A/N: I own nothing but the girl and my own thoughts. Also, the title is inspired but the Pat Benatar song of the same name, which I don't own either.
She's five the first time he touches her. He's giving her and three year old Sammy a bath, laughing while they play house with Dean's old Army men. He touches her quickly, his hand only lingering between her legs for a second longer than usual before he pulls his hand away as if it were on fire, his face going red. He pulls the plug from the drain, yelling at a seven year old Dean to come get her and Sam ready for bed. He comes back later that night after Sam and Dean are asleep, whispering to her that he's sorry and it's their secret. She nods, yawning, and hugs him around the neck, wondering what the secret is. She finds out a week later after climbing into bed with him after a bad dream. He hugs her close, drying her tears on his shirt, rubbing small circles on her back. She's almost asleep when his hand slips up the front of her night gowned and he's whispering that he loves her and that this is how daddies love their little girls. She swallows hard because it feels strange but nods because she trusts him. He stops after a while and wraps her up in his arms, muttering that she's his princess.
It goes on like that for years, never going further than him touching her, until she's about seven and he asks her to touch him for the first time. She's shy and it takes some coaxing, but she does it because she loves her dad. She's glad he closes his eyes, because she's terrified her tears will make him mad. He wipes her hands on a dish towel before letting her go, telling her that she should go play. She runs and hides in a closest until Sam finds her, thinks she's playing hide-and-go-seek, and runs off shouting at her to count before she tries to find him.
It's not until she's eight that she realizes that what he's doing to her, and making her do, is wrong. She's trying to tell Dean when he catches her and threatens to deny everything. It's then that he realizes that he has to pull in the reins and he starts controlling every aspect of her little life. She's not allowed to stay over at friend's houses, she can only read the books that are required for class or training, she's not allowed to leave his presence except for school or when he has to go out, and she has to have extra sparring lessons. He explains to Sam and Dean that she was bad and needs extra discipline. He explains to her that night, before he lets her go back to bed with Sam, that if he tells Sam or Dean, he's going to have to hurt them; he mutters that she's his princess and no one is going to take her away from him. She climbs into bed with Sam, holding back her tears; this is truly her secret and no one can save her from it. She gets used to the abuse and takes it without much protest, not that her protests make a difference.
She's twelve when he puts his mouth on her for the first time. She's horrified when she realizes that she sort of enjoys it. It's then that she takes back a little control and stops eating. She eats at school because the teachers are already watching her and she eats whenever he's gone, but she only pretends to eat when he's around. Her little act of rebellion isn't a secret; the whole family knows she does it. Sammy asks her to stop, telling her it's not healthy. Dean rolls his eyes and thinks it's some pre-teen cry for attention. John whispers to her in the dark that she's getting to thin and during the day he punishes her with extra training and sparring with Dean, who kicks her ass in hopes it knocks her out of this little "phase" she seems to be going through.
At fourteen she turns into a woman, curves in all the right places and even Dean stares at her when he's had a little too much to drink. John starts to call her Mary in the dark in hushed, reverent tones and he begs her to taste him. She relents, just because he sounds so damned pathetic. She doesn't move, he doesn't need her to, and closes her eyes, wishing herself somewhere else. She gags urgently when he comes in her mouth, and runs for the bathroom. She's sick for hours, tears streaming down her face for the first time in years, listening as first he comes to the door, asking if she's all right, then Dean telling her to hurry the hell up or they'll be late for school, and finally Sam who murmurs quietly that if she's sick she should stay home. She starts to shake knowing that staying home means being alone with him all day, but she just can't seem to get the energy to pull herself off of the bathroom floor. A few hours after Sam and Dean head off for school, he comes back to the door, telling her that he got a call and he's heading out for a few days. She doesn't acknowledge that she heard him, but he leaves anyway. She falls asleep and dreams of the previous nights events. She wakes up gagging, her stomach heaving violently. She decides then that she's done and gets up, dragging herself into the kitchen for the first aid kit. She dumps it on the floor, dropping to the floor in front of the sink, and picks up the bottle of pain killers. She gets the cap off the second Sam and Dean bust through the front door. Sam sees her first and runs to her, asking if she's all right. Dean's face is tight with concern when he takes in the scene before him. He snatches the pills out of her hand, grabbing her face and shouts that she had better not have taken any. She cries, shaking her head, and passes out moments later.
Her world collapses at seventeen. She gets into a huge fight with Dean about the bruises she has after another hunt alone with John, ones that look like hand prints up and down her back. She had begged John to leave her alone, to not cross that line, and he beat her for resisting. She tells Dean the bruises were from the spirit and that she's going to shower, begging him to leave her the hell alone. She locks herself in the bathroom, avoiding the mirror as she strips, and steps into a hot shower, hissing as the water hits the welts across her ass and the back of her legs. She's lost in the sound of the water and doesn't hear Dean pick the lock and let himself in the bathroom. She opens her eyes, gasping when she sees him standing there, staring in horror, and grabs her towel, begging him to get out. He asks her what the hell happened, then seconds later, asks if dad did this to her. She denies it, and tries to shove Dean out of the bathroom. John appears then, hearing the commotion, asking what the hell is going on. Dean looks at him like some sort of monster, raising a hand to hit him before John grabs him by the neck and throws him out of the bathroom. She can hear Sam yelling and before she can think about it, she grabs John's arm. He looks at her, enraged and jealous that someone else had seen her naked. She begs him not to kill Dean, pleads with him not to hurt him too badly. He shrugs her off harshly when she whispers that she'll do anything he wants if he doesn't hurt Dean. That stops him dead in his tracks and he turns to look at her, making her repeat the plea. Please, she whispers, starting to shake, I'll do anything if you don't hurt him too bad. He nods once and starts toward Dean again, picking him up and dragging him out of the room, telling him that it's time for him to learn some respect. Sam appears in the doorway moments later. Judging by the look on his face, he doesn't believe her when she denies that John caused the marks. He closes the gap between them in seconds and gathers her up in his arms, carrying her out of the bathroom. She weakly tells Sam to get away from her before Dad sees as he sits her on his bed. He hushes her and moves to the dresser, pulling out one of his large tee-shirts. She shaking so bad that her teeth are chattering and Sam gently lowers the shirt over her head, tugging it down to cover her bare thighs. Sam climbs into the bed next to her, lifting her into his lap, muttering quietly into her damp hair that he's not going to let anything happen to her. She nods but doesn't listen; she knows that if he tries to stop John he'd end up dead. She waits for Sam to drift off to sleep before gently sliding onto the bed out of his lap. He lays down when she asks him too, sighing in his sleep. She lay awake; waiting for Dean to come in to bed, scratching Sam's back lightly, trying to calm herself. Finally Dean comes in and hits the bed, within seconds snoring lightly. She can see his split lip in the light that is coming into the room from the gap in the door, but he looks whole and she knows that John kept up his end of the bargain and now it's her turn. She kisses Sam on the back of the head and crawls out of the bed, deciding she was going to take this like a man. She strides confidently into the hall, pulling the bedroom door shut behind her, and is stunned to see John packing up in the kitchen. He looks up when she enters the room and tells her that Bobby had called and there was an important hunt not far from where they were. He moves the packed bag onto the floor and heads for the refrigerator; he's taking Dean, he adds as he pulls two beers out, handing her one. He gestures to the kitchen table and she sits lightly, trying to hide the wince of pain. He sits across from her, opening his beer and taking a long drink. She opens her beer, playing with the cap, and nods silently. He's finished his drink before he speaks again, telling her that he knows it wasn't her fault that Dean broke into the bathroom and that he's not mad at her. She nods again, finishing her beer. He tells her to go to bed; he'll see her when he comes back. She gets up slowly and heads for the bedroom and is halfway down the hall before he stops her. Before her brain can register what's going on, she's up against the wall, one arm pinned above her head. He's whispering for her to be a good girl and not struggle, adding roughly that if she wakes up the boys he'd have to punish her. She nods, tears filling her eyes, and lets him shove her into his bedroom. She trips over some clothes on the floor and falls hard, a strangled cry getting lost in the back of her throat. And before she can pick herself up, he's on top of her, pressing her painfully into the floor. He skims a hand up the inside of her thighs and grins broadly when he finds she isn't wearing any underwear. She starts to inch away from his touch, sobbing hard now, before he stops her, one hand pinning her arms over her head, the other grabbing her ass hard. She bites back a yelp of pain as the half healed welts split, fresh tears flowing down her cheeks. She's pleading with him to move his hand, to grab somewhere else. He ignores her, undoing his pants and pushing them down. He shoves her legs apart with his knee and pulls her closer. He covers her mouth to keep her from screaming when he thrusts into her suddenly, his other hand holding her in place. She lay there, silently praying for him to be quick, trying to make her mind as blank as possible. She's completely numb by the time he climbs off of her, grunting at her to go to her room before he's walking into his bathroom and closing the door. It's a full minute before she can move, the pain setting in as she pulls herself off of the floor and slowly walks out of his room. She can feel blood running down her legs and she knows she should go shower, but she doesn't, instead climbing into bed with Sam. He wakes up as she pulls back the covers and quietly demands to know what happened. She shushes him, telling him to hold her. He sighs angrily but obeys, holding her to his chest tightly. John and Dean are gone by the time she wakes up the next morning and Sam's wrapped around her so tightly, she's sweating. She's too sore to move but Sam notices her breathing change and pulls away a little, whispering quietly that he's sorry. She doesn't answer, wouldn't know what to say even if she did, and just lies there. Sam kisses her forehead and gets up, heading for the bathroom. She doesn't move, can't move, and she hears Sam turn on the tap, filling the bathtub. She can hear him come back into the room, open a few drawers, and head back for the bathroom. Sam comes back after turning off the tap and sits her up gently, kneels down in front of her, and pulls the tee-shirt off. She closes her eyes to avoid seeing the look on Sam's face when he sees the dried blood smeared across her thighs and the new finger shaped bruises on her hip. Sam sighs and tenderly gathers her up in his arms. He carries her into the bathroom and sets her on her feet. She sways a little, her legs almost giving out, before Sam steadies her, helping her step into the bath. The water is hot but she doesn't even flitch as she sits slowly. Sam asks quietly if anything hurts as he runs a wet washcloth across her back. She doesn't answer. He sighs and adds soap to the washcloth. He gently scrubs her back, murmuring that he should have known, he should have protected her. She lets a tear fall as he says that; she had always thought she had been protecting him. Sam moves to wash her face and notices the tears. He sighs, calls her baby, and pulls her to him.
Its three days before she'll talk to Sam. John and Dean had called saying that they had another hunt and had decided to take it; they'll be back in a week, call Pastor Jim if they need anything. Sam was starting to wonder if maybe he should call Pastor Jim and have him come get them, just to get away from John, but he doesn't because he knows that she'll deny everything, so he waits for her to open up. She doesn't sleep at night, just lies there and stares until dawn when finally her eyes drift closed and she relaxes. Sam watches her sleep, knowing that she's never looked as peaceful in her entire life as she does wrapped in his arms. He blames himself for her pain, he should have known, after all, he's shared a bed and the backseat of the Impala with his big sister his whole life. She had been the one to dry his tears after nightmares and read him bedtime stories and make sure he ate his vegetables and help with his homework. And he had failed her. She snuggles closer suddenly, as if she can hear his thoughts, and tells him not to blame himself. And before she can stop herself, she's telling him everything, her voice as dead as her eyes have been lately. Sam waits for her to fall silent before he kisses her forehead and tells her it ends; that John is never going to touch her again. She almost laughs, but decides not to crush Sam's attempt at bravado. He's quiet for a moment before he asks her gently if she'll eat today. She rolls her eyes and mumbles her consent, knowing that it'll make Sam happy.
She gets more and more jumpy the sooner Dean and John are supposed to be back. Sam knows she's afraid, can see it in the way she flinches every time the phone rings, sighing in relief when it's not John, and wishes there was something he could do to help her. She takes the Impala the morning John and Dean had said they would be home and disappears. Sam paces the apartment, trying not to wonder if the cops are going to show up at the door and tell him that she's been found dead somewhere, clutching his cell phone until his knuckles are white and the thing is creaking in protest at such treatment. He gets tired of waiting at dusk and sits on the couch, staring at the TV. It's after midnight when Sam hears a key in the lock and prays it's not dad. He watches her open the door slowly, glancing around and grinning when she spots him. She's flushed and Sam's mouth drops when he realizes she's drunk. He stands and strides over to her, taking the car keys from her and huffing out an annoyed sigh. He asks her what she was thinking and that dad would have beaten the crap out of her if he had caught her like this. She laughs harshly and heads for the couch saying that John would like her drunk and compliant. She sits heavily, kicking her shoes off and tucking her legs up underneath her, and grabs the remote, flipping channels like she's been there all day. Sam can't keep the frown off of his face when he sits next to her and quietly tells her he's been worried all day. She worries her bottom lip in between her teeth and mutters that she's sorry but she couldn't just sit around and wait for John to come back and act like everything was normal. She tosses the remote onto the coffee table and continues that the more she sat around the house, the worse things got and she just had to leave. Sam nods mutely and slips an arm around her shoulders. She leans in to his touch and settles her head on his chest. When Sam notices she's drifted off to sleep, he gets up, careful not to wake her, and flips off the lights, makes sure the house is secure and goes back to the couch, sitting back down beside her. Her eyes flutter open as he slips his arm back around her and she grins up at him softly. He gazes at her for a moment before he leans down and covers her lips gently with his. She kisses him back, her hand going to the back of his head, her fingers slowly twining in his hair. He pulls back for a moment, his eyes scanning her face before she pulls him back down to her. He kisses her deeply, his hands caressing her back softly. She pulls away, slightly breathless, and straddles his lap before seizing his lips with hers again. She kisses him hungrily, her pelvis grinding subtly against his crotch. He moans into her mouth and pulls away and whispers that he loves her but she doesn't have to do this if it's uncomfortable. She leans closer, her breasts smashed against Sam's chest, and breathes into his ear that she needs him to touch her, to love her like this. She kisses his neck softly, pleading roughly as his fingers slide into the waist of her jeans. He answers her by gently pulling her shirt off, throwing it aside, and running his hands over her skin to cup her breasts. She sucks in a ragged breath as he slips his thumb inside her bra and rolls it over a hard nipple. He dips his head to kiss the top of each perfectly round mound of flesh, unhooking her bra and stripping her of it. She gasps his name sweetly as he takes a throbbing nipple in his mouth and sucks. He groans into her skin and pulls away when she reaches down and starts undoing his jeans, shaking his head at her. She moans her impatience, her hips squirming against his. His voice is low and raspy when he tells her that he's going to take care of her, she just has to be patient. She sighs and skims her hands down his sides, tugging at the hem of his tee-shirt until it's off. She grins faintly as his hands settle on her waist and he pushes her off of him lightly, thumbing the button of her jeans open and dragging the zipper down slowly as she stands in front of him. She works the tight jeans down her thighs and lets them fall to the floor, kicking them aside, smirking as he realizes she's not wearing any panties. He watches her kneel at his feet and finish the job of getting his pants open, helping her pull his jeans and boxer briefs off. She leaves them around his ankles and climbs back onto his lap at his gentle insistence. He swallows hard at how hot and wet she already is and rasps out that they don't have any protection. She slides a hand down his chest letting it come to rest lightly on his hard penis, and rolling her thumb over the tip, she mutters that John's had her on the pill since she was fourteen, and she licks the sticky pre-come off of her thumb slowly. Sam's breath hitches in his chest for a moment and before he can get it back, she's sliding him into her. She's tight and it takes all of his focus to not come undone right then. She stills once their hips meet and she asks him if he's ever done this before. He's glad it's dark because it hides his blush as he admits that he has. She nods and pulls back, coming back a second later like she can't stand for her hips to not be touching his. His hands cover her waist and he's muttering encouragements as they get the rhythm. She moans as the pressure builds, her hips snapping with bruising force against Sam's. He groans when he feels her muscles tighten and thumbs her clit, sending her over the edge with a strangled scream, coming hard himself as he works her through the orgasm. She lowers her head to the crook of Sam's neck and whispers that she loves him. He gently pulls her hair free of her hair tie, running his fingers through her long blonde hair, calling her baby and assuring her that he loves her too. They stay like that for a moment before he gently asks her to move for just a second. She climbs off of him, her legs shaking slightly, and kneels on the couch, watching him tenderly as he kicks his pants off the rest of the way and stands. He gathers her in his arms and carries her off toward the bedroom. She tells him she wants a shower, with him, and grins when he obeys. He sets her on the closed lid of the toilet and turns on the water. She lets it run for a minute before she gets up and stands behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing the bottom of his shoulder blades. He turns around, still in the circle of her arms, and is glad she's taller than most girls when he leans down to capture her lips with his. When he pulls away, her lips are swollen from his kisses and she's panting, her skin a rosy pink; he tells her she's perfect and helps her step into the shower. The water is hot on her skin, making her squirm slightly. He smirks at her and runs a hand over her ass as he asks her if she's ready for round two. She glances up at him through her lashes, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks as she bites her lip and nods. He turns her, placing her back to the cool tile wall, and tells her to tell him what she needs. She swallows hard and says nothing until he breaths into her ear that he loves her, calling her baby, his voice full of desire. She moans innocently that she wants his hands on her, inside her. Sam nips the skin behind her ear and complies, running a hand up the inside of her thigh before slipping a finger into her center, a second digit following moments later. She mutters instructions as she wraps one leg around his waist, pulling him closer. He grunts as she scratches his back roughly, her breasts heaving. She looks up at Sam, her green eyes dark with raw sensuality, and seizes a handful of his wet hair, pulling him down to kiss her. He swallows her moans like a starving man, willing to do anything to hear the sweet sounds she makes as she comes a second time. She breaks the kiss, gasping for air, leaning her head back against the tile, a satisfied smile fixed to her face. Sam drags wet kisses across her neck and chest as she hums her approval and plays with the short hairs on the back of his neck. He eventually drags his mouth away from her skin long enough for them to run soapy washcloths over each other and wash each other's hair. She wraps a towel around her middle and steps out of the shower, Sam following her as she takes his hand and leads him into the bedroom. She drags him to the bed and lays him down. He looks at her a little curiously as she straddles his lap and drops the towel muttering wickedly in his ear that it's his turn for round two. He runs his hands over her milky skin and moans lightly as she drags firm kisses across his pulse point and jaw. She hums softly as she kisses down his chest, her nails dragging down his sides and her hair tickling slightly, raising goose bumps in their wake. His hands end up in her hair as her lips land on his thigh. She stops, licking her lips and glancing up at him, smirking when his dick twitches as he looks down at her, his thumb caressing her cheek softly. He grunts loudly when she takes just the tip of him into her mouth, sucking delicately. She grins around him and takes the rest of him with deliberate slowness, savoring his taste. She teases until he moans at her to stop, pulling away from him with a wet pop and looks up at him rolling her tongue across her lips. He tugs her hair lightly until she slides back up his body and kisses him hard. He flips her over a second later, still between her legs and bends to bite her neck, gliding into her slick core. She moans his name, her breath coming in short hot gasps on the side of his neck, her hips meeting his halfway with every thrust. She comes when he calls her baby, his voice thick with longing. He comes after a final thrust, kissing her sweetly. He pulls out and settles his head on her chest as her arms and legs wrap around him securely. She sighs lazily and runs her fingers through his hair, her eyes closed. She asleep within seconds, her hand stilling on the top of his head; Sam follows her a few minutes later, knowing that he'd never love anyone else as much as he loves her.
She and Sam are in the living room watching TV when John and Dean come back almost a full week after they said they would, Dean favoring his right knee and John sporting a homemade sling for his left arm. John barks at her to get the first aid kit and an ice pack for Dean and tells Sam to go and get the bags out of the truck before taking a seat on the couch with a sigh. Dean hobbles over to the kitchen table and lowers himself into a chair with a grimace. She places the kit and the cold pack on the table before moving to the cabinet and pulling out the whiskey. She hands Dean the bottle before going to the fridge and grabbing a beer, moving to hand it to John without a word. He takes the beer with a nod, his eyes lingering on her chest for longer than they should. She turns back to Dean and kneels at his feet, gently rolling up his pant leg to get a look at his knee. Dean hisses as she prods the swollen flesh, making sure the bones aren't broken, and looks down at her, his eyes glassy from the alcohol and pain. She notices he's flushed; sweat's rolling down his temples, and she stands, placing her hand on his forehead. He closes his eyes, muttering that her hand is cold. John asks what's wrong, noticing the concern on her face. She tells him Dean's burning up and asks Dean if he has a cut anywhere that could be infected. Dean nods dumbly, swallowing hard and lifts his shirt, revealing a long gash that has already started to heal slightly but that is obviously infected. She sighs and tells him to go lay down; she'll be right in to clean the wound. She asks John if they have any antibiotics and before he can answer, she turns, grabs the medical kit, and heads for the bedroom. Dean's face down on his bed, hugging a pillow, already drifting into a fevered sleep when she walks in. She sighs and coaxes him onto his back, Sam walking in a second later. Sam mutters that John had run out for the antibiotics and asks if she needs anything. She nods, sweet-talking Dean out of his shirt and lets him settle back onto the bed, and tells Sam to get some clean towels, hot water, and a lighter. She sits next to Dean muttering that she's going to take good care of him, enticing a weak chuckle out of him. She asks what's funny about that; he knows damned well that her job in the family is to be the trauma nurse. Dean looks at her seriously through hazy green eyes and tells her that he should have been taking care of her all these years. She grins at him sadly and tells him that he had no way of knowing, but not to worry about it now, he has to get well first. She shouts to Sam to bring the whiskey on his way back in and takes Dean's hand, feeling his forehead again. Sam comes back with the supplies she's asked for and sits down on Dean's other side. She mutters to Dean that this is going to hurt like hell as she straddles his hips. He smirks at her playfully and tells her to do her worse. She takes the whiskey, opens the bottle, takes a swig, offers it to Sam, who nods and takes a long drink then hands it back, and then pours some onto a corner of one of the towels, wiping it gently over the wound. Dean groans as she cleans the area, but doesn't move. She stops for a minute, has Dean sit up and take another good sized pull off of the whiskey before she tells Sam to open the kit and hand her the pen knife and the lighter. Sam nods and watches as she dips the knife in the hot water first then hold it over the lighters flame. She wipes the hot blade on the towel and leans close to Dean's chest as she cuts the wound back open. Dean clenches his teeth tightly and lets a stifled scream tear at his throat. She lies that that was the worst of it and takes the hot water and a new towel and starts wiping the gash harshly. She assures him she's almost done and takes the rubbing alcohol out of the kit and splashes a little into the fresh wound. Dean grunts loudly and tells her she's a bitch for hurting him like that. She giggles lightly and leans to blow cool air on the cut, making Dean sigh. She tells him she's done being a bitch but that she does have to stitch him up, nodding at Sam to thread the needle. John walks in as she's knotting the thread, asking if everything's all right. She mutters that it'll scar and she'll have to watch him through the night to make sure the fever goes down, but Dean should be fine. John sighs and sits wearily onto Sam's bed, rubbing his shoulder absently. She leans in to start the stitches, Dean lying silently with his eyes closed, and she asks John if he needs any stitches or anything. He mutters to take care of Dean and gets up, leaving the room. Dean opens his eyes, winks at her, and lets his eyes drift closed again. She smirks and finishes her tiny stitches, asking Sam to go get the antibiotics from John and bring back a glass of water. She ties off the tread as he leaves, cutting it gently with the knife. She has clean bandages taped over the cut by the time Sam comes back. She wakes Dean up gently, telling him it time for his meds. He glances to the bandages on his chest, blinking stupidly, and mumbles what happened. She smiles and tells him that she cut him for being a pain in the ass and hands him two pills, helping him sip the water. He settles back against the pillows, muttering quietly that she should stay. She assures him that she's not going anywhere and climbs off of him, moving to clean up the towels and first aid kit. Sam helps carry things back into the kitchen, setting everything on the table to be cleaned up and put away later. She washes her hands, leaning heavily against the sink for a moment before splashing water on her face. Sam tells her she did good as he comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist firmly. She mutters that John might see and tries to pull away a little. Sam shakes his head, mumbling that John had already gone to his room, taking the pain killers with him. She immediately relaxes into his hold, closing her eyes for a moment. They stand like that until they hear Dean call out in the bedroom. Sam lets her go, watching as she grabs a dish towel and a fresh ice pack out of the freezer and rush off to Dean's side before following her slowly. She hushes Dean, telling him to go back to sleep. Sam wanders in quietly, shutting the bedroom door behind him. She turns and grins at him and goes back to taking off Dean's dirty jeans. Sam helps her strip Dean of his jeans and getting him under the covers. She climbs into the bed, wraps the ice pack in the towel, and places it lightly on his bruised knee. She watches Sam move to Dean's other side and drags him to the edge of the bed, smiling as he comes back to climb in behind her, kissing her before he settles. She stays up through the night, making sure Dean is comfortable, enjoying the feeling of Sam's breath on the back of her neck.
Dean bitches the entire two days she makes him stay in bed, but does it for her. Neither Sam nor Dean leaves her alone for long, making John angry and suspicious. John snaps on the third day, telling the boys to go and pick up supplies, handing Dean a list. Dean scans the list, nodding, and then asks John why don't they all go. John rolls his eyes and says that he's running out on his own errands. John turns to her and tells her that the apartment had better be spotless by the time he comes back, grabs his jacket and keys, and heads out the door, telling the boys that they had better get everything on that list. Sam and Dean stay until they are sure John's gone. They each hug her on the way out the door, Dean telling her that if she needs him to call. She smiles, telling them that she'll be fine; she's been left home alone before. She watches the boys leave, waving when they both turn around to make sure she's still ok. She closes and locks the door, sighing at the feeling of dread that washes over her. Moving to the radio in the kitchen, she turns on the classic rock station and turns it up loud, starting the dishes. She saves the vacuuming for last and is having a pretty good time dancing around but over the noise of the vacuum, the radio, and her singing, she doesn't hear John come in the front door. He watches her vacuum the hall for a moment before he comes at her from behind. She doesn't hear him, but the minute he touches her, her training takes over and she swings a shape elbow directly into his nose. He shouts angrily as blood starts running down his face and throws a right hook that catches her on the jaw. She hits the floor and wipes the blood from her lip, looking up in time to see John take off his belt. Her thin tee-shirt provides no protection from the thick leather belt as it strikes her back and arms. She's trying to scramble off of the floor when he catches her hair, pulling her head back toward him sharply. He whispers that she got lucky with that hit, and then he kisses her cheek and tells her she's beautiful. He drags her into his bedroom and kicks the door shut and lets her go. She scoots away from him, crying out when she bumps into the bed. She's begging him not to do this, to leave her alone as he kneels down in front of her running a hand across her cheek softly before he slaps her hard. She closes her eyes in an effort to keep her tears from falling and she can hear him moving around the room. He's muttering that she's his, he owns her, and he can do whatever he damned well pleases. He kneels down in front of her and tells her to stop crying and take her punishment like a good girl before he takes a pair of handcuffs and cuffs her hands behind her back. She pleads with him to let her go before he hits her again and she falls silent. He strips her of her jeans and lays her on the floor, ignoring her whimper of pain. He moans softly as he kisses her stomach, slipping a hand into her panties. She blocks him out, trying hard to stop crying as he pulls her panties off roughly. He undoes his pants, calling her Mary and telling her it's been too long since last time. She struggles violently against the handcuffs, feeling the cool metal bite into her skin, when he grabs her hips abruptly. She shouts in pain as he thrusts into her and fights against the restraints. She's still and limp by the time John pulls away from her and tells her that she needs to think about what she's done. He pulls up his pants and walks out of the room, shutting his door behind him. She moans softly and rolls onto her side, closing her eyes. She thinks she's dreaming when she hears the shouting in the living room, Dean's muffled voice full of hate. A beam of light falls across her closed eyelids and she peaks one eye open, seeing Sam slip into the room quietly, closing the door behind him. He calls her baby and asks her if she can sit up before noticing the handcuffs. She tells him to hurry when she hears a loud crash in the other room and a muted curse. Sam picks the lock on the handcuffs, getting one side undone. She screams as the door is kicked open, John rushing into the room and kicking Sam in the stomach. John grabs Sam by the hair, pulling him off the floor enough to punch him across the face, muttering that no one is going to take his Mary away again. He hits Sam again telling him that he was going to pay for what he's done. She knows John keeps a gun under his pillow and as Sam moans in pain, she lunges for it. Her aim is true and John stops hitting Sam, looking at her curiously. He lets Sam go and drops to his knees, clutching the hole in his chest, his eyes going wide in horror as he realizes that he's dying. She watches him coldly, still holding the pistol, as he falls face first on the floor, his raspy breath fading to silence. Sam pulls himself off of the floor to sit next to her on the bed, taking the gun out of her hands gently, and gathering her up in his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck tightly asking him if he's all right. He nods mutely and picks her up, carrying her into the living room. He puts her down on the couch and glances over at Dean, who's coming around, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. Dean spots them on the couch and before he can ask what happened, there's a knock at the door. She grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and covers her lap as Sam goes and looks out of the peephole. He looks back at her sadly and whispers that it's the police. Dean curses under his breath as the cops knock again, harder this time. She smiles softly and tells Sam to open the door.
Fifteen hours later, the "Wesson" children walk out of the police station, bandaged and broken, but free. They had convinced the cops that all of the weird "satanic" paraphernalia had belonged to John and that he had been abusing her, her whole life. The cops were ready to believe the story after hearing from the hospital staff that all of them were covered in scars that go back years and the x-rays show numerous healed fractures. They were given a ride back to the apartment; the cop telling them that their father had been taken away to the local morgue and the investigation team was finished. Sam helps her out of the car despite her protests and sweeps her off of her feet, carrying her up the stairs. Dean leads the way and opens the door slowly, glancing sadly around the room as he drops his keys on the coffee table. Sam sets her down on the couch, sitting next to her and putting his arms around her, hugging her to his chest. Dean sits across from them and tells her to tell him what happened. She tells him the whole story in whispers, too ashamed to look at him. A tear slides down her face as she tells him that she shot John because she was afraid that he was going to kill Sam. Dean sighs softly, his green eyes shining with unshed tears, and stands, marching into the back bedroom. Sam hugs her close, whispering that he's got her, that it's really over now, kissing her forehead lovingly.
Dean leaves the next morning, saying that he just needs some time to process everything, taking the Impala and John's journal with him. Sam packs his stuff in a huff, throwing things until she comes up beside him and tells him that Dean is just trying to deal. She knows that Dean's blaming himself for not protecting her all of those years and he has to forgive himself before he can look at her again. Sam is quiet for a minute before nodding, he knows she's right. She tells him damned right she's right and kisses him deeply before going back to packing her stuff. Sam takes the bags and throws them into the back of the truck watching as she locks up the apartment and bends to place the key under the mat like the manager asked. She smirks when she sees him watching her and walks across the parking lot towards him, her hips swaying a little more than usual. He grins broadly and gets in the passenger seat, asking her as she climbs in behind the wheel where they're going. She puts the key in the ignition, starts the truck, finds a station she likes on the radio, looks at Sam and shrugs. He blinks at her for a moment before he leans, kissing her bear shoulder and says that they haven't been to see Bobby in a while. She grins softly and says she'll think about it as she backs out of the space and heads out of the parking lot.