phantisma: (Sam Broken)
[personal profile] phantisma
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: A Fine Line
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John
Rating: NC-17 (for thematic reasons)
Word Count: 3273

Summary: Broken!Verse, chapter 48 (Click here for Index of all chapters)
Summary: This is all Sam and Dean. This is Sam trying to figure out what to tell Dean, and Dean trying to figure out how to respond...Two broken boys trying desperately to make each other okay.

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



Sam sat up suddenly, the room spinning around him. Dean snored on the bed next to him. He swallowed. He had a vague memory of getting to the motel just inside the city limits. Dean hadn’t pressed for details and Sam had fallen into bed, curled into a ball and gone to sleep.

He wasn’t sure now what to do. Had no idea if Dean would be…Dean when he woke up…or if he’d go back to the catatonic state of before…or…something else entirely.

It was nearly 11 in the morning. Sam scrubbed a hand over his face and fought his way clear of the sheets. He needed a shower, but since they didn’t have anything to cover the cast, he wasn’t getting one.

He took a deep breath. That was one thing he could do. Find a clinic or something that would look at the leg. Maybe get them to take the damn cast off and give him something more…mobile. He grabbed his phone and rummaged in the nightstand for a local phone directory. Then he stumbled and limped to the bathroom to give Dean some quiet.

Ten minutes later, Joseph Becker had an appointment at a local clinic for 2pm. Sam stuffed the Becker credit card back into his wallet and set the phone book on the floor. He stared at his phone. He should call his father.

Dean didn’t remember any of it. Who’s to say it wasn’t better that way? Sam could certainly understand it. But…he knew his brother. He knew he wouldn’t let it slide. Not when he found out he had lost more than three years. No…he’d pick at it and worry and then when he did find out. When he remembered…or was told…or ….Sam shook his head and pressed the button to dial his father’s number.

He took a deep breath as the phone rang. His father’s voice was gruff when he answered. “Sam?”

“Hey…Dad…” But he couldn’t actually say it.

“Sam, is something wrong?”

“Yeah… Dad. It’s Dean…he’s…something’s happened.”

“Sam?”

He cleared his throat. “Last night…he…Holy Fuck! He’s…forgotten…everything. He’s…he thinks its three years ago…before Stanford.”

“Amnesia?”

Sam shrugged and shook his head. “I…don’t know…it…he just…sat up and looked at me and was…normal.”

“Normal? Losing three years doesn’t strike me as normal.”

“No…I know…I just…I don’t know what to do, Dad. I don’t know what to say to him.”

John sighed through the phone. “I don’t know what to tell you Sam. You can’t…you can’t tell him. I can’t even imagine what that would do to him.”

“I know…but he’s going to ask. When he realizes how much time…he’s gonna want to know.”

“Okay…maybe…tell him he was kidnapped and…fuck.” He heard his father fumble the phone and mumble to someone he was with. “Sam. Tell him he got beat up. Tell him…just don’t tell him about the rest. He’s gonna have to come to that on his own.”

“Yeah…I can do that I think.”

“You going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. I’m…I’ll call you later.”

Sam hung up the phone and hung his head. “Fuck.” He stood up and ran cold water to splash over his face. As he looked up and into the mirror, he realized he hadn’t shaved again in a few days. He was scruffy and it aged him. All it was going to take for Dean to realize how much time had passed was one good look at him.

“Fuck.”

There was a knock on the door and Sam jumped.

“Hey, Sam…you in there?”

“Yeah. Dean. Just a minute, okay?”

“Come on man, I gotta pee.”

Sam took a deep breath and opened the door. “All yours dude.”

“Hey.” Dean grabbed his arm as he hobbled past. “You okay?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You’re not fine. I know when you’re fine. This isn’t it.”

“Pee Dean. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

Sam hobbled away, over to the window. He could do this. It was better. It was easier. All his mistakes erased. Dean…really Dean. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the window and closed his eyes. He could relax…maybe…he could have a day or two…just some time for it to be like it was…like it was before.

He stiffened when Dean’s arms slid around his waist, froze as they slid below his waist band and circled his cock. His lips pressed to Sam’s neck and Sam had to take a shaky breath. “Dean…please.” Maybe not like before.

“Want you so bad Sammy…feels like it’s been forever.” Dean’s groin connected with Sam’s ass and Sam bolted to the side, away and turning, holding up his hands.

“Dean. Just…wait, okay?”

Dean cocked his head to the side. “What’s wrong? You’re always the one who wakes up horny…especially when Dad isn’t around.” His smile was devilish. “And it isn’t like you’re getting away from me with a gimp leg.”

Sam paled and turned away. “We…should talk…first.”

“What are you? A girl, Sammy? You know I don’t want to talk.” Dean closed in again, pulling Sam closer and bringing his hand up behind Sam’s head to pull him in to kiss. “Just want to touch you,” he whispered.

Sam shivered as Dean’s hands closed around his wrists, pushing his arms behind him while he kissed him again, his lips and teeth wandering from Sam’s lips to his chin and down his jaw line. Sam pulled on his hands, but Dean held him firm. “Please…Dean.” Sam couldn’t breath. “Please…let go.”

“Want to kiss you all over Sammy…love the way you taste.”

“Dean.” There was panic leaking into this tone and Dean pulled back to look at him. “Please.” He pulled again and this time Dean did let go.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. I know. Just…just give me a minute.” Sam was gasping for air. He tried to move away, but Dean’s hand was on his cheek and his face was filled with concern…and…”Fuck.”

He took a deep breath and tried to meet Dean’s eyes. “I’m okay. Just…you don’t remember a lot. And…I can’t…not right now.” He softened his words with a kiss on Dean’s cheek before he sat on the bed. “Sit down, Dean.”

Dean’s hands were on his hips as he stared down at Sam. “What’s going on Sammy?”

“Sit down. Okay?”

Dean paced around for a minute, one hand covering his mouth, then wiping it before he sat on the end of the bed and stared at Sam.

“I don’t want you to freak out on me. But you…It’s been three years, Dean. I—you…don’t remember…but…”

“Wait. Three years? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Sam couldn’t look at him. “No. I’m not.”

“What happened?”

“What’s the very last thing you remember Dean?”

Dean scratched at his head and stood up, pacing around the bed. “We went to Bobby’s. You were horny as hell and we went out to the car. When we came out, Robert was there…telling us dinner was ready.”

Sam felt his whole body tense. He’d thought he wanted this, to rewind…make it like it never happened. He hadn’t told Dean about Stanford until the next day. Hadn’t told him about Robert in the living room. But this was worse. This was fucked up and he didn’t know if they’d survive this.

“You’re telling me that was three years ago, Sam?”

“Actually, it’s almost closer to four. I’d be graduating this year.”

Dean stopped his pacing and looked at Sam. “Graduating?”

Sam nodded. “I left. At the end of that summer…two weeks later. I went to Stanford…got a full scholarship.”

“You…left?” Dean’s hands were back on his hips and he was shaking his head. “This isn’t real. Why? Why?” He turned to look at Sam.

He couldn’t stop the tears as he tried to figure out what Dean was asking. “Why what?”

“Fuck. I don’t know Sam. Why did you leave? Why don’t I remember? Hell, what don’t I remember? Why did you get all panicky when I touched you? Why are you looking at me like I’m gonna break into a thousand pieces? Why?”

Sam held up his hands, but they were shaking, so he put them down again. “I need you to calm down and trust me.”

“You keep saying that Sam…and for god’s sake I trust you with my life, but none of this is making sense! None of it.”

“I think…” Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I think it’s post traumatic stress Dean. I think…your brain just….shut down to protect you.” And fuck, that was the wrong thing to say, because Dean was livid now.

“Protect me? Protect me from what Sam?” His face was red as he stalked toward Sam and he couldn’t help but cringe away. Dean must have seen something in his face, because he suddenly looked scared. “Christ! Did I do something to you?”

“Me?” Sam couldn’t breath. He shook his head, but couldn’t escape the panic in his chest. “No Dean. You didn’t…didn’t do anything to me.”

“Then why are you like that? Like you’re afraid of me?”

“Not you. God, not you.” Sam forced a breath out and looked up at him. “You…you went missing. And, you…were hurt. And…I found you.”

“You’re not telling me everything.”

Sam shook his head. “Can’t. Dad says you need to remember on your own.”

“Dad? Where the fuck is Dad?”

Sam felt some of the panic flush away. Dean had backed off and Dad was safer…safer than the rest. “I…I’m not sure exactly. Hunting.”

“Hunting what?”

Maybe Dad wasn’t any safer a conversation than the rest after all. “The last of the men who hurt you.”

Dean crossed his arms and stared at Sam. “Okay. What happened to you?”

“What?”

“Dude, you were terrified. Of me. Of me touching you.”

Sam shook his head and started to get up. “No. I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that too. Fuck Sam, I know you better than that. You say I didn’t do anything to you. Obviously, someone did.”

“It’s…nothing. Dean. Nothing important. Can we drop it?”

“No.” Dean stalked toward him, practically vibrating with anger. “If it’s nothing, let me kiss you.”

Sam turned away. Maybe he could disguise it. “Dean, it’s been three years.”

Dean stopped. “Are you saying…is there someone else?”

Sam couldn’t believe where this conversation was going. “What? Of course there isn’t anyone else. I mean…there was…but…she was never…fuck. Dean. Can’t we just…stop? Please?” His voice fell to a whisper and his eyes closed.

Dean’s hands were on him again. Gentle at first, down his back, his lips pressed to Sam’s shoulder. “Tell me Sammy. It’s making me crazy. I can’t…I need you, baby…Love you so much…”

Sam shuddered before he could control it. Dean couldn’t know those words had come from Robert in the midst of his ordeal…couldn’t know about his ordeal…but he saw it and his face got hard and angry again. “Tell me Sam. I swear I’ll beat it out of you—“ He stopped as the last of the color drained from Sam’s face.

Dean bit his lip and grabbed Sam’s arms, turning him to face him. “Fuck Sam.”

Sam pulled free and stumbled away, toward the door. “Stop…fuck…stop. Okay…okay…I was…” He had to say or Dean would keep pressing. “Raped. Dean.” There. Dean froze, Sam looked away. It was there. “I was…I was raped. And…I love you…and I want to be with you…more than anything. But I…can’t. Okay?”

He fell against the door, turning his face to it and wiping at the tears that just weren’t stopping now. Dean sank onto the bed. “Did…this…did it…was it because of me?” Dean’s voice was small…weak.

Sam took a deep shuddering breath and shook his head. “No…no. It was…something else.”

“After you left us?”

Sam nodded miserably and crossed his arms, trying to stop the tears and face Dean. “I’m…okay, Dean. I’m dealing…but…I can’t…it’s too much.”

It was silent in the room for a long time and when Dean spoke again something in his voice had changed completely. “Did we get him?”

The question startled Sam and he opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He closed it again and nodded. “Yeah, Dean. We did.”

Dean nodded and sniffed a little, wiping his face and standing. “Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna go eat. And I’m gonna get a haircut. And we’re gonna just…not worry about what I don’t remember for today.”

Sam nodded encouragingly. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He wiped his face too and took a deep breath. “I made an appointment at a clinic to have my leg looked at. I mean, Doc Brays is great…but this cast sucks.”

Dean frowned at him. “Doc Brays did that?” Sam nodded and Dean bit his lip. “Is it…was it part of…what happened to you?”

Sam wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he just nodded. Dean came closer slowly, hands on his hips, eyes on the floor. “Tell me I cut the bastard in two Sam.”

Sam reached out to hug him. “Yeah, Dean…you did.”



“Well, Mr. Becker. Whoever set this leg for you did a very good job. You say this was a field setting?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah…I was out hunting. My father’s veterinary friend set it for me.”

The doctor was an older man, older than his father, with gentle hands and a solid smile. “Well, the x-rays show that it’s healing nicely.” The doctor ran his hands down Sam’s pale leg, now free of its plaster prison. Beside him, Dean shifted uncomfortably.

Sam had tried to talk him into going down the block for a hair cut, but Dean wasn’t going to be pried away that easily…not after the whole confession in the motel room.

“We’ll want to re-splint it, of course, but with something a little easier for you to get on and off…so you can bathe. You should stay on the crutches, at least for the time being. This kind of break takes a long time to heal, Mr. Becker.”

“Yeah, that’s what Doc said. I should have had it looked at before now…but I don’t get into town much.”

The gray haired man nodded and picked up his prescription pad. “I’m going to give you a mild pain reliever. You should be past the worst of the pain at this point in the healing process, but sometimes when it throbs it can be hard to sleep. My PA will be in shortly to fit you with a splint.”

He handed Sam a piece of paper from the prescription pad. “You wear the splint for everything but the shower, okay, Son? At least four weeks. And see someone to make sure it’s healing before you stop wearing it.”

“Yes sir.” Sam said, looking up at Dean who took the prescription from him and tucked it into a pocket.

“I’ll make sure he takes good care of it, Doctor.”

He smiled and excused himself from the room. Sam heaved a sigh of relief. People were so hard some days. He leaned against Dean and closed his eyes. It felt good to have the cast off…his leg felt light.

“So…where to after this, Sammy?” Dean asked, his hand rubbing light circles on Sam’s back. He froze as he felt the stitches in the cut over Sam’s right shoulder blade. “Sam?”

Sam leaned forward. “I told you…I still have a few stitches.”

Dean’s hands were pulling up Sam’s shirt and Sam tried to pull away. “Sit still.” Dean growled, lifting Sam’s shirt to see under it. “Damn it Sam.”

“Let it be Dean.”

“No. Some of these need to come out.”

“You can do it later.”

Dean dropped the shirt and moved around to the front of Sam. “Is there anything else I should now? Anything else you want to tell me? Because I gotta tell you Sam, it’s fucking hard to take care of you when I don’t know what needs to be taken care of.”

“Maybe I don’t need you to take care of me anymore Dean.” Sam said, raising his voice without meaning to.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s my turn to take care of you.”

Dean shook his head. “No. No. Just stop. Give me the phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone. I apparently don’t have mine.”

“Who are you going to call?”

“Dad.”

“Why?”

Dean shook his head. “What do you mean why? He should be here…not out there somewhere. He should be here talking some sense into you.”

“You don’t need to call Dad.”

“Fuck you.” Dean paced to the door and back and held out his hand. “Give me the fucking phone same, or I swear to god, I’m walking out that door and I’m not coming back.”

Sam paled and his fingers shook as he reached into his pocket for the phone. Dean looked at it, then up at Sam. “I’ll be out front.”


Dean stalked through the doctor’s office, out through the front door, then he flipped open the phone. His father’s voice sounded over the phone. “Sam?”

“No, Dad, it’s Dean.”

“Dean.” There was an odd hesitation in his voice that made Dean frown.

“Yeah. Where are you?”

“On my way to Bobby’s.”

“Look…I know things are…hell I don’t know what things are. Sam’s telling me I’ve lost three years, and he’s…he’s all fucked up Dad.”

“What has Sam told you, Dean?”

“Not much. Not enough. He said somebody hurt me and that I can’t remember because of some traumatic stress or something…but it’s not me I’m worried about Dad. Sam…he’s falling apart.”

“What do you mean, Dean?”

Dean kicked at the ground, then stared at the shoes on his feet. They weren’t his boots at all. “He’s…scared…and broken. How did he get beat up like this Dad? I mean the stitches and the broken leg? What am I missing?”

“Sam will be fine, Dean. Just trust him, and let him…do what he wants, okay?”

“Damn it Dad, I’m not a child.”

“No, I know.”

“Who did this to Sam? And why aren’t you here?”

“You boys need to be alone…away from the rest…just trust your brother Dean.”

Dean sighed and stared at the phone. “Yeah, okay Dad. But we’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah, Dean. As soon as I can, okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”


“So, I figure if we hit the road by 8 we can get into Washington by 7 tonight.” Sam said as Dean examined his newly shortened hair in the bathroom.

“Washington?”

“Yeah…I figured we’d get a nice cozy cabin and do some R&R.”

Dean emerged from the bathroom as Sam settled on to the bed. “R&R…in Washington.”

Sam chuckled and nodded. “A cabin…someplace quiet, where no one knows us, and no one will bother us.”

“In the woods, where it’s cold.”

Sam patted the bed and Dean turned off the light. “Can we not think or talk? Can we just…sleep? I feel like I haven’t slept in a month.”

Dean crawled in under the blankets. “You’ll tell me if I make you uncomfortable?”

Sam nodded, pulling Dean closer. “We’ve shared a bed since….well, since. Just…we have to go slow…okay?”

“So…you want me to snuggle.” Dean said.

“No…I know you don’t snuggle.” Sam responded.

“Damn straight.” Dean’s hand belayed his words though, guiding Sam’s head to lie on his shoulder. “Though…in the interest of helping you, I could be persuaded.”

Sam pressed his lips to Dean’s collarbone, then lifted up to kiss his lips. “I love you Dean,” he whispered.

“Course you do.” Dean whispered back.

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed the tears. There’d been enough of that for one day. His brother needed him…and no matter how tired he was, he could, would be there for him.
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