Warning: Graphic Content
When both boys emerged from their room the next morning for breakfast, they found themselves the targets of extreme scrutiny - Sam especially.
"Oh G. You limpin' this morning. Why you limpin,' girl?"
"You get a good ride last night, girl? Hmm?"
"Mmm mmm mmm, looking all rode out G. That ass ain't so high 'n mighty today, yeah?"
As Sam took more and more abuse, Dean felt his mood plummeting, not that it was any too elevated to begin with. Worse, he was forced to laugh and play along as his brother turned inward and tried to disappear. Every boy they encountered wanted to high-five Dean and congratulate him on hurting his kid brother, and Dean was forced to comply to keep up appearances. By the time they sat down to eat, Sam's head was down, his hands shaking, as he tried to hold his spoon.
At least Sam looked authentically miserable, Dean thought, as he sat studying the younger boy who was shaking too badly to get the food from the tray to his mouth. Dean turned sideways in his chair and drew Sam close again - chest to back. He buried his face in Sam's hair and whispered quietly, "Sammy, you okay?"
Sam shook his head.
Dean tightened his hold, "Just feel me holdin' on, okay? Take some strength from me. Can you do that? Don't nod. Just say yes or no."
"Yes." Sam whispered.
"One more week, Sammy. Remember that. And they're sayin' shit, but at least they're staying away. Play along. They'll leave us alone as long as we play the game."
The big guy who'd threatened Sam before he ever got on the bus took the seat across from Dean. He struck up a conversation. "You smoke?" He asked the older boy.
Dean glared. "Who's askin'?"
"I'm askin'. Do you?"
"No. What's it to you?"
"How 'bout coffee? You drink coffee?"
"I don't want your damned coffee." Dean growled. "So whatever you're sellin', take it somewhere else."
"How 'bout him?" The guy gestured to Sam. "Bet he likes candy. You like candy?" He addressed the younger boy.
"You don't talk to him, you hear me?"
The man sat back, unconcerned. After a moment, he asked outright. "So what's it gonna take?"
Dean stared back, chillingly. He had no idea what the guy was asking him, but he wasn't about to let on.
"I asked you a question. Whaddaya want?" He persisted, long, greasy hair swaying as he shook it back off one shoulder.
"Nothing you got. Move along."
"I mean for the kid."
Dean froze, felt Sam freeze up in front of him.
"What did you say?" Dean asked.
"Come on. Twenty minutes." The guy reached into a pocket and pulled out four packets of coffee. He fanned them out in front of Dean on the table. "Okay, ten minutes on his knees. It's a good deal. Won't get no better since you don't smoke. Ever'body drinks coffee. You don't? You can trade for candy for the kid."
Sam just knew Dean was about to die. He caught both the older boy's hands and twined his fingers through them in an effort to hold him in place.
Dean felt Sam's fear channeling up through his shaking form. When he could find his voice again, he asked. "How the fuck old are you?"
The man smiled, "I'm 49. Don't matter. A hole's a hole."
Dean rose with a roar, upending the table into the asshole who'd dared even look at his baby brother. He picked up the first thing close, which happened to be Sam's tray, and smacked the guy's face with it. He did it again, then a third time, until the thick, unbreakable plastic shattered, leaving a long gash down the side of the man's temple. Then he tackled the monstrous man, wrapping hands around his throat.
"He's MINE!" Dean screamed, trying to make the best of a situation that had gotten out of hand. "You don't TOUCH him! You don't LOOK at him! You don't even THINK about him, you ugly son-of-a-bitch! I will END you!"
Through his rage, Dean could hear the hoots and hollers of the crowd as they watched the spectacle.
Sam wanted to run to his brother's defense - to pull him away from the danger - but then he realized he was supposed to be afraid of Dean, supposed to want to see him hurt. Sam struggled to rise from the floor where Dean's sudden eruption had tossed him, and a hand reached down to help. Sam looked up to see Ben, a look of concern etching his features. He nodded. "Come on up, Sam. I'll help you."
Sam took the offered hand and stood as Deacon rushed over and pulled Dean off the other resident. "Come on, newbie. Into the time-out room for you." He started to lead Dean away, then stopped and turned back to Sam. "You were part of this too?"
Sam backed away, 'No! No, I …"
But Deacon wasn't interested, "Come on, Winchester. You're in this too. Gonna play, gonna pay."
And Deacon led them both away, headed toward confinement.
###
Dean leaned against the wall inside the secluded cell, trying not to make any sudden moves as Deacon grinned, handing him two pills and a water bottle.
"Gonna play, gonna pay, Dean." He chuckled.
"Totally worth it." Dean shot him a dark look as he downed the painkillers.
"Where's it hurt worst?" Sam asked quietly, kneading his brother's back.
Dean grunted when Sam hit the right spot. "There. Dammit."
Sam backed off instantly. "I'm sorry."
"No, Sammy. It's good. Go ahead. I mean, if you don't mind."
"Well, your daddy told me you had a temper."
Dean snorted then, "Son of a bitch got what he deserved."
"That he did," Deacon agreed. "And I'm pretty sure no one's going to be messing with Sam anytime soon now."
"What about that guy? Will he try to get even with Dean?" Sam worried.
Deacon shrugged, "Maybe. We'll keep close tabs."
"That type? He ain't interested in a fair fight." Dean rationalized. "If I was 10 maybe. Damn, Deacon. Why they got guys like that in here with kids?"
The guard frowned, "Piss-poor management. Best-case scenario? They just shut this place down. Ship the kids off to juvie and that sick bastard off to Quentin."
###
Sam had always asked Deacon to lock him in during evening rec time, but Dean, being Dean, asked him to leave the door open. He wanted eyes and ears to what was happening outside their room.
The boys sat together on the bottom bunk, keeping up appearances. Sam sitting up against the wall and Dean lying down with his feet in Sam's lap. It made Sam look submissive and gave Dean's back a rest at the same time. When he was sure no one was watching, Sam rubbed his brother's aching calves.
They were both sitting, talking quietly, when Ben ambled in and sat down on the floor across from them.
Dean shifted, and Sam could feel him tense up, ready to spring. "Why are you here?" He growled.
Ben was silent for a moment before speaking, then he smiled. "You can drop the act." He said softly.
"What act is that?" Dean demanded, showing no fear.
"The one where you're strangers. Brothers, right? You move the same. Have the same mannerisms. Use the same words."
The boys exchanged looks. "You're crazy." Dean offered, closing his eyes, feigning unconcern.
"And you lost your gangsta speak back there." Ben added. "Haven't heard a "girl" or a "baby" out of you since old Carl threatened Sam."
"Plus," he turned to Sam, "You locked your fingers in his, tried to hold him back. I don't know many "boys" who'd do that for the guys who use them."
Dean sat up. "Why the hell you lookin' so close, hunh? What do you want?"
Ben's eyes flickered with something that looked like hurt. "Nothing. Just to spend some time with someone who's not batshit crazy, I guess."
Sam spoke then, "Why are you in here, Ben?"
"Long story, Sam. Long and sad. Trust me, you don't wanna hear it."
"Look, whatever you're selling, nobody in this room is buyin'. You're wasting your time."
"Officer Kaylor, he's in on it too, right? And Mills?"
Nobody spoke.
Ben smiled again. He reached back into his back pocket and brought out a piece of paper. He looked at it, a wistful smile forming, then handed it to Sam.
Dean intercepted it. "We don't want your drugs either." He glanced down at the paper, then back up at Ben. He handed it on to Sam.
Sam took it and studied it, a smile forming.
"That's Shiloh. He's an old beagle hound. Dumb like a fox. I miss him." Ben offered.
"I have a border collie. He's Shalako. Shallie for short. I miss him too." Sam handed the worn pic back.
Ben took it, grinning, "I knew you were a dog person. Takes one to know one, you know?"
"So, no family?" Dean questioned.
Ben shook his head. "Mom. That's it."
Dean waited, "Sounds like there's a story there."
Ben shrugged. "There isn't."
"So you miss the dog, but not your mother?" Dean clarified.
Ben smiled. "Pretty much. Yes."
"How long you been here?"
"Three years."
Both Winchesters stared, trying not to imagine what that must be like.
"You're leaving, right? Soon? You're getting out. I can tell you don't belong here." Ben addressed Sam.
Sam suddenly felt guilty. "Hope so. Hearing's next week."
Ben nodded, "So how about you? How'd you get here?"
Sam smiled, "Same long story, I think."
Ben leaned back, crossing his fingers behind his head and grinning. "Well, we can suffer together for another week maybe. Misery loves company, right?"
Deacon stuck his head in as though to say something to Sam and frowned when he found the redhead inside the room, leaning up against the wall.
"Why are you here, Benigan?" He barked.
Dean's eyes widened to saucers.
Ben shrugged, "Got tired of my own company?"
"What'd you call him? What'd he call you?" Dean repeated.
"Benigan. It's my last name. That's where the Ben comes from. First name is actually Nick."