Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1528880.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, past_Dean_Winchester/John_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester, Bobby
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-04-27 Chapters: 1/? Words: 4075
****** There is Hope in the Darkness ******
by Herbeloved82
Summary
     Dean is John's perfect Killing machine, forged in years of abuse and
     violence. He lost his soul and heart the night Sam left. Years later
     Dean finds Sam, and he wants to make him pay. But even if in a
     twisted way he still loves his baby Brother. Can Sam gives Dean back
     his heart and at what price? Is there still hope for the two of them?
Notes
     This is just an experiment. I ned a Beta, so if anyone is interested
     let me know ok?
     The story deals with child abuse and violence. If this is not your
     cup of tea please don't read
The rain was so strong that Dean was having trouble seeing the road in front of
him, but not even that was enough to stop the man driving the black Impala, the
last thing of his past that he really loved. One of the few things he was fond
of that was somehow related to his family.
  
 Many would say that that was impossible, because Dean, one of the most feared
hunters in the world, didn't have a heart. In many ways that was true. In many
ways he had lost his soul and heart doing what was his job, and he didn't
regret a single moment of that.
  
 He had gained his reputation when John was still alive, and he had been his
pupil; the perfect little soldier ready to follow every order his father gave
him. He had learn too early in his life that what was used by parents to scare
their children and make them behave, all the creatures lurking in the shadow
and darkness ready to hit, were real. And he had learned that his place in the
world was between innocent people and those creatures. It didn't matter if he
had lost his own innocence doing that.
  
 When John had passed out two years ago, during a hunt, left Dean doing the job
alone. He never stopped driving the Impala since the moment he buried John; he
never stopped because only running from one place to another, only hunting
everything he could, no matter how small or big, Dean could keep himself from
thinking about what was clear to everyone else. He was slowly turning in what
he was hunting since he was a little boy.
 
Dean knew perfectly that he was exactly what John had built day after day in a
life spent between seedy motels and dealing with a man so angry that he had
needed someone to vent all the rage he had inside since the moment Mary had
died. He was a perfect machine; born to kill monsters and die doing that. Dean
didn't have any other expectation for his life.
 
Forged  by nights spent defending himself and his little brother from ancient
Gods, and creatures born in the depth of hell, and by days spent studying
everything he could about rituals, evil, and demons. John had been a tough
teacher, and the only time Dean was ever allowed to rest was when he was
recovering from a hunt injury.
 
Dean could remember every single injury related to hunts, and he still
remembered all too well that he never was alone in bed. Dean had learned since
the very beginning that he wasn't only his father's apprentice. John owned
everything of him, and Dean had been OK with that, because if John was busy
with him it meant that Sammy was safe.
 
John had taught him how to survive, he had taught him everything he knew, and
in some ways he had felt almost natural to sleep with John, above all after the
first few times when John beat the shit out of him before he had raped him.  
 
The only thing that John wasn't able to teach him had been how to keep his
humanity in a world so dark, because John had lost his own humanity when he had
lost Mary. Sam had been the only light in his life, the only pure thing Dean
had, and one day he had walked away from his life, leaving him deep into
darkness. There were good reason why Dean was so feared, even between the
hunter community.
 
Bobby, one of the older hunters, and one of the few men able to make John
Winchester listen to him, had been the only one to know what Sam did the moment
he had left the family, but like anyone else even the older man had been
shocked when that happened. Sam absolutely adored his big brother.
 
That had been the last time that Bobby had drank himself an inch from his death
when he had realized that Dean's soul had been lost for good. After everything
Dean had done for the puppy, after all the times he had saved his ass from
monsters, and from John, he had left without even say goodbye, like Dean wasn't
even worth the time for that. Or at least that was what Dean had told him,
years later, when he had been so high because of the morphine that Bobby had
pumped into his body before to stitch him back together after a wendigo had
come too close to kill him.
 
Since the day Sam left, Dean had become darker and darker every day. After
John's death, Bobby had been the only one brave enough to try to stay as close
to Dean as the boy allowed anyone to be. After Sam's betrayal, Dean had ripped
his heart from his chest, and had locked it somewhere. After so many years, no
one had found it yet. 
 
***
 
Dean was dead tired. He had spent the last two weeks hunting down and
destroying a whole pack of Vampires. Those bastards were terrifying a small
town in Oregon, and all because some stupid girls had believed what the leader
of the pack told them, about never-ending love, and about immortality. They put
the whole community in danger. When it had been clear, for many it had been too
late. Still the girls had tried to protect the leeches, and ended up dead
before Dean had time to save their sorry asses. Actually, he wasn't even sad
about that loss.
 
Usually destroying young vampires wasn't too hard for a skilled hunter, but
that time their creator had been there, and they were too many for a man alone.
They had come very close to end Dean's life, and his body was still wearing the
signs of them. He probably had a couple of ribs badly bruised, and in the
morning he was pretty sure was going to show a boot print on his back when one
of the bastards had kicked him. Fire and a bit of his blood were enough to get
rid of the whole pack once and for all.
 
Bobby had insisted for him to come visit, and for once Dean had decided to
follow the advice. Bobby had a great collection of books and was an expert in
rituals. It was rare for the man to allow anyone to use his knowledge, and Dean
could use a little rest. He was honest enough to know that he couldn't keep
going on like he was doing now. To spend a week or something with the old man
sounded as a good idea after all. His body was screaming in agony, his mind was
spinning too fast, all signs that even if Dean wasn't happy about that, he
needed to stop at least for a few days, before he made himself too vulnerable
and an easy target. 
 
*** 
 
The road was so long that for a moment Dean had to wonder if it wasn't actually
endless. He needed to stop before he and his beloved Impala ended up a twisted
pretzel around a pole or against a wall. He was close to a hell-hole of a city,
probably not even reported on the maps, and Dean had to pray that they had at
least a bar. He needed a alcohol in his body, a lot of alcohol, and he could
thank John for that too. He smiled bitterly remembering the first time alcohol
had burned his throat. 
 
Nothing was better than strong, cheap alcohol to forget the pain of a hunt, or
the pain of a cock fucking the shit out of you. Damn. He missed John, he always
missed him after a hunt. John had conditioned him so deeply that even after two
years Dean still needed him after a hunt. He needed him to stop his mind from
thinking, and of course, the bastard was gone.  
 
He needed the human contact, something so small and normal for people, but that
Dean was always in denial. Dean missed John's rough fingers between his hair,
grabbing him and dragging him into a punishing and hard kiss. He missed John
pushing him on the back-seat of the Impala, taking what he wanted from him,
fucking him hard and fast, making Dean forget everything else.
 
If Dean was honest with himself he unconsciously knew that what John did to him
was wrong, on so many levels that he didn't even know from were to start, but
he didn't care. He had stopped to care a long time ago. His life had never been
a normal one. He never had a normal family, so why to follow the rules of
society? Society never gave a fuck about him when he was a child, and for sure
he didn't need them now.
    
Dean had fucked whores in the past two years. Male and female, it didn't matter
to him. He loved sex, he loved to have sex, but he never found someone able to
give him what John did. He never found someone able to understand his need to
forget everything, or able to understand or handle the darkness inside him.
They all had played the role that they thought Dean wanted them to play, and
that had been all. Dean never found again what he was looking for, that thing
able to shut up the pain he carried in his soul. A pain the origin he
desperately wanted to forget.  
 
While he was still lost in his own thoughts Dean saw a bar. He had earned his
drink, and didn't even care if anyone with some brain would have stayed away
from that place. The bar was loud and smoky, but it also was surprisingly
cleaner that most of the places he had lurked during his life. Dean took a seat
in a corner. From there he could control everything that was happening in the
bar, and in the same time being totally invisible if someone was nosy enough to
try to spy on him.
 
The only one who saw him, was a girl, probably too young to even being allowed
to work in a place like that, and she had been able to do that only because
Dean had wanted her to know he was waiting for her. She came to him and took
his order, almost fainting when he asked for a beer and a whole bottle of
whiskey. Dean had to smirk just thinking about her face when she was going to
find out that he could drink the whole things without getting drunk.
 
He just wanted to rest for a while, drinking his liquor, and just forgetting
about demons for a few moments, but of course he finished his luck coming out
alive from his meeting with vampires. Some guys, in a table close enough to
allow Dean to listen to them without being seen, were talking about strange
things happening in the area. It looked like a family had died in a house fire.
That alone wasn't something that could interest Dean, what interested him was
that apparently the fire had started in the nursery, and the baby was the only
survivor. Dean had been ready to leave the bar hunting for a motel room to make
some phone calls when something else in that crazy night drew his
attention.       
 
His eyes were scanning the place, looking for yellow eyes, making sure that the
thing that had killed his mother and broken John crated the monster he had
learned to know wasn't there. When he saw the only thing in the whole world
that was able to kill him without even touching him. 
 
The girl who had given him the bottle was talking to the tall bartender. The
boy was almost bent over the counter, and that was probably the only reason why
Dean didn't see him sooner. The girl was trying to catch his attention, but it
looked like the guy wasn't interested. The boy looked distracted, so distracted
that he wasn't even paying attention to what was happening under his nose. He
was so focused in helping beers and cheap food that was vulnerable to every
possible attack, and that was making Dean's blood boil in his veins.
 
   
 
Dean remembered perfectly all the time he had spent making sure to teach him
how to protect himself, teaching him to always control wherever he was, to pay
attention to everything, because you never knew when something was going to try
to attack and kill you, but the stupid kid obviously had forgotten everything.
 
Dean was almost blind with rage. He had to fight to need to jump on him and
beat the shit out of him for his stupidity, right here, right now, but he knew
that that would be a mistake. The part of his brain that was still working was
screaming to him to calm down and study the situation. He needed a good plan,
and Dean was good at planning. 
 
He knew he couldn't attack the kid in the bar. Too many people around. Maybe
they weren't even going to try to fight for the bartender, but chance were good
enough that someone was going to call the police, and that was a family matter,
Dean didn't need any witness or the cops nosing around. No, he had to be
careful. The kid deserved a lesson, and he was the one who was going to make
sure that he never made the same mistake again.
 
Dean smirked when his phone began to ring. It looked like Bobby was always
aware when the darker part of his soul was close to the surface. Dean decided
to answer the phone this time, because the last thing he needed was to have
Bobby all over his ass. The only time his phone was off was when he was
hunting, and Bobby already knew that that wasn't the case. If he knew Bobby
well enough he knew that the man would have simply kept calling him. Making it
useless trying to ignore him.
 
***
 
Bobby wanted to know where the hell Dean was. He was waiting for him, and
wanted to be sure Dean would have showed up at some point.
The older man was worried for the him, more than other would have ever
understood. They all saw Dean as a machine, but Bobby new better.
Bobby had known the kid he once was, and was sure that somewhere that kid was
still alive. Hidden from the world, but still alive and he wasn't going to give
up on him, never.
 
There wasn’t a day that he didn’t curse John’s name for everything he did to
his own son. Bobby had been John’s friend, since the moment the younger man had
began to hunt for the thing that had killed his wife and almost destroyed his
family. Bobby had been one of the few hunters aware of what the yellow eyed
thing was, and had decided to help the new hunter, because he couldn't turn his
back to a lost man with two small children. But everything had changed when he
had learned what really happened behind the closed doors of cheap motels, every
time that John had been alone with Dean. 
 
After that he had tried in every possible way to protect Dean, he had tried to
be present, and to force John to visit him every time the man had been anywhere
close to his house. But he sadly was well aware that the damages done to Dean
were probably going to last all his life long.
 
Bobby wasn't a psychiatrist, but he had learned a couple of things in the years
that he spent as an hunter, talking to terrified kids who were witnesses of
things that no one could believe. He knew that what had really killed the kid
and pushed out the hunter John created, had been Sam's betrayal.
 
Since the moment the puppy had abandoned Dean, Bobby couldn't stop to think
about him as John's perfect son. Both of them had hurt Dean beyond imagination,
both of them had killed a part of his soul. But at least now, after so many
years, Bobby thought he began to understand what had really happened. He could
only hope in his heart that somewhere, someone cared enough for everything that
the kid had lived and survived to finally decide to make things right for him,
somehow.  
 
Something in his bones was telling him that was time to call the kid. He had
this unpleasant feeling that the boy was ready for an unorthodox hunt. He
always could feel when the darker part of him, John's creation, was close. He
liked to think that he could because Mary knew he really cared for her son, and
gave him the power to really look after him. Even a hunter, sometimes, needs
something to believe in. Bobby liked to believe in Mary's love for her
children. 
 
Bobby was relieved when Dean picked up his call, but in the same time he had
known something was off the moment he heard Dean’s voice.
The first thought that crossed his mind was that the kid finally found the
demon who destroyed his family and his life, but he knew that wasn’t possible.
In that case Dean would have been busy hunting the bastard down.
 
“Hey kid, you on your way?”
 
Bobby knew well how much Dean hated to be called kid, it was the reason he
always did that, to have a reaction from the otherwise cold and controlled boy
he loved as the son he never had.
 
“Sorry man. It looks like I have a new hunt. I don't know how long I'll be
gone. But I'll visit as soon as I can.”
 
Dean had hanged up before Bobby could even answer. Not that Bobby was going to
fight with him, not now that the boy finally accepted to visit; but the bad
feeling he had just increased when Dean told him he would have been a little
later than he thought.
 
***
 
Dean knew Bobby was worried, and he hated to know he was the cause of that.
Bobby always had been the closer thing to a father that he ever had, and the
part of his souls that still could feel something still loved Bobby, but he
couldn't give up this opportunity, not now, not even for the old man.
 
Bobby had tried to keep Dean with him after John's death, but he knew he
couldn't stay with someone who still loved him. He couldn't because Dean knew
all too well that he was broken, he was too dark, and sooner or later he knew
he was going to hurt Bobby. So he simply kept his distance.
 
To be alone was easier. But after tonight, maybe, just maybe, he was going to
have someone by his side again. Someone who wasn't going to walk away, because
he was going to make sure the kid depended on him for everything. Dean had
learned well how to train a pet. How to make sure to have total control over
someone's mind and body. He still wasn't sure that he was going to keep the kid
for more than a little time, but this time he was going to make sure that if
someone was going to walk away in the death of the night, it was going to be
him.  
 
*** 
 
Dean kept a close eye on the bartender all night. He was still able to see when
someone came into the bar or when someone left, but his attention was all for
the tall boy in the other side of the place. The girl came to his table a
couple of time more, after Dean decided he could eat something while he waited
for his prey to show him it was time to move.
His ribs were killing him with every breath, maybe he had been too hopeful
declaring them simply bruised, but it wasn't like he could do much about that.
 
“Do you want anything else?”
 
Dean looked at the girl closely now. She looked exhausted, and probably her
feet were killing her. The closing time wasn't too far away, so he simply asked
for another beer, to make sure he could be between the last costumers to leave
without raising suspects.
Dean knew he was going to need a little time to prepare everything, but with
his skills, he was sure he could do everything he had in mind without trouble.
 
When the bartender and the girl were between the last few people still inside
the bar, Dean slipped in the darkness and chose his place to hide and control
everything happening in the street. Again, he felt his rage rise. The stupid
puppy didn’t even realise someone was sitting in the darker corner of the place
he worked in.
 
Dean didn’t have to wait too long. As the perfect gentleman he was, the
bartender walked the girl to her car. At least she was old enough to have one,
and as the always as the perfect gentlemen he declined her offer to meet at her
house.
That was very good, because Dean would have hated to hurt the girl.
 
His prey walked to an old truck without even realise someone was following him.
The truck was old and rusty, and Dean knew that probably was all the puppy
could afford with his pay. By the look on his face Dean was also able to say
that the puppy was proud of the old thing, and he knew he had found the first
thing the boy was going to lose. The first thing of a long, long list. 
 
The boy didn’t even realised what was happening when the first kick in the back
of his knee made him fall hard. He didn’t even had the time to cover his face
with his hands before the hood of his own trunk hit him hard.
A hand between his hair forced him to stay put. All his body was screaming for
him to react, to use all the dirty tricks his father taught him a long time
ago, but when he heard the voice behind him he just froze. All his energies
suddenly drained.
 
“Hello Sammy? Did you miss me?”
 
 
***
 
Sam woke up slowly. His head hurt like a bitch and he only had foggy memories
of what happened to him. Then, in a rush, everything came back to his mind.
He was looking to the shape of a man, almost hidden in the shadow where the dim
light of the small table lamp couldn't reach him. He knew who the man was. Sam
was still able to read his body language and Dean was fucking pissed off. His
shoulders were tense and curved, like if he was ready to jump as a wildcat and
kill his prey, and Sam knew he was Dean’s prey.
 
“Dean?”
 
 
He couldn’t resist any longer. The silence in the room was overwhelming and he
had to break it in some ways.
For years, he had wanted to say his brother’s name with him in the room, not at
some walls in rooms he rented in hope to escape a life he never really wanted
and a father that ceased to be one the moment his wife died.
 
Dean smirked wickedly.
 
“My, my Sammy. I’m so glad you still remember my name.”
 
Sam couldn’t recognise his brother, his loving and beloved brother, in the
person who was looking at him with empty and cold eyes, like if the beautiful
soul that lived inside him was gone.
 
Dean dropped on the bad in front of the chair Sam was tied to and for the first
time the younger man could see Dean was playing with his hunt knife, the one
with the spell against demons inlaid in silver.
 
“Dean?”
 
The older man didn't answer, but he slapped Sam so hard that the boy tasted
blood in his mouth from where his own teeth bit into tender flesh.
 
“I don't want to hear a word Sammy. I want to hear you scream and cry, but you
are not going to speak otherwise.”
 
 Sam was looking at his brother with his huge, hazelnut eyes huge with shock,
and what he saw, for the first time wasn't his brother, but John's son.
 
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