Warnings: Rape, violence, depression, nervous breakdown. Triggering stuff, proceed with caution, LOTS of angst.
Notes: This started out as a Kinkmeme fill. Don't let that put you off.
Disclaimers: Don't own.
Past Indiscretions-Part 1.
He was so scared. All through the day Meg had been making noise. Taunting him, laughing at him while she made him walk and talk the way she wanted, showed him a clipshow of violence, and then pushed him back into darkenss. Groaning in obscene pleasure as she watched the life drain from that hunter's eyes ...Through his eyes. She was loud, vocal, but now?
Silence. As she approached the motel room. Not a whisper, but he could tell how elated she was. Adrenaline pulsed through him, that was Meg's excitement he was feeling.
His hand clenched on the doorknob, he turned it and...
Even in this situation his hunter's instincts were working. As she scans the room he counts... Five... There are five men in the room. They're big, most shorter than him but broader, older, more muscled.
Meg twists his mouth into a crooked smile that's supposed to be inviting.
He's quiet, in the car, on the way from Bobby's to the fleabag motel they stay in that night .
He tells Dean he remembers some of it, killing the hunter, threatening Jo... Dean knows there's more. There always is.
Dean remembers His Dad once bringing a women back to the motel. He'd been about seven.
John had carried her in, she'd been a wreck, shaking, weeping. John , always, level headed, had wrapped her in a blanket and made her a hot Coffee. Dean has sat quietly on the bed beside his sleeping brother, as John spoke softly to the woman, asking her again and again if she was hurting anywhere. He'd checked her eyes with a flashlight.
She told him , in a low whisper that the Demon had been inside her for three days and three nights. That she thought she'd never get free, she'd started crying again as she thanked him.
"What about now sweetheart? Are you hurting anywhere?"
"All over." She's said. " 'Specially my head."
Then she'd gasped in pain and started bleeding out of her nose, and ears.
John had been so disappointed, so angry with himself.
"Fucking Demons!" He'd muttered through clenched teeth as he'd wrapped her body in a sheet .
Dean, tries to think of something else, tries to distract himself from the unrelenting throb in his shoulder.
Sam leans his head on the window, looking out at the passing , darkened landscape. He looks so sad. Dean has to break the silence.
"You full on had a girl inside you all week... Thats kinda dirty."
Sam doesn't laugh.
Dean immediately regrets saying it.
" You feeling ok Sam?"
"Huh?" Sam raises his head.
"What do you think?" Sam growls.
"I mean physically. " Dean replies tersely. "Are you hurt?"
"No. " Sam says, a little to fast. " I'm fine."
" You tell me if anything starts to hurt, might not hit you right awa..."
"I said I'm fine Dean!"
"Ok. Bitch! Calm down...Jeez."
Dean sulks. Driving in silence from then on. Casting a hairy eyeball at the passenger seat every so often. Checking, just in case.
He's right, It doesn't hit right away, but even before they left Bobby's, Sam was starting to feel it. A dull throb, permeating his body, each nerve ending aching.
It's gotten more specific since then, working from head to toe.
The bump on the head he got when the big man with the beard had slammed him into the headboard. The ache of his wrists where he'd been held down, while Meg had squirmed in ecstasy. His throat inside and out. The pain...Down there, that he was trying so hard not to acknowledge right now even through he can feel the dried blood between his thighs.
Every nerve burns now.
Like they did when Meg first jumped him. His whole body cramping in protest as the black vileness forced it's way down his throat.
Like it did when the cigarette smoke burned its way into his lungs and he wanted so badly to cough and couldn't, she'd laughed then. What's wrong Sammy, not a smoker?
He coughs now, hard, into his elbow. Dean looking over sharply.
Sam tastes tobacco. Even though he knows it impossible. He tastes tobacco and whisky and...And...
He gags. Oh God... Now Dean is pulling over onto the verge.
"It's ok." He tries to sound unruffled.
A hand on his shoulder, he flinches violently. Dean's eyes widen, he pulls his hand back, scared now.
"Dean, just keep driving, I'm fine." He wishes he could make his voice level.
"No you're not. You feel sick?"
He cringes at his brother's gentle tone. He doesn't deserve that.
"No, I'm fine." Fine fine finefinefine.
He's far from fine, never be fine again, Sammy boy...You like that boy?...Hello boys...Sammy...
Sam turns to his brother with a start. Dean is shaking him, He looks panicked.
"Sammy, what hurts?" Dean demands.
"N...Nothing. It's nothing. "
Sam swallows, gulping down the scream that wants to rip itself out of his throat.
"My shoulder." he admits. Picking the most urgently throbbing part of his body that he can freely mention. "Think it's dislocated."
From how it was twisted. When Meg let him go, just for a second, maybe on purpose or maybe in the throws of one of the many, unwanted orgasms she made him suffer through. He wasn't sure, but she'd lost control for a moment, and he'd thrashed, tried to escape, and the guy who was fucking him...The third one...Twisted his arm.
"You like it rough boy?"
If he'd had a second more he could have left the men in no doubt that this was rape... If they would have even cared.
But the Demon had grabbed him again with her iron grip,and stifled his scream.
Dean is driving like the devil. His eyes focused on the road, it's started to rain, hard.
''There's a motel up ahead. I'll get us a room and we'll check you out, pop that shoulder back in. Hold on a little longer."
"It's ok." Sam mumbles.
"Shut up." Says Dean.