sam to his stable of street whores…and he was willing to do almost anything to drive him to it.
It wouldn’t happen. Not if Dean had anything to say about it. In fact, if Dean had any say, Mosely wouldn’t be getting it up anytime soon. It had taken him all day to get the spell finished and the mojo bags stashed where they would do the most good. It was step one of his plan.
A plan that might just get derailed with his father back in town.
Dean was watching the street. With the coming of the dark, it should be busier than this. The normal whores were scarce. Drug dealers were keeping to the shadows.
He was almost to hooker alley.
It was a deep gash of an alley, widening into a triangle toward the back, with a filthy old mattress and a broken-down couch and plenty of wall space for illicit transactions. Dean had used it more than once when he was desperate.
Normally one or another of the local big boys kept watch on the alley, making sure things didn’t get out of hand. Dean didn’t see any of them yet, but it was early. There was laughter and a group of young men appeared at the mouth of the alley, two of them still zipping up, one of them tossing a used condom behind him.
One of them was staring at Dean and Dean stopped, looking back. He recognized the little shit from the altercation on Friday. Rick. That’s what Sam had called him. The ring leader of the little pack that had been harassing Sam.
The kid grinned at Dean, kissed two fingers and held them up in salute, then they all turned and headed off toward Mosely’s club. Dean shook his head and started to walk past the alley once they were all gone.
He glanced aside, half curious to see who the boys had been with, half wondering if they’d left the poor woman able to even walk.
There was a groan. Dean stopped cold. His heart stopped. No.
A shadow lurched.
No.
Dean took two steps into the alley. “Oh my god. No.” He ran deeper, crashing to his knees. Sam cringed away from him.
“Don’t look. Don’t…”
His jeans were around his knees, his shirt hanging off him. His face was bruised and bleeding and swollen, his lip split and he was drooling blood and semen from his mouth. He was holding his stomach.
“Sam…don’t…don’t move.”
All around Sam was blood stained money. He sagged onto one hip. “Okay…okay…Just hold on Sammy. I’ll…I’ll get you to the hospital.”
“No!” Sam grabbed at him frantically. His fingers were bloody, the skin of his palms torn. “I can be okay…I can…” He wouldn’t look at Dean. “Not a whore, Dean.”
“I know Sammy. I know you’re not.” Dean took a deep breath. He needed to get an idea how bad it was. “I’m going to check you over, okay?”
Sam nodded.
Dean felt like he was going to be sick. He turned first to Sam’s face. It looked like he’d been slammed face first into the wall. The nose was broken, and judging from the misshapen swelling under his left eye, his cheek bone might be as well. A few teeth were broken and it looked like he’d bitten his tongue.
Dean reached for the shirt and it just fell off Sam. His ribs were already bruising, purples and blues and greens blossoming from his arm pit down to his hip. “Fuck. Okay, I’m moving behind you.” Dean shifted, and had to drag in air to keep from throwing up. His brother’s ass was open and oozing blood. He reached up to steady him and stopped. “Oh my god.”
“They cut me.” Sam said, the words slurring around his swollen tongue.
Dean nodded, though Sam couldn’t see him. “I see, Sammy.” His back was a bloody mess. The word “whore” carved into his skin. “Okay, let’s get you into your jeans.” He eased them up to cover Sam’s ass. “God, Sam. It’s bad. Okay? I’m going to get us a cab. Do you think you can walk?”
Sam reached for him to be helped up, but he stopped half way up. “Get the money.”
“No.” Dean shook his head and slipped an arm under Sam’s shoulder to support him.
“I earned it. Let them…” He closed his eyes. “They were going to do it…figured it would hurt less…” Sam’s eyes rolled closed and his body went slack against Dean’s.
“Fuck. Sammy, stay with me.” Dean struggled down the alley to the street. He’d had his own share of rough tricks, but nothing like this. “Fuck.” He spotted a cop and flagged him down.
He could see him on the radio before he even came to a stop. “Ambulance is coming.” Dean nodded and eased Sam down. “Trick go bad?”
“I’m the whore, not him.” Dean said, miffed. “This was rape, a big group of guys, go to high school with him.”
“Did you see it happen?”
Dean shook his head. “Got here as they were leaving.”
“Can you identify them?”
“Maybe.” But there was no way in hell he was turning them over to the cops. No, he’d fuck each and every one of them himself.
There were sirens. Sam stirred, grabbing for Dean. “Don’t leave me.”
“Not going anywhere.” Dean said, even as the EMT’s piled out of the ambulance and started assessing Sam. His hand went slack and they were hustling him into the van. Dean sat next to him, holding his hand and whispering that he wasn’t ever going to leave him.
John turned off the food on the stove when Dean and Sam hadn’t come back in almost an hour. He was just thinking he should get in the car and look for them when there was a knock on the door.
He opened it, but no one was there. Then he looked down and found a brown paper bag, the top folded down. He looked around for whoever had dropped it, but there was no one around. After a few minutes, he leaned over and picked it up, bringing it inside with him and opening the bag.
Inside was a note and a video tape. He unfolded the paper. “Sweetcheeks…you’ve got a future. Come see me when you’re ready for the next step.”
John looked for a signature or identifying mark but there was nothing. Just the video. He shook his head and put it down, figuring it was dropped at the wrong apartment.
He reached into his pocket for keys to the Impala, then stopped. Something was wrong. Both boys were acting strangely. John dropped the keys back into his pocket and reached for the video.
“Sam, don’t you leave me. You hear me?” Dean said fervently in Sam’s ear as they reached the hospital. Sam was in and out of consciousness. The EMTs were talking about internal bleeding and stuff Dean wasn’t really following.
He was covered in Sam’s blood, following the gurney into the ER.
They made him stop at the swinging double doors. “Wait here. Let us help him.”
“He’s my brother.”
The nurse smiled and guided him to some chairs. “Let us help your brother. Someone will be out shortly.”
Dean nodded, though he’d stopped really comprehending anything when Sam’s eyes went cold and dark in the ambulance. “Don’t leave me.” Dean whispered, sinking into the chair and holding his breath.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when someone was touching his shoulder. “Are you Dean?”
He nodded and stood. “Yeah, Dean Winchester. My brother, Sam?”
The doctor nodded, her face showing concern. “He’s stable, for the moment…but I have to tell you…it isn’t good. We’re prepping him for surgery. There’s a lot of internal bleeding. It looks like there is damage to his stomach and kidney, five broken ribs, and there’s concern about his left lung.”
Dean shook his head. “Surgery? I…he’s going to be okay, right?”
“A lot will depend on what the surgeon finds once he gets inside. I’m not going to lie to you Dean. He’s in bad shape.”
“I want to see him.”
She nodded. “You’ve got about five minutes before they take him up to surgery. Follow me.”
He looked so small, so young, there on the bed. He was laying on his back, and all Dean could think was that his back was bad too. Sam’s eyes were half open. IVs ran into his arm and his hands were bandaged.
“Sam?”
He blinked and Dean moved to stand beside him. “Hey, they’re taking good care of you okay? I’m just…I’m going to be right here.”
“Don’t tell Dad. Don’t…he can’t know Dean.”
“Shh…you worry about you. I’ll worry about Dad.”
“It’s time, let’s get you upstairs.” Two orderlies and the lady doctor came in and started moving Sam’s gurney.
“I’ll be right here.” Dean called after him, watching until the elevator doors closed.
Dad. Fuck. Dean was going to have to call him.
He headed back to the lobby and the pay phones. He pulled out some change and dialed the number, half expecting it to dump to voice mail.
“Where the fuck are you?” There was a warning in his voice. Dean almost couldn’t speak.
“Hospital.” He cleared his throat, pushed back the fear and the tears. This was his fault. All of it. He’d worked Mosely’s corner without permission. He’d lost money betting in Mosely’s club. He’d let Sam pay back his debt. “I’m…Sam…it’s bad Dad. Really bad.”
“I’m on my way.”
Dean sank into the chair, dropped his head in his hands. They should have run. Stolen a car and run.
He was still sitting there when he felt his father…felt the anger, the disgust. It rolled off of him in waves as he stalked into the ER. Dean stood.
He knew. Somehow he knew.
John’s fist slammed into Dean’s face and dropped him back to the seat. John kept walking up the desk. “John Winchester. My son Sam was brought in?”
Dean didn’t hear the response, didn’t move, not until his father’s hand was grabbing him by the back on the neck and dragging him out the door and throwing him to the pavement.
“You get out of my sight before I kill you.” John spit at him. “Pack your shit and get out. You’re not welcome under my roof.”
“I’m the one paying for it.” Dean said before he could think better of it. He covered his face and rolled away from his father, getting to his feet and keeping his distance. “I can’t leave Sam.”
His father’s hands were tight fists. “You’re not getting near him. Not again.”
Dean shook his head. “I promised him I wouldn’t leave.”
“You fucking stood there and let that man…you watched your brother…” He couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“You’re right.” Dean nodded. “I did. And I hate myself. I don’t…I just…” He sniffed. “I hate myself, and I’ll…I’ll go…but not until I know he’s okay. I have to…I have to tell him something.”
“What about that fuck you gave him to?”
“Mosley. Aims. I…I’m going to kill him.” Dean said without looking up.
The room was icy cold with hatred. Dean could feel his father’s eyes. Sam was going to be okay, though it would be a while before he was up and around. Dean sat beside him, trying to find a way to tell his brother he had to leave.
Sam’s one eye that wasn’t heavily bandaged was filled with tears before Dean even said a word.
“So, Dad…he…he had this job lined up. It’s important, you know?”
“Don’t…” Sam’s voice was small.
“He’s going to stay with you until you’re stronger, then you’re going to go to Bobby’s to rest. I…I’ll catch up with you there.”
“Dean, please. Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you.” His hand clutched at Dean’s.
Dean shook his head, not even trying to hide his tears. “It’s not forever Sammy, just for now. You’re safe. I’m going to take care of everything…and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
“Dean…” Dean closed his eyes and stood.
If he stayed any longer he wouldn’t be able to leave. As he got close to his father, John shifted, his voice low and deep. “You see to it you do take care of everything. You hear?”
Dean nodded. “Yes sir.”
“Dean…Don’t you leave me…” Sam called.
Dean stopped in the door, but one look from his father and he didn’t even look back.
