Broken, Supernatural, NC-17

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Broken
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3488

Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from nanakomatsu, Nothing, Something and To Be Good. Dean was kidnapped and made into a slave. Sam bought him back. Now Dean is starting to remember who he is, but breaking through the conditioning proves to be difficult, and John's presence seems to once again be a breaking point for Dean. Sam reacts to his punishment of Dean...and not well.

A/Ns and Warnings: Slave!Dean, references to torture and rape...not exactly pretty stuff here.



Sam managed to get the door closed behind him before the tears came back, before he bent over, heaving with uncontrollable grief…His hands shook as he tried to put the image out of his mind, of Dean on his knees begging him to…hit him…to punish him.

He started when he felt hands on his back, but relaxed when his father’s face came into view. “I can’t….do this…I can’t….”

“Sam?”

“Fuck!” He remembered not to yell. Dean would hear him. He couldn’t let Dean see this. “Fuck. I don’t think I can do this Dad. I can’t be what he needs me to be. Not like that.”

“Like what Sam? What happened?”

Sam shook his head, then buried his face in his hands. “I’ve tried…but every time he talks about it…every time he remembers…I want to be sick…I want to shake him and make him stop. Fuck.”

“Sam, talk to me.”

“Not here.” Sam put a hand on his father’s shoulder and leveraged himself to his feet. “Walk with me. Just out…away from the window.” John rose and followed him, out to a picnic table under the overhead light by the office. There weren’t many people out and about, despite the relatively early hour. “At first, when I started to figure it out…where he was, I mean…I thought that they’d have to kill him…because Dean?” He shook his head. “The Dean I knew, he’d never let himself be taken…and if by some chance he did, he’d never become…what he is.”

Sam looked down at his hands. “I almost called you when I got to New York. That’s when I was finally close enough. I…did things, Dad…you would never have approved of…dark magic…other stuff…”

“Is that why you didn’t call me?” John sat on the table and Sam could feel his eyes.

He shrugged. “Part of it. I was…pretty angry.”

“I remember.” John rubbed his face to indicate he hadn’t forgotten the right cross that had knocked him on his ass before Sam stalked away.

“The more I realized what I’d have to do to get him back, the less I wanted you involved.” Sam made a face and shoved his hands in his pocket. His stomach danced with anxiety. “The more I see in him, the more I’m sure that was the right decision. You’re the key here, Dad. Every time he hears your voice, it triggers something, a reaction, a memory.”

He paced and thought about how to tell him…about how much to tell him. “I wanted to hurt you…that day you showed up. I wanted to see you react. I blamed you. I still do to some degree, but it’s my fault too. When I left…Dean and I…” He exhaled slowly. No…that part of their relationship John Winchester had no need to know about. “I hurt him. I abandoned him, the one person in my life who never abandoned me.” He held up his hand when his father started to speak.

“I don’t want to fight about it. Us fighting isn’t helping Dean. Right now, I’ve got to concentrate on him.” He sighed. “You have a right to know…I know. I’m just not sure I can…do it. Not anymore.”

“Start with something easier then. How did you catch his trail? I searched…I didn’t find anything.”

Sam sighed and came to sit beside him. “They were good…but you weren’t far off about Dean finding a pretty girl. Her name was Candace. She’s a truck driver, just passing through. By the time you went looking, she was on the road. When I got there, she was passing through again…eventually. From her, I found out Dean noticed a car in the parking lot of the bar. Said he’d seen it a few times. She remembered part of the plates.”

“You tracked these guys through their license plate?”

Sam shook his head. “Just a lead. Took me months to put it together. The trail eventually led me to this seedy bar in New Mexico. They…it was part whorehouse, part slave market…they peddled in flesh there, but not…” Sam cleared his throat. “The woman at the bar gave me Gorlian’s name, said I might find what I was looking for with him.”

He got up again, restless. “She told me Gorlian specialized in hunters and half-breeds…took great pleasure in breaking his slaves so completely that their own mother could walk into their cage and they wouldn’t know her. She wasn’t kidding.”

John’s face was hidden behind his hands. “What did he do to your brother Sam?”

Sam sighed. He knew even the little bit he understood was going to hurt his father, going to break him. Part of him relished the power to do that. His lips were a tight line as he nodded. “You aren’t going to like this.”

“Just tell me.”

“I know that he was grabbed right out side your motel room. They…raped him the first time against the side of your truck.” Sam blinked back the tears, tried to make his voice steady. “They locked him in the dark with no food or water for days, and when they finally gave him water, they put it in a bowl on the ground and forced him onto his hands and knees to drink it…while they…fucked him from behind.”

He watched his father’s shoulders quake, then turned away. “He’s only spoken about little moments…things that stand out, or come back. There were beatings, the kind that hurt and leave bruises, but don’t mar the skin. Couldn’t mark the merchandise. Gorlian told me it took a while to break him.”

John was quiet a while, sobbing silently before he slipped off the table and paced around Sam. “He told me a few days ago that they told him I was dead, showed him pictures. It was after the thing with the recording of you. It was the last straw. He had nothing left to fight for…no reason to resist anymore.”

“And now…now you can explain to me exactly what context you said those words in.” Sam felt the anger flare inside him again. “You tell me you said them, exactly those words. What am I supposed to think? What is Dean supposed to think?”

John’s shoulders slumped forward and he pressed his hands to the table, ducking his head. “I was working a job. They…cut out parts…of the conversation…”

My son, Dean.

“There was a man. I was going to send Dean to meet him, because I had a lead on the demon…didn’t want Dean there.”

Pretty face

“He had a problem with an evil spirit…a girl.”

might be hard to break… Once you do though …

“The locals had buried her in concrete so that she couldn’t claw her way out of the grave.”

he’s obedient. Trained him

“He had some specific concerns, wanted to be sure Dean would do as he was told.”

that way myself

“Told him I was a stickler for details.” John slumped forward a little more, his voice quieter. “When Dean didn’t come back, I went to do the job myself. Turns out the whole thing was a hoax. There was no evil spirit, no man.” John’s voice dropped even lower. “Turns out the lead on the demon was bad too. They played me.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the developing headache. He blew out a breath and tried to think around the swirling in his stomach and the pounding in his head. “They hunted him…just like we would.”

John nodded miserably.

“What about the turnips?”

John looked up. “The guy said he was a farmer. Offered us trade. Corn, tomatoes, turnips. Told him we didn’t need the turnips. Fair trade.”

“Fair trade.” Sam echoed. “Fuck!” He wanted to be sick all over again. “I knew they’d followed you for a while…but they must have been on you a lot longer.” His head filled with the image of Dean as he’d been when he’d found him. “They knew exactly what they were doing…exactly how to break him.”

“So…what do we do now?”

Sam looked at the door of the room he shared with Dean. “He’s…so…broken, Dad. I don’t know if I can fix this.” Sam’s voice cracked and he crossed his arms over his chest as if to protect himself. “God…he…asked me to…hit him…punish him. He needed it to know he was worth keeping.” Sam squatted down, making himself as small as could, huddling into himself. “He begged me to hit him…and god help me, I did.”

“Sam?”

“I hit him…with a belt…because he begged me…because he needed it…to know he was…” He heaved, grabbing at his sides. He looked up at his father. “It may be more than we can do ourselves.”

“No. No, Sam. Dean wouldn’t want that.” John shook his head vehemently. “No, we do this our way.”

“I don’t want to, believe me…but we have to think of him. What if…god, what if I only make it worse?”

“You said I’m triggering things, right?”

Sam nodded, then shook his head. “No…Dad, he’ll fall apart completely if you push him. We have to take it slow.” His father would never be capable of giving Dean what he needed. “You…could you handle it…when he begs to serve you? When he’s naked and on his knees because it’s all he knows…all he remembers…?”

“Damn it Sam!” John paced away, then turned slowly back to Sam. “What are you saying?”

Sam pressed up to standing. “Just…small steps, okay?”

John’s arm closed around Sam’s wrist. “Sam?” His voice was dark, edged with anger.

“Dad, there are some things you don’t want to know.” Sam pulled his arm free. “I’m doing anything I can to make Dean better. That’s all you need to know.”

“I think you should tell me.”

Sam sighed and started back to the room. “And I think we should both get some sleep.” He didn’t look back, just walked away. With the door shut behind him, Sam let himself slump against it. Dean stirred in his sleep, rolling over. Sam could see the welt that had formed from the one decent blow he’d given him. “I’m sorry Dean,” he whispered. It would be long night.


Sam finally drifted to sleep in the chair across the room from Dean, unable to bring himself to climb into bed with him…or abandon him by sleeping in the second bed. When he woke Dean was done with his morning bathroom ritual and was wearing his boxers, sitting on the bed, waiting.

Sam was stiff and sore from the awkward position, but stretched and smiled at his brother.

“I didn’t know if I should wake you.”

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep. You hungry?”

“Yes.”

Sam smiled. “I thought we’d try going out. You and me and Dad? Breakfast, then maybe some shopping. You need more clothes.”

“I have plenty.”

Sam stood. “Humor me. Get dressed in some jeans and a shirt. Put your shoes on. When you’ve done that, go to room 18 and knock on the door. Ask Dad to come with us.”

Dean stood, but stopped. “You want me to…go outside? Alone?”

Sam nodded. “Yes, Dean. I think you can handle that. In fact, once you’ve asked Dad, why don’t you wait out by the car, in the sun. You need some sun on your face. I’m going to jump in the shower and get dressed.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Okay.”


John Winchester didn’t sleep that night either. He spent a large part of it on the phone, calling in favors, pressing contacts, gathering the forces. Sam was right that they couldn’t drag Dean around for this, and they were probably in over their collective heads. But, he’d gathered enough information to set things in motion…and John had never been a man who could just sit around and wait.

As he stepped out of the shower, the knock on his door surprised him. He expected another day at least to pass before Sam was ready to talk to him again. “Door’s open, Sam.”

He ruffled a towel through his hair, looking up when the door didn’t open. He frowned and crossed to the door, surprised when he opened it to find Dean standing there, eyes downcast, hands behind his back. “Dean?”

“Sam sent me.” He cleared his throat and looked up, then back at the ground.

“Why didn’t you open the door?”

“You said Sam. I’m not Sam.”

“Oh, I guess I did. Come in.”

Dean shook his head. “Sam said I should be outside. In the sun. But first to ask you to come with us.”

John realized he was still frowning and tried to stop. “Where are you going?”

“Breakfast, then maybe shopping.”

“I’d like to join you. Thank you Dean. Where’s Sam?”

“Showering. I’m supposed to wait for him outside, by the car. He said I needed sun on my face.”

“You know, there’s a picnic table over there. You could sit there.”

“He didn’t say to sit.” Dean frowned, then looked over his shoulder. “It is near the car though.”

John smiled. “Yes, it is.”

“May I ask you something?” Dean looked at him for the first time, his green eyes open and expectant.

“Sure, anything.”

“Did you…do you blame me?”

John’s breathe caught in his throat. “What? No, Dean. Never.”

Dean nodded. “Sometimes when you look at me, I think you do. It’s okay, if you do. I know I disappointed you. I’m not…I’m not the son you remember.”

“You are my son. And I love you. No matter what, Dean. Do you understand that?”

Dean’s eyes were back on the ground and his absent minded nod did nothing to convince John he did understand. “I need to get dressed, but I’ll be right out to wait with you for Sam, okay?”

Dean nodded again, and walked away, toward the picnic table. He waited until Dean had circled the table once and tentatively picked a place to sit, then he closed the door and dressed before running a comb through his hair and pushing his feet into his boots.

When he opened his door, Dean was sitting with his eyes closed, his face turned into the sun, something like wonder on his face. With a deep breath, John crossed the parking lot, making sure he didn’t get in the way of Dean’s light. “Feels good doesn’t it.”

Dean didn’t flinch just nodded. “I forgot.”

John sat next to him and pointed his own face into the sun. “Sometimes I do too. When I’m hunting and only come out at night.” He felt Dean look at him and didn’t move. “I can go months without ever feeling that kiss of warmth.”

“Your skin is dark.” Dean observed and John chuckled.

“Yes, I guess it probably is. I worked in daylight the last month or so.”

“I saw the sun the day they took me from training to the market. A few minutes while we were loaded into the truck. Then, it was raining when we were taken out of the truck.” Dean looked down, squinting and making a face that once might have indicated he was disgusted. “Then…the day Sam came for me…it was sunny then too.”

John didn’t begin to know how to respond, so he settled for putting his hand on his son’s back. His face twitched. “Is this okay, Dean?”

“Not my place to say.” Dean said.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll move it.”

“Not uncomfortable…not for me…Rules.” He sighed. John could tell it was difficult for him.

“Tell me what rules, Dean.”

“Not supposed to be touched unless the master—“ His breathing hitched a little and he glanced at John. “Unless Sam says so.”

“Okay.” John pulled the hand back. “Better?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Dean.” It wasn’t fine, but he could see the tension in his boy’s body, and the release when John acknowledged the rules and pulled back. “We’ll get there.”

Sam opened the door and waved at them. Dean stood nervously as Sam approached. “I sat here. He said it was close enough, and the sun felt good.”

Sam smiled and nodded. “You did good, Dean.”

John stood. “He did very good, Sam. We had a nice talk.”

“He touched me.” Dean said suddenly, looking at John, then at the ground.

“It’s okay, Dean. He’s allowed to. He’s your father.”

Dean looked up and smiled nervously. “Yeah?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Is that okay?”

“I liked it.” Dean responded and John felt his heart unclench a little.

“Let’s go eat.”



They’d just about finished their breakfast when Dean asked permission to relieve himself. “Can you handle it on your own, or should I come with you?” Sam asked.

Dean eyed the distance from the table to the restroom door. “I’m okay.”

When the door shut, Sam sighed and sank a little in his seat. “What about us? We okay?”

John stabbed his last sausage and looked at Sam…at the dark circles and the weary expression. “Yeah, Sam. I think I need to spend more time with him….like this morning.” He held up his hand when Sam started to react. “Small steps. He managed to talk about something that he remembered without freaking out. Told me about how he felt the sun when they moved him from training to the…other place.” John swallowed the word “market”…wouldn’t say it out loud.

“Yeah?”

John shoved the sausage in his mouth. “I…he got uncomfortable when I touched his back, but didn’t get agitated.”

“Did he tell you he was uncomfortable?” Sam asked, sitting up now.

“No…I could tell though.”

“That would have been a break through. It’s like pulling teeth to get him to express anything. That’s why the anger in the bathroom yesterday was so important.”

Sam cradled his coffee cup in his big hands, his eyes sweeping over the rest of the room and back to the restroom door. Something felt…wrong. He moved his eyes back across the room but didn’t see anything. “I’m going to check on Dean.”

John nodded and grabbed the bill. “I’ll pay and meet you outside.”

“Dean?” Sam scanned the bathroom, coming to rest on the only stall door that was closed. “You okay?”

The door opened. Dean looked he was a little spooked. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“I got scared.” Dean said. “Someone came in and…I was scared.”

Sam smiled and rubbed his arm. “No one’s here now, just you and me. Want to wash up?”

“Are you going to give me to Dad?” Dean asked suddenly, looking up at the mirror, at Sam in the mirror.

Sam shook his head. “No Dean. Why would you ask that?”

He lowered his eyes. “I’m just trying to understand. He touched me and it was okay. Only masters touch.”

Sam reached under Dean’s t-shirt and touched the choker/collar. “What does this mean, Dean?”

“That I’m yours.”

Sam nodded. “Always. I’m never going to ask you to take it off.”

“He’s trying to be my father.” Dean finished washing his hands and reached for the paper towels Sam handed him.

“Yes, because that’s what he is.”

“I’m not sure how to act around him. Even more than when you….when you don’t tell me what to do.”

Sam turned Dean to face him. “I have a new rule for you Dean. From now on, unless I give you a direct order, you can do anything you want.”

“Anything?” Dean breathed.

“Yes, anything. Go outside, watch television…anything Dean. And I want you to be able to talk to us, either of us. Just…don’t mention the sex stuff to Dad, okay? He won’t understand.”

Dean actually looked at him then with an expression Sam knew well, and hadn’t seen in a long, long time. It said that Sam was wasting his breath with the obvious. “Good. So let’s see about getting you more than one pair of jeans that fit right, okay?”



Two hours later, Sam was heading to the register at the local thrift store, after sending Dean and his father out to the car. “Hey. Just these.” He set the couple of pairs of jeans on the counter and pulled his wallet out.

A voice beside him startled him and he looked up into the face a man who had a good three inches on him, and out weighed him by quite a bit. “I said, hello Mr. Silvers. My name is Razz.”

Sam ducked the punch and dove for the door. He got it open and screamed for his father. “Go! Dad, get him out of here!” He felt the hand on the back of his hoodie, yanking him back into the store, but saw his father’s startled face and the car pulling out onto the street. He landed a good kick into a fleshy thigh, but then hands were yanking him, four…maybe six hands binding him and then one came down on the back of his neck. He fell limp into the dark.