Alright, a lot of people asked for another update so, at long last, here it is! unfortunately, the entire thing ended up deleting itself at one point and i had kind of put it on delay AGAIN. the original, i think, was so much better, but hopefully this turned out okay as well. its slightly disheartening, but life goes on, right? :)

hope it turned out okay! Oh, also, it only gets darker from here, so fair warning! Sam's not out of this yet!

enjoy!

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Dean parked the Impala on the far side of the parking lot, even now being sure to keep his precious baby free of potentially dangerous hunks of metal and flashy paintjobs that weren't his baby's. He slipped out of his black behemoth, sensing Sam trudging along behind him as he manuevered toward the motel room. He glanced back anyway, just be sure, and saw the kid with his head down and dark hair in his eyes, probably hiding the constant pink tinge still formed on his cheeks. Dean smiled at the thought. His poor baby brother had to grow witness to his super hotness. Dean blushed at his own crude thoughts. Wow, aren't you mature? He inwardly shrugged. He was the big brother, he could think whatever he wanted.

He walked up to their current motel room and rattled his hand around in his jacket pocket until he found the key. Placing it in the keyhole, he unlocked it and held an arm out for Sam, allowing him first entrance. Sam did so grudgingly, keeping his head down as he walked into the small living space. Dean came in and locked it behind them, suddenly and abruptly lost in thought. What was he going to tell Dad?

Dean sighed lightly, watching Sam shrug off his jacket and throw it onto the bed they both shared before sitting down. John sat at the small table in the corner of the room, finally looking up from his journal and newspaper clippings to see the two in the room. After a cursory glance, he took to eyeing Sam more curiously, his eyes fully covered and shoulders hunched over. He looked to Dean questioningly, who watched him tightly in turn. John rose an eyebrow and searched them both for injuries.

Finding none, he couldn't help but also notice his boys had the same, dirtied shoes on they had yesterday. Confused, he asked casually, "So, how was the shopping spree? Find anything good?".

Sam cringed lightly, but otherwise reacted expressionlessly, not that you could actually see his expression, it was just assumed.

John's eyes narrowed. Taking one final glance at Dean, who looked like he was considering how to begin, John ordered, "Sam."

Sam's head flew up instantly, searching out his father's eyes. "Yes, sir."

"What happened?".

Sam's mouth moved wordlessly, unsure. "Uhh..". John couldn't help but note the boy's bright red cheeks. Was it from exertion, or embarassment? The mere thought puzzled John.

He was about to ask again when Dean spoke. "Well, we just had a uhh, small run-in with some guys at the mall. Nothing we couldn't handle," he said purposely vague, knowing his father would continue the interrogation for him. How do I start this?

John's eyebrows flew downward. He stood suddenly, looking from one brother to another. He went up to Sam and half-kneeled in front of him, beginning to peel off his long-sleeve shirt. "What? What happened? Are you hurt?". It was an odd way for him to go about discovering his son's possibly sustained injuries but, at that moment, he wasn't quite worried about the potential awkwardness they would have to endure afterward. His sons' weren't telling him what he needed to know, so he'd find out for himself.

Before Sam could protest, the man had pulled it up to uncover his toned lower torso, a long dark bruise beginning to reveal itself. John looked at it furiously, his head calculating all the possible ways it could have gotten there. It was long, too long, running horizontally along Sam's stomach. At the center of the bruise was a thin red line, small drops of blood dripping down his torso. He looked to Dean with barely contained rage, searching for an explanation. Dean looked just as confused, staring at the dark line menacingly. Realization seemed to come to him swiftly, and he turned away, eyes closed and hands tight in a fist.

John noticed this, as he noticed everything, and turned to Sam, who merely sat there, still and burdened. "What happened?" As if unaware of the question, Dean sat and put his head in his hands. "Damn it, what the hell happened?" John asked again in a rage.

Dean looked up to his father, as if just realizing his existence, and put his hands in front of him innocently. "It's okay, Dad, nothing...happened. Just...let me explain."

John's eyes twitched, as if he hadn't been asking for that the entire time, and let Sam's shirt fall. Watching them calmly, he went and sat on the bed opposite them. "Alright."

Dean momentarily searched out Sam's eyes, wondering what he would want him to say, but they stayed down, focused solely on the dirtied, moldly carpet. "Okay, um...". Dean sighed, "This guy, uh, at the mall...well, he kinda...tried something...on Sam." He took a peak at John's expression. Not happy, not happy at all. Shit. He gulped, looking down as Sam was, his eyes focusing on a particularly large clump of dust. "He shoved Sammy into the shelf." Dean suddenly shivered, filled with a wrathful vengeance he hadn't felt since mom died. "Touched him," he spat, remembering how the man's hands had roamed his baby brother's body as if it had belonged to him. Dean grit his teeth.

Sam twitched, looking up for the first time. "My fault." John eyed him almost sadly, and Sam looked back down before the man could say anything incriminating. "I'm sorry, I didn't...I didn't mean to. I was being stupid, wasn't watching for the signs." Sam put his hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said again.

Dean watched as Sam seemed to shrink further into himself, and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "No, Sammy, it wasn't your fault, okay? Those perverts are the ones that should be punished, they are the ones at fault here, not you. Never you," he added, shaking his head sadly.

John looked to Dean suddenly, angrily. "There was more than one?"

Dean nodded, still watching Sam, his insides boiling in pain. Pain because Sam was in pain. He thought he had helped Sam through this, convinced him that he wasn't to blame in the car. Now he realized it was only what he wanted to see, because Sam was far from okay. Who could he trust now, now that he knew the nice, jovial strangers that came and talked to him could possibly have some darker, inner motives? Would he learn to trust people again, or would he be scarred forever? He cried out for his baby brother. This wasn't fair, not at all. His brother...his brother was the purest, sweetest kid out there. He had never seen one soul that was as selfless as the kid sitting beside him, and he was the luckiest man in the world to have him as a brother. Why did it have to happen to him, of all people? But he'd make it better, Dean promised himself. Sam would learn from this, and no person would ever take advantage of him again.

John repeated his question. "Damn it, Dean, how many were there?"

Dean looked to his dad. "Two, only two."

John nodded. "Okay, now tell me what happened. Exactly how it happened."

Dean sighed, turning to Sam who, surprisingly, softly nodded his approval. Dean nodded, knowing Sam didn't see it, and began relaying the day. However, after he told John about the two of them splitting into different isles, he stopped suddenly. He squinted as if in pain, looking toward the door. He didn't want to talk about this, maybe he could leave, grab the Impala and just go. But what if this only hurt Sammy more? He didn't actually know all of the story. Should he? He sighed loudly and, from the corner of his eye, saw Sam watching him, uncertain. "I...I was, you know, looking for my, my boots and these two guys, uh..." Dean felt his voice crack, and he knew he had to stop for a second. John just continued to watch, his legs crossed and shoulders straight. He didn't even look to see how Sam was fairing, he couldn't take that right now. "They were snickering and I, I thought they were watching some hot chick go by. I went to look and...," Dean licked his lips, "they were looking at my baby brother."

A tear fell from his eye, and he swiped at it furiously. Nothing happened, goddamn it. "They were making bets on who could, who could fuck him." Sam twitched violently beside him and Dean stopped. Why had he said it like that? Dean twisted his hands together angrily. Damn it, he was messing up everthing today. He took another deep breath and, eyes glued to the floor, continued. "They...oh god, they were...they...". Dean put a hand over his face, tears falling unheedlingly down his face now. Why was it so much harder to say it? "They were planning to sell him. Oh god, oh fuck." He cried out, heavy tears flowing down his cheeks. "They were going to have people pay to fuck my brother, goddamn it," he yelled before standing suddenly, flinging himself into the bathroom. He barely made it to the toliet before heaving out today's lunch, gasping violently as it all flowed from him, leaving him empty. He couldn't do this, he couldn't. Why was this so painful? Sam is safe and completely out of harm's way now. Dean had been there. Nothing happened.

But what if it happens again? Dean can't be with Sammy all the time, can he? Was it possible?

"Oh god," he said to no one in particular. His eyes felt puffy and his vision blurry. He felt his family's presence behind him, his only family, and it reassured him slightly. They'd get through this. Dean dry heaved once more into the toliet before pulling away, his hands resting by his sides instead of tensed against the toliet seat. He sighed loudly as tears were wiped from his eyes. But they weren't his hands that were wiping at his cheeks, and he looked curiously behind him to see Sam there, kneeling beside him, a sad smile on his face. Small tears traveling lightly down his face, but he seemed unaware of them, focused solely on his big brother. Dean's chest ached.

"Come on, we need to get you up, Dean," John said from somewhere behind Dean, sounding suspiciously tearful. Dean nodded, ignoring it, and placed his hands on the toliet seat and pushed up, allowing it to take most of his weight. His back popped as he straightened into a standing position. How long had he been there?

He sniffled. Another tear began to snake it's way out of Dean's eye, and he fisted his palm into his eye. He was not going to cry. Not again.

He turned to his baby brother, the most important person in his life, the person he would give his life for over and over just to see happy. "I'm so sorry, Sammy. I had seen them but I, I didn't...I wasn't fast enough. I'm so sorry."

Sam shook his head. He put his arms lightly over Dean's shoulders, bringing him in. Dean immediately complied, wrapping his arms around Sam's bony waist, allowing his hands to rest in between his shoulder blades. Sam said, "No, Dean, you can't blame yourself for this. You didn't do anything."

Dean snorted. "That's exactly it, Sammy, I didn't do anything. I just...I just stood there, watching them talk about what they'd do to you...how they'd degrade you." Dean squeezed Sam tighter. How did he let this happen? His baby Sammy, one of the two most amazing men he'd ever known and the most amazing brother he could ever have, and this happens to him? What if it happened again? What if, next time, Dean wasn't there to save him? Dean audibly inhaled loudly at the mere thought of what would happen, shutting his eyes at the assaulting visuals, and Sam, as if reading his thoughts, began to rub Dean's back slowly, soothingly.

But they weren't going to worry about the future, Dean decided. Because, right now, Dean had the best, most important person in the world right here, safe in his arms, and, to top it off, the recently assaulted kid was trying to reassure him that everything would be all right.

If that wasn't true strength then Dean sure as hell wasn't expecting it from anyone else, because Sam was the strongest one out there.

Sam was going to heal from this, like he healed from everything, and they'd be okay again. There is no "if", because there's only ever been a "when". Dean wanted to cry out in joy and, this time, he sighed with nothing but relief. They were going to get over this.

Dean snuggled his nose into Sam's chocolate locks. "Everything's gonna be okay, Sammy".

Sam wrapped his arms further around Dean until they rested tightly against the nape of his neck. "And I thought I was the optimistic one." Dean could hear the small smile in Sam's voice.

Dean squeezed Sam tightly to his chest for a long time, wrapped in his own paradise and, unannounced to him, Sam had stopped rubbing his back. Dean smiled again, his happy inner thoughts affecting his outer actions, and another tight squeeze crushed Sam's stomach. He let out a small, unintentional squeak.

Dean immediately pulled back, sensing something amiss, and looked at Sam in horror, realization hitting him in the face. "Oh my God, Sammy, I'm so sorry."

Sam shook his head, hands held up innocently. "No, I'm fine. It barely hurts, rea-", and then Dean was grabbed his thin wrist, dragging him out of the bathroom and into their small living space.

"Sit," Dean ordered and Sam, reacting on auto-pilot at the terse order, complied. Dean went into his father's duffel bag, bustling around until he found the first-aid kit. "Take off your shirt." He listened as cloth fell to dirtied sheets, and soon after came back and sat beside Sam, ointment in hand. He barely noticed John sitting wide-eyed, wordless on the opposite bed.

Dean immediately looked to Sam's torso in badly concealed rage, not even attempting to hide his hatred for mankind. He inwardly noticed Sam following Dean's gaze, gulping when he saw what he saw. Hadn't Dean already seen the evidence of his assault before?

Now going across Sam's torso, were two angry-looking bruises, more evidence of Sam's harsh assault. Both held small red lines in the center, one on his lower torso and the other on his chest, near his armpits, all from the shelves he had been rammed against. Dean looked up, watching Sam close his eyes at some unknown thought.

Dean placed his hand on Sam's cheek, hoping to relieve him of that nightmare. "It's okay, Sammy, you're safe now."

Sam opened his eyes, a small smile lighting his features. "Yeah, I know."

Dean smiled in return and began the procedure of looking to Sam's injuries, trying damn hard to show indifference to the marks of abuse. He tried to act as if he were the doctor, working on a random, minor patient that never outwardly affected his life and he never thought five seconds more of after the recovery was complete.

He knew it was a lie though as he applied ointment to Sam's damaged body. Sam's pain affected him more than he wanted to admit, and he knew it would take him a long time to just get over this.

After applying the necessary ointment and bandages, he allowed Sam to slip his long-sleeved shirt back on, his muscles rolling as he let it drop over his shoulders. Dean looked away. Of course Sam was muscular, he was a Winchester. It was just one more piece of evidence of the life Sam had been brought into. But what use was that strength when you didn't know what to use it for? Sure, ghosts and wendigos and werewolves were all obvious examples of what Sam knew to defeat, but what about things more obscure, less obvious? How would Sam know when to use his fist against a human? Could he distinguish between friendly and pedophile?

Dean scrubbed a hand over his mouth. This wasn't over yet, not by a longshot. He'd let Sam have his much needed rest then, tomorrow, he'd teach him. Teach him of the dangers and possible threats any human could pose. He didn't care if it'd be chick-flicky, or awkward, or any of that shit. This was Sammy he was talking about, and nothing, nothing, was going to happen to him, not ever again.

The hunt would be put on hold for now. He'd make sure of it.

The lights were turned off, and Sam slid under the sheets, looking exhausted even in the dark. He groaned, realizing he hadn't changed into something more comfortable, or at least taken off his jeans. He sighed in annoyance as he pulled off his jeans, and Dean's eye twitched in amusement. Poor little Sammy, you think that is depressing. Wait until morning. Predator Awareness 101.

Dean watched Sam throw his jeans across the room, unaware of what was to come. Dean slid into the bed beside Sam with a smile and threw an arm around the kid's waist, pulling him forward. Sam allowed it, barely, and rested his head lightly on Dean's shoulder, not sure what else to do. Dean played with a few strands of Sam's long hair. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Dean said quietly into the darkness, "Sleep well, Sammy."

He was already asleep.

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Alright, well, there it was! That's all I plan to do for this fanfic, but if you really want a continuation, throw in an idea and I'll get to work on it. I know it took me a while to get this up, but I'll try to get any future updates up sooner. Gosh, I DO keep saying that, don't I? I'm so neglectful.

Hope you liked! Review if you feel the chapter to be worthy or if it could use some serious critique. I accept either or anything in between!