What I Wouldn't Do For You- Chapter One:
Dean watched as his brother walked away from his father, and he knew that it was the final fight between them. Sam had declared that he no longer wanted to hunt, and that he wanted a normal life. Dean searched and searched in his mind to find a proper definition for that phrase; but nothing came to mind. He had become institutionalized, so Sam wouldn't have to be. Dean sat in the passenger seat of the '69 Chevy Impala, his mind unfocused on the angered ranting of his father. All he could think about was Sam, and the dam that he had placed to hold back his memories broke apart.
Dean was poured the remains of the mostly empty cereal box into a bland, ceramic bowl, and added the last few drops of milk. Dean noted to call his father again once Sammy was asleep, since they were almost out of food. Dean carefully carried the bowl of cereal to the table of the motel room, and placed a spoon on the right side of it. There, it wasn't a dinner that was in a place where you saw the same four walls in each room every day, but it suited the lifestyle the boys were forced to share with their father. Dean looked over at his brother's small figure, lying on his belly, his shaggy head pointed upwards as he stared at the cartoons on the grainy television set.
"Sammy, dinner." Dean called, as he walked over to stand in front of the TV screen. Sam's mouth formed a pout, as his large eyes formed his infamous doggy eyes.
"But I don't wanna eat cereal for dinner again!" Sam whined, and Dean tried to ignore the four-year-olds complaints. Dean placed his hands firmly on his hips, and looked down at his brother.
"I'm sorry, Sammy, but it's all we have. Now, get to the table before the cereal gets mushy, and yes, you have to eat it all." Dean said, and Sam shuffled over to the table, and sat in the chair facing the television. Dean sat across from him, and watched as he ate his food, one bite at a time. Sam kept his eyes on the screen, as he mechanically lifted his spoon to his mouth. Dean kept his eyes firmly on Sam, and tried to distract himself from the persistent growling that echoed from his stomach. The motel room was silent except for the comical noises that echoed from the television, until one tiny voice spoke up.
'Dean, do you want to finish my Lucky Charms?" Sam asked his voice just louder than a whisper. Dean focused on Sam's face, a wary look was on the small boy's face, the spoon hanging out of his mouth. Dean smiled, and shook his head.
"No thank you Sammy, you eat them. I'm not hungry." Dean refused, trying to drown out the deafening growl that echoed from his stomach, contradicting his answer. Sam's face fell, and he continued to eat his Lucky Charms, a pout firmly set in place. Sadness rooted its way into the pit of Dean's stomach, he felt terrible for letting Sam down, but the little boy had to eat, so he could be able-bodied to leave the lifestyle that Dad was already training Dean for.
'Dean, when is Dad coming back?" Sam asked in a small voice. Dean sucked in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
"I don't know, Sammy. I will try calling him later tonight, okay?" Dean answered, a fake smile plastered on his face. Sam nodded, and he drank the rest of the milk that resided in the bowl.
"Okay, I'm done my dinner. I'm gonna go watch carto-"Sam was cut off by a loud, vicious knock that sounded at the door. Dean and Sam froze. The knock rattled the door once more, and followed by a loud yell. Dean motioned for Sam to hide, and he walked towards the door cautiously. The knocked pounded the door once more, as Dean walked towards the door, a knife was hidden behind his leg. Sam's tiny body was crouched behind one of the beds. Dean opened the door just a crack, and he saw the gluttonous motel manager.
"Hey, you little shit, where's your father?" He growled at Dean, who kept his face stony, when he wanted to run and hide with Sammy.
'He isn't here at the moment. He went out. He'll be back later." Dean explained, and the fat man grumbled a sick, oozy laugh.
"I think your deadbeat dad just left you and yer brother here. Y'know why I think that? 'cause the fuckin' credit card on file just maxed out; yer time's up." He growled. Dean cringed at the stench of cheap alcohol that radiated off of him.
"Oh, I'll call my dad and he'll come an-"Dean said, panicking slightly, but he was cut off when the huge man kicked in the door, ripping the chain lock off of the wall. Dean scurried back, trying to put distance between himself and the drunken man, who lumbered towards him.
"There's no way that you deadbeat dad is going to come back for two pathetic little boys. I should just kick you out right now." The Fat Man slurred, and the bitter taste of fear and anger assaulted his taste buds. Dean wanted to lash out, but he just noticed the absence of the knife in his hands. Dean quickly scanned the layout, and he noticed that it was over by the door. Dean breathed deeply, unsure of how to react. The Fat Man staggered towards him, a cocky grin plastered on his face.
"Well, do you guys wanna stay here? I know how you two can… Earn yer stay…" The Fat Man's grin widened. Dean's eyes grew larger at the Fat Man's words. He had a terrible feeling rising in his stomach, as his eyes darted to Sam.
"So, what'll it be?" The Fat Man growled, his voice gaining a dangerous undertone. Dean swallowed thickly, wishing that the Fat Man would leave him and his brother alone.
"Wha… What is that?" Dean asked, his voice quavering against his will. The Fat Man chuckled, as his slightly glazed over eyes looked over Dean once, and then slide over to Sam's frail figure. Dean knew what the man was thinking, and he had to stop it; no one was allowed to hurt Sammy!
"No! Don't touch him! Do whatever it is you're thinking to me, but spare him!" Dean cried, his voice shaking uncontrollably. The Fat Man snorted a laugh, and went and closed the door. Dean could feel Sam's stubborn and fearful eyes on him. Dean refused to look over at Sam; he refused to show his brother how terrified of the Fat Man he really was.
The Fat Man lumbered over to Dean, and he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, which made a loud, screech as it dragged across the cheap linoleum flooring. The Fat Man sat in the chair, and motioned for Dean to come towards him. Dean felt like his feet weighed several thousand pounds as he slowly shuffled towards the Fat Man. Sam cowered near the night stand, wishing that he could help his older brother, or that their dad would come in and save Dean. Tears stung Sam's eyes, as he watched Dean and the Fat Man.
Dean cringed, as he sat in the lap of the Fat Man and he ran his greasy fingers up and down Dean's back. Dean held his breath, as he leaned against the Fat Man's chest, and the scent of cheap beer and cigarette smoke strangled him slowly. Dean felt the breath of the Fat Man increase, as his fingers started roaming farther over Dean's body. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, and hoped that his Dad came soon. Dean bit his lip, as he felt hands on his rear end, and sliding on and around his groin. He knew the Fat Man was stiff, he could feel it throbbing against his own. Dean whimpered, and the Fat Man laughed, moving his hand down to undo his pants. Dean saw the Fat Man's erect penis spring up, free from the restriction of his jeans. The fear rose up in Dean as the Fat Man began to stroke himself.
"Get off, and start taking your clothes off. Slowly." The Fat Man ordered. Dean nodded in submission, and crawled off the Fat Man. Dean began to slowly strip off his t-shirt. The Fat Man moaned, and Dean removed his jeans and underwear, slowly, just like the Fat Man ordered. Dean stood naked, and quivering with adrenaline, fear, and anger. The Fat Man smiled, and stood up, his pants sliding down to around his ankles, leaving everything out. His erect member was quivering with wanton need.
"Bend over the table." The Fat Man ordered gruffly, pointing as he laid out his instructions. Dean nodded, and walked over, quickly glancing at Sam, willing him to turn around so he wouldn't have to witness Dean's shame. Tears rolled down Sam's scared face in constant streams. Tears stung Dean's eyes, as he bent over the table slowly, and he felt the cold application of lubricant. Dean bit his lip, and scrunched his eyes closed, as he felt the sharp, and intense pain when the Fat Man entered him. Dean bit his lip harder and harder with each quick thrust. Tears fell down his face, as the pain grew sharper and sharper. Dean turned his head to look away from Sam, and towards the door; hoping it would open and he would be saved. But with each passing second, that hope died. The Fat Man ejaculated inside Dean, and Dean let out a small whimper, as the Fat Man pulled out, and zipped himself back into place. Dean crumpled to the floor, as he looked up at the Fat Man, who looked sated and ready for a nap.
"You can stay fer one more week. If yer no good dad doesn't show up, and take you away from here by then; yer in for a real treat." The Fat Man winked at Dean, as he slammed the door. Sam and Dean waited until they could no longer hear the thud of the Fat Man's boots. Once there was silence on the other side of the door, Sam scurried over to Dean, who was still naked, and curled into a ball.
"Dean? Dean, you okay?" Sam asked, knowing that it was a stupid question. Dean nodded slowly, and looked his brother in the eyes, his own steady, and determined.
"I will be Sam, I will be. Don't worry. I'll make sure nothing ever happens to you." Dean resolved. Sam looked down, and then back at Dean.
"But… Dean, you don't-"Sam started, but Dean placed a shaky finger on Sam's lips to silence him.
"Sam…" Dean looked into his eyes, and smiled. "You have no idea what I wouldn't do for you." Dean placed a hand on Sam's shaggy head, as the four-year-old nodded, in grim understanding. Dean smiled, and told him to go watch cartoons before bed. As Sam planted himself in front of the television, which had been forgotten throughout the whole time The Fat Man was here. Dean went into the bathroom, and dressed slowly. As he pulled his shirt over his head, he glimpsed himself in the mirror. His bottom lip was swollen, and there was an bruise imprint of his teeth beginning. Dean touched the tender flesh, and he swore to himself that it was a sign that he would fight for Sammy, even if his father forgot him and Sam…
Dean leaned against the Impala staring at the clear night sky, as he remembered that day so long ago. He needed to get Sammy, but he didn't know how to tell him that the man, who had neglected them for most of their lives, was missing. Dean sipped his flat beer, and looked at the moon, wondering if Sam was looking at the same ones.