Effort, Supernatural, NC-17, Broken!Verse

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Effort
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John, Ellen, Bobby, OMC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4056

Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from nanakomatsu, Nothing, Something, To Be Good, Broken, To Be Strong,Nothing, No One, Alone, Yours, Mine, Better, Choice, Gathering, Betrayal, Taken, Remember, Training, Conflagration, Setting Up, Surviving, Pretending, Rescue, Revelations, Reconciliation, Waking Up, Guilt and Working On It.

Summary: John and Sam and Dean work toward understanding, Gabe and Ellen and Bobby labor alone.

A/Ns and Warnings: Very dark. Includes memory of torture and rape and very dark violence.



Ellen stayed in the kitchen after Bobby left her, after the Dean helped Sam up the stairs, after John hovered and waited and ended up following his boys. She listened to the sounds of the old cabin and the men in it settling in for the night, though it was barely after 8, and she waited a little longer.

Nodding to herself, Ellen opened a bottle of beer and sat down at the kitchen table with the computer and the cordless phone. She drank half the beer before moving the computer in front of her and opening it up. With a sigh, she picked up the phone and dialed.

“Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”

“Jo, it’s your mother.” She’d never admit to the tears in the corner’s of her eyes from just the sound of her daughter’s voice, from just knowing she was safe and sound and not a part of the fucked up mess that had enveloped Ellen when she’d answered John Winchester’s voice mail. She listened through talk of business and hunters who’d been through and answered questions about her own whereabouts and activities as vaguely as she could. Then, turned the conversation to her other reason for calling. “Honey, I need to talk to Ash.” She waited a while as Jo went in search of him and when he picked up, she was quick with, “Listen; don’t say anything that Jo might pick up on.”

“She’s half way cross the bar.”

“Just do what I say.”

“Yes ma’am,” he responded with sarcasm dripping into the phone.

“I need you to track someone down for me.” She steadied herself with a deep breath and looked at the list of names on the computer in front of her. “A couple of someones, but if I’m right…all three names will lead you to a single person.”

“Okay, lay it on me.”

“Harvey Bedell, Michael Harvard and Marvin Harvest.”

“Full work up, or just public records?”

“Everything, Ash. Anything and everything. And no one but me, okay. It’s personal.”

Her hands shook as she hung up the phone and closed the computer down. The possibility burned in her stomach…but she wouldn’t say until she knew. Couldn’t…She tossed off the rest of her beer and headed for the stairs to make the rounds and make sure the most damaged of her boys were getting the sleep they needed.



John stood near the window, staring out at the wind whipped trees. There was a storm moving in…the sky darker than midnight with clouds. Sam slept restlessly on the bed. Dean slept a little quieter, one hand against Sam’s arm. It was the only part of Sam’s body that didn’t fidget as he dreamed.

He tried to look at them objectively, as two men, but they were his boys, and always would be. Seeing them together…together he had seen it, the thing that kept Bobby from telling him, the absolute love between them…Dean looked at Sam like John had often found himself looking at Mary.

John swallowed and let his eyes sweep over them. It was a lot they were asking him to handle. This, in the light of the rest…it shouldn’t matter. He knew that.

Sam’s dreaming was getting more intense and Dean rolled toward him, his arm slipping up over Sam and drawing him closer. John could hear whispers, soft sounds as Dean kissed over Sam’s face. Sam settled, turning still closer to Dean as he quieted. Sam pulled Dean’s hand in close to his chest and John smiled. It was something he’d done as a kid when he was afraid, when he didn’t want to sleep alone.

He felt eyes and looked up to find Dean looking at him. “You okay, Dad?”

John nodded stiffly. “Yeah, Dean. I’m okay. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

John nodded slowly and returned to the armchair by the bed. “Yeah, Dean. I do.” He sat down and ran a hand slowly over Dean’s arm. “For the same reason that you aren’t leaving him.”

Dean’s eyes were dark. He didn’t move, just looked up at John. “You need to know you’re not alone too.” John said softly. “That I’m never leaving you. That I never gave you away.” His voice broke a little and he had to swallow to keep the emotion at bay.

Dean nodded slowly, turning enough that he could reach a hand for John’s, squeezing it before kissing it lightly. “Thank you.” His face was unreadable in the gloom, but John figured that hid his as well. He sat back in the chair and settled in to doze, his feet on the bed, his arms crossed over his chest.



Outside the window the wind howled, and rain had started pouring. If he’d been asleep, the thunder might have startled him awake, but Bobby hadn’t been sleeping. He’d been sitting alone in the tiny bedroom he’d claimed for his own, alone, staring at his hands.

They never felt clean anymore, not since he’d held his son’s head in his hands and cleaned his blood and bits of flesh from the hotel floor. He scrubbed them over and over, until they were chapped and raw, but he could still feel the sticky residue clinging to him, like the guilt that clung to his soul.

Guilt.

He’d stood there and let Sam do it…and he wasn’t sure what felt worse, that Bobby hadn’t already done it, or that he’d needed to at all. He wanted a drink, but John had finished off the scotch and Ellen had wisely not bought any real alcohol to replace it…so instead, he was left to wallow in his pain without anything to take his mind off of it.

He lifted the small picture from his wallet. Robert was 16, Dean 11 and Sammy only 7. They were flushed and beautiful in their youth. Robert looked more like his mother then, his dark hair a little curly where it was long in the back. He had his arms around Sam, smiling.

It hadn’t started then, not what it became. Sam was just a kid. But then, Bobby had thought that about Robert at the time too. Dean had been older at 11, more mature, than Robert at 16. He’d always chalked it up to his mother’s influence, always so over protective.

He couldn’t make his mind see this smiling 16 year old boy as the man he’d left tied to a chair for Sam to find. They’d left him with Caleb. So they could eat and regroup before they pushed him for the last bits of information. Then, Dean was hysterical and Sam was gone and he and John had raced for the room.

“No…it didn’t happen to them.” Sam’s voice reached them as they neared the door. “It happened to Dean and to me. My fault, my responsibility.”

Sam was leaning in close to Robert’s face. Bobby could see them through the window, vague shadowy figures, but Sam’s voice came through clear as anything. “You raped me, you sick fuck…and you can dress it up all pretty in your head thinking that you love me…but the truth is that you couldn’t stand that I loved Dean…I will always love Dean…always.”

The door finally opened and Sam glanced over his shoulder briefly. Robert lifted his head, pressing into the gun, his eyes challenging, daring.

“Sam?” Dean was the first to find his voice, and Bobby could see Sam was starting to shake. He wanted to reach out and take the gun, take the responsibility, but he couldn’t move. Robert’s eyes flicked to his, but it wasn’t a request for help he saw in them. It wasn’t even fear.

“Stay away Dean.” Sam adjusted his grip and shifted his weight, and Bobby managed a step closer. “You did this.” Sam whispered to Robert. John was behind Sam now, his hands were on Sam’s shoulders. “You did this, Robert.”

The shot rang out, the gun fell to the floor and Sam collapsed, barely caught by his father’s arms. “Oh god…I shot him…I shot him.” Sam held onto his father, twisting to look up at Bobby who stood stunned beside John, staring at the hole in his son’s face, at the disbelief in his remaining eye as he died. “Bobby…oh god…I’m sorry…I’m…oh god.”

Bobby dragged his eyes to where John and Sam lay in a tangle on the floor “He did it…he did this to us.” Sam was babbling, shaking. Bobby couldn’t think beyond needing to make it okay. He was on his knees, pulling Sam up into his arms and holding on to him, his hands soothing over Sam’s hair.

“It’s okay, Son. It’s okay.” He couldn’t cry, couldn’t breathe…he just held Sam with John while Caleb went off to get a sedative.

But it wasn’t okay, and Bobby couldn’t make it okay, no matter how he tried.

There was so much blood. He’d hauled the body out into the woods and burned it, salted the ash and buried it. All he had left of his boy were the scattered memories and a few pictures. He stared at the picture, but his eye kept landing on Sam rather than Robert and when Bobby finally did let the tears come, it wasn’t his son he was crying for.



Gabe was awake before the first light, chased out of sleep by dreams that alternately terrified him and aroused him…and the latter was more frightening than the former. He sat up and reached for his cock, so hard it hurt, and groaned.

It was wrong. So may kinds of wrong.

He got up and reached for his laptop, before remembering that Ellen had taken it away from him. He couldn’t distract himself. Fine. He’d just deal. He could just take care of it. There was lube in his bag.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and slicked up, calling up an image of a girl he’d met before he’d gotten the call from his father. Pretty, petite, blonde…pretty much the anti-thesis of everything that had gotten him in this state to begin with. She was bold and flirtatious and her mouth on him had been wondrous. He closed his eyes and stroked over his cock. He couldn’t remember her name…but that didn’t matter.

He was trying to be quick about it, but as hard as he was it just wasn’t happening. The dream flashed through him and he flushed, groaned. Sam on his knees. Willing, open.

Gabe tried to turn away from it, but couldn’t escape the exhilaration as Sam opened his mouth…and then it was Gabe standing over Sam, filling his mouth filled with cock, looking down at his slave. He moaned as he came, shaking and ashamed.

He found his dirty shirt from the day before and cleaned himself up. This had to stop. Sam was a good friend, and what happened to him was horrendous, not something to fantasize about. He wasn’t even gay…he didn’t think.

He frowned and paced around the bed. He was 18, and had never had sexual thoughts about a man…until now. Sure, his experience was limited, because he was 18 and a geek, but he was pretty sure he would have known by now.

If he was logical about it, this was only a reaction to the situation. Nothing more. He could handle it. If Sam and Dean could handle what had happened to them, Gabe could handle this.


Dean woke with one arm numb and tingly as it lay under Sam’s head. He moved it carefully, watching as Sam rolled a little, but didn’t wake up. Beside the bed, his father was asleep in the chair, his feet on the bed near Dean’s hip.

He shouldn’t have let him sleep in the chair. Dean frowned. He couldn’t have stopped him of course, he was…Dean took a deep breath. He was their father. Not master. Not owner. Still, John Winchester wouldn’t have taken orders from Dean. Especially not when Dean didn’t have a clue what he was doing.

His head hurt from the effort. The work to be…strong, to be Dean; big brother, son, master, slave, lover…He rubbed at his temples and hated himself for thinking that it was simpler with Master James. He always knew what he was, what he was supposed to do, how to behave. No one relied on him to be anything more or less than that. No one expected him to make decisions or understand anything but what he was told to do.

Talking to his father was exhausting. There was so much that he just didn’t understand, so much that a master should know. He grimaced, reminding himself again that John was Father, not Master. Master was dead.

Dean closed his eyes. Master was dead. It repeated in his brain with echoes of Punish and Nothing. No One. Alone.. He’d killed him. For Sam. He’d been ready to die, if it meant Sam would get away.

They were trapped in that bedroom. Trapped and waiting. Master knew he would die…never dreamed that Dean would be the one to do it.

“Ever had someone shove something up your ass, Master?”

The rage had fueled him, moved him. Dean’s stomach churned as he re-lived the moment, the way the knife had sliced up and into him…the sickening satisfaction of feeling the blood pour out of him.

“Dean?”

He looked up at his father, blinking as he realized he had tears in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah…just…remembering.”

John nodded and leaned forward, taking his feet off the bed. “Remembering what?”

Dean sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. “I killed him.” He said it softly, looking at his hands. “Master. I killed him.”

John nodded, taking his hands and holding them. “Yes, you did.”

“For Sam.” Dean said. “I couldn’t have done it for me. I was nothing. I was no one. But I wasn’t alone anymore…I had Sam…and I couldn’t let him turn Sam into what I was.”

“I am very proud of you.”

Dean exhaled slowly. “It’s confusing.” He was trying to sort it out in his head, and glanced up to see his father waiting for him to go on. He licked his lips. “Never hurt Master.” His voice was flat, without emotion, but wavered as he continued. “Rules. And punishment for breaking them. I understand them. They may not be…right. But I know them.” He took a deep breath, concentrating on articulating the battle inside him. “Not just…his rules. Hunters don’t kill people. Kill evil…demons.”

“Dean, James was evil.”

Dean nodded, his eyes still riveted on their hands. “I know. But he was human. And, like it or not, I spent months learning that he was…everything. I couldn’t eat or drink or relieve myself without his permission. If he chose, he could kill me…or worse. And I…” His eyes closed again. “I killed him. I broke the rules. All of the rules.”

Punish. It echoed through him, crashing around inside until he pulled his hands free and held them to his head. He pressed his wrists to his ears, his hands around his neck. He missed the surety of the collar…of belonging…of knowing.

John reached for him, strong hands on Dean’s arms, not pulling, just touching. After a few minutes, Dean’s eyes opened again and John could have fallen apart at the pain and confusion evident in them. “Tell me how to help you.” John said, his voice trembling lightly on the still air. “Tell me how to make it better.”

Dean’s jaw clenched as his hands slowly let go of his throat and his arms lowered. He shook his head no. Behind him Sam was stirring, restless and waking. Punish It wasn’t going to let him go. He stood abruptly, pacing away, opening the window and sticking his head out into the slow drizzle that was all that was left of the night’s storm.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was plaintive, needy. It burned against him and made the need worse.

John quieted Sam with a touch and moved behind Dean. He touched Dean’s shoulders, pulling him inside and up against him. “Tell me what you need, Son,” he said in his best authoritative voice, the one that never failed to snap both boys to obedience, no matter the situation.

Dean shuddered under his touch, his hands on John’s. “Not…not in front of Sam. Please?”

John nodded. “Go to my room and wait for me.” He was pretty sure he knew what Dean needed…he wasn’t sure he could do it, but he wasn’t above trying.

“Sam…”

“I’ll get Bobby, or Gabe or someone to sit with him for a few minutes.”

“Dad?” Sam was sitting up, concern on his face.

Dean didn’t look at him, just up at his father before he nodded and left the room. “It’s okay, Sam. Dean just needs some…attention. You okay for a minute? I’ll get someone to come sit with you.”

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

“Dean would not forgive me if I left you alone right now.”

“Then I’ll come with you.” He started to get up but John shook his head.

“No, you’ll stay put. He wants this…to be private.” He couldn’t stand here arguing with Sam, or he’d lose the resolve to do it.

“Tell me what’s going on.” John looked at him as he neared the door and Sam was out of bed and reaching for the crutches. “No. You…tell me you aren’t going to hit him.”

John turned away, opening the door. “I’m going to do whatever he needs, Sam. Isn’t that what you told me you were doing?”

Sam stopped, reached for John then pulled back. “D-don’t…don’t use a belt…he’ll ask…please.”

“Sam—just, go lay down.”

“Dad…don’t hurt him.” Sam bit back a sob as John turned to look at him and nodded. He stepped into the hall, just in time see Gabe coming out of the bathroom.

“Gabe, got a minute?”

Gabe shrugged and nodded. “Sure, whatcha need?”

“I have to—deal with something…could you, maybe, sit with Sam for a bit. We don’t want to leave him alone.”

Gabe paled considerably. “Where’s Dean?”

John bit his lip. “Busy. Do you mind?”

“No. No. Not at all.”

John stepped clear of the door and Gabe stepped inside. John turned to look at the door across the hall where Dean waited. He could do this. For Dean. He stepped across the hall and opened the door. Dean sat on the bed, waiting. He already looked calmer.

He shut the door and crossed his arms. “Now, tell me.”

Dean fidgeted, then stilled forcibly. “Punish me.” His voice was quiet, almost lost under the sound of the rain outside and the roaring in John’s ears. “Please.”

John’s eyes rolled closed and in that moment he didn’t think he could. “How?” He squeezed the word out of a throat frozen closed.

Dean wouldn’t look at him. He stood slowly and unzipped his jeans before dropping them and bending over the bed. “U-use your b-belt.”

John stood, staring, unable to move. The room was quiet, but for Dean’s breathing and the rain…it was getting louder. “Please, Dad.”

John jolted forward at the sound of his voice, found himself beside Dean, staring down at his ass, offered up for punishment. “God Dean…I don’t…I don’t think I can…”

Dean’s body was a tense line over the bed, but it tensed even more. “I know you can. I remember.” His hands were fisted in the sheets, his face turned toward the mattress.

John nodded, even though Dean couldn’t see him. He remembered too. He hadn’t had to do it often. “Not gonna use a belt.” John said, his voice softer, but back in that tone. “I’m going to spank you, Dean. Want you to count it out. Hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean responded, hitching his hips so that his ass rose higher off the bed.

John swallowed hard and closed his eyes, bringing his hand up to the tender flesh. He brought it down with a sound that seemed too loud in the small space, shuddering, even as Dean called out “One,” and his hand rose to swing again.

“Two.”

Two perfect red hand prints stood out against the white flesh and John pulled his hand back. Dean was shaking, but still lifting his ass. “Please.”

“No more, Dean.” John said, pulling one hand over his face. It was warm against the cool skin of his cheeks.

“Not enough. Not…please.”

John had to walk away, to the door and back. “Three.” Dean said softly, “Four.” A little louder that time. His butt was red, hot. His voice cracked at five and John sat heavily on the bed. Dean quivered, sliding down to his knees beside the bed, his arms circling John’s leg, his face pressed into his thigh. His tears soaked through John’s jeans and John’s sobs wracked them both.


Gabe looked uncomfortable as Sam pushed away tears. He hobbled back to the bed and collapsed, struggling to bring the cast up, until Gabe’s hands were on his foot, helping.

“Thanks.” Sam said softly. He didn’t look up, painfully aware that Gabe knew everything…had seen it all.

“You need anything?” Gabe asked, and Sam glanced up, noticing that Gabe looked away as soon as he realized Sam was looking.

“No. I’m…fine.” Gabe nodded and went to the window, his back to Sam. “I really mean that, Gabe.”

He got the impression Gabe hadn’t heard him…then, ever so slowly, Gabe turned, and he was the one pushing tears away. “I—I don’t know what to say…or if I should…I know you probably know…that I saw…that I was…”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t considered how seeing him would affect the younger man. Sam could forget that Gabe was only eighteen…and a fairly protected eighteen at that. His father kept him close and like other hunters, his world had always been pretty black and white.

“Dean told me that you and Ellen saw the video feed.” Sam said carefully. “I’ve been wanting to thank you…for being a part of the rescue. Your work probably saved my life.”

Gabe made a face. “I don’t feel like I did all that much.”

Sam smiled and shook his head. “No? The teams knew where to look because of you. Caleb might not have been found if you hadn’t done the thing with the cameras.”

Sam sighed, his eyes stealing to the door. He hadn’t heard anything. It made him nervous. He looked back to Gabe. “It’s okay, Gabe. Dean and Caleb and I, we’re safe now.”

“I-I don’t know if your Dad said anything…but I got some stuff off the facilities mainframe before it crashed…and we may be close to finding the Gorlians.”

The door opened and his father came in. “Hey Gabe. Ellen was looking for you. I got this, go on downstairs.”

“Yeah, okay. Bye Sam.”

Sam smiled and waved, then looked up at his father. John’s eyes were red and he didn’t look at Sam. “Dean wants to know if you want to eat downstairs or if you want him to bring breakfast up.”

“I want to see him.”

John shook his head. “He’s…he told me that you have to answer the question.”

“Is he okay?”

“Sam…breakfast?”

Sam crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll eat here. If Dean eats with me.”

John nodded and looked back into the hallway. His face was hidden by the door, and Sam couldn’t hear what he was saying, but then he was closing the door and crossing to collapse into the chair. Sam stared at him for a long time, before deciding that it wasn’t working.

“You look like shit, you know?”

John chuckled. “I slept in a chair all night.”

“You should go get some real sleep. I’ll be fine.”

“Nope, not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I hear Gabe found something.”

John shrugged. “Yeah, that’s what it looks like. I haven’t seen it, but it might lead us to the men in charge.”

“When do we leave?”

“What?” John looked genuinely confused.

“We are going after them, right?”

John nodded. “Yes, we will. When you and Dean are strong enough…until then, we’re staying right here.”

“We can’t wait.” Sam said. “They’ll get away. They’ll move and change everything…We have to go after them…before they come for us.”