Pain

by BritLitt3

People think the pain stops when the torture does. It doesn't. It goes on long after. Reader is tortured before Sam and Dean come to her rescue. It's still a long road to healing.

People think that once the torture stops so does the pain. It doesn't. The pain goes on long after the torture itself has stopped.

My eye are closed but I can hear Dean and Sam fighting off the demons. I open my eyes long enough to see one of the demons sneaking up behind Dean.

"Dean, look out!" I yell, but it comes out more of a croak.

Dean spins around and knifes the sucker. I close my eyes again.

It's only a minute later that I feel a cool hand on my forehead.

"Hey, sweetheart, it's okay. We're here. We got you."

I open my eyes and Dean is leaning over me.

"Did you kill the sons of bitches?" I ask, my voice rough.

Dean laughs. "That's my girl."

"Y/N?"

I turn my head and wince. "Sammy?"

I feel a hand caress my cheek.

"Hey, there, N/N." I smile slightly at the obscure nickname. I open my eyes and see Sam smiling but I notice his eyes are shiny with concern.

"We gotta get you out of here," Dean says, smoothing my hair back. "Can you walk?"

I lift my head and start to try and sit up. I stop, grimacing.

"Ergh!" I groan, eyes closing as a reflex.

"Hey, easy, easy there." Dean's hand is on my forehead again. I can feel my face twisting in pain. I try to slow my breathing, hard to do considering every breath hurts. I feel Sam's hand on my shoulder, his fingers gently rubbing circles on my shoulder blade.

"Okay," Dean says as my breathing slows and my body relaxes slightly. "So, you're not walking out of here."

I swallow hard and open my eyes again. I catch Dean's gaze. I know what he has to do and I know I'm not going to like it.

I close my eyes again.

"Fine," I murmur, "get it over with."

I open my eyes in time to see Dean and Sam share a look.

"I'll carry her," Sam says, "you drive."

Dean nods. Sam slides his arms under my body.

"Hnngh!" I groan, gritting my teeth.

"I know, I'm sorry." Sam soothes. "This is going to hurt but-"

"Just do it!" I groan frustratedly.

Sam presses his lips together. "On three, one, two-"

Sam lifts me up against his chest.

"Ungh!" The pain is blinding. My head pounds, my whole body throbs.

"It's okay, it's okay," Sam whispers. "I got you. Just breathe."

I struggle to do as Sam says but god, it hurts like hell.

"Sammy, put her in the car," I hear Dean's voice nearby.

"Dean-" I groan.

"I'm right here, sweetheart," I feel Dean's hand on my shoulder.

I feel Sam bend over and I groan as he slides me into the Impala.

"Ah!" I gasp, closing my eyes. My breathing is quick and shallow. It's hard to breathe deeply when your ribs are scraping your lungs.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Sam soothes, "I got ya." I feel his hand smoothing back my now sweaty hair.

I can't open my eyes. It hurts and I just want to sleep.

"Hey, hey, hey," Sam's hand is on my face now, his fingers gently tapping my cheek. "Stay with me, N/N. Come on, open those eyes."

I groan but my eyes stay shut.

"Y/N, come on," Sam raises his voice.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean's voice comes from the driver's seat.

"We're losing her, Dean," Sam's voice sounds panicked.

"Y/N," I hear the rustle of Dean's leather jacket. His fingers are on my face now, thicker and more calloused than Sam's.

"Come on, sweetheart, talk to me! You gotta stay with us."

His fingers push back my hair and drum my cheek. I flinch slightly.

"Come on, Y/N," Dean moves his hand to my shoulder and gives me a shake.

That does it. My eyes fly open and I let out a painful gasp.

"Ah!" I cry. I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut again. "You son of a bitch," I groan softly.

"I know," Dean soothes, his hand coming back up to my cheek. "I know, I'm a bastard. I'm sorry. But you can't check out on us just yet, alright kiddo? You gotta stay with us."

I open my eyes. Sam and Dean lean over me, both brows furrowed in concern, eyes glazed with worry.

"Stop giving me the deathbed pity look," I mutter. "Please just get us back to the motel."

The ride to the motel is brutal. Every bump, every turn induces shattering pain. I couldn't fall asleep now if I tried. Sam maneuvers me so my head is in his lap. He tries to hold me so that his body absorbs most of the jolts. We hit another bump and I wince, stifling a groan.

"I'm sorry, N/N. We're almost there," Sam reaches up and strokes my forehead.

The Impala pulls to a stop at last. Dean puts Baby in park and hauls out of the car. In a moment, he opens the car door and leans in.

"Give her to me, Sammy," he says, reaching out to take me. Sam slides his hands under my shoulders and eases me up.

"Erm!" I clench my jaw and squeeze my eyes shut tight. I can feel my broken ribs shifting and it is not a pleasant feeling.

"Sorry," Sam mutters for what feels like the umpteenth time.

"Not your fault," I grind out.

Once I'm upright, Dean slides his arms under my back and the crook of my legs.

"Take a deep breath for me, sweetheart," he says.

"You're-kidding-right?" I force out.

"Come on, deep breath, kiddo," Dean says close to my ear.

I try and inhale as much as I can, but my ribs are grating against my lungs.

"Good enough," Dean tells me. He lifts me against his chest.

"Argh!" I can't stifle the cry this time. My hand comes up and fists in Dean's shirt. "Dean!"

"Hey, hey, easy kiddo," Dean croons, "I got ya. Just hang on."

Sam goes ahead and unlocks the motel door. Dean carries me in and Sam shuts the door behind us.

The world is spinning and I taste bile. Every nerve in my body is screaming. I grip Dean's shirt even tighter, fighting back the black edges forming in my eyes.

"Dean." My voice is somewhere between a groan and a whisper.

"I got ya," he soothed. "Just try and breathe."

I open my eyes and focus on Dean's face. He's got some stubble growing in. If it didn't hurt so much to move, I would have run my hand along his cheek.

Dean carries me to the nearest bed and as gently as possible slides me onto the mattress.

"Hnngh!" I groan, ribs shifting again. I don't let go of Dean's shirt, instead I fist it tighter. I can feel the hyperventilating start. I arch my back slightly in response to the jolt of pain through my chest.

"Dean!" I cry out desperately. I'm losing control of the pain and I'm scared.

"Shh, shh," Dean bends over and smoothes my tangled, sweaty hair off my forehead. "It's okay, you're okay. Breathe. Just breathe.

I shake my head.

"Yes you can," Dean says firmly. "Now come on, slow it down. Deep breath in," he demonstrates. "Deep breath out."

I tug on his shirt, my face twisting. Dean's free hand reaches up and covers my fist. His thumb begins rubbing circles on the back of my hand.

"You're okay," he repeats. "I got you. We got you out. You're okay."

Sam comes over with some medical supplies to fix me up with. He sits on the edge of the bed on the other side of me. The bed shifts under his weight and I groan.

"Sorry," Sam says again. He reaches out and rubs my shoulder.

The pain subsides slightly and I relax a little into the bed. My grip on Dean's shirt loosens slightly. I open my eyes.

"This sucks." I manage to put on a small smile.

Dean gives me a slight half smile. "Yeah and it's about to suck some more. Look, I hate to do this to you sweetheart bu-"

"I know," I interrupt, my voice breaking slightly. I close my eyes and swallow. When I open my eyes, both boys are giving me puppy dog faces.

"Don't look at me like that," I tell them. "It's okay. It's not your fault. I was stupid and I got caught."

"Hey, stop it!" Dean shouts, his hand on my cheek, just a little too tight. "This was not your fault, you hear me? You did good. Better than most would have. Just because you got caught and hurt doesn't make you a bad hunter. Do you understand?"

Tears are in my eyes, but I nod. Dean's face softens.

"Okay," he says, rubbing his thumb along my cheekbone. "Now, this is where things get kind of shitty."

"Just now?" I try and crack a joke. Dean doesn't smile this time.

Sam shifts on the bed so he can take a better look at me. I've got multiple cuts of varying lengths and depths on my stomach and arms. There's definitely a few broken ribs as well as a few burns on my chest and arms. My legs didn't take quite so much of a beating, mostly cuts and bruises. My face is a little swollen, one cut down my left cheek and a burn on my chin. It could've been worse, but not by much.

Sam reaches for the hem of my blood soaked shirt and begins to lift it up so he can get a better look at my stomach. Some of the blood has dried and caked and it tugs at my skin as he lifts. I screw my eyes shut and clench my fists tighter.

"Shh, shh," Dean whispers soothingly, gently stroking my hair off my forehead. "It's okay."

I open my eyes in time to catch Sam's grimace.

"What is it?" I ask hoarsely.

Sam looks at me and then at Dean and then back down.

"Sam?" Dean asks.

Sam heaves a sigh. "These cuts are infected," he says, looking at Dean.

"Son of a bitch," Dean mutters.

I close my eyes. This is really going to suck.

When I open my eyes again the boys are sharing one of their infamous looks.

"Stop it you two," I scold. My tone doesn't come out quite as stern as I want it to but it'll do. Both boys turn and look at me with drawn, concerned faces. "We all know this isn't going to be fun so let's just get it the fuck over with."

That one long sentence scratched my dry throat soliciting a cough. The cough hurt like hell and my whole body spasmed in response.

"Ergh!" I gasp, "gah!"

"Shh, shh," Dean strokes my forehead again while Sam runs to grab some water. He comes back with a cool glass. Dean gently lifts my head while Sam lifts the glass to my lips. The water is cool and sweet.

After several small sips, Dean lowers my head and Sam puts the glass aside. I take a deep breath. (At least, as deep a breath as I can manage.)

"Just do it," I say. "but one of you is going to have to hold me down."

"Y/N-" Dean starts but I stop him.

"Dean, I'm exhausted mentally and physically. At this point, my body is just going to know it's hurting again and my brain is going to kick into survival mode. If you don't' restrain me, I might accidentally hurt one of you. None of us are going to like it, but it's what you have to do."

Dean clenches his jaw for a second. Sam's brow furrows up the way it does when he's upset. They know I'm right.

"Alright," Dean says at last. "I'll hold her down, Sam. You clean it out."

Sam nods and gives me one last sorrowful look. I give him the best smile I can muster. Dean shifts himself so he's over me, pinning my arms down above my head. Sam grabs a rag and rolls it up for me to bite down on.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he says yet again. "I'll go as fast as I can."

I nod. Sam gives me a sympathetic smile and gently slides the rag into my mouth. I look up at Dean. His face is creased with concern. I close my eyes, trying to brace myself.

Flash of burning hot pain. Just when I thought I'd reached my threshold, I pass it. Aren't you supposed to pass out at some point after you've felt a certain amount of pain?

"Nnngh!" I groan, my back arching. Dean keeps a firm grip on my arms as I begin to fight against him.

"Shh," I hear Dean's voice, low and soothing above me. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sweetheart. Just hang in there."

The tears start to leak out of the corner of my eyes. I bite down hard on the rag, so hard I wait for my jaw to snap. It doesn't. But the pain doesn't stop either.

"Nargh!" I all but scream, back arching again as Sam moves to a fresh wound. I desperately pull against Dean's hands. Dean holds tight, his fingers stroking my forearm.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart," he soothed. "Hang in there."

I hold on for as long as I can. Five wounds later, Sam starts cleaning out the oldest and most infected of the cuts. And that's the last straw.

A switch flips in my brain. Suddenly, I forget that it's Sam and Dean and that they're trying to help me. All I know is that it hurts and I can't move. And I panic.

"Aarrgh!" I scream, the rag slipping out of my mouth. I begin to writhe under Dean's grasp.

"Hey, hey," Dean's grip tightens. "Y/N, you're okay. You gotta stop squirming."

I keep writhing, ignoring the increase of pain from the movement. I need to get away.

"Hey, hey," Sam's voice. I feel his hands on my legs, trying to help Dean keep me still. This only serves to panic me more. "Y/N, it's okay. You're okay."

"No!" I scream. "Please!" I pull against their hands but they're both (a lot) bigger and stronger than me and it doesn't do much, except aggravate my injuries.

"Hey, hey," Dean's voice grows firmer and more commanding as he tries to break through my panic. "Y/N, sweetheart, you gotta calm down. Stop squirming, you're only gonna hurt yourself more."

I feel tears forming in spite of myself. I hate myself for it but it's just too much.

"Please," I whimper like the damsels in distress I've always abhorred.

There's a pause. I can just imagine the sad, soulful look Sam and Dean are sharing. I want to say something smart about the "broment" but I'm too busy trying not to full out sob. I will not be a total damsel.

"It's okay, Y/N," Dean soothes, his voice breaking slightly. "I know it hurts, but we have to do this. You're safe. It's going to be okay."

I shake my head. My fight or flight instinct has already kicked in. I'm back in that warehouse and it's not Sam and Dean who are with me. I struggle harder.

"Hey, hey, Y/N," Sam starts in, "listen to me. You're okay. The only people here are me and Dean. We're not trying to hurt you. We're trying to help."

My chest was heaving now and it hurt like hell. My broken rib was scraping my lung. I stopped struggling, using all my remaining strength to keep breathing.

"Dean," Sam's voice was high with warning.

"Hey, hey," I felt Dean shifting on the bed, one hand letting go of my arm and coming to cup my face. "Sweetheart, look at me."

I screw my eyes shut tighter.

"Sammy, let go of her legs," Dean orders over his shoulder.

The pressure is instantly removed from my legs. I feel calloused hands on my face and I can smell whiskey breath.

"Y/N, it's us," Dean's gravelly voice reaches my ears. "It's me, alright? I need you to breathe for me, kiddo."

I reach up blindly and grab at Dean's shirt. I arch my back slightly, as if lifting myself up higher will get me more air.

"I'm here," Dean soothes, "Open your eyes sweetheart."

I grimace, writhing slightly. I feel a different hand, bigger and more slender, on my shoulder.

"Y/N, listen to me," Sam's low voice joins in. "I need you to slow down your breathing. Alright? Follow me. Breathe in."

I hear Sam inhaling. I try to match him. My breath hitches and I moan slightly in frustration and panic.

"Y/N," Dean takes over, "I know it hurts and I know it feels like you can't but you can and you have to, alright?"

He shifts my hand on his chest so that it's flat against where his heart is. I can feel it thumping under his flannel and t-shirt.

"You feel that? That's my heart beat."

He takes a deep breath. His firm chest rises and falls, slow and steady.

"Feel that? I want you to try and match me, okay?"

As he inhales again I try and follow his example. My breath hitches again but Dean immediately soothes me.

"It's okay, it's okay, try again."

After several minutes of Dean coaching me and Sam rubbing my shoulder, my breathing is finally (relatively) normal. Dean brushes back my hair as I relax a little into the bed, completely wiped out.

"Dean," Sam whispers, "I didn't finish cleaning that last cut."

"Sammy, she can't," Dean says. "We can't set her off again like that."

I hear Sam sigh. "I at least need to wrap her ribs."

There's a pause. I envision Dean giving a single nod.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean taps my cheek gently. I open my eyes. He gives me one of his half smiles, showing just one dimple. His eyes are sad.

"Listen, sweetheart," his voice is more gravelly than normal, probably from exhaustion. "I know you're exhausted and I know you're hurting, bu-"

"It's okay," I whisper, my voice rougher than Dean's. "Just do it, ya idjit."

Dean smiles, more of his playful smirk. "That's my girl."

I smile slightly. It turns to a grimace as Dean slides his arm under my shoulder. Sam has the other shoulder. My breath hitches again.

"It's okay, it's okay," Sam soothes. I grab Sam and Dean's arms, squeezing tight. Once I'm upright, Dean holds me and Sam lifts my shirt. Dean helps me raise my arms one at a time so Sam can slip my shirt off. I wince and groan.

"I know," Dean says, "It's almost over."

I lean against Dean as Sam gets the bandage. He strokes my hair, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"You're doing great kiddo," he says.

"Don't," I breathe, "patronize me, Dean."

Dean chuckles and I can feel his body relax. I smile into his chest.

Sam comes back and Dean helps me sit up again. He holds me up as Sam gently wraps the bandage tightly around my ribs.

When he's finished, he presses a kiss to my forehead. I smile.

"Thanks Sam," I whisper.

"Anytime."

Dean slowly lowers me back onto the bed. Once I'm down, he starts to pull away. I reach out to grab him.

"It's okay." Dean catches my hand. "I'm not leaving."

I relax a little "Sam?"

I feel his weight settle on the bed next to me, his hand on my shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere."

People think the pain stops when the torture does. It doesn't. It goes on long after. Not just the physical, but the emotional pain will take a long time to fully heal. But when you've got people who care enough to help you, it makes the pain a little easier to bear.