You guys have been so awesome with your reviews that I've decided to post the fourth and final chapter of this story. Thank you for your awesome support as I delved into the dark side of this sensitive topic.



When good fans, go bad

Chapter 4

Water scalded as Sam stood underneath the stinging shower for the second time since locking himself away in the bathroom, the acrid taste of mouthwash burning the back of his throat. His tongue was numb and he gagged in water and spit it out wondering if Dean had another bottle because the first two hadn't been enough to flush away the intrusion.

He scrubbed at his body, his eyes closed, his breathing harsh and Heather waited for him there…

So pretty, Sammy, she nipped her way along his chest. So very pretty.

His skin itched with the memories of their touch, their dark promises.

I'm going to enjoy this, a husky voice whispered against his cheek, calloused hands slipped across his hip.

Sam scratched at his skin until he drew blood.

The touch moved lower, a rough grip squeezed him tight.

"No," Sam grit out, scrubbing harder at his body. "No."

"Sam?" Dean's voice and heavy pounding startled him and Sam whirled around, eyes wide open, sucking in air. "You done in there yet?"

For a moment the hurting hunter just stared at the closed shower curtain and then as reality seeped through, he tried to control his breathing and reached out a shaky hand to push the curtain open.

"Sammy?" The pounding grew louder and Sam knew his brother would be coming in if he didn't somehow pull it together and answer him.

"I'm-" Sam cleared his throat and tried again even as a shaky hand reached to turn off the water. "-I'm fine." Maybe saying it would make it so.

Pushing the curtain out of the way, Sam stepped onto a dry towel, grabbed another one to hastily tie around his waist and one to quickly dry his hair. He left that one hanging around his neck – it covered up the worst of the bruises – and reached for the bathroom door. He took a deep breath, reminded himself that nothing happened, then pulled the door open.

Dean's hand had been raised to pound again but he let it drop and stepped back when he saw his brother. Sam saw the concern burning bright in the older man's eyes and quickly dropped his gaze. Shame burned his face and for the first time he wished it wasn't Dean who'd found him like that.

Oh God, what his brother must think.

"I'm okay," he mumbled as he moved past his brother towards the beds. He saw that Dean had brought in the duffle bags and his was on the bed furthest away from the door. Old habits die hard, he figured, as he used one hand to unzip the bag and rummage inside for clean clothes as the other kept the towel around his neck tightly clasped together. No need for a repeat of Dean's earlier reaction to seeing the marks on Sam's body.

Dean followed and Sam could feel his brother's gaze burning into his back. He swallowed hard and tried to ignore it but as he finally found something to wear, he couldn't ignore it anymore. "Please… Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" Dean sounded genuinely confused.

"Watch me like I'm going to freak out or something." Maneuvering under the towel, Sam slipped into underwear then sat on the edge of the bed to pull on warm socks. His feet were cold.

"That's not what I'm watching for."

Sam paused, one sock halfway on, he chewed his tender bottom lip for a moment then chanced a glance up. Dean was leaning against the bureau, his arms folded across his chest in casual observation. His face unreadable but his eyes were warm. He continued on before Sam had to ask.

"I'm just wondering how the hell you do it."

"Do what?" Sam asked, his head once again bent over his task. Putting on his socks seemed harder then usual as he willed his hands not to shake.

"Keep from losing it. Man, me and Dad must have done a hell of a better job raising you then we ever gave ourselves credit it."

"You," Sam corrected, then winced when he realized he'd said the word out loud.

"Me? What about me?"

Sam's cheeks blushed for a new reason now. He stood up and turned his back on his brother as he started to work on a pair of comfortable sleep pants. "You did the raising, mostly."

Silence met his comment and Sam looked across at his brother as he tossed the towel he'd had wrapped around his waist towards the open bathroom door. Dean looked surprise by the justification and for some reason Sam found that mildly amusing. Surely Dean wasn't that oblivious to the role he'd played in Sam's life was he? But then again – Sam reached for a black t-shirt – Dean could be downright stupid when it came to things like that. Things like how important the big jerk was to him.

"Mr. Mom, really," Sam added to edge out the awkwardness of his admission.

It worked.

Dean huffed out a snort. "And if you ever call me that again, I will have to hurt you. Bad."

Sam shrugged as he got rid of the other towel and sunk down wearily on the edge of his bed. The skin on his wrists tingled and he rubbed absently at them and glanced longingly towards the bathroom again. Maybe another shower would help.

Dean moved towards the beds and sat down on the edge of his own bed and faced Sam. "Sam-" he started.

Sam cut him off. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Tough shit." The hardness in Dean's voice caught him by surprise. "I do." Like a shot, Sam was off the bed but his brother caught him before he could go any further, instantly letting go of Sam's arm when the younger man's eyes widened in fear. Dean's tone softened. "You didn't deserve this. Whatever else you're thinking, you have to know that."

Now it was Sam's turn to huff as he turned on his brother. "Oh don't I? I let Lucifer out, Dean. Me! I broke the final seal! All because I was a selfish bastard... because I thought I knew what the hell I was doing. Because-"

"Stop it, Sam." Dean moved into Sam's personal space.

"Dean…" Sam deflated. He was too tired for this.

"Sammy, just listen to me." Dean's eyes were green with sincerity and the hurting hunter found himself doing just that, unable to tear his own liquid gaze away from his brother's. "You did not deserve this. Even Chuck – hold on, let me finish," Dean put his hand up to stop the immediate argument from Sam. "Even Chuck didn't think so. Why the hell he didn't say anything sooner is something he's going to have to live with… But I can promise you this. Him not saying anything had nothing - you hear me? - nothing to do with him thinking it was okay."

"But," Sam was confused. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head to one side. "I don't understand then…" Dean's touch was gentler this time, as Sam felt himself being maneuvered back to his bed. He sat down still shaking his head. "Why?"

"Why, what?" Dean sat beside him and leaned forward so he could see Sam's face. "Why didn't Chuck say anything? Well the man's a coward. It's something he has to work on but like I said, it's also something he has to live with… Why'd this happen to you? I dunno, man, I really don't know. Some people are just sick and twisted, I guess. Not like we haven't seen that before."

Sam was quiet for a few minutes as he tried to digest what Dean was saying. He wasn't sure he could accept his brother's absolution of his culpability. Everything happened for a reason, right? But if Dean was saying that this was something Sam didn't deserve, well… his brother's thoughts on things did carry a lot of weight but Dean didn't know everything yet.

"Lucifer was there," Sam blurted the words out, not wanting there to be any more secrets between them but even more importantly, just wanting Dean to know. "He kept offering me a way out." Dean was quiet beside him. "Kept telling me to just say yes, just say, yes, Sam, just say yes… and oh, God, Dean, I really wanted to, I wanted to so badly!"


"Especially when the guy… when he… when he…" Sam started to shake hard, his words stammered between harsh pants, and then he was right back there. Once again tied spread-eagled and vulnerable on the bed.

Large hands were on his face, forcing his mouth open, wide-open –

Sam fought, he tried to shake loose but the man was too strong and easily turned Sam's head to the side –

Such a pretty mouth, Guy cooed, his eyes black with lust, such a very pretty mouth –

Heather slammed herself against him, she goaded his attacker on –

And then Dean was pushing Sam's head between his knees. "Breathe, Sam, c'mon, bro, just breathe." Sam's body continued to shake as he heaved in air and fought to calm down. To remember he was okay and that Dean had gotten there. That it was over. "You're okay, bro, you're okay." Slowly Dean started to smother the fear like a blanket on a fire as his words continued, unbroken in compassion and conviction. "That's it, Sammy, just like that… nice deep breaths. Nice and slow. No twisted bitches here, bro, I promise, just you and me, just like always."

Sam could finally feel his brother's strong grip on his shoulders and it took him a moment to realize that Dean was now crouched down in front of him, keeping Sam from face planting on the carpet. Strong fingers convulsed gently against the muscles they gripped, a tactile balm, as the shaking slowly eased off and Sam was now just bone-weary with exhaustion. He sagged forward knowing Dean would be right there and closed his eyes when his forehead met warm, breathing muscle. Sam could just imagine the spectacle they made but didn't have anything left to care with.

And then his skin started to itch again. He opened his eyes and tipped his gaze towards the bathroom door again as his tongue scrubbed over his teeth. He needed more mouthwash-

"No, Sam," Dean's voice was a rumble against Sam's forehead and it was as if the older man knew exactly what he was thinking. "You're clean enough."

Hot tears prickled his eyes but Sam blinked them back. "Am I, Dean? Really?" His voice sounded small and lost, even to him.

The arms gripping his tugged him forward, and slipped around his back pulling Sam into a true hug. Then the arms tightened.

Dean's voice was husky as he answered, "Really. And I'm so proud of you, kid… so damn proud."

"Proud?" The word was slurred as Sam's eyes slipped close, relieved by his brother's words.

"Yes, proud," Dean's words comforted. "Lucifer was there but you still said no – through all of it… you still said no."

"S'cause," Sam was surprised by his own admittance, "I just knew you'd come." Even after everything, he still trusted his brother to save him. He might not have consciously realized it at the time but it was the backbone of his defiance. What kept him from giving in.

"Always, Sammy," those arms pulled him closer. "Always…"

And with that promise, Sam finally let himself rest.

Heather and Guy, or even Lucifer himself, might be waiting for him in the darkness… but so was Dean, and a brother's love would always trump a brother's fear.

And that went both ways.

The End