WARNING:

Abuse of a minor, implied sexual abuse. Dark themes. Swearing involved.

I own nothing or nobody - except for this idea.

First time posting ... hope you all enjoy.

THE ANNIVERSARY

Nineteen year old Dean Winchester sat at the bar and ordered another drink with his fake ID, forcing a smile onto his taunt lips for the sake of the scantily-clad woman who sat beside him, chatting him up big time.

Dean always hated this time of the year; this particular anniversary, reminding him of everything that he had lost fifteen years ago when his mother was murdered by that son of a bitch demon that they now hunted with a vengeance. One day they would find that damn demon and Dean would have great pleasure in ripping it apart with his bare hands for everything they had lost because of it.

Fifteen years … and in all of that time, Dean's hurt and anger at the death of his beloved and beautiful mother had not faded or dimed. It had only grown, fuelling his desire for vengeance and justice.

Dean knew that he should be with his Dad and fifteen year old brother on this day – especially today – but Dean hadn't wanted to watch his father drown his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle; nor had he wanted to watch his normally rambunctious, energetic, vibrant little brother become withdrawn, moody and sullen.

He hadn't wanted to watch that cycle that always ended with his brother and father arguing about something stupid while Dean had to get in the middle, playing referee and nine times out of ten, getting a fist from either his father or brother – sometimes both – to the jaw after trying to separate them. Yep. That's the thanks he got. A fist to the fucking jaw for his efforts!

This time – today – Dean just needed to be by himself for a few hours; He needed to clear his head, psych himself up before he felt ready to face the cycle between his father and brother. He needed to vent his own frustrations, sadness, anger and regret that this day always made him feel. He just wanted to feel safe, secure and loved.

And so, when the alcohol had taken the raw edge off of his emotions, Dean had followed that sexy, voluptuous woman home and lost himself within her loving warm embrace, gentle, caressed touches and soft passionate kisses, vows and promises made as they melted and moulded into each other before they became one, Dean finally being able to release all of his pent up emotions without hurting anyone and without hurting himself; content and at ease for a short time before he had to go and deal with the aftermath between his father and brother.

Dean felt immense relief when he pulled up to the small apartment they were renting for the month when he noticed that his Dad's black truck wasn't in the driveway. That meant that he wouldn't have to be dealing with his father's drunken ass for the rest of the night, trying to diffuse both his brother and his father of their volatile and instant tempers.

Dean felt his heart become a little light, even allowing a small smile to appear upon his lips as he got out of the Impala and headed toward the apartment. Maybe this year would be different. Maybe this year there would be no cycle to diffuse or referee and he could just sit quietly and watch TV with his younger brother.

Dean's hopeful flare of optimism vanished the instant he went to put his key into the door and noticed that the door was unlocked and partially opened. Instinctively, Dean reached for his gun from where he had it tucked into the small of his back and held it out in front of him, on high alert as he slowly made his way into the dark apartment.

"Dad?" Dean called out after determining that there was no immediate threat in the room with him, fumbling blindly for the light-switch behind him. "Sammy? Are you her –"

Dean cut himself off mid-question as he gazed around the trashed apartment, his eyes growing wide with fear and panic, noticing the obvious signs of a struggle.

"Sonuvabitch," Dean swore under his breath, his heart beat speeding up a couple of notches when he noticed trace amounts of blood and … what the hell was that?!

Dean squatted down, his eyes drawn to clumps of … what looked like dog hair or … the shade of light brown hair that his little brother had. Dean's eyes narrowed, swallowing back his panic to make room for another emotion that was all too familiar to him; anger. Anger at the thought that someone had hurt his little brother and he was going to make them pay for ever having laid a hand upon him!

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, swiftly moving from a crouched position to standing in one fluid motion before stalking across the room and entering the hallway. He paused to listen in the quiet apartment; sure that he had heard something over the pounding of his heart.

There! There it was again. Stilted and muted, but Dean would know that voice anywhere. Gun at the ready, Dean took long strides down the hallway until he came to the room at the end of the hallway; the bathroom. "Sammy, are you in there?" Dean asked, rapping upon the door with the butt of his gun.

Dean heard a stifled cry from with the bathroom, his big brother instincts on high alert when he tried the door only to find it locked. "Sam? C'mon buddy, open up the door and let me in," Dean urged, trying to keep his overwhelming panic from out of his voice.

"D-D-Dean?" Sam's muted, disbelieving voice came from inside. "D-Dean … is th-that you?"

"Yeah buddy," Dean sighed, relieved that at least his younger brother was here and hadn't been taken by whatever the hell had happened here tonight. "It's me. Now, why don't you open this door for me okay?"

"I – I … I can't." Came the hesitant reply. "I … you … you're not su-supose to be … why – why are you b-b-back? I-it's to … you're not supposed to be … b-back yet."

Dean frowned at the barely suppressed fear that he could hear within his brother's voice, noticing that he was one step away from breaking down completely as he tried to stifle his sobs. "Okay Sam, enough games. Either you open this door or I'm kicking it in."

"N-n-no! D-don't come in! P-p-please Dee … don't w-w-want you to see …"

And that, right there, hearing his strong, independent brother revert back to calling him Dee as he would when he was a scared and frightened child, made Dean's choice an easy one. Without any hesitation, Dean quickly kicked the bathroom door open and stepped inside before flicking on the light.

Dean blinked in the blinding glare of the light, needed a few seconds for his eyes to refocus and get used to the light. Dean let out an audible gasp of horror when he was finally able to see the state his kid was in.

Sam was scrunched into a tight ball, his hands handcuffed around the hand-basins pipe – which explained the kid's hunched position – his face streaked with tears, bruises and blood, his hair – Dean swallowed hard, surprised at the instant sting of tears within his eyes at the sight of his brother's hair – half of his hair had been shaved, his fringe completely gone as those expressive, haunted hazel eyes stared at him, his bottom lip trembling violently, fighting to get his emotions under control.

"Jesus Sammy," Dean breathed, taking an automatic step toward his brother. "What the fuck – " Dean stopped his advance when he noticed his little brother cringe away from him, his head ducking down behind the basin, out of Dean's line of sight as he drew his knees up toward his chin, trying to squeeze himself into as tight of a ball as possible, trying to make himself as small … invisible …

"Sammy …"

"Nooo …" Sam moaned, rocking himself, trying to deny Dean's existence. "You're-you're not s-supo-supposed to be here!" He wailed miserable. "Don't want you … to see me … De'n … go away!" He yelled, glaring up at Dean with those huge expressive hazel eyes that Dean had always been able to read. "Leave me alone!"

"Sorry, can't do that kiddo," Dean denied easily, being sure to keep his tone as soothing and even as possible, because it wasn't anger that he could see within his kid's eyes; it was terror. "You wanna tell me what happened here?"

Dean's eyes slid from his brother's face, automatically searching for other injuries that his brother may have – not that he could see much because of the protective foetal position his brother was in – but what Dean could see … it made his blood turn both icy cold and red hot with dread and rage at the same time.

Sam was wearing a white undershirt – which was stained with blood now – his upper arms had bruises – if Dean had to guess he'd say it looked like handprints – his neck and jaw-line littered with red swollen skin and possibly … were those hickeys? Dean's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat at that horrifying thought.

But it was what Dean spied next which made his green eyes darken and narrow with such an intense rage that Dean could feel himself literally shaking with anger. His brother's pants were down around Sam's knees and Dean could see a small patch of blood where Sam was sitting. Some fuck-head had dared to touch his baby brother?!

"D-Dean … please go away," Sam pleaded, his eyes impossibly large as he noticed his older brother's anger. "Please, don't – don't look at me,"

Sam's desolate, defeated tone instantly snapped Dean out of his rage induced fury, his features softening as he squatted down beside Sam and instantly reached for his brother.

"Ssh, it's okay Sammy," he murmured softly as he placed a gentle hand upon his brother's shoulder. "I'm here now little brother. Everything's going to be okay … I promise,"

"No!" Sam screeched, trying to shake Dean's hand off of his shoulder, almost as if he had been scolded by burning hot flames. "Don't touch me! Don't fucking touch me!"

Dean instantly removed his hand from Sam's shoulder and held his hands out in front of him in a non-aggressive manner. "It's okay Sammy, I'm not going to hurt you." Dean said softly, soothingly, his heart breaking at the sudden distrustful look within his brother's eyes, aware that Sam's breathing had kicked up a notch – fast and shallow – gasping as if he couldn't get enough air into his lungs.

"Sam – Sammy … you have to calm down buddy. Deep breaths okay champ? In and out … see, just copy me … in and out. That's it short stuff," Dean encouraged him, pleased when Sam's breathing returned to normal, offering his traumatized little brother a reassuring smile. "Right; how bout we get those handcuffs removed, aye buddy?"

Dean watched Sam eye him warily for a few seconds before he gave Dean a slight nod, giving Dean permission to go ahead.

Slowly, Dean removed the lock-pick set from his inner-jacket pocket and set to work on unlocking the cuffs that bound his brother to the sink, making sure that his actions were slow and deliberate so as not to spook his little brother any more than he already was.

Dean removed the handcuffs, gently holding his brother's hands within his own – even though he felt Sam's urge to pull away and withdraw from him – inspecting the damage to his younger brother's wrists. Dean waited for several seconds until he felt Sam relax slightly beside him before he gently fingered the red, puffy, torn skin around his brother's wrists.

Sam froze at his brother's touch, his hazel eyes going wide with panic. "You shouldn't … t-touch me Dee …" he whispered, trying to pull his hands from his brother's gentle grip. "I – I don't want you to … get hurt."

"That's stupid Sammy," Dean scoffed lightly. "As if you could hurt me!"

Dean was pleased when Sam shot him an exasperated look – not quite the bitch face he was used to, but it was close enough to make Dean relax a little further – and shook his head. "I didn't say that I would you. I don't want you to get hurt because of me." Sam explained, his voice soft, reluctant and scared for his big brother's safety.

"As if I would get hurt because of you. And besides … nothing can hurt your awesome big brother … right?" Dean slipped down beside his brother and nudged his shoulder in a gentle, teasing manner.

Sam's lips trembled in an attempt to smile, but that just made the kid look even more vulnerable than before as he let out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry Dean," he whispered, wrapping his arms around his knees, tucking his head in between his knees. "This is all … it's my fault,"

Dean frowned at Sam's reluctant admission, knowing that Sam couldn't have made all of that mess in the living room. There's no way that this scrawny kid could have overturned all of the furniture and caused all of that damage by himself in the few hours that Dean had been gone.

"It's … it's never been this bad before,"

Dean froze at his brother's words. Before? What the hell? This had happened before? "Sammy? You wanna tell me what happened? And who the hell did this to you?"

"No." Sam replied stubbornly.

Dean tried not to sigh with impatience at his brother's obstinate behaviour. He had to be patient. If he wanted to get Sam to talk to him, he had to be calm, soothing, patient and not rash, or not wanting to rip some bastards lungs out as he did right now!

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to uphold the appearance of calm and reassuring – at least for his kid brother's sake – as his mind slowly began to turn over everything that he had seen and heard since entering the apartment.

Dad! Where the hell was Dad? And why hadn't he been here to protect Sammy when all of this had gone down?

"Sam … was Dad here when all of this went down?" Dean frowned when he felt Sam's body shake beside him. "Sam?" He asked, concerned now as he heard his little brother begin to sob. "Sammy! Where was Dad?" Dean demanded, an icy cold finger of dread beginning to worm its way into his heart. "Answer me!"

Sam jumped at his brother's frustrated tone, his sobs beginning to increase, his body shaking both with fear and shock. "D-Dad w-wa-was here," Sam finally stuttered out, not daring to look at his brother right now as he pulled his knees closer toward him, ignoring the pain he could feel in his …

Dad was here when all of this went down? What the … Did that mean that someone had taken their Dad? Or was he hurt somewhere? Because Dean knew that their Dad wouldn't let anyone hurt Sammy without a fight!

Dean was startled at his brother's cry of dismay and alarm as Sam's head shot up, his eyes bulging out in terror, glancing at Dean, tears within his hazel eyes, begging Dean to help him as he made anguished, distressed noises, moaning deep within his throat.

"Sammy, what?" Dean was in front of his brother in a flash, his frustration and anger gone in the face of his little brother's panicked distress. "What's wrong little buddy? Talk to me,"

Dean noticed Sam's gaze drop to his legs and then back up to Dean, his tortured wails tearing at Dean's heart as Sammy begged him for help. It didn't take Dean long to realise what had upset his little brother so much. "Sammy, it's okay," Dean assured him, placing gentle hands on either side of his brother's head, behind the ears, keeping Sam's eyes at his own level. "Sammy … what do you want me to do man? On or off?"

"I don't know!" Sam wailed, nearly hitting full-blown panic in ten seconds flat. "Get 'em off of me! Get 'em off! Off! Ugh … God Dee … HELP ME!" He screamed, looking as if he was going to bolt at any second.

Dean pulled Sam against him, wrapping him in his strong, soothing, protective embrace, holding on, even when Sam fought to get free of him.

"It's okay Sam," Dean told his brother, his heart clenched in pain at his brother's anguish. "I'm here Sammy … Everything's going to be okay now, I promise … Calm down little brother … you're safe, I promise … " Dean kept repeating the same words over and over until finally Sam's struggles began to ease, and his screaming began to taper off into quiet sobs as he desperately clung to his brother's jacket.

"D-Dean … P-please …"

"Okay Sammy," Dean soothed, pulling back a little so that he could look his brother in the eyes. "How bout we get you in the shower huh? Get you all cleaned up, okay?" He offered his brother a reassuring smile, pleased when Sam nodded his consent to Dean's plan, relaxing slightly with his big brother's arms.

Dean was relatively relieved to see that most of his brother's injuries were basically superficial, requiring no need for stitches or a hospital visit, except, maybe …

Dean bit his lip worriedly as his gaze moved down the length of his brother's body, remembering this hiss and cry of pain Sam had uttered when Dean had sat his brother down upon the toilet seat, wrapped up in two towels – one around his waist and the other around his shoulders – examining Sam's injury's more closely with a critical eye.

Sam was covered in bruises, but no gaping wounds – thank God – nothing that appeared life-threatening at least. Although, that did nothing to ease Dean's rage and fury at some fucker who had come in here and put their hands all over his baby brother, their handprints leaving bruises upon his brother's flesh, hickeys upon his neck and …

Dean closed his eyes briefly, trying to reign in his anger, knowing that he had to get to the bottom of what had occurred here tonight; the fear that someone had … taken his kid's innocence was a very real and terrifying thought within Dean's mind right now. No matter what, he had to know what had happened to Sammy, not only so that he could have someone to pummel later, but also so that he would be able to take care of his brother properly once all of the shock had worn off.

Dean helped Sam dress into an old hooded shirt and his baggy sweat-pants that Sam wore when he wanted to feel comfortable and safe. "Okay Sammy," Dean said as he gently ran his hand through his brother's messed up – patchy – hair, seeing Sam flinch at his touch, tears immediately springing into his brother's hazel eyes. "Think you can tell me what happened now little bro?" He urged, his tone soft, soothing, but also stern; his no-more-bullshit-tell-me-the-truth tone.

Sam bit his bottom lip, chewing upon it worriedly, lowering his gaze to his hands, not sure how to answer his big brother's question. What the hell had happened tonight? Sam squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the fabric of his sweats into his hands, his body tensing up before he felt his brother's hands fall down upon his own and Sam felt some of the tension leave him.

"You said that Dad was here when this … happened?" Dean prodded his brother gently.

Sam nodded wordlessly, wanting nothing more than to crawl into his big brother's embrace and pretend that this night had never happened but … Sam was too old to be cuddled and coddled by his brother and Sam knew that Dean would never let this go until he learned the truth. Maybe Sam didn't have to tell him everything that happened. Maybe Sam could tell Dean just enough to satisfy his big brother instincts and gloss over the rest like it was no big deal.

"Dad was … here …" Sam reluctantly admitted, meeting his brother's gaze for a moment before looking away again. "I think … I think there's something wrong with me Dee. I think I may be … cursed."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean Sammy?" he asked quietly, instantly wanting to tell his brother he was wrong and that there was no way Dean would ever allow anyone to curse his baby brother; but he held his tongue, instinctively knowing that if he was going to understand at least a little of what had transpired tonight, then he had to let his brother tell it in his own way.

Sam shrugged, still avoiding his brother's eyes, but was instantly warmed by the strong reassuring squeeze that Dean gave his hand. "Mum … and the way that she died …" Sam met his brother's deep green eyes, noticing that Dean tried not to show the surprise he felt when Sam mentioned their mother. "The demon was there for me that night Dean," Sam said softly.

"No," Dean shook his head violently, almost as if he could deny the truth with just his words alone. "Sam, no. We don't know that!"

"Mum died trying to protect me Dean," Sam insisted, giving his brother a knowing look. "That's the truth of the matter. Plain and simple. Mum di-died trying to protect me. And I'll never be able to make that right for you Dean."

Sam's haunted guilt-ridden hazel eyes tore at Dean's heart-strings, even when he was trying to deny Sam's words. Dean couldn't stand to see his kid looking at him like that. He couldn't stand to see the raw emotional pain that was reflected within his hazel eyes.

"Sam –" Dean began, trying to think of something to say that would take that look from his brother's eyes before Sam interrupted with a soft shake of his head.

"That night … my curse caused Mum's death. Tonight … " Sam chewed upon his bottom lip worriedly, instinctively pulling his hands from his brother's gentle grip, going to run his fingers through his hair before he remembered what had happened and he couldn't help the tears that started to stream down his checks or the sobs that were wracking his body.

"I – I'm s-s-sorry Dee … I'm s-so s-s-sorry. It's all m-m-my fault. Everything. And you – you … you're not … you're never b-b-back th-this early! You w-were n-n-n-never supposed to see! Never supposed t-to know!"

Dean felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach at his brother's words as a horrible realisation began to dawn on him. (Oh God, please don't let that be true!) "What does that mean Sammy?" Dean finally choked out. "Who did this to you?"

And when Sam's haunted, tortured hazel eyes met Dean's; Dean knew the answer to his question without his brother having to utter a word. He knew what sick fuck had come in here and did this to his baby brother but …

"It was-wasn't his f-f-fault Dee … I … He thought I was Mum … And the hair but … P-ple-please De'n, d-d-don't b-be mad, okay? I-it was my fault, not his."

Dean placed a comforting, soothing hand at the back of his brother's neck and squeezed gently, reassuringly, struggling not to drown in the horror of his little brother's words. Dean gently pulled Sam's head toward his own until their foreheads were touching, while keeping up a constant pressure at the back of his brother's neck.

"This is not your fault Sammy, okay? Mum didn't die because of you. It was that son of a bitch demon who killed Mum. It's his damn fault Sammy, not yours … okay?" Dean pulled back a little so that he could look Sam in the eyes, so that his brother could see the truth and sincerity within his green eyes. "There is nothing wrong with you, and you're not cursed. And if you ever talk about yourself like that again, I'm gonna kick your ass … understand?"

Dean was rewarded with a trembling smile and a slight nod from his younger brother, noticing that Sam's eyes were beginning to droop in exhaustion.

"Okay little brother, let's get you up and out of this bathroom and into a nice comfortable bed," Dean stood to his feet and with strong but gentle hands, pulled his little brother into his arms, supporting him as they emerged from the bathroom and moved down the corridor to Dean's room.

Dean sat beside his now sleeping little brother, running a hand through Sam's ruined hair, waiting for Sam to fall into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

He felt … numb.

After a lot of wheedling, pleading, coaxing and finally threatening declarations from Dean, Sam had finally revealed the truth of what had occurred here tonight.

Dean had been stunned into a horrified kind of silence as his baby brother reluctantly admitted to what had transpired while Dean had been out, wanting to distance himself from his father's and brother's destructive cycle on this dreaded anniversary day (God, now he felt like an idiot for being so damn selfish. If he had been here then Sammy wouldn't have had to suffer through this all alone. Or not at all).

Dean was fuming by the time that Sam had finished revealing the events of the past few hours. Sam never once told Dean outright or officially named the person who had participated in hurting his baby brother – but Dean already knew who it was without his brother's verbal confirmation – and he knew that Sam had left out a lot of the details – obviously wanting to spare his brother the horror of the God's honest truth – but Dean had known that it had been far worse than Sam had let on by the kid's twitchy movements, his uncomfortable blushing and the damn haunted, traumatized look within his kid's massively huge puppy-dog hazel eyes.

Dean's anger had built to an all-time new high at his brother's revelations (horror, disgust and guilt making in appearances as well) but Dean didn't once doubt that Sammy was telling him the truth. As much as it would have been easier for Dean to have dismissed his brother's words, blaming it on his over-active imagination or he misunderstood the situation or that he was lying through his teeth just to get attention; Dean knew that what his brother spoke of was the truth.

Dean knew everything about his kid; knew when he was happy, excited, scared, lonely, sad … knew when his subtle body language would inform Dean that he was uncomfortable, hurting … or hiding things from his big brother. His kid could never lie to him, no matter how much he tried.

"Sshh … you're okay Sammy, I'm here," Dean softly soothed his brother when Sam began to stir restlessly. "You're safe now little brother. He's not going to hurt you anymore, not while I'm around … I promise." Dean tightened his hold about his younger brother protectively, his expression hardening into grim determination as he waited for the asshole who had done this to his kid to return home so that Dean could exchange a few … not so pleasant words – possibly even throw in a few punches for good measure – with his poor excuse of a father before he took Sammy and left his ass behind forever.

Dad.

Of all of the people in the world, Dean had never thought he would have to protect Sammy from their father. Dean had always believed that John had loved his sons and would die to protect them. Now Dean knew the truth. He knew that his baby brother had had to put up with John's drunken, abusive behaviour on this anniversary of Mary's death for … Dean shuddered. He didn't even want to think how long his Dad had been blaming Sammy for their mother's death; or how many years this had been happening.

But all of that stopped now!

Dean had vowed to protect and look after this kid ever since he had run out the burning house at four-years old, carrying his six-month old brother in his arms, and if that meant he had to protect Sammy from their father … then, that's exactly what Dean would do. Nobody hurt his kid and got away with it … not even the great John fucking Winchester!

"Don't worry Sammy, you and me are going to be just fine by ourselves," Dean reassured his sleeping little brother. "Dad will never hurt you again. I promise."

THE END?