"N-no, g-get off me. . ." Dean whispered through clenched teeth, unable to speak louder.
The vamps had been feeding on him for days, keeping him in a small, dank cell. He'd been cuffed to a thin-mattressed iron-sprung bed, and since then the vamps had taken turns. Dean had fought at first, hard, but now he wondered if he really had any blood left at all. His vision was fuzzy, his limbs weak, and his resolve going.
The vamp had straddled his hips and was looking down at him now, eyes red in the gloom and teeth descended. It almost lovingly pinned Dean's wrists against the mattress and lowered its mouth to his neck, which was already a mess of blood and torn skin from the days of abuse.
Dean let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a yell as the vamp sunk its teeth into his neck. As it fed, it gyrated its hips slightly, enjoying its meal a little too much. Dean tried struggling, but he could barely move anymore and soon gave up.
When it left, licking its lips and patting Dean's cheek, Dean turned his head away from the door and tried to stop the tears that slid unbidden down his face. His neck hurt, his wrists hurt, and he felt dirty.
The first time it had fed, he had fought back, making the cuffs dig into his wrists and bring blood that trickled down his forearms. The vamp had rolled him over onto his stomach, arms twisted above his head and losing sensation, while it lay on top of him and held his head down. Dean had breathed in the stale smell of the mattress and spat out muffled curses as it sank its teeth into his neck and began sucking eagerly.
Dizziness had followed. . . that plus the motion of the vamp above him had made him feel sick. Dean had squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ride it out, tried to ignore the satisfied sounds the vamp made as it fed.
Now he couldn't do much more than just lay there, waiting for the next vamp to come in and take its turn. They made sure not to polish him off, but let hours elapse between feedings.
When he'd first woken up in the cell, Dean had tried everything to escape. Failing at trying to find a lockpick within reach, he soon resorted to breaking his own wrist to slip his cuffs. He tried to muffle the pained noise that escaped him as the bone snapped, and angrily blinked away the hot tears that came when he slid his hand out of the cuff. He'd had to undo the second cuff using the broken hand, and it was slow going. Finally, both cuffs off, Dean had made his way on shaking legs towards the door. When the next vamp had come in, he'd grabbed it in a headlock before it could scream and knocked it out.
But before Dean could go far, they'd found him. Unable to run more than a few yards without collapsing from blood loss, he'd been caught soon enough and dragged back to the cell. As punishment, the vamps had broken his other wrist and just chained him in the same spot as before. This time the cuffs were ratcheted as tight as possible, and Dean lay there in agony for hours, the slightest movement sending lighting pain through both arms.
Now the next vamp was slithering in for its meal. It approached Dean slowly, its eyes hungry and sadistic. This one liked to spoon Dean as it fed on him. It rolled Dean over onto his side and slotted itself behind him. Dean couldn't stop the few tears that streaked down his face, hidden from the vamp. It pressed its hips tight against his and, holding onto Dean's hair with one fist, sunk its teeth in.
When Dean jerked awake, the vamp was gone. He hadn't realized he'd passed out, but he was still lying on his side so he couldn't have been out for more than ten minutes.
There were footsteps behind him though, what was that. He tried to turn over but the motion made his arms strain and with a whimper he stopped.
"Hey, hey I got you."
All agony forgotten, Dean gritted his teeth and rolled over.
Sam.
Sam's face swam into view above him, hair long and expression worried. Dean almost broke then, with the pure relief of seeing his brother.
"S'm. ." he tried to say, his words slurring from exhaustion. "S'mmy. ."
"Shh it's ok, Dean." Sam said, his voice shaking slightly. Dean caught sight of wetness on his cheeks and realized that Sam had been crying. The cuffs on Dean's wrists fell away, Sam having picked them open finally.
He used the last ounce of his strength to reach out for Sam blindly, hands fisting weakly in Sam's shirt.
Sam clutched Dean close to him, shaking with relief and barely-concealed fear.
After a moment, Sam whispered, "Dean we gotta go, I didn't kill all the vamps yet."
Dean nodded and, with Sam's support, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. His knees gave out instantly but Sam took his weight, trying desperately not to pull on Dean's broken wrists but not being entirely successful.
"I'm sorry, Dean, I'm sorry," he kept murmuring as he made Dean lean on him and began dragging his semi-conscious brother towards the door.
Dean just held on to Sam tighter.
"S'ok. You got me."
Then, his voice breaking,
"Thanks S'mmy."