A/N: Ooh, hope you guys like this one!

If You Dare Challenge - #548 (Dead Eyes)

Are You Crazy Enough To Do It - #222 (bananas)

Fanfiction Writing Month: October [1260]

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

After the other boys left for school, Dean, Sam, Castiel, and Sonny all sat down for a quiet breakfast of banana pancakes and bacon. However, like the night before, Dean barely touched his food. He only took a single bite of each item and then gave permission to his brother to eat. "Dean—" Sonny hesitated. He didn't want to pressure him. "Dean, aren't you hungry?"

Dean's hunger was obvious; he was practically drooling over the food. Yet still his plate remained full. "No, sir."

"Dean—son, you have to eat something. You haven't eaten anything since… Since when?"

Dean stared at his plate.

"Dean?"

"No, sir," he repeated. "Not hungry."

"Can I make you something else? We've got all kinds of fruit, leftover burgers, pasta… Anything?"

"No, sir."

Sam tugged on Dean's jacket. "Dean," he whispered. "Dean, you have to eat. The doctor said you had to eat, or you'd…" He swallowed. "Dean, obsecro…"

Dean looked, broken, at his little brother.

"Dean," said Sonny. "Why aren't you eating?"

Dean's haunted gaze caught Sonny's. "Sir," he said weakly, and he stood. "You still haven't…" He glanced fearfully at Castiel. Sonny quickly motioned for him to leave and for Dean to continue. "Haven't… punished me, sir."

Sonny slumped. "Son, I'm not going to hurt you, okay? Ever. I've never laid a hand on any of my boys, and I will never lay a hand on you. But… what does that have to do with eating?"

Sonny watched Dean organize his response in his head before speaking. "Because, sir," he said, "when the punishments get bad—and I know you'll punish me...badly—it'll be hard to… hard to keep it down. And I don't want to...throw up." He cringed. "It'll be bad, with my...condition. It'll…" Dean's eyes danced over the kitchen floor, frightened. Sonny took a step closer to Dean: big mistake. Dean's face, vulnerable with pain and terror, completely shut down. His mouth went slack, his eyes went dead, and his arms snapped to his sides. "I'm ready for any punishment you deem necessary, sir. I will take it without complaint."

Sonny then knew with terrifying certainty that Dean's unusual soldier-like demeanor had been beaten, literally, into him. He stepped back again, holding back tears, until the door opened. It was Rosa; the Hispanic woman had finished taking the boys to school and now had returned to take care of the farm while Sonny was off with the boys.

Sonny brought the boys to a store only thirty minutes away. "Pick anything you want. As long as it fits and it's comfortable, you can have it. Get seven of each: pants, shirts, socks, underwear… Anything, okay?"

Dean grasped Sam's hand tighter. "Yes, sir." He had not let go of his younger brother's hand since they got in the car. The two boys turned into one of the aisles of clothing. Immediately, they slipped into Latin, uncomfortable with being surrounded by all of the other customers. Castiel followed them. Dean picked out the cheapest clothing he could find; Cas shook his head. "Those tear easily," he commented quietly, referring to the pair of jeans Dean was holding. "You don't want them if you're going to be working on the farm with us. They'll be useless by the second day."

Dean cautiously put them back. Castiel picked out some jeans for him instead, saying, "These come in any color you want, really. Plus, they're the best pants for the farm. They do shrink a lot when you put them in the wash for the first time, though, so get a size bigger than what you wear."

Dean wrung his hands and signed to Sam. He could barely look at Castiel without flushing with embarrassment. TELL HIM?

WHAT TELL HIM?

SIZE DON'T KNOW. WEAR SIR CLOTHES ALWAYS. 'SIR' was how they always referred to their father when using ASL. Technically, it also meant 'MASTER.' It was his most preferred title.

JACKET SIZE HAVE YOU?

He shook his head. TOO SMALL.

"Is everything okay?" Castiel asked, squinting at the two boys. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Sam looked up at his brother, grabbed his hand, and then glanced at Cas. "Dean doesn't know his size," he said. "We don't usually… He wears our dad's clothes."

Cas smiled. "That's fine. They have dressing rooms here; you can try it on."

Dean looked at the ground. He barely felt comfortable getting undressed, let alone undressing in a confined space surrounded by dozens of people. No. No way in hell. Dean gulped. But he didn't want to get punished… And they did need clothes… Dean nodded. Cas smiled. "Awesome! You'll need a few more than that, though. Sonny will barely let you walk out of here with any less than eight of everything."

Dean paled. He didn't want to make Sonny angry. So he found a few more flannels that seemed generally his size, a couple more pairs of pants, a olive green jacket, some socks, and underwear. Castiel found him a pair of shoes that he liked, and luckily he could try those on while in the store and without showing any skin.

Once they found the dressing room, a blonde woman smiled and greeted them. "You need a room?" she asked, approaching them.

Instinctively, Dean stepped in front of Sam, saying nothing.

Cas smiled at her. "Yeah. Just one is fine."

"How many of you will be trying on clothes?" she asked.

"Just those two," he said. "I'll just wait out here."

"Alright. Two rooms, then?" She picked up two keys off of the hook on the wall.

"No, just one," Castiel clarified. "They want to stay together, right?"

Dean nodded slowly, glancing cautiously at the woman.

"I'm sorry, but only one customer is allowed per dressing room. You two can have rooms right next to each other, see?"

Dean didn't want to argue with her, and he also didn't want Sonny to have any more reason to punish him. HAVE KNIFE YOU?

Sam nodded.

OKAY. STAY SAFE YOU SAMMY. I LOVE YOU. Dean hugged his little brother tightly.

Upon entering the dressing room, Dean was comforted by the sound of Sam's humming on the other side of their shared wall. He tried on a couple of the shirts, trying not to look in the mirror; he hated mirrors.

He had spent only a few minutes in the dressing room before his breathing grew hoarse. The white walls blurred around him; the room twisted and tightened until he was gasping, hyperventilating until he couldn't breathe.

Four white walls and a bucket. That's all he had. Dean screamed at the white door but no one answered, not even the ghost who shut him in here in the first place.

He cried, clawing at the walls until his fingers bled; he didn't know how much time had passed or how long until the next ghostly visit came. He didn't know where Sammy was; he didn't know how long he had until the terrible pale man in the white coat returned to hurt him.

Dean saw the red streaks on the walls, and he screamed, crouching down into the corner. He could see the man coming for him… He didn't want to hurt again. The door swung open, and Dean let out a bloodcurdling sound and tightened into a ball.

The door opened so harshly that it slammed against the wall. In the doorway stood his captor, a pale man in a bloodstained lab coat with a sickening, crazed smile and wild, yellow eyes. He licked his lips, grinned, and lunged.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please favorite, follow, and review!

obsecro = please