(A/N) Hello! New fic, and for anybody who reads my old one, "hell against the heart," I'm sorry for not posting new chapters. I have severe writers block, so reviews and constructive criticism are very much appreciated on my other fic. Anyway, this story contains extreme bullying that is both heart-breaking and angering, as well as non-consensual sex and violence. I don't want to give too much away... Anyway, the sex isn't too graphic, but is disturbing. This is your warning. No incest in this, thank god, but it has homosexual sexual orientation, as well as denial, and for the right reasons... but, like I said, I don't wanna give it all away. Don't like, then don't read. Then you won't flame. Its a mutually positive situation.

It's not complicated. I don't own these boys, so DON'T SUE. Thank you to all the people who understand what I'm getting at when I write these kinds of fanfiction. I don't like rape, I like recovery. Resiliency. I could go on...

OKAY, finally, I want to thank all people who are still going to read this. It means a lot!

Okay, for real finally, I want to dedicate this story to my cousin, Maddie, for helping me figure out what to do with it and what to make happen. Thanks, Madds! 3

ALRIGHTY!

Enjoy part 1!

Dean hit the ground with a soft thud, but he couldn't say the same for his books, which flew out of his hand and spread out across the un-swept floor of the hall. He scrambled to collect his things, even though he knew they would be smacked out of his grasp again.

"Yeah, pick it up, fag." Derek yelled to Dean, kicking his papers even farther away from his frantic and grabbing hands.

Dean ignored the bully's accusation at him, gathering his items as he knew the bell would ring at any second. When he had grabbed all of his belongings, he ducked his head and sped away, only to be yanked back and pushed into a locker.

"Where do you think you're going, faggot?" Derek asked rhetorically, getting up in Dean's face. Derek's blue eyes shone in dominance, his short, blonde hair almost seeming to bristle. He had an awful nose that had obviously been broken dozens of times, by wrestling, Dean guessed, as he was the best player on the team. It was horribly intimidating.

"I-uh..." He stuttered. "Class. I'm going to class."

"Yeah, like back in P.E. where you tried to get fucked by Jack in the locker room, huh?"

Dean swallowed and squinted his eyes, grimacing. "No." He wheezed out, bright red coloring his cheeks. He thought back to the crush he had on Jack from history class. He had always been nice and helpful and funny and... No. No, it wasn't a crush. Dean didn't like him. Dean didn't like fucking guys! He wasn't gay. He WASN'T gay! Can you imagine the thought of his dad having raised a gay child? The look of disgust that would breach on his father's face at knowing his first born was a... Fag?

Just then, the bell rung, and Derek scowled at Dean. Then, without warning, he threw Dean to the ground once more and ran off to his class.

"See ya later, prick!" He yelled, and Dean could hear his stupid chuckles echo off of the hall walls, each one becoming more and more distant.

Dean heaved a sigh, and got up from the ground for the umpteenth time that day. He trudged on to class, hoping that the door would still be opened and he wouldn't be locked out, only to be marked later as tardy.

When he reached the door to science, he was relieved to see that the room was still wide open, although he bluntly noted that there were no stragglers except for him who were just now getting to class.

"You're late, Mr. Winchester," said Mr. Jackman when he noticed Dean walk to his seat.

"I'm sorry, sir, it won't happen again." Dean promised.

"This is the fourth time in a row you've been late to class, Dean." Mr. Jackman reminded his student, who seemed rather uncomfortable being the center of attention in the class.

Dean just nodded, lowering his head.

"Where on Earth are you during these breaks, son? That takes up all if this time?"

Dean heard the sniggering coming from a good portion of the boys in the class, and he raised his stare up at a select few of them. He saw one of the jocks in the group making the vulgar sign of 'blowjob' and he could feel his face redden in embarrassment.

For a long while, Dean sat there, staring into space as his teacher gave them the lecture on dark matter for the 6th time.

"Alright class, before the big test next bell, I'm going to let you quiz each other on what you know. So, ask any questions you like about the topic to the partner of your choice."

Just like that, partners were being distributed immediately. In no less than 45 seconds, everybody seemed situated with the person they would be quizzing. Everyone but two.

The only remaining student for Dean was Marcus Hardin, a stellar football player and, in Dean's standards, a huge dumb ass. He was short, yet buff, with dark hair and a constant stupid expression on his face.

Marcus took one look around and cursed. He knew Dean was the only one left to be partners with. He knew he would have to work with the gay kid...

Reluctantly, Marcus made his way towards Dean. When he reached his desk, he was mumbling. "And I gotta work with the homo!" He pouted as if Dean weren't right in front of him.

Dean's eyes went down cast as his words hit him in the face. "Can we just do the questions and get this over with?" He asked softly, knowing Marcus could very well kick his ass any time he wanted.

"Fine." Marcus sulked. His mouth widened slightly in a grin as he thought of something to ask. "So, question one; do you bottom?" He asked as though that was the topic that they were studying.

"Excuse me?" Dean blurted.

"Oh, come on, faggot, you know what I mean. You bottom, don't you?"

That one stung. A lot. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He shot back "Is there something you're not telling us there, Ho-"

Dean couldn't finish his sentence. He was sent flying back on his chair from the punch Marcus had struck at with. Dean almost blacked out with the force of the blow, but he blinked back the stars that were twinkling at the corners of his eyes.

He couldn't quite perceive what was going on. It was all really foggy, but he thought he could make out Marcus being held back by... His teacher. As he recovered from the hit, he slowly understood that Marcus was being sent to the principal's office.

The rest of the day was a blur. It was the usual stuff that happened. He would get criticized. He would receive notes that said things like fag and gay and would have pornographic pictures of... Him. Dean would burn them. Burn all of the horrible notes ever given to him. He could burn away all of the gay in him. All of the thoughts of being attracted to other guys. It was killing him. He'll deny it all until it comes back to haunt him. He just wanted to be normal.

When the bell that sounds the end of the school rung, Dean couldn't be happier. His head was killing him. He was probably bruising. His eye throbbed and his nose ached. He just wanted to find Sam and go home. He would go to his locker and walk to the motel with him. He could almost forget what happened to him at school when he was with his little brother.

When Dean reached his locker, he quickly found he had company.

Derek pushed Dean into his locker so that his chest was facing the wall, and his backside was exposed to the bully. "Feel familiar, Winchester?" Derek hissed into Deans ear. He laughed at his own joke and pulled Dean's shoulder to make him face him. "I heard what happen with Hardin today," Derek said, obviously studying the bruise of Dean's face, "he's pissed." Dean lidded his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. "'Said you were gonna get it." Derek elaborated. "I wonder what that means..."

"Just, can I please get in my locker?" Dean pleaded, thinking of how he needed to meet up with Sam.

"Why?" Derek asked, "because you gotta fuckdate with some guy tonight that you don't wanna miss?"

Dean struggled to get out of Derek's hold, put the attempt was futile. This angered the bully and he let go of Dean and kicked him to the ground. He slammed the poor boy's locker shut and walked back up to Dean, who was lying on the floor helplessly.

"What's the matter, faggot? Getting a little too rough for you? Sorry, there's no safe word in this round." Derek began kicking Dean in the stomach, and Dean was getting the wind knocked out of him.

"STOP!" He yelled to the bully. "Please, stop!"

Derek bent down and slightly raised him up from his jacket, "I bet this isn't the only situation you had to say that..."

Dean was close to tears, but he didn't want to cry in front of the bastard. Not to mention it would make all of this a hundred times worse.

"No..." He tried, "I'm not gay..."

Neither of the two 12th graders noticed 9th grade Sam, who had crossed the corner to the hall to try and find his older brother. Although, he did have a good hiding spot behind the lockers.

"We all know you're a huge fag, Dean, so don't deny it." Derek was pulling Dean up from off if the ground and he shoved him into the hard brick wall. "Have a nice fuck tonight, Winchester, have fun bottoming!" Dean had to admit, Derek wasn't very good at insults. But they did hurt. They hurt a lot.

Dean leaned against the wall for a long period of time, looking like he could break down any minute. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor and he put his hands to his face. Sam watched his brother as he tried to rub his face, but he accidentally touched the shiner on his eye and he hissed in pain. Sam was frozen in fear, desperately trying to process what he had just seen. What he heard the big kid bully his older brother with. Dean was... Gay?

No. No, that couldn't be right. Dean wasn't... But why hadn't he fought back? They had been training in hand to hand combat their entire lives. They hunted and killed monsters! So why wouldn't he fight back? Sam was very confused. He was pissed, too. Nobody could bully his brother! Sam wanted to kill the bastard that called his big brother a... Fag!

Sam was taken out of his thoughts when he heard Dean's voice murmuring something. He began to listen.

"Okay, Dean, just act like it didn't happen." Dean mumbled, talking to himself. "It didn't happen. It didn't happen. Find Sam and get the hell out of here. Just tell him you got in a fight, yeah, he'll believe that. Come on, you wimp, get up, find Sammy and go home."

Oh, shit. Sam was gonna stay after for soccer try-outs! He couldn't walk home with Dean today. That was the whole reason that he was going to find his brother, to tell him he was gonna be staying for try-outs. Jenny, Sam's girlfriend, really wanted him on the soccer team. He couldn't pass this up.

But Dean...

Sam noticed when Dean got up and walked towards the hallway to the 9th graders, more specifically, where he was hiding, and he panicked. He couldn't see him like this! He'd know that he had seen it all happen! Acting without thinking, Sam began to walk forward, playing it off as if he had been walking the whole time. He bumped into his brother, who was jogging to the same direction, and Dean was surprised.

"Oh, hey Dean," Sam quipped. He paused, then frowned. "How'd you get that black-eye?" He asked as if he were completely surprised that Dean looked the way he did.

"Oh, I-I got in a fight." Dean lied, just as he told himself he would. "The kid got his ass handed to him." Dean gave his brother a cocky grin, hoping that Sam believed him.

"Nice." Sam said, raising his eyebrows like he didn't know the truth. Sam was a good enough actor. "Listen, I got soccer try-outs today and I really wanna get on the team. Will you pick me up from school at 5?"

Dean hid his disappointment. "Sure, Sam. No problem."

"Thanks, Dean. I'll see you later." Sam said, gearing up to run to the gym.

"Good luck, Sammy." Dean yelled as he watched his baby brother sprint away.

In other situations, Sam would have snapped back at him, claiming that his name was SAM, not SAMMY. But he didn't want to hurt his brother, even in the slightest way.

When his little brother was out of sight, Dean sighed and began the walk home, forgetting his books that were in his locker that he should have taken with him. When he got home, he could forget this day happened. If he only knew how wrong he was...

The air outside was bitterly cold. The kind of cold that you think I should be snowing but it isn't. Dean's face stung from the biting wind and throbbed from the punch. Obviously, the walk home was miserable for him.

He had crossed about a half mile on the sidewalks when he found an alley way that lead him towards the motel room he and his family had inhabited. When he entered the alley, he found that it offered a nice rest from the fierce wind, with the compromise that there were a few rats and the way looked as sketchy as could be. No matter. He would be home soon. What he didn't see, however, was the shadow that had been following him pretty much ever since he left the school grounds.

About half way in the alley, Dean was unexpectedly pushed into the brick wall. He exclaimed in surprise and hardly had time to brace himself before he was knocked into cold brick. His knuckles gained impact and they were skidded and started to bleed quickly. Recovering from the shock, Dean spun around to face whoever had pushed him. His breath caught in his throat when he made out the features of Marcus's angry face.

"What are-" he tried to ask, but he was cut off by the meaty hand that wrapped around his neck. The only sounds Dean made then were small, choked noises.

"You calling me gay, Winchester? Well, you're one to talk!" Marcus screamed at him, tightening his hold around his neck.

Dean's right foot hit the wall repeatedly, as he was struggling for air.

"I think we're gonna decide who the gayest one is. Tonight." Marcus growled.

Dean struggled even more, praying that he didn't mean what he thought he meant.

Marcus released the tight hold on the boy's neck, giving Dean a little passage for air. Dean took the opportunity, gasping out in desperate need to fill his lungs.

Marcus spun Dean around and went to the poor kid's pants, tugging down.
"No!" Dean yelled hoarsely, sounding broken already.

"Yes." Marcus contradicted, voice gruff, as he lowered Dean's pants down to his knees.

Dean heard the sound of a zipper lowering "No-o-o!" He sobbed, stomach twisted in knots. He screamed as he felt the large 12th grader enter him without any ceremony. An agonizing scream.

At that moment, Marcus came to his senses and grabbed Dean's neck again, silencing him as much as he could. Marcus began moving.

Tears were running down Dean's face rapidly as he felt himself tearing. It felt like he was being ripped in half. He could feel the blood dripping down his legs at about a minute in and his body shook violently. He wanted to scream. To scream for help. He was dying. He was sure he had to be dying. The way he felt... He wanted to scream so loud, but he couldn't. All he could do was make those damned choked noises.

"Mm... Maybe you are a virgin..." Marcus mused above his pleasure and Dean's pain. "Not anymore..." He moaned.

Deans body racked with sobs. Silent sobs. He wanted to be dead. He wanted Marcus to kill him. He couldn't take it anymore, he just wanted out.

"Look who the gay one is now." Marcus growled. "Fuckin' fag, I know you like this!"

Dean shook his head side to side, and suddenly felt something he would never have suspected. Above all the horrible, agonizing pain, Dean felt a small spark that had stars going off behind his eyes. He felt his body crave more of that feeling.

What the HELL was wrong with him?! He didn't like this! He was getting raped! He did NOT like this! He shook his head again, but this time it was more about his own reaction. He felt it happen again. And again. And again. He just wanted it to stop...

Luckily, Dean felt the jock finish inside him. Marcus pulled out and kicked him to the ground. "Fucking slut!"

Just like that, when his throat was released, Dean was screaming out sobs. His whole body shook from pain and hurt and wrong. He felt so, so dirty. What had he become?

Marcus kicked him a couple of times before zipping up his pants and walking away.

Dean cradled himself on the cold, concrete ground. It hurt to move. Everything hurt. On the ground, he was sobbing hysterically. He just let himself get raped. What would his dad think of him? His son was already a fag, now he just got raped and didn't even fight back? He couldn't bear to see the look of disgust that his dad would give him. His first born, such a disappointment. And now he was just lying on the ground, crying like a five year old?! He had to get up. He had to walk it off, just like his dad always told him. 'Walk it off, son' he'd say when he'd get thrown into a wall by a poltergeist or injured by some stupid monster they were hunting. He just had to pretend this never happened, not let anybody see him like this.

His dad would be coming home later tonight, he could get back to normal by then. He just needed a shower. That'll get him straight. He just needed to walk it off...

Dean pulled up his pants, still lying on the ground, and used the brick wall to try and get up. Stray sobs made their way out of him as he slowly raised himself off of the ground.

It was painful to stand, and excruciating to walk, but, somehow, he had actually made it back to his motel room without breaking down. The first thing he did when he was in the small room was head to the shower. When he was getting ready to step in, he took off his shirt first. He traced the bruises that littered his chest and abdomen, hardly noticing the dull pain that spawned from them. The next thing he had to do he wished he could avoid. He held on to the waistband of his jeans and boxers. He pulled them down slowly as the horrible memory assaulted his conscious. He reached up to his neck as if the jock's hand were still there and swallowed.

Fresh tears stung his eyes as he was forced to take off his pants completely. When they were off, Dean tried to no avail to ignore the blood that stained the back of both his pants and boxers. The blood was mixed with something else.

What Dean did after staring at the stain was something that he hasn't done in a long time. He ran over to the toilet, lifted the lid and, with a heave, emptied the contents of his stomach, tears running down his face. He sat like that for a long time, even after he was done puking, and tried to reassess his oh so relevant life problem. One mistake he had made had him in this situation. Teased and bullied and... Raped...

Finally, after quite a long time, Dean got up and walked into the shower, which had been running since he had his clothes on. He felt distantly guilty for leaving wasting hot water.

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with himself. How was he gonna clean himself up... Like that...? All he felt up to doing was letting the water run down his backside. Dean watched the clear water become tinted with red as the impact of what happened hit him full force. How was this going to affect his school life? It was already hell, but now with this floating around? He was ruined.

Words couldn't describe the way he felt at that moment. His head spun with all the consequences and he felt he would throw up again. Instead, he slowly slid down the shower, holding himself as his eyes flooded with tears. He grimaced in pain and shut his eyes tight when he made it to sitting in the tub. He hugged himself and cried in the ever-falling streams of water from the shower head, not even bothering to get up. Although, eventually, the water turned cold and he was compelled to get out of the shower.

He wrapped himself in a towel and picked up his dirty clothes, slowly making his way out if the bathroom.

Despite the dread, Dean knew he should observe the injury on his face, so he looked in the bathroom mirror. He glared at himself, hating who he saw staring back at him. Dean shook with rage and he pounded his fists against the counter.

After a few minutes, Dean finally retreated from the bathroom and began the expected task of getting through the rest of the day.

(A/N) These stories are very hard to write, for anybody who is wondering, but I have a passion for them. Its inspiring. On a less deep and depressing note, I would very very much love reviews! I love feedback, whether it's constructive criticism or any future ideas, both of which I would VERY MUCH APPRECIATE, I thoroughly enjoy getting any form of response to my writing. And any ideas you may think of would help me out a bunch. I get writers block very easily... So if you have any ideas, seriously, feel free to express them! Okay, lastly, thank you sooo much for reading and I will try to write more of the story as fast as I can!