Family, Supernatural, NC-17, Broken!Verse

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Family
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John, Ellen, Bobby, Caleb OMC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3444

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, Working On It, Effort, The Need to Talk and Please

Summary: Ellen and Caleb do something rash; Sam and Dean learn the truth about the eldest Gorlian, and Gabe tries to help John.

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



Dean felt the thick air against his skin as he woke, the sound of distant thunder and the smell of rain easing him out of nightmares and into the thin gloom of a late afternoon storm. It was cloying, sitting heavily in the room like the dreams sat in the back of his brain.

He moved just enough to see the other bed, the lump of blankets that was Sam, and their father beside him. John’s eyes opened and Dean looked away quickly. He wasn’t ready to face that…to face him.

They’d had to sedate Sam. Dean had failed him yet again. Should have seen. Should have known. Sam wasn’t ready, it was so fresh…so real. Dean had had the time to push it all away, make it something less than real…except in his dreams.

Dean swallowed and turned over. He was sweaty, itchy…dirty. He should shower. Get clean…He looked up again at his father. John didn’t understand. Maybe he never would. Maybe Dean didn’t really understand either. His father’s eyes had closed again. It was easier if he wasn’t looking. Easier alone.

Dean slipped out of bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. Shower. Clean. He needed to be clean. He felt his father’s eyes, but he didn’t speak. Dean breathed in relief as the door closed behind him and he was across the hall in the bathroom where he was safe.

He knew that was an illusion, one master crafted to provide a respite, a place where his slaves could gather themselves, pull themselves together. Some part of him knew that’s what the bathroom ritual was all about. It gave the slave the illusion of control over something…gave him a way of coping.

Dean had spent so much time alone…Nothing. No one. Alone. in his captivity…in his cage. Even when he was in the room with Master, he was alone, not noticed unless service was required.

The wall behind the sink was covered in a mirror, from the counter top to the ceiling. Dean stared at the reflection staring back at him. His skin was pale, and faded scars crisscrossed his chest. He started the shower and peeled off the sweats. Those scars came from before…before he was taken…all but that “J” above his left nipple.

One finger traced a long, thin scar on his abdomen. It was from a fence. He’d been the bait for trapping a spectral dog, and he’d gotten caught. Sam had saved him, jumping out of his cover and firing off with rock salt to keep the thing at bay until Dean had wriggled free of his bloody shirt.

Steam was spilling out of the shower, and Dean sighed, turning to get in. It was so much easier to function on his own. Easier to not have to figure out what was expected of him, what they needed from him….just do what he knew…just stop thinking for a little while…stop remembering everything…all the contradictions…

The water poured over him and he let himself let go, losing himself in the careful ministrations to his body. It was simple and easy. Comforting. When he was done, freshly shaved and wrapped in a fluffy towel, Dean looked at himself again in that mirror. His skin was a warm pink now, heated by the water and scrubbed clean. That too was an illusion. Like Sam, he’d never really be clean again.

But he could pretend.

He would pretend. And he would teach Sam how to do the same.

Maybe, if they pretended long enough, they could make themselves believe.



“Fucking stubborn Winchesters.” Ellen mumbled as she stomped down the stairs. She paused at the bottom to fish her vibrating phone out of her pocket. The caller id said “Jo” and a bit of panic flashed through her. She flipped it open. “Jo?”

“What the hell is this?”

Relief flooded her. “Honey, I—“

“Did you tell Ash to drag me off to some God forsaken hell hole?”

“Jo, listen to me—“

“I’m a big girl. I can handle—“

“No, Jo. You can’t handle this. Just listen to me for once without thinking I’m treating you like a child. Go with Ash. I’ll call you in a few days.”

“You are treating me like a child.”

“Jo—“ Ellen shook her head. She was tired…down to her bones tired and not in the mood to fight this one out. “Put Ash on the phone.” Ellen waited until Ash spoke, then sighed. “Tell her. Tell her everything so that she’ll understand. If that isn’t enough, tie her, gag her…whatever you have to do to keep my little girl safe. You hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“Good. Put her on.” When Jo’s voice was back, Ellen sighed again. “You listen to what he has to say. Then you go. No arguing.”

She put the phone back in her pocket and sighed. No matter how she turned this around in her head, she knew that sitting here, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere would fix nothing. Someone had to end this, and neither John nor his boys were in any shape to even start thinking about such things.

The cabin was quiet. Someone was in the shower. Gabe had gone out for a walk, and Bobby was…grieving alone in his room. She could see Caleb’s head through the window. She walked out onto the porch, leaning against the railing and looking at Caleb, who sat looking at nothing.

She knew better than to ask if he was okay. He’d been shaking when he’d come to find her to tend to Sam. She knew that he was thinking he’d caused some of that, that somehow Sam had reacted to Caleb’s presence.

“Want to do something about it?” Ellen asked slowly.

He turned to her just as slowly. “Like what?”

“I’ve got an address and a tank of gas. It’s a long drive, but…I’m thinking he won’t see us coming.”

“Gorlian?” Caleb asked, his eyes narrowing.

She nodded. “You, me, a couple of guns and some really good explosives. He’s fucked with my boys for the last time.”

She dug in her pocket for her keys and held them up.

“Should we tell someone?”

She didn’t smile. “I’ll leave a note. Round us up some ammunition.”

Ellen didn’t let herself think about it. He was family. Should be dealt with by family. Just like Bobby’d said about Robert. Her responsibility. She scribbled a note and left it on the table before she slipped on her sunglasses and headed out the door. Caleb was throwing a duffle bag into the back seat of her car. Ellen nodded and skipped down the steps. They could get to the state border by sunset, Austin in a little more than 24 hours, if they didn’t stop.


Dean let himself back in the room and rummaged in his bag for a clean pair of jeans, which he pulled on. He felt his father approach and turned to face him. “I’m okay.” Dean said, meeting his father’s concerned eyes with his own. “How’s Sam?”

“Still sleeping. I gave him some more when he woke up earlier.”

Dean nodded. “Did he say anything?”

Something passed over his father’s face, too fast to catch. John nodded. “Babbled a lot…cried…” He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Dean raised a hand to the pale cheek that still showed signs of his father’s own tears. “You too.”

John nodded. He was clearly trying to see just how strong Dean was, trying to see past the pretend. “I’m okay, Dad. Promise.”

“You have to tell me when you’re not, okay Dean? Before it falls apart. I can’t help you if I don’t know. If I don’t understand.”

Dean nodded. He could handle that. “Yeah. I get it.”

John sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Did you sleep enough?”

Dean shrugged. “It’ll do. Besides, only a few hours it will be time for bed again, right?” He looked at Sam. “He’s going to need to eat, especially with all those drugs in him.”

“He might still be pretty queasy, between the blood he swallowed and the bump on the head and the sedatives.”

Dean smiled and nodded. “Chicken soup it is then. You’ll stay?”

John nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be right here.”

Dean padded over the hard wood floors and down the stairs. He’d had Ellen buy chicken and stars soup when they went to town because he remembered Sam had liked it when they were younger. It wouldn’t take long to warm some up.

It was as he was putting the bowls on the tray that his eyes fell on the small piece of paper on the table. He picked it up, angling it toward the fading rays of evening sun coming in through the window.

Time to cut the head off this snake. E.

Dean had a sinking feeling in his stomach and a quick look out the window confirmed that her car was gone. He tucked the note in his pocket and headed up the stairs.

Sam was awake when he got there, though whether it was because their father woke him or he came to on his own, Dean couldn’t be sure. John helped him sit up, propping him with pillows. Sam groaned when he saw the tray and Dean smiled for him.

“I told you three meals, even if I had to sit on you. We seem to have missed lunch.” He set the tray down on the bed and pulled the note out of his pocket, handing it to his father. “We may have a problem though.”

John glanced down at the note, then went to the window. “What the fuck does she think she’s gonna do?”

“Dad?” Sam asked, wincing as he tried to adjust the way his back lay against the pillows.

“Ellen. She took off.”

“Where?”

John sighed, realizing suddenly that neither of them knew what Ellen had told him in the woods. In fact, no one did. “After Gorlian, I assume.”

Sam’s face paled. “Gabe’s information is that good?”

John shrugged. “I…we don’t know yet, but she isn’t getting all her information from Gabe…and…” He sat on the other bed, his head in his hands. “…she…knows him.”

“She what?” Sam sat forward, his face flushing.

“Calm down, before you pull out the stitches.”

“Stitches?” Dean asked, glancing at Sam. “You said he was fine.”

“He is fine, but Bobby thought it safer to stitch up two of the deeper cuts.”

“Dad?” Sam said again.

“Yeah Sam. Yeah. Gabe’s information led us to some names. Names Ellen recognized. It’s a really long story. Goes back to when you were both pretty young.” He blew out a long breath and nodded. “She thinks that Marvin Gorlian is actually Michael Harvelle, her estranged brother in law.”

He didn’t look up. “She thought he was dead. She thought I killed him.” Dean’s hand was on his shoulder, and John smiled sadly up at him. “I kept you boys out of it, kept you away from the hunters I didn’t know well, and some that I did. I knew Ellen and Bill pretty well. Bill and I went out on hunts from time to time. But…we went up against a berserker, bear spirit purposely brought into a human body for no other point than to kill. It took Bill before I could get a clean shot…left him tore up and just about dead before I killed it.”

“Michael was Bill’s brother. A hunter. He went dark. They both thought he was the berserker. We never saw its face, it was hidden under bear skins and it’s face was all torn up, mutilated…but now, evidence leads to Michael…and it looks like Ellen’s gone off to face him.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “He’s family. She thinks he’s her responsibility.”

“Like Robert.” Dean said quietly.

John nodded and stood. “You two eat. I’m gonna see if she spoke to anyone before she left.”

Dean sighed heavily as he left the room, then moved to Sam’s side, pulling the tray closer. “You want me to feed you, Sammy?” Dean asked playfully, holding the bowl up between them.

“Not hungry.” Sam said, pulling the blanket closer.

“Sam.”

“Dean.” Sam’s face was pissy, irritated as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sick…my stomach is…not good.”

Dean nodded, stirring the soup. “I know…Dad told me. But…you have to eat. Okay? It’s chicken and stars.”

Sam looked at him funny. “Chicken and stars?”

“What? I can’t make you something you like?” He held up a spoonful. “I watered it down too, for your stomach.”

Sam looked at the soup on the spoon and crinkled his nose. “You used to make me chicken and stars when I was sick.”

Dean nodded. “Eat a little.”

Sam sighed. “If I get sick, you’re cleaning it up.”

Dean nodded again. “That’s what big brothers are for.”

Sam rolled his eyes and let Dean feed the soup into his mouth. It was only lukewarm, and tasted like soup from a can that was only lukewarm…a slight metallic tasted that threatened to set his stomach off. He made a face and turned away. “Stop.” He held up his hand as Dean tried to put a second spoonful in his mouth. “Maybe crackers?” He pointed to the stack of crackers on the tray.

Dean nodded and handed him several. “Sorry…it’s…not good.”

Sam made a face again. “I’m sure if my stomach wasn’t all icky it would be fine.”

“I was never very good at the cooking thing.”

“We never starved.” Sam countered, nibbling on the corner of one of the crackers.

“No, I guess not.” Dean slurped at the soup himself. “Good thing you liked Spaghettios and Lucky Charms.”

Sam nodded blankly. After a long silence, Sam’s hand stole out to touch Dean’s knee where it sat close to Sam’s hip. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean stilled, looking at him closely. “For what, Sammy?”

Sam’s eyes closed and for a minute Dean thought he might be heading for another melt down. “I’m…everything?” Sam took a deep breath and pulled his hand back. “I’ve never been a very good brother to you…and I got you all mixed up in this…it’s all my fault, you know?”

Sam dared a look up at Dean, only to find him staring at Sam in disbelief. “I mean…Robert…he chose you because of me. He gave you to them because of me. You had to go back in there because of me. I was the one who made you…you know…I was the one who kissed you…and pushed for more…”

Dean set the bowl aside and folded his hands on his knee. “Let me get this straight, Sam. You think that everything that happened to me this last year is your fault?”

Sam re-crossed his arms and huffed. “Yes?”

Dean was shaking his head. “For a college boy, you really can be stupid, you know that?”

Sam bit his lip and looked away. “Don’t.”

“You know Dad blames himself too, right? And Bobby? How do you think he feels?” Dean reached out to Sam’s hand, pulling it free and holding it. “Hell Sam, I feel it too. You think I don’t feel guilty that Robert got away with you? I was fucking hiding, Sam. And I knew what they would do to you. You think I don’t feel like hell that you had to go through….that? That I let you go through that?” Dean’s thumb rubbed along the back of Sam’s hand. “It eats me up inside. Sometimes I can’t even look at you it’s so bad.”

Sam blinked at the tears, tried to keep them at bay. He was tired of crying. He was tired of feeling so…broken. He shook his head. “I don’t blame you.”

Dean nodded. “I know. And I don’t blame you or Dad, or Bobby either.”

They were quiet, and after a minute, Dean pulled his hand away to pick the bowl up again and continue eating. The soup was cold, but he ate it anyway. It felt good, this pretending and talking…being the big brother. “So, I’ve got this theory,” he said after a long time. “Wanna hear it?”

Sam nodded slowly and Dean grinned. “Okay…so…I know who I used to be, right? I know who Dean Winchester is…even if I’m not really him right now. I know what ‘okay’ looks like, even if I’m not okay right now.”

Sam was frowning at him. “Okay…so it isn’t rocket science. Just…listen.” Dean shifted a little, putting the bowl down again. “So…when I was…gone…the training…it’s basically the same. You know what to do and you do it, even though it doesn’t feel right…even though it goes against everything. And, it gets easier…it starts to feel…right...and eventually…you become what you’re pretending to be.”

“So…you want me to pretend. To be…okay?”

Dean nodded. “I mean, it isn’t perfect…and it takes a lot of time…and we’ll both have bad days…when we can’t remember and can’t pretend…like today…but maybe, if we just try…” He licked his lips and met Sam’s eyes. “If we pretend long enough, we can start to believe it…you know…train ourselves.” His voice dropped to not much more than a whisper.

Sam just looked at him for a long time, then his eyes flicked away and he nodded slowly. “Yeah…it makes sense…sort of.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah?” For some reason Sam’s validation thrilled him. “Good. But I want you to promise me something, okay?” He didn’t wait for Sam to respond. “For this to work, you have to tell me, when it’s too much, when it hurts or you can’t pretend. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”


John cursed as he prowled the front porch. Up until now, Ellen had been the level head in the group, the one that kept the rest of them from running off half cocked. Now, she was gone, running off after maybe the most dangerous enemy any of them had ever faced. It was beginning to look like she hadn’t gone alone either. Caleb was no where to be found.

Gabe approached nearly silently, making John jumped when he’d spotted him. He was way off his game. “Everything okay?” Gabe asked.

John shook his head. “No. Everything is not okay.” He was beginning to wonder if it ever would be again. “Ellen and Caleb are gone.”

Gabe frowned, glancing to the place where Ellen’s car had been. “Gone where?”

“Gorlian. They’ve gone after Gorlian.”

“Alone? That’s…suicidal.” Gabe pulled the rubber band out of his hair, rubbing a hand through the blond shaggy mess that put Sam’s to shame.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.” John said. “Fuck, I should be out there running that sick bastard to ground.”

“I know that feeling.” Gabe said. “So what do we do?”

John scowled at him. “I don’t know. I can’t leave Sam and Dean, not again.”

“I’m sure they don’t want to be just sitting here either.” Gabe chewed on his lip for a minute. “I know that, if it were me, I’d want to be a part of it…part of the ending of the men responsible.”

“They aren’t ready for that.” John shook his head. “Sam…Sam’s barely holding it together…and physically…he’s been through so much.”

“I know.” Gabe’s stomach twisted. “I re-live it every night in my dreams…and I only saw some of it. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him.” He crossed his arms over his chest, shivering as thunder rumbled around them. “What about Dean? How’s he?”

John sighed and sank into the chair behind him. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

“I was doing some…research…online. The psychology of it.”

“You…what?”

Gabe shook his head and blushed. “I—it’s what I do.”

“And?”

“Well…I’d have to say that Sam’s having pretty classic reactions to r-r—what was done to him…from what I’ve read…anyway. Eventually he’ll get to angry and work out a way to…you know, deal with it…if anyone ever deals with…that.”

Gabe shoved his hands in his pockets. “Dean…well, I figure he’s got the conditioning buffering him from a classic response to the things they did to him…and they broke him…so his issues are…different…cause he…accepted it already, the brutality I mean…But…he remembers, and everything I read said that was a good sign.”

John sighed again and Gabe chewed on his lip. “Yeah, not really helpful…I know.”

Lightening split the sky and thunder rumbled along behind it as the skies darkened and a cold, heavy rain started to fall. “I just feel so…useless.”

John watched the rain fall and nodded. He understood that. He’d never felt more useless in his life.