Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11467146.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Smith/Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Smith, John_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Hunters_&_Hunting, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Abusive_John_Winchester,
      Protective_Dean, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Hurt_Sam_Winchester, Crush_at
      First_Sight, John_Winchester_Being_an_Asshole, Bad_Parent_John
      Winchester, Consensual_Underage_Sex, Sam_Winchester's_Demonic_Powers,
      Unrelated_Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Telekinesis, Top_Dean, Bottom
      Sam, Twink_Sam, Psychic_Sam
  Series:
      Part 26 of One-Shots, Part 1 of Rising_Sun:_Psychic_Sam
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-14 Words: 4772
****** Sorry (Someone Will Love You) ******
by thorkiship18
Summary
     All alone, with an abusive father and abilities he doesn't
     understand, a young boy clings to a stranger who might hold the key
     to his freedom.
Notes
     This fic could not have been made without my dearest friend, Hannah,
     who insisted I drop everything and make this. Love you, Stinky Bagel.
     Omg, this fic is such a mess. (Lol)
It hurts.
The room is dark.
The rough hands above him forcefully grip his soft exterior, his neck. The
smell of hard whiskey assaults the boy's nostrils.
This is all Sam is aware of in this moment. The man above him, John Winchester,
his father, touches him in a manner no other parent would to their child. If
Sam resists, he's struck once more, leaving another bruise on his delicate
face. He loves John...but he also hates him with every fiber of his being.
He shivers as John buries his face into his neck, deeply inhaling the young
teen's sent. When John's like this, he usually wants something in return, a
sign of affection, anything to help him forget about the horrors of the day. Of
the monsters he fights with such determination. He taps on John's shoulder,
signaling him to look at him. When their eyes lock, he nods.
Sam can give John this, even if he doesn't want to. He can give him an escape,
even if he cannot find his own. He allows his father to kiss him, to lick into
his mouth, to fuck him without mercy because this is all he's ever known.
It's possible to get him to stop. He could if he really wanted to, if he tried.
He could call upon The Power to shove him away, yet it would only breed
disaster. John hunts beings that have supernatural properties, and
this thing inside of Sam makes it so that if John found out about him, his life
would be literally be taken away. For now, he must endure the abuse, and the
curse that plagues him.
With a grunt, John finishes his business, releasing his seed inside of his son,
his baby boy. His mistake. He gets up from the bed, and pulls his pants up,
walking away from the mess he's made. John exits the room; he slurs his parting
words.
"Goodnight..."
Sam doesn't answer, he only lays in the bed, staring at the ceiling. After some
time alone, a tear falls loose from his eye. Several more follow shortly after
until the pillow below him is soaking wet. The pain in his rectum is nearly
unbearable, and John's "present" leaks onto the sheets. Thank God that he
actually had the decency to properly prepare for entry tonight.
He reasons with himself that he deserves what John is doing to him, that he
somehow knows about his curse and is punishing him for it. Sam closes his eyes.
The door closes on it's own.
****
Dean checks the shred of paper from his jacket pocket. This must be the house
where that Hunter lives. His dad had told him so many stories of John
Winchester's legendary adventures, and Dean, a young and eager Hunter with a
few successful Hunts under his belt, can't wait to kill stuff with this guy.
Apparently, John has a kid, a son. No one's ever seen him though; the Hunter
community only know so little of him. Maybe John protects him from it all. Dean
walks up to the house, tapping his knuckles on the wood of the door. He shoves
his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he waits, the sudden urge to
urinate hits him suddenly. Oh well, that's just great.
They'll be exterminating a Vampire nest shortly, no big deal. Soon enough, the
door opens, and Dean stares at the legend himself. He looks...different than
how he originally imagined him. John's gruffer here, and his eyes are a bit
bloodshot. He looks like Hell, but then again, it's no secret that whiskey is
John Winchester's best friend. The man nods to Dean, allowing him to enter the
house; they talked briefly on the phone a few days ago.
"Nice to meet you, Sir." Dean says, holding out his hand.
John shakes it. His grip is firm, very strong. Jesus. "Dean, right? Welcome.
Make yourself at home. Want a beer?"
"Uh, that would be great, but I gotta use the bathroom so bad."
"Haha, well it's upstairs."
"Thanks."
Dean goes up the stairs, skipping two at a time. This is what happens when you
drink a two liter bottle of soda by yourself. One would learn from their past
mistakes, right? No, not Dean. Stupid bladder. Once he reaches the top of the
stairs, he veers right down the hall. Shit. There's four doors, and John didn't
say which was which. For the love of God...
Sighing, he goes for the first door he sees. He opens it slowly, just in case
he's made a mistake. That he does. Upon opening the door, he sees a beautiful
sight. An Angel. Not a real Angel, because those don't exist, but...someone
quite Angelic. John's Son. He's getting dressed. He's blissfully unaware of
Dean's presence. The boy is small, thin frame, skin milky white. He looks so
soft.
Dean forgets all about his bladder when he gazes upon the boy. He pulls his
shirt over his head, and it just barely goes above his underwear covered
buttocks. He looks so pure. However, the moment soon comes crumbling down. The
boy turns his head, and once he sees Dean, he yelps, covering himself the best
he can.
"Oh, shit. S--Sorry!"
"Get out!"
Dean attempts to close the door, but it slams closed by itself. That's
definitely...odd. Wow. Okay. Either the kid ran all the way across the room to
close the door, or he's going crazy. Nevertheless, he still feels like a bit of
a pervert, but he can't help it. Dean resumes his search for the bathroom,
mildly embarrassed by what had just transpired. He finds it, and immediately
goes towards the toilet.
That boy...he wants to know more about him. He's tempted to get close to him.
Dean has a--dare he say, crush on the kid. What's his birthday? What kind of
music does he like? Classic rock? Does he eat junk food? Is he into guys? Is he
into him?
"Son of a bitch..." He mutters.
****
Who the Hell was that!?
Sam sits on his bed, still very shocked that another man has seen him in his
underwear. Another man? Who is he? Must be a friend of Dad's or something. He's
young, but he doesn't look thst much older than Sam. He's got a bit of a boyish
charm to him. Maybe 20? 22? Either way...he's cute.
Wait, what!? Cute? No! But yes! Yes? No! No to yes? Ugh!
Whoever that guy is, Sam just prays to God that he knows what he's he's doing.
Hunting is dangerous, and he knows that from first hand experience of course.
John's taken him on a few Hunts before, nothing huge. Ghosts and other minor
threats, yet still dangerous. Sam doesn't like going on Hunts with John because
even when he's right, he's wrong. Nothing pleases him...well, except one thing,
and that thought makes Sam shudder.
"Sammy! Downstairs!" John calls. That's his commanding voice. If he doesn't
obey soon, bad things will happen.
Sam pulls on his sweatpants quickly. "Okay!" He yells back. "Be right there!"
Oh, boy. What is it now? Sam rushes out of his room, and down the staircase in
a hurry. When he gets downstairs, he sees his father waiting for him with the
other guy, the one who barged in on him getting dressed. The memory causes his
cheeks to burn hot. How embarrassing. The guy looks at him nervously as well.
"Yes?" Sam asks.
John's expression is stony. "Just letting you know that I'm leaving today. Sam,
this is Dean Smith. He's gonna be working with me on this Hunt. Dean, this is
my son, Sam."
Dean gives him a small wave and a tight lipped smile. They've met already, but
John doesn't need to know. "Hey."
"Hi..." Sam smiles back. Maybe he can forgive him for accidentally spying on
him because if that handsome face.
John looks between them, angry. At what? What's going through this brute's
mind? Oh, how Sam wishes he could read minds. The Power only allows him to move
objects and occasionally have prophetic visions of the future, though that only
occurs when he's asleep. Still, seeing John this way--seemingly jealous of
Dean--scares Sam, it shakes him to the core.
He's never seen his father this way. Maybe because John has never brought home
a Hunter that Sam views as attractive. The elder Hunter clears his throat,
getting both Sam and Dean's attention.
"I'll be gone for a few days. Only a few. Salt the doors and windows--"
"I made up the Devil's Traps this morning," Sam finishes. "Silver bullets in
every pistol, and rock salt in every shotgun. Wards are up too. I remember
everything, Dad."
Dean whistles off to the side, arms folded and grinning. "Damn, that's pretty
awesome. Hey, I'm sure we could use your skills. You sure you don't wanna come
with us?"
Is he actually being included in something!?
"I--"
"No," John grunts. "He's staying here. He has no place out there. Come on. Time
to go."
"Okay." Dean frowns, but smiles again as he exits when John. "Bye, Sam."
"Bye..."
Once they leave, and he has the house to himself, Sam sits down on the stairs,
arms around his knees. John sure knows how break down his son's self-esteem. No
place out there? What does that mean exactly? That the world is so dangerous,
and that the only safe place for him is here, with John? That's not safe at
all. In fact, it's the opposite.
He's been this way for as long as Sam can remember. Possessive,
controlling...abusive, yet also protective of the only family he's got left.
Sam doesn't know anything of his mom, only that she was killed by a Demon with
yellow eyes. John often says that he reminds him of his mother, that he has her
eyes, her face. Must be why he gets drunk, and screws Sam into the mattress
every night...
He can't...God, it's just so hard to hate John. Sam's incapable of it. He can't
hate the man who helped bring him in this world. In fact, he can only
sympathize with him. John's mind is--it's slipping, his sanity is deteriorating
each day. The Hunts aren't helping, and it's gotten to a point to where he'll
grab a bottle of beer or whatever gets him wasted first thing in the morning.
In a sense, Sam has to play caretaker to his father. He just doesn't know how
long he'll have to keep that up. Suddenly, he hears a strange humming in the
back of his skull. Images flash in his mind.
Dean.
Laughing.
Peace.
It's over in a flash, and it leaves Sam speechless. He had a vision wide
awake...of that man. He was with him, seemingly having a fun time. The boy
scoffs, but then he smiles softly.
What's this warm feeling in his chest?
****
It's been mostly silent for the entire ride thus far. There's been some small
talk every now and then regarding Dean's prowess in battle or a story from
John's previous Hunts. Though there's only one thing that's on Dean's mind, and
that's Sam Winchester. He's a beautiful thing for sure, shy too obviously. He
knows his stuff, and Dean is positive that he's not just booksmart either.
There was a fear in his eyes when John spoke to him, but Dean brushes it off.
Most dads can be very intimidating, and that's something that John Winchester
is. If looks could kill, he would be a serial killer of some sort. Dean's heard
tales of Hunters partnering with John, how he prefers to usually work alone on
smaller cases, and how it's a little more than difficult for novice Hunters to
work with him.
It was said that he once left a Hunter behind as bait. It's just a story, but
Dean remains wary of his idol.
"Ever fought one of these bastards before, Dean?" John asks, eyes on the road.
"Yeah, but just once. The asshole nearly took a chunk out of me."
"It's difficult to kill em up close, but that's how you do it. How'd you get
into this, this 'business that we're in?"
"I..." Dean starts, unsure where to begin. "My mom and sister were killed by
Werewolves. Messed my dad up...messed me up too. We've been fighting ever
since, protecting other families. Dad is more of a researcher than an actual
Field Hunter, if that makes sense. We're good, haven't died yet. What about
you?"
"Me?" John nearly grunts. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. "There's
nothing to say. Every Hunter gets into the game through a tragedy of some kind.
Someone died, I geared up, that's it."
He's a tough one. He's grizzled, hardened by whatever devastating events lead
him down this part. John must've lost someone, that's how it starts. Dean
didn't see a woman or any family photos at the house, so it might not be a
stretch to say that Sam's mom and John's wife was killed by a supernatural
entity.
"Yeah, but what about Sam?" Dean says out loud by mistake.
John turns to him briefly. His expression is menacing. "What about Sam?"
"Just asking. He seems smart, could possibly handle himself in a fight. Could
help with lore on a creature. Maybe I could take him around for a day out or--"
"Sam stays at home," says John. "Always. Hunting is too dangerous. He knows
that. Stay focused on the Hunt, not my personal life or my son."
The conversation ends there. John stops talking, and Dean stops trying to make
small talk. The young Hunter allows his mind to drift back towards Sam, his
beauty, his shy smile and the way he tucks his hair behind his ears. So fucking
cute. Dean needs to know--Hell, he demands to know every single detail about
Sam. The thought of him smiling and laughing causes Dean to grin inadvertently.
They should hurry on this Hunt. The quicker it ends, the quicker they'll get
back to Sam.
Finally, he's got someone worth fighting for.
****
Two Days Later...
Sam focuses his energy on the quarter on the coffee table. He stripped the
furniture of all objects save for that one. This is what he does when John's
gone, he practices using The Power, gaining strength more mental strength. It's
also fun to do. He once levitated a huge textbook into his arms. That night, he
was researching a monster for John over the phone.
"Come on," Sam smiles. "Let's do this one more time."
As if obeying Sam's words, the coin shakes on the surface, then jumps into an
upright position. He giggles at his efforts. With more power, Sam causes the
quarter to spin fast in place. It needs more, something more, so the coin lifts
into the air, still spinning like the toy tops he used to play with as a kid.
It's a flurry of movement, faster than the human eye can comprehend. But Sam's
smile fades as he hears the keys at the front door.
The coin drops onto the table just as John and Dean enter the house. Sam's face
pales, not knowing if either of them witnessed what he was doing. Thankfully,
John only looks pleased. The Hunt must've been very successful then. His mood
is always great after a great Hunt. This might mean he won't slink into his
room tonight. Good. Sam waves at Dean with a small grin, all teeth. Dean waves
back, winking. Oh, boy...
"Did you get em' all?"
"Yes we did." John laughs, dropping their belongings near the door. "Every last
one of those fuckers. Dean was damn good at it too. Best partner I had in a
long time."
Dean chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He's so handsome. "I
wasn't that great...but thanks."
"I'm you're back...both of you." Sam adds in. "Should I order the food this
time?"
"Food?"
John claps a hand on Dean's shoulder. "After a good Hunt, it's Winchester
tradition to order food. Pizza or Chinese?"
"Pizza."
"Pizza it is. I'll get on it." John's smiling face soon becomes a questioning
frown when he spots the coffee table. "Why did you clear the table off?"
Shit.
"I--I," Sam stumbles, trying to come up with a lie. "I was looking through more
books, and I needed room. Sorry..."
"It's okay. Just...clean it up, okay?"
"Yes, sir..."
John disappears into the kitchen to call the nearest pizza shop, while Sam
resumes to put everything back in it's place, leaving him here alone with Dean.
Unexpectedly, the latter helps Sam with the clean-up, handing him objects that
he's unsure where to put. They don't say much, but they're comfortable in their
silence.
They both reach for an object at the same time, causing their hands to touch.
At first, neither of them pull away. In fact, Dean looks up at Sam who almost
has him beat when it comes to blushing. He gently squeezes his hand, reassuring
him some kind of way. It feels nice, this feels nice, whatever this is. Sam
bites his lip, then takes his hand away before standing up again.
That warmth in his chest spreads again.
****
Dinner was...eventful.
Sam and his dad were great entertainers. They told tales of botched Hunts, or
Hunts that we're nearly too outlandish to be true, even by Hunting standards!
Of course, John did most of the talking, often interrupting his own kid. Dean
kinda felt sorry for him, and started to question John's parenting skills,
though only voiced them to himself in his mind.
After dinner, Sam went upstairs, while John invited Dean to watch whatever
football game was on. Though, as time passed on, and John continued to drink,
he ended up passed out on the couch. Now, Dean feels a bit awkward just being
here. He quietly excuses himself to the bathroom, remembering which door it is
this time to avoid unnecessary shouting.
Once finished emptying his bladder, Dean washes his hands, and exits the
bathroom. However, he doesn't go back downstairs right away. He stalls by Sam's
door, hearing soft music on the other side of the door. Dean lifts his hand to
knock, but stops. What does he do? Sam's obviously still awake; his lights are
on, and there's music. He doesn't wanna bother him though. Before he makes his
decision, he hears Sam.
"Come in."
Without stalling any further, Dean turns the knob to open the door. He sees Sam
laying his stomach on the bed and reading a huge book. Looks like an ancient
tome full of lost information. Dean walks all the way into the room, but not
before leaving the door open a little. The last thing he needs is John
Winchester thinking that he's molesting his son. Dean would never, not
Sam...though, if the situation ever arose when Sam was willing, Dean's not so
sure he would say no.
He takes a seat on the floor facing Sam. "What're you reading?"
"Myths on different creatures and monsters." Sam answers with a grin. He sits
up, and slides down the bed until he's sitting with Dean on the floor. "Wanna
see?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure!"
That's how they spent most of the night: Talking.
Sometimes about nothing, sometimes about everything, and a little in between.
Sam's easy to talk to, Dean finds. He listens, and speaks from his heart, not
tied down to some petty Hunter's code or whatthefuckever. And he's smart too!
God, he's so fucking smart! Dean knows that he's smart, but Sam may have him
beat. He knows his favorite color now, his favorite movie, his birthday, and
whether or not he's into other guys.
The answers was a timid "Maybe", but Dean knows the truth.
After a few hours of getting to know each other, Sam and Dean sit together in
silence once more, just enjoying each other's company. Sam makes him
feel...safe in a strange way. Dean even opened up about his own father, how he
helps so many other people, but never once looks after himself. Sam also opened
up about his life.
His mother was killed by a Demon when he was a baby, and that's why John is the
way he is. Stern, distant. Sam didn't go into much detail about certain things,
but Dean doesn't want to assume the worse from John. He can't. The man's a
legend! But they say even legends fall. Jesus Christ...
"Dean?"
"Huh? Yeah?"
Sam fiddles with the hem of his shirt nervously. "You know...I...there's
something that I...why is this so hard?"
"Hey," Dean says, placing his hand over Sam's again. "Whatever it is, just say
it. It's okay. I'm cool."
This reassures Sam, and Dean takes it as a win.
"I can move objects around with my mind." Sam blurts out.
Well...okay. That's...certainly something. Dean tries to speak, mouth opening
and closing like a fish. What's there to say? He laughs nervously, trying to
alleviate some of the awkward tension in the room. However, Sam looks at him
with huge puppy dog eyes, and Dean just fucking melts. Wait, is he serious?
How!? Is he one of those Psychics?
Before he can even ask, Sam looks around the room for something. Once he spots
it, he nods at Dean. Soon, a pen begins hovering over to them before spinning
slowly in front of Dean's face. Holy Shit, it's true! He reaches out to grab
the pen, and it lands in his hand gracefully. Sam looks away from the Hunter,
presumably scared. So that's why he never leaves.
"Sam, this is--"
"John doesn't know." The boy whispers. "He can't ever know. I can't let him.
He'll try to kill me."
"Sam...stop. No one's gonna kill you, okay? What you can do is--it's
extraordinary! You could actually help people with this."
Sam's face brightens. It makes Dean want to do sweet things to him. "You think
so?"
Dean smiles. "Of course! It's gonna be a shock to a lot of people in the
community, but I'm sure you'll be accepted in no time."
"Thanks, Dean."
"No problem, Sammy."
The boy looks at him again, this time in mild shock. At what? Did he do
something wrong? If he did, he wants to fix it! Dean will do anything and
everything for Sam, that's a promise. He deserves better than whatever
treatment he's getting here. Say, when did they start getting closer, and when
did Dean's hand start touching Sam's cheek?
But before they can kiss, the door opens, and in steps John Winchester, clearly
drunk and incredibly angry. He looks fucked up. Sam and Dean shoot up to their
feet. The man looks back and forth at them. Dean feels guilty, even though he's
technically done nothing wrong.
"It's late, Dean." John rasps. "I think you need to leave."
"Y--Yeah. Okay." He tries to leave, but Sam grabs his arm, but eyes silently
pleading for him to stay. "Sam? What's wrong."
"Sam..." John growls.
Sam relinquishes his grip over Dean, seemingly defeated. What's going on
between those two? Dean gives Sam one last smile before walking out of the
room, and down the stairs. As he leaves the house, and gets into his car, Dean
thinks about how much of a mistake it was to leave Sam there with his father.
****
Dean's gone.
He's gone, and he'll probably never see him again. John just stands there at
the door, carefully eying his son. Sam also stands still, still uncomfortable
being the object of his father's "affection". Sam doesn't cry because he knows
what will come next at any moment. He'll be back on his back in the bed, forced
to spread himself open. But maybe it doesn't have to be this way anymore.
"Get your clothes off."
Maybe it can be different.
"Get on the bed, and get ready."
He doesn't have to play caretaker to his father anymore.
"No." Sam mumbles silently.
John's eyes widen. He takes a few steps into the room. Sam takes two steps
back.
"No?"
"Y--You're not gonna hurt me anymore. I won't let you. What...would mom think?
What would she say if she saw you doing this to me?" Sam hadn't realized it,
but he's crying. "She'd hate you for it...just like me. I hate you, John. I
hate you so much, but I don't at the same time. I'm leaving. I can't stay."
John rushes forward, throwing Sam onto the bed. He pins him down with his
weight. "You little bastard! You're not leaving! You hear me!? Not you too!
You're all I have left! I can't lose you. I'll love you harder just to make you
stay."
"No! Stop!"
"If I love you, you'll stay."
"Please--!"
"Don't fight me, Sammy."
"Dean, help me!"
But he has to fight, and he'll keep fighting until he gets away from him. Sam
squirms and writhes underneath John, pounding on his chest furiously. With a
scream, John is suddenly pushed away and onto the floor, giving Sam some
breathing room. He's done it. He's finally revealed the existence of The
Power to his father.
John looks at him from where he's sprawled out on the floor. "You...are not my
son."
Sam is scared. "No, Dad, listen--"
"I won't listen to a Demon's lies!"
The words pierce into his heart like a knife. "I'm not a Demon! Dad, please--!"
"Die!"
John rushes at him again, but Sam ducks out of the way in time, taking off into
the hallway. He heads towards the stairs, but John tackles him, and they both
go tumbling over the railing and down into the living room. John stops moving,
but the boy tries to get up with all his might. Sam groans, trying to crawl his
way over to the front door, but John comes to quickly, grabbing his foot.
He kicks at him, but his efforts are futile. John claws up towards him until he
wraps his calloused hands around Sam's soft neck. He squeezes and squeezes. Oh,
dear God!
He's going to kill me.
****
Dean stops at a gas station not too far from John's house to get some stuff for
the road. He's still a little shaken up about the final encounter he had with
both of them. In a flash, strange noises assualt Dean's head. Voices, and
images. John and Sam.
Dean, help me! He's going to kill me.
They stop abruptly; the vision makes Dean sick to his stomach. John's been
doing more than roughing Sam up, and now he's trying to kill him? Fuck that.
Dean hops back into his car, and turns around with a new destination in mind.
****
He never really thought about how he'd die. Maybe a stray bullet, or Demon
assault on the house, but never by the hands of his own father. Sam struggles
under him. His oxygen is being cut off, and his vision is becoming blurry. He
kicks and squeals, but none of it seems to assuage John. He's gone completely.
Sam supposes it was only a matter of time, but here he is.
The front door is kicked open, and a gunshot is heard loud and clear. John
flops down onto Sam who only gasps and coughs. Looking up, he sees his knight
in shining armor, Dean. He's come back for him. But how? How did he know? It
doesn't matter. Nothing else matters but Dean right now. He helps Sam up before
embracing him, crying, pleading for forgiveness for leaving him alone.
Sam shushes him.
It's okay. It's all gonna be okay now.
The monster is dead.
****
Weeks Later...
It feels good.
The room is dimly lit.
The soft hands above him touch his body so gently. The man is Dean Smith, and
he's finally gotten the courage to do what Sam's always wanted him to do. This
is how it's supposed to be, just the two of them connected like this. Just the
two of them loving each other in Dean's comfy bed.
It feels right.
Just the two of them against the world.
****
"Everything's going according to plan." The Demon smirks.
"Sam will be a great change of pace, don't you think?" The other one says
quietly.
"Of course. We've been waiting for this for so long. No more hiding. And...do
you think he knows?"
"That he's fucking his brother?" The Demon's eyes glow yellow. "Not a chance."
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