The phone in the motel room ringing gave Dean an excuse to give up on the research John had wanted the boys to do. Sam wasn't there. He had told Dean about a party at this kid's house everyone had been talking about a week in advance. Dean had forced Sam to go, saying that he needed to have at least one normal experience before he graduated. Told Sam to call if anything happened.
Dean sighed and reached for the landline without standing up. Before he could even get out a smart-ass remark, Sam's broken, frightened voice cut off every comment Dean could possibly think of.
"D- Dean? Can you please come and get me?"
"Sammy? What's going on? What happened?"
"I- I, um… Can we please save this for later? I- I just want to come home. Please?"
"Yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay, Sammy. I'll be there in ten."
"O- Okay. I'm at a gas station on the outskirts of town."
The drive to get Sam took Dean only five minutes, instead of the ten he predicted. He saw Sam and pulled into the space in front of the bench Sam was sitting on. The headlights illuminated Sam's sullen face and the way he had his arms wrapped protectively around himself. He was staring at the ground, not moving an inch when the headlights hit him with its bright beams of white light. Dean killed the engine, opening the door and letting it close behind him with a creak.
"Sammy? You okay? What happened?" Dean knelt down in front of Sam, gripping just above his elbows. Sam didn't answer, didn't even blink. Dean grabbed his face, forcing him to look at him. "Hey. Hey, Sammy. Hey, look- look at me." When Sam finally met Dean's eyes, he could see the tears waiting to fall. Tears waiting to fall over bright red cheeks and the formings of a black eye. Dean took a closer look at Sam. He had a split lip and what looked like a swollen nose. Sam's eyes dilated unevenly. "Jesus, Sammy. What the hell happened?" Sam didn't so much as shrug. "Hey, okay Sammy, let's getcha back."
Dean picked up Sam under the knees and back when he didn't make a move to stand. Sam whimpered quietly at the sudden movement. Dean didn't hear the whining until he opened the passenger side door and settled Sam into the seat. "Okay, okay Sammy. I'll get a closer look when we get back, and then you can tell me what happened. Okay?" Sam didn't answer.
The drive back was silent, save for the sharp, quiet yelps whenever Dean hit a pothole or a bump in the road. And with every painful sound coming from his little brother, Dean became increasingly more worried than the time before.
Finally, they arrived back at the motel room, and Dean carried Sam into the room and had him sit up on the bed. Sam started to tilt.
"Hey, hey, hey. No. I know you want to lay down and sleep, but I can't let you. At least not yet. First, I need to know what happened. Can you take off your coat and shirt?"
Sam nodded and started to remove the articles of clothing in question while Dean turned to get the first aid kit out of their duffle. When Dean turned around, he felt like he had been sucker punched as all the air rushed out of his lungs. All up and down Sam's torso were bruises in varying shades of purple and green. "Damn, Sammy…" Dean exhaled. "What the hell happened?"
Sam flicked his eyes up to Dean and quickly looked at the floor again. "I- Um… I- Nothing. D-Dean… It's fine. I'm- I'm fine," Sam hastily stammered out. "It's nothing."
"Jesus, Sam," Dean sighed as he ran a hand down his face. "This ain't 'nothing'. Please, tell me exactly what the hell happened."
Silence responded. As the silence dragged on, Dean bent down to take a closer look at Sam's injuries. He started with the bruises that were slowly getting more vibrant. As Dean gently applied pressure to different ribs, Sam let out varying sounds of pain. "Well, Sammy, it doesn't look like any ribs are broken. Only five or six cracked ones."
Sam let out an exasperated puff of air. "Right, only five or six."
"Just shut up and let me finish," Dean smiled. "I mean, unless you want to explain." They lapsed back into silence, and Dean continued to examine Sam's injuries.
The whole process took about two hours. "Well, Sammy… You want to hear the extent of it all?" Sam nodded slightly.
"Okay, well, for one, you got a mild concussion there, so we'll be on a two-hour sleep schedule tonight. Nose is bent, but not broken. Got some swelling on your face. Your right shoulder is heavily bruised, right down to the muscle, and your right wrist is fractured as well. Like I said before," Dean mentioned, "you got some cracked ribs, so we have to be careful. There's some nasty bruising on your shins and knees, too, but those'll be fine. Good news is your left arm seems to be fine." Dean ended on a cheery note.
Dean saw Sam heave a sigh at the end of his list. "Can I go to sleep now?" Sam asked softly.
"Yeah. Go ahead, but I'm waking you up in two hours."
On the second round of two-hour wake-ups, the nightmares came. It started off with Sam whimpering in his sleep. Soft whimpers. So soft Dean could barely make out what they were over the loud hum of the heating unit to his left. He looked over to his right from his position on the bed to look at Sam. Dean could see soft twitches under the covers, but not much else with the way Sam curled around himself, back to Dean.
"Sammy?" Dean whispered when he was sure in was Sam whimpering. It had only been hour since the last wake-up, so Dean's voice was hesitant. That hesitation was gone in a heartbeat as Dean got out of bed to check on Sam.
He sat down on the edge of the other bed, shaking Sam's shoulder gently. "Hey, Sammy. Wake up. It's just a dream." Sam's eyes shot open and he quickly rolled over to face Dean, tears silently slipping down his cheeks. He looked up at Dean.
"Dean." He breathed as he shot up and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. "God, Dean. I'm so sorry. I was so scared, I didn't know what to do and they just kept bugging me about it. I didn't want to though. I didn't, I swear. I'm so sorry, Dean. I'm sorry." Sam let out in one long breath.
"Whoa, whoa, hey Sammy. Slow down. Take a deep breath. Tell me what happened." Dean soothed as he ran a had through Sam's hair and wrapped his other arm around his waist.
Sam pulled back to look at Dean's face. "Dean, I- I didn't want to do it. I- It just happened." He started to let his tears flow freely.
"Whoa, hey, Sammy," Dean pulled away to look at Sam's face. "Look- Hey, look at me," Dean instructed as Sam avoided eye contact. "Take a deep breath with me," He inhaled slowly. Sam followed with him. He calmed down quickly with Dean.
"Dean. I'm so sorry," Sam started. "It just kind of happened…"
The music was loud. Some sort of rock that Dean would have liked, but Sam thought his ears were going to bleed. He could even feel his teeth vibrating as he stood quietly in a corner holding a cup with something alcoholic he wasn't going to drink. People were yelling and dancing and it was stuffy. So stuffy. The place smelled of tobacco, booze, vomit and sweat.
Recognizing the TA from his PE class derailed his train of thought (Why did Dean make me come here?) as the man grabbed his wrist and yanked him out the door to the back of the house. Sam's head was spinning, and he was pinned to the side of the house before he could even start to fight back. There was a hand over his mouth.
"Hey, pretty boy," The man breathed alcohol in Sam's face. "I've seen you just standing there all night," He slurred. "I think it's time for you to try something new." He released Sam for a moment only for the man's hand to cover his face again the next second. This time, there was something in his mouth, though. It tasted foul and stuck to his tongue. He tried to spit it out, but the man said he had to swallow it, or there would be consequences. He shook his head fiercely, only for a punch to his kidney to be his response. He swallowed the pill.
"Now that's better isn't it?" Sam remained silent until the lights flashing off the back side of the fence started to spin like a record. Sam grunted then. He wanted to throw up. When the man didn't move, he tried to scream. That made the man angry. He slammed Sam against the wall again. "Shut up, you little bitch," He snarled. "Maybe if you learn a lesson you'll be a good boy."
He dropped Sam, and Sam had no time to move as the man immediately straddled him and started punching his face and his torso, and even managed to land a blow on Sam's neck. Sam kept struggling until his vision was too blurry and his head hurt too much to continue his attempts at escaping. He started to cry.
As the tears mixed with the blood caked on his face, his assailant stood up, breathing heavily. "You're such a whiny bitch," He spat. Sam heard footsteps retreating and tried to call for help in one last desperate attempt. The man turned around and before Sam knew it, there was pain in his stomach and it hurt to breathe and all he wanted was Dean. He wanted Dean to come save him. To hold him and tell him everything is going to be alright. Dean.
"I blacked out after that," Sam sighed. "I'm so sorry, Dean. It all just happened so fast."
"Jesus Sammy, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, okay?" Dean rubbed Sam's arm in a comforting gesture. They were leaning up against the headboard, Dean's arm wrapped around Sam's shoulders. "It was that stupid, worthless, piece-of-crap man. It's his fault. You did nothing wrong." Sam stayed silent for a few minutes.
"Dad's gonna be pissed I didn't defend myself."
"Hey, no. No, none of this 'Dad' stuff. Let me worry about him. You just rest and remember that it's not your fault," Dean reassured him. They fell into silence.
They fell asleep like that, and John Winchester coming in at three in the morning didn't disturb them one bit. John would never say it out loud, but he smiled at the sight of his boys taking care of each other that night.