Disclaimer: I do not receive any profit for my fanfictions, nor do I own Supernatural or Sam and Dean Winchester.
Title: Protect Me
Status: One Shot/Complete
Set When: Sam is seventeen and Dean is twenty one.
Summary: Sam's teacher always looked at him in a way that always creeped the youngest Winchester out. Then one day that teacher went too far... Well, Dean had something to say about it.
Warnings: Rape; Incest; Murder (In that order)
"Sam, hold up!" Mr. Johnson yelled as the bell rang to end the school day.
Mr. Johnson was the new teacher in the school. Fresh out of school himself, and his current gig as the school's Creative Writing teacher was his first job. He was in his late twenties, and it was no secret that he was gay. Plus all the girls thought of him as 'totally hott.'
Sam looked over at the teacher's desk, then at his girlfriend, Anna. He sighed and walked over to Anna. "Meet me at my brother's car, alright? I'll see you there in a few moments." Anna nodded and smiled, giving Sam a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room. Sam made his way over to Mr. Johnson's desk. "Yes, sir?"
"Do you think you can stop by my classroom after school tomorrow?" Mr. Johnson asked.
Sam nodded. "Yeah, sure. Why?"
"I want to discuss your paper on paranormal findings with you. I would today, but I'm afraid I don't have any time," Mr. Johnson said, looking apologetic.
Sam nodded. "Alright, yeah. What time?"
"About four? Is that alright?"
Sam nodded again. "Yeah, that's fine. Is that it?"
Mr. Johnson thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, that's it. You can go now."
As Sam started towards the door, he could feel the twenty-something man's eyes on him. He hesitated for a moment, then walked out the door.
"What was that about?" Anna asked as Sam approached Dean's car.
Anna was a fairly attractive young lady. Alright, that's a lie. Even Sam was known to say she was 'hott beyond reason.' She had long blonde hair and a slim build. She was basically Britney, Christina and Mandy all rolled into one; but much, much hotter.
Sam shrugged, opening the back door for her. "He just wants to talk to me about my paper tomorrow afternoon, that's all." He shut the door and climbed in the passenger seat, then looked over at Dean. "Think you can give me a ride?"
"Think you can get your own car?" Dean pulled out of the spot, then sighed at the look Sam gave him. "Yeah, fine. Whatever."
"What time?" Anna asked, looking worried.
Sam smiled. "Don't worry, A, it won't take long. I'll be back in time for our date."
"What are you two doing on that date, anyway?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows in a curious manner. Alright, so he was a little more than curious. He was Sam's older brother, it was his job to make sure Sam wasn't getting any frisky ideas. Though he probably wasn't; he was Sam, after all.
"Well, Sam's gonna meet me at my place then we're gonna go on a walk through the park before heading to the restaurant. And after the restaurant we're going for a walk on the beach," Anna said, smiling widely. "Isn't that romantic?"
Dean laughed, shaking his head. He looked over at Sam. "Girl."
Sam sighed and walked through the front doors of his school the next day, the eldest Winchester son following, walkman in hand. Dean watched his little brother carefully; he seemed scared, in a way. And that concerned Dean. He then swore to himself that if the little 'meeting' lasted longer than fifteen minutes he would break down the door to see what the hell was up.
Dean looked around, and got a little chill. "Dude, there's no one here."
Sam sighed, nodding. "Yeah, I know." The two made their way down the hallway. "No one's ever here after three thirty."
"So he wanted to meet you at four, why?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.
"I don't know. Ask him that, not me."
Dean rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall outside the classroom. "I'll be here if you need me." He put his headphones on and pressed play.
Sam nodded and walked into the classroom. He smiled slightly at the teacher. "Hey, Mr. Johnson."
Mr. Johnson looked up from grading papers, and smiled at Sam. "Hey, Sam, have a seat." Sam obeyed as sat down in the seat the teacher had placed in front of his desk. Mr. Johnson pulled out Sam's paper from a drawer and set it in front of Sam.
"You gave me an F?" Sam asked, staring at the paper. His eyes were wide, and his breath was quickening. "I spent a week preparing this!"
"Sam, your facts aren't facts at all; they're myths," Mr. Johnson said, raising his eyebrows. He stood up and walked around the table. He leaned down behind Sam and pointed at the paper. "See this? The Hookman is a legend, Sam, not fiction."
"But this is a creative writing class. Who cares?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.
"It may be creative writing, but essays have a guideline that needs to be followed," Mr. Johnson said, shrugging. "I'll let you re-write it --"
"Please," Sam said, nodding.
Mr. Johnson nodded. "Alright, have the new paper to me by the end of the week." Sam nodded and stood up. "Not so fast, Mr. Winchester."
"What is it, Mr. Johnson?" Sam asked, facing the teacher slowly.
"Call me Carl," he said before grabbing Sam and kissing him lustfully.
Sam quickly backed away from 'Carl,' tripping over his chair in the process. "Mr. Johnson --"
Carl smirked and nodded. "Good idea, Sam. Laying down is better than standing up." He kneeled down on the floor and smirked. When Sam attempted to punch him, he grabbed the fist, then grabbed something out of his pocket. A pocket knife. Great. Just what Sam needed. Carl then flipped out the knife and held it to Sam's throat. "Don't even think about it. Do you understand me?"
Sam sighed and nodded. "Yes. I understand you."
Carl nodded, then stood up. "Strip." He then quickly walked around his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled a gun out and pointed it at Sam. "Strip." Sam was hesitant, then looked over at the door. Carl laughed. "Strip before I shoot you, Sam." He thought for a moment, the shrugged. "Actually, just take your pants off. You can leave the rest on. I'll enjoy doing it myself."
Sam was helpless. The dude would kill him if he didn't obey, he was sure of that. So he did was he was told and took off his pants.
Carl's grin widened and, with gun in hand, he made his way over to Sam. Without a moment to lose, he stuck his hand in Sam's boxers and began to play with the youngest Winchester's cock.
"Mr. Johnson, please --"
"Shh... Sam, just don't say anything, alright?" Carl then too his hand out, and pulled down Sam's boxers, though not completely., still aiming the gun at him. He then took a few minutes to unzip his pants and pull his cock out of his boxers. He pushed Sam down on the ground, and rolled him over.
Not even bothering to use any lubricant, he stuck himself in Sam's ass, who protested with a loud scream of pain. Carl pointed his gun at Sam's head, and Sam immediately shut up. Carl started going in a out of Sam, who in return had tears running down his face from the pain. He was starting to bleed, but Carl made no effort to stop, and started going in and out of Sam faster and harder.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, the tears unwilling to stop.
Dean bobbed his head up and down to the music as Sam left into the classroom. He watched his little brother, then turned up the volume to high. He staid that way for about ten minutes before something broke through.
Dean quickly turned off his walkman and took off his headphones. He rushed into the classroom, and what he saw scared him to death. He grabbed a gun from behind his pants and pointed it at the teacher. "Get off my brother or I'll shoot," he said, advancing on the two slowly.
"Dean, he's got a gun," Sam said, his voice full of tears.
"Don't come any closer or I'll blow your brother's brains out," Carl said, his voice full of laughter.
Dean's breathing quickened a bit. "Look, just get off of him and I won't tell anybody alright? We won't tell anybody. But if you kill him I'll kill you. This way no one gets hurt."
Carl seemed to think about this for a moment, then nodded. "Turn around."
"Either you turn around or the janitor cleans your brother's brains from my carpet."
Dean sighed in annoyance and turned around. What the hell was he going to do? This wasn't something Sam would get over quickly. And as soon as he could he'd have to call the police.
The next moment someone was shoved into his back, and he turned around to see Sam standing next to him. Carl smirked at the two. "Get out."
"Gladly," Dean said, glaring at the man. He pulled Sam out of the room and slammed the door. He quickly turned to his baby brother. "Sam --"
"Let's go home," Sam said, turning away from his brother.
Dean sighed, then thought he'd try again. "Sam --"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Dean and Sam walked in the front door, and Sam immediately started down the hallway. Dean sighed and walked into the living room, where John was watching TV. He grabbed the phone and dialed Anna's number.
"Hello?" came Anna's voice from the other line.
"Hey, Anna, Sam's not going to be able to make it tonight," Dean said, pearing down the hallway. The bathroom light was on and he could hear the shower going.
"Why? Is something wrong with Sam?" Anna asked, sounding worried. "Or do I --"
"Anna, you're not the reason he's not going. He really cares about you, you know? And if he could go he would. He's just... well... he's a bit sick, that's all," Dean lied, walking back into the living room.
"He seemed fine at school today," Anna said, sounding a bit confused.
"Well, it's been progressing since we got home after dropping you off. He's in bed right now with a fever. Actually, I don't think he'll be at school for a few days." Dean sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote from his father, turning off the TV.
"It's that bad?" Anna asked, sounding worried.
"Yeah, it is. Um, Anna, Sam just woke up, so I'll have him call you later, alright?"
"Yeah, sure. Tell him that I send him my love and my kisses. Bye, Dean."
"Bye." Dean sighed and hung up the phone. He looked at his father for a moment before dialing the number of the local police. "Hi, I'd like to report a rape."
John's eyes went wide, and he listened intently.
"My brother, Sam Winchester." Dean was silent for a moment. "His teacher, Carl Johnson." Dean was silent again. "Supposedly he wanted to talk to him about a paper."
John stood up quickly, and Dean grabbed his arm, pulling him back down on the couch.
"Evidence? Are you fucking kidding me?" More silence. "I'm not being hostile!" Even more silence. "Well, how would you react if you walked into your brother's classroom and see his fucking teacher raping him? Answer me that!" Silence. "I am calm, bitch!" Dean looked like he was about to murder someone. "His ass was ripped open by his god damn teacher! Is that enough evidence for you?" Dean stood up. "Fine! I'll bring him by tomorrow!" He then slammed the phone down. Taking a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes. He then grabbed the remote and threw it at the wall, causing a dent.
"Dean..." John said slowly, standing up. "Calm down."
"I'm calm!" Dean yelled, turning around quickly to face his father.
"No, you're not. You just need to calm down," John said, walking over to him.
Dean took a few more deep breaths, then nodded. He still looked like he wanted to murder someone (like Carl Johnson) but he did look calmer. "Alright. I'm calm."
"Now, what happened exactly?" John asked, raising his eyebrows.
Dean sighed and sat down on the couch, starting to go into the story.
Dean walked down the hall quietly, and paused when he noticed that Sam's door was open. Taking a few deep breaths, he decided that it'd be best to talk to Sam about it. So he walked into the room slowly, and found Sam laying down on his bed, his eyes closed. He walked over to his brother and put a hand on his arm.
Sam jumped like he was laying on fire. His eyes immediately opened, and he looked ready to fight.
"Woah, woah, Sammy. It's alright," Dean said, kneeling down next to the bed. "It's just me." He looked at his brother's arm, realizing that a lot of skin had been rubbed off, and he was now bleeding. "Damnit, Sam, what'd you do to yourself?"
Sam looked down at the bed, a look of shame upon his face. "I just felt so... so unclean..."
Dean looked at his little brother with sad eyes. He nodded. "Yeah..." He sat down next to him on the bed and pushed some of Sam's bangs out of his face. As he did this, Sam looked up at him. "Sam, what happened, it isn't your fault."
Sam nodded, glancing down at the bed for a moment before looking back at Dean. "I know."
"Do you really?" Dean asked softly, raising his eyebrows. "Because you look so ashamed..." Sam answered his question by looking back down at the bed. "Oh, Sammy..." Dean grabbed his brother and pulled him close, hugging him tightly. "It's not your fault. I promise you that it's not your fault. I've never lied to you before. Please believe me now."
"Dean, I'm sorry..." Sam whispered. Dean then realized that Sam was crying.
"For what?" Dean asked softly, hugging his brother tightly.
"For being weak... for letting this happen..."
Dean pushed Sam back a bit, just enough to look in the eye. "You are not weak, Sam. You're a bone-head and a geek, but you are not weak. Do you understand me? He had a gun. I wouldn't have fought back, either! Did you see that thing? It was huge! Big enough to blow an inch wide hole in your head." Dean pulled Sam close again. "So you shouldn't be sorry... I'm the one who should be sorry."
Sam pulled away from his brother and sat down on the bed, wincing. He closed his eyes in pain for a few moments before dealing and looking Dean in the eye. "Why should you be sorry?"
"Because I didn't stop it sooner," Dean said, acting as though the answer was obvious.
Sam smiled slightly, then hugged his brother. The hug caught Dean by surprise, but returned it.
"Dean, I don't blame you. You're the last person I blame." Sam whispered, his eyes closed tightly. "And thank you. Thank you for being there and thank you for being here. Thank you for not letting me go through this alone."
"Never," Dean whispered into Sam's hair.
"Can you make the feeling of him inside me go away?" Sam whispered, looking up at his brother.
Dean looked confused. "How?" Sam answered him by closing the gap between their faces slowly. He kissed Dean softly. "Sam --"
"Please," Sam whispered, looking into Dean's eyes.
Dean then nodded, kissing his brother back. He got up off the bed and walked over to the door, closing it and locking it. He then walked over to Sam, pulling off his shirt in the process. As he did this, Sam took off his own shirt, and lust filled Dean's eyes. The last time he had seen Sam shirtless was when Sam was, like, thirteen and in his gawky stage. Now Sam had the build of someone who modeled for boxer ads.
The two pulled off their pants and boxers, and Sam leaned over and pulled a condom out of his drawer before handing it to Dean. Dean smirked; it was the one he had given Sam a year ago after he found him making out with Anna on his bed. Evidently Sam was still a virgin before the teacher; either that or Anna had her own condoms. And with that chick Dean didn't put it past her.
Dean pulled on the condom, and Sam rolled over. Dean pulled him to his knees. "Are you sure about this? There's no going back after --"
"I'm sure," Sam said, nodding.
Dean nodded and slowly stuck himself into Sam, who let out a few sharp breaths of pain. "Relax, Sammy... Just relax." Sam did as he was instructed, and Dean pushed himself further into his brother. He staid put for a few moments, then started slowly going in and out of Sam.
"Oh, God, Dean..." Sam whispered.
"You alright there, Sammy?" Dean asked, stopping.
Sam nodded. "Yeah... I'm fine... Don't stop." Dean smirked slightly and started going a bit faster, and Sam responded with: "Faster, Dean." Dean did was he was told, and Sam let out a moan of pleasure. "Dean..."
Knowing that Sam probably wasn't in pain anymore and was fully enjoying himself, Dean started digging deeper into his brother, who stuck out his ass, causing Dean's whole to be buried inside his little brother. He started going faster, and Sam started moving in beat to his rhythm. Finally the two both gave way, having reached their peaks. They fell to the bed, panting hard.
"Dean..." Sam whispered, closing his eyes.
"Yeah, Sam?" Dean asked between breaths, still panting hard.
"I love you," Sam said, rolling over and looking in his brother's eyes. Dean knew he wasn't talking about full on 'I'm yours, yours mine' 'I love you, let's get married' love. They were still brothers, and that's all they ever thought about each other. They were just connected more now. Admittedly, it was going to be a bit awkward for a couple weeks, but Sam loved Dean for what he did, and Dean loved that he was able to help out Sam.
"I love you, too," Dean whispered, looking back into his brother's eyes. "Always have, always will." The two found their eyes getting heavier, and Dean wrapped an arm around his brother protectively. Nothing was ever going to hurt him like that again. Not if he could help it.
Dean knocked on Carl's door the next night. The door opened quickly, and closed quicker. Dean chucked and backed up a bit before kicking the door open. He walked into the house, where Carl backed up from him.
"You sick pervert. You're only like, what, six fucking years older than me? Who would do that to a seventeen year old, huh? Who in their right mind would rape a seventeen year old?" Dean walked closer to Carl, managing to back him into a corner.
"Mr. Winchester --"
Dean grabbed a gun from the back of his pants. He pointed it at Carl. "I hope you've done a lot with your life."
"Mr. Winchester, please --"
"You scarred my brother. And now you're gonna have to pay." Dean didn't waste anymore time, and pulled the trigger. Once, then twice, then before he knew it his gun was empty; it had had six bullets in it before he left the house.
Dean glared at the now (obviously) dead body and stuck his gun in the back of his pants. "You sick bastard... No one ever touches my brother and gets away with it." He then kicked the body before leaving the house.
"Dean, where did you go earlier?" John asked as the three Winchesters watched TV in the living room later that night.
Dean shrugged. "I had some business I had to take care of."
"Dean, you didn't," John said, looking disapproving.
"Didn't what?" Dean asked, staring at the TV.
"You didn't visit that Carl Johnson's house, did you?" John asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Yeah, I did," Dean said, looking over at him. "Used all my bullets, too. Damn shame, really. Just bought them today."
"Dean --" John started.
"What? He hurt Sam so I hurt him," Dean said, shrugging. "Only seems like a fair trade."
"Dad, I'm sorry, but the man was a sick, perverted bastard. Actually, I'm not sorry. Because he was a sick, perverted bastard," Dean said, shrugging. "Just looking out for my little brother. Is that so bad?"
John sighed, then shook his head, looking back at the TV. The two sons knew the matter was closed.
Sam looked over at Dean and smiled slightly, who smiled slightly back.
Haley: So? What'd 'cha'll think?
Dean: You talk like a hick, you know that?
Haley: Thinks for a moment... Shrugs. Oh well. Back to my question!
Sam: I'd rather not go into that... let's just end this, alright?
Haley: Fair enough! Review please! Ciao!