Warning!: This piece contains Non-Con/Rape.

If you do not wish to read that type of story, best to move on now…flaming will not be tolerated as you have been forewarned!

Flaming comments will be mocked for their stupidity and will only serve to make you look like an idiot…..so please, save yourself the humiliation….

Disclaimer: I do not own the boys or Castiel, I merely borrowed them for the duration of the story. Kripke owns all my toys and the bastard doesn't like to share…


As He Breaks...


Chapter 1:

Taken Unwillingly

Sam was acting strangely…just a bit off, really. Dean would catch it in things like the little movements and actions he had come to associate with his brother. Like the words his brother spoke... He knew his baby brother, better then himself at times, and he could see something foreign, something altogether wrong in him. He could feel it. At first he had chalked it up to his brother being drunk. Sam had never been a particularly heavy drinker. Sam's only break of that habit had been while his big brother was in Hell. He had been a slave to the bottle then, willing the fiery liquid to claim him, to drag his soul down to Hell. He wanted to be damned. He was sure he deserved it. Ruby had intervened, though. She had turned him to other, more sinister addictions… However, for now, his little brother was fighting them, trying to keep them from letting them get control of him. He was fighting himself as best he could, though Dean could see how big a toll it was taking on him. Sam had readily agreed to go to the bar that night though, because he was just as fucked up and worn out by their last hunt as his big brother was.

Dean had done his usual dance with the drink to work up the courage to attempt sleep. He piled it on, round after round, working hard to reach oblivion. His little brother had matched him shot for shot. When they left, Dean, who was much more accustomed to the heavy load of alcohol in his system, was sure on his feet even though his brain was already tumbling away toward a nice dreamless sleep. His brother, on the other hand, was a bit of a sloppy drunk. Stumbling, slurring his words…he had excused himself to go to the men's room while Dean paid off the tab. When Sam returned, he was less unsteady on his feet, his words no longer slurring as bad. He thought it odd, but Dean was on his way to mind-check out, so he figured they better motivate to the room, 'cause he was ready to crash, like 10 minutes ago.

Sam followed him outside, his eyes shifting oddly…cold, calculating…following Dean's every move. They had made it most of the way up the couple of blocks toward the motel, but Dean still felt something was wrong. He stopped, turning to assess his little brother. They were next to a church, oddly enough, but he didn't mind so much any more, he was kind of on ok terms with the whole God and Angels of the Lord thing right now, so he didn't mind too much to be in the presence of a house of the Lord. It gave him the tiniest bit of peace, actually, though he was loathe to admit it out loud. He stopped his little brother, worry eating away at his haze-muddled mind.

"You ok there, Sammy?" He had drawled out slowly, sluggishly.

"I'm fine, Dean…" Sam had said, but his voice was wrong…so wrong…

It was then that he noticed the blood seeping though the jacket his brother was wearing. Puzzled, he grabbed the zipper and pulled it down. The grey of his brother's t-shirt was darkened with red, blood saturating it.

"Holy shit!! Sammy!! What the hell happened!?!?" Dean said. Suddenly, he was very sober, his worry ratcheting up about 10,000 notches at the sight of his brother's blood. Dean pulled the edge of the collar down, and to his unbelieving eyes, he saw how, and more importantly where his brother was hurt. The protection tattoo was all but cut away from the skin, the skin marred so badly that the spell of protection was broken. He understood now, what was wrong with Sammy. His eyes shifted up to his brothers, fearing what he would see there, but knowing it deep down.

Sam glowered down on him, his head shifted in a tilt that reminded Dean of a bird of prey, head cocked, watching intently as its unsuspecting prey filled its vision. Sam's eyes no longer held Sam inside them. Instead, the golden brown tone had been stripped away, replaced with something far more devastating. They had shifted to ink-black, the light reflecting off them at odd angles, giving them the effect of the eyes of a shark: cold, fathomless, inky-black pools…

Sam, who was not Sam, reached out his well-muscled arm, gripping his brother's throat in vise-tight grip, lifting him off the ground. Dean felt his feet dangle uselessly, the demon taking full advantage of Sam's long reach to keep him out of range of any effective blow Dean might want to land on him. Sam pressed him back to the building, his throat burning and swelling, the air having to fight to reach his brain, held tightly but not tight enough to kill. The demon cocked Sam's head again, a twisted smile turning his lips, searing away the warm facade of Sam's natural charm and replacing it with a cold mask, devoid of humanity or empathy.

"Hello Dean…been a while…" Sam said, his voice low, coated in oily satisfaction, dark and menacing and deadly.

"Meg…" Dean managed to choke out. Sam smiled deeper, a death's head grin pulling his face into an ever more wicked mask. That was the last thing he remembered clearly. Meg slammed his head back toward the stone wall of the church. Dean felt his arms fall away from Sam's iron-solid, clutching arm as Dean felt his mind fall away into unconsciousness.

When Dean awoke, he could hardly think, his mind tumbling like marbles in a can. His head throbbed and his throat ached. He felt weak, so weak…Finally, his mind stopped reeling enough for him to focus, though it was costing plenty to will himself to do so through the pain. He was in the church. He could see the body of a man, prone and unmoving, his eyes glassy…dead. His priestly robes ravaged, his chest sliced open. The blood pooled around him, looking like the mouth of a black hole, ready to swallow him. Dean's shifted his eyes away, taking stock of himself then. He was naked, gagged and bound to the altar, arms and legs splayed in a cruel mockery of Da Vinci's Vetruvian Man. He swallowed hard, willing himself to be calm. He shifted his gaze, finally falling upon his brother's form.

Sam was kneeled down on the raised dais as well, naked, covered in blood and gore. He was praying, the words not recognizable to Dean's mind. He finished the incantation he was speaking, silent for a moment before turning to look upon Dean. The shark-like eyes latched on to him and Dean was unable to turn away. Sam rose, stalking toward him with all the languid grace of a prowling tiger. He carried a silver chalice with him in one hand, the other held a sinister-looking dagger, the edges twisting and writhing like a serpent. Sam, who was not Sam, stilled when he reached the edge of the altar, glaring down at him, head cocked again as he regarded his older brother with malice and hatred seething in the depths of his ink-dark eyes.

"Dean, Dean, Dean…you don't know how long I have waited for this…" he said, his oily, malevolent tone piercing Dean's heart like a jagged shard of ice. He trailed the dagger down Dean's cheek, playing it across his throat, down, down, down…and then back up again until he reached his target. He ripped the blade across Dean's forearm, slicing deep, the blood flowing thickly from the wound as Dean jerked hard against his restraints, his muffled scream choking and dying in his throat. Sam caught his blood in the chalice, letting it fill for a bit while playing the dagger across Dean's body, the slick metal teasing as it trailed slowly over his tender flesh and solid muscle. When the chalice was filled to the demon's satisfaction, he set it down beside the altar on another low altar, joining it with the darkly magical objects there. He turned back to Dean, setting the dagger aside for the moment. His brother jumped up onto the altar, straddling himself over Dean's own hips. Sam's naked flesh was hard and tight. He pressed deeply into Dean as he shifted forward, planting his hands on either side of Dean's head as he leaned down. His face was inches from Dean's now, and Dean had to keep reminding himself that it was not his brother, his brother would never do this, would never hurt him like this. Dean's mind reeled, falling back to his time in Hell. On his most terrible days there, this is what they had done to him. They had used the ones he loved against him, using their visage, their memories to hurt him. They twisted his love for his family in dark, gut-wrenchingly grotesque ways. They used his father's visage, his brother's visage to rape and terrorize him, breaking him utterly only to come back at him with knives and fire and all sorts of terrible tools. All of the tools though, paled in comparison to the torture they wrought as they ravaged his body in the guise of the people he loved most in life. He was slipping back there now, his mind flickering back and forth between the reality and Hell.

"No…please no....Please don't do this…" he had whispered brokenly every time they had come back to take him. Again and again they had ravaged him with savage brutality, tearing into his soul as they would his flesh and blood body. They did everything in their power to make it hurt. Now, now he was back there again, only he couldn't beg this time…

Meg slide her borrowed body down Dean's prone form, loving the abject terror present in his eyes…she craved it, relished it. She lapped at the seeping wound, the flow down to a trickle. She let Sam's tongue lavish licks upon the cut, lapping at the blood, savoring the iron-tinged flavor as it slid warmly down Sam's throat.

"Mmmm…you taste good, Dean…" she purred, Sam's deep voice rumbling over the tender flesh.

Sam slid back, blood glimmering brightly on his lips, the wicked grin still present, the ink-dark eyes glaring harshly down at his big brother. It was time. Sam positioned himself between his brother's legs. He absently stroked his turgid shaft, fingers grazing lightly over the head before dragging them back down again. The pre-come would be the only semblance of lubrication Dean would get. He gripped his brother's hip, long fingers digging deeply into the pale flesh as he lifted his brother's pelvis off the altar's surface. He aligned his throbbing cock with Dean's entrance, pressing ruthlessly on the furled orifice until it gave way to his demands. Dean bucked against the restraints, whole body rigid as the muscles locked from the searing pain of the unprepared-for penetration. Tears leaked from his clenched eyes, muffled screams and panicked groans trying to escape the cloth tied tightly in between his lips. Sam smiled deeper. He ripped the cloth away, the screams breaking afresh as he retracted his cock then rammed hard and fast into his brother's body. Meg laughed, the tremulous rumble filling the church's vast height. Sam stabbed deeper and harder with each thrust, relishing the feel of the flesh tearing around him, reveling in his brother's whimpering gasps beneath him. Meg clenched down harder, using Sam's long fingered hands to bruise the tender flesh of his brother's hips, using his teeth and lips to worry at his brother's nipples. She stroked his tongue over the solid flesh and muscle of Dean's chest, the corded muscles of his throat, biting and licking and sucking the flesh, tasting the blood and sweat and utter fear and hopelessness.

As Sam looked down into Dean's eyes, he saw they no longer held any piece of his brother. Meg was forcing him again to live out his most nightmarish reality, hurting the brother who had literally gone to Hell for him, breaking him into pieces so small and jagged he could never be repaired again. He was gone, dead inside. The life once so fierce in the jade green depths of his eyes was gone, leaving them dull, empty voids. Though his brother's body still lived, he was not on this plane any longer.

Meg continued ravaging the broken man beneath her, her borrowed flesh teeming with the impending release. She laughed as she spoke the prophecy aloud, panting out the words as she ground Sam's body into the blood-slick path of his brother's body.

"Blood of the Chosen One, Savior of Humanity, spilt on hallowed ground…Body of the Chosen One, taken unwillingly…as it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end, for as he breaks, so shall it break…and my Lord, Lucifer…the Light-Bearer…shall be resurrected to the world to take his rightful vengeance upon this plane.."

Meg bit down hard on Sam's bottom lip, her borrowed flesh flashing with the blinding madness that was building to overload, uncoiling from within in and crashing over her as rough waves break over rocks by the sea. Sam cried out, his body giving over to the release that had burned him up inside. Meg laughed through the panted breaths, pumping viciously even still as she rode out the aftershocks. Finally spent, she leaned Sam's body over, forcefully taking his brother's mouth, devouring the plump, blood-engorged lips, biting down and drawing blood, swallowing it down with deep satisfaction. Sam withdrew from his brother's bleeding and torn orifice, his now flaccid shaft hanging limply as he jumped down from the altar. Meg knelt the borrowed body before the low altar, taking the chalice and adding the necessary components to finish the spell. She whispered the final incantation, the one that would break the 65th seal. All she would need now was to deal with Lilith…

At last, the spell was done. She made Sam stand then, plucking up the knife as he did her bidding. She walked him to his brother's side once again, forcing him to leap onto the altar and kneel over his big brother once again. She raised his arms, the dagger clutched tightly in his long-fingered hands. Inside the flesh, she had drug the boy forth just enough for him watch everything she had done, but not enough for him to interfere. He had watched himself, felt himself rape his big brother. He had broken the man that had raised him, loved him, protected him all his life and even in his death. Meg turned a wicked grin on his lips as she spoke to him now…

"Awwww…little Sammy has lost his big brother all over again…only this time…there is no coming back. Dean is lost, to Hell in his own mind and, soon enough, back to the real deal. Poor little Sammy…nothing you can do, just like before. I never got to repay you for screwing up my father's plans before. I under-estimated you Winchesters, to my own detriment, I might add. I was not a happy bunny when I got shoved out of that pretty little body by you and yours…Daddy was very displeased. I had to bide my time, wait til I could be of the best use to my father, especially after you murdered him…My father's will is still done, so you see, all your struggling was for nothing! And best of all, I got to hurt the both of you. I couldn't have planned it better! It's too bad, really…I'd love to have another go at him, and I'd still love to have some hot, dirty fun with you, just like I did back then, but I've got something important to do so, time to say bye bye now…" Meg said, her upraised arms clenching as she slammed the blade home deep into Dean's chest. Dean's body bucked hard against the restraints, strangled gasps falling prettily from his lips as he jerked harshly against the blade in his heart.

Inside himself, Sam screamed louder then ever before as he watched his brother suck in his last gasp before collapsing back limply; completely and utterly still once and for all. Sam ceased his slamming against the walls of his internal prison, unable to affect Meg in any way. He sank down, body shaking uncontrollably as he wept. Meg laughed maliciously as she leapt down off the altar. Making her way to the candles burning behind it, she plucked one down from its holder. She held the wrist of her borrowed flesh over the flame, the lock sealing her inside his body began burning away. As she felt it come undone, she knew Sam would be able to throw her out then, so she beat him to the punch. Just before she slithered up from his throat, she tossed a few last words out in pure spite.

"See ya round, boys…been one hell of a ride…" and with that, she was gone, pouring forth from his lips and escaping through an open window, fleeing far from the range of the youngest Winchester's powers. She had too much to do to stick around and duke it out with him, and besides, she'd already got the sweetest revenge she could ever imagine. Her only regret was that she wouldn't be able to stick around and watch the aftermath…

"NO!!!!! Dean!!!!!" Sam screamed out, his body shaking and clenching from the pain of the vision. His eyes were heavy and unfocused and his head was throbbing hard enough to wake the dead. He felt the blood pouring from his nose as it dribbled down his face and dripped heavily onto his shirt front. Dean was out of his bed like a shot, instantly at his brother's side.

"Sammy!!!!!!!!! Sammy, it's ok, I'm right here!!! Come on, kiddo...come on back, that's it…I'm right here, little brother. You're ok." He whispered soothingly to his obviously terrified baby brother.

Sam's focus was wavering in and out but he thought for sure he heard his brother's voice close by. He made himself focus on the sound of it, letting it draw him toward his brother. Finally, his focus steadied enough that he could see his brother there beside him.

"Dean?..." he whispered in utter awe and relief.

"Yeah Sammy, I'm right here. It's ok, bro, I got you. Just calm down, ok Sammy? You really had me worried, little brother." Dean said quietly.

Sam's eyes welled with tears as he studied his brother face for a moment. He lunged forward and grasped Dean in a fierce hug, holding him tight and never wanting to let go.

Dean, though shocked at first, sensed that his brother needed the contact so he let Sam dictate length of the hug, but he hugged Sam back just as fiercely. Whatever Sam had seen, it had really and truly scared him and that scared Dean deeply. When Sam finally relented his grip and pulled back, Dean studied his little brother's red-rimmed, teary eyes.

"Hey, you ok now Sammy? Can you tell me what happened? Do we need to go? Just tell me what you remember and we'll figure out how to stop it from happening, ok?" Dean said quietly, his voice set in the soothing tone he knew his brother would respond to.

Sam shuddered, nodding. He didn't want to relive the memory of the vision, but he knew he had no choice, not if he was going to stop it from coming to pass. He would stop it, there was NO other option. He would not lose Dean again and most especially, he would NOT lose him like that…

TBC….


A/N: So yeah…um what did ya think? Too much? Not enough? Let me know!! Please Read and Review!!!!

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