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At Fifteen Years of Age (part 2)

Please read 'At Fifteen years of age' first or this AU story will not make that much sense.

WARNINGS...WINCEST..abuse...Paternal incest. Read at your own risk

==000==

Sam fiddled with the volume on the cassette player. Having his hand slapped away brought a smile to his face. For how many years had that been happening? He had definitely missed it. The companionship, the joshing, the hanging out. And he had missed Dean.

He had come to miss him as he would have an arm or a leg. These last four years had been a lot harder than he would ever admit to his brother. He hardly admitted it to himself. Especially these last two. He had not seen him at all.

Knowing he had been out there somewhere had been worrisome enough but the fact that he knew he was out there with him, had had Sam anxious for each phone call. Even if he was only a few minutes late on the Thursday night call, it was enough to set his pulse running rapid and his anxiety increase until he heard the cell ringing.

He had tried desperately to build his new life up enough to fill in the yawning gap he felt every time he turned around to tell Dean something only to remember that he was no longer there. Thinking of the new life he had been planning, building with Jessica, he said, "You know I have that interview on Monday?"

"Course. I've not forgotten." Dean had been so proud once Sam had explained what it was for and for who. He still did not have a clear idea on just how prestigious the firm would be for his brother, but knew it was what Sammy wanted. And deserved.

"So why are we here?"

"Dad's missing, I told you. I don't know where he is and I have to make sure you're safe." He could not let anything go wrong. Would not let that man ruin Sam's future, not to mention life. Ruining one of their lives was bad enough.

"I would have been safer back in my apartment! And since when do you call that man 'Dad'. Bobby Singer is our father and you know that."

"Yeah, Sammy. I know. I'm sorry. It's just…" but he could not tell him. He could not tell Sam any of it. How John Winchester insisted that he call him 'Dad' when he fucked him. How he would make it hurt if he did not. How, at any other time, he had to call him Sir. Had to show him respect. Because if he did not, the man knew how to use the one thing against him that would keep Dean in line. He would go after Sammy.

He had thought to just finish it. To kill him as he thought he had done all those years ago but that would not protect Sammy. John Winchester had made it very clear early on that he was not alone. There were other hunters out there that were watching. Others that would know that if anything happened to John, they would have to continue watching Sam.

He had phoned Bobby secretly, asking him to find out if it was true, to find out where John had been, what he had been doing. Bobby had contacts but it seemed many were reluctant to get involved, to get between, what had apparently become termed 'The Two Fathers', and it was always said with hushed voices and never with a smirk. It seems that the Winchester-Singer boys were a lot more well known than the Singer family had been aware of.

When Dean had insisted on hunting, Bobby had made sure there were older, more experienced hunters out there looking out for his boys. He had not realised that there were others doing the same for different reasons. The community of Hunters had managed to be somewhat split down the centre without anyone letting on to the Singer Clan. The information was scarce. Those that would tell him anything, admitted that John Winchester kept it all close to his chest.

Dean did not want this conversation.

"It's just what, Dean?"

"Please, Sammy. Let me get you home and we can talk about it there. Besides, Dad'll be glad to see you. It'll stop him worrying."

"Yeah," and Sam laughed fondly. "What did he say when you told him you'd lost him?"

Dean laughed too, trying to ease the tension, not to let Sammy know just how scared he was. "That I was an 'idjit' for going off with 'im in the first place and a bigger 'idjit' for loosing 'im." He grinned, looking across at his brother, "That was the censored version."

Sam laughed freely and Dean felt himself go soft at the sight of those dimples. He had always loved those pits in the smooth cheeks. It meant that Sammy was okay.

After that night, he had not seen them appear again until Sammy had turned fourteen. Those years inbetween had been so long. He had to ensure that Sam did not forget how to laugh again.

"Don't worry, little bro'. We just need to get home, check in and I'll get you back to the beautiful Jessica by Sunday night. No worries," and he smiled as Sammy nodded.

"Okay. But…"

"Yeah?"

"Can we change this damn awful music?"

==000==

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you, you do not call me, John? I am your father and deserve respect."

But Dean was angry. John had used that woman as bait and gotten her killed. There had been no reason to use her in the first place and her death was needless. He knew he was not to blame, it was the man stood so fiercely before him, but Dean felt the shame of her death. He felt responsible. He had not been able to convince the man to do things differently.

"You don't deserve respect! That needs to be earned. She did not need to die! You didn't need….." the blow knocked him to the ground.

"Maybe I don't. That's just your opinion. But I damn well demand it! You will respect me. Respect my decisions and my 'requests'," knowing his son was fully aware they were not. John did not request, he ordered, he expected.

Dean remained half sat on the floor, experienced enough to know by now that to get up before this man told him to would be highly unwise. Once more he wondered why he allowed this. But he knew. He was trapped. He had made a decision, a deal, and he was trapped within the conditions. There was just too much depending on it.

John took a threatening step towards him and Dean ducked his head in submission and acknowledgement. His rebellion was over. It was time to pay for it.

Afterwards, leaning over the sink and wishing he dared to make himself vomit, he refused to look at his own reflection as he bathed his swollen cheek and abused lips. It was as if he could feel the man's seed swimming inside his stomach, insinuating itself into every part of him, consuming him, controlling him. It was a ridiculous notion. Even now his stomach acid was doing its thing to destroy the thick vileness, but the image stuck with Dean.

His stomach lurched, but he forced it to be still, into submission. If John heard him throwing up he would just teach him another lesson, on his knees. His mouth and throat hurt enough already. Hand on stomach, his other holding the cold wet flannel to his face, he let the silent tears fall.

There must be something wrong with him to allow this to continue. To have allowed this to begin in the first place. But of course, he had known for years that he was 'wrong'. That there was something corrupt and twisted inside of him and now he was paying for it.

He had let Sam go, had encouraged him to have a life away from the scrap yard and away from himself, because he knew that what he felt, that what he wanted was wrong. For as long as he could remember he had only ever felt attraction to one person. Yes, he had slept around and was no shrinking violet when it came to fucking, but they had all been substitutes to try to wipe his mind clean of the thoughts.

Thoughts of his younger brother. Thoughts of what just being touched by him could do to him. Thoughts of incest.

And now? Now he had all the incest he could stomach.

==000==

T.B.C...