Alright, here's another chapter. I notice I had a few differing ideas of where the story should go, so I hope I was able to appease all sides. If not, let me know so I may somehow correct it in the next chapter. I hope it's acceptable to you all. I'm feeling a bit of the writer's block, so hopefully any lack of creativity or small issues of incompetence aren't too obvious in my writing. And my goodness, this chapter was hard to write.
Warnings: dark, fairly graphic.
Enjoy!
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1 week later
Sam gathered up his books from his desk, placing them-one by-one into his tattered backpack before slinging it onto his shoulder. It was the last period of the day, Honors English, and he couldn't help but feel a bit eager. John had found a hunt in a small town in Ohio and, while Sam hating moving, despised that he couldn't lead a normal life like everyone else, he couldn't help but feel grateful to move on from this disastrous period of his life. There was still a pink tinge on his cheeks from when Dean gave him "the talk"-consisting fully of a red-faced Sam and smirking Dean- and Sam wanted to leave this town, badly, as if he could leave Dean's words behind him, too.
Sam ducked his head subconsciously, hoping no one noticed as he walked down the crowded hallway. This was not something he wanted to think about now, especially not in such a vulnerable place where people could freely ridicule him. After his long, painfully embarassing conversations with his brother, he oddly understood what his brother was talking about now. Standing by the front door in the foyer was a group of three girls, whispering furiously to each other before throwing furtive glances his way, their cheeks almost as red as Sam's had been not so long ago. He ducked his head further, his hair falling safely into his eyes like a curtain and, unintentionally began thinking of the days of late where he had to deal with this.
Dean sat Sam in his lap, petting his long chocolate locks mockingly. Sam pushed his hand away, only to have to push it away again when it came back to his head. He scrambled to get off the bed, but Dean held him in strong arms, and there was no hope for escape. Sam pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Dean, I think you're beginning to take this a bit too far for your own good. As a matter of fact, too far for my own good as well." Sam tested the waters again, attempting escape to no avail. "This is just immature."
Dean laughed. "Oh, come on Sammy, don't be like that. You know you like it."
Sam rolled his eyes as Dean wrapped his arms tighter around Sam's stomach, being sure to avoid the bruises.
Dean cleared his throat with sophistication, as if preparing for a lecture. "Now Sammy, the first step to Predator Awareness 101 is perfectly understanding the environment and situations around you. Not all predators are male, despite your previous encounter, so don't specifically look for predators based solely on gender. Look for groups of people, maybe even one going solo but, in the end, they all look the same. And that, little Sammy, is evil." Sam felt Dean shake his head against the back of his hair. "Not evil as in fangs or vicious claws or outrageously large bodies covered in fur, but more subtle. Those, my dear baby brother, are your ignorance sprouts from." Dean added with a smile, "But don't worry, I'll purge you of this blissful ignorance soon enough." Sam grabbed at the hand wrapped tightly but safely around his ribs and attempted to disattach it. It didn't work. "That's not bad, Sammy. If anyone tries to get the drop on you, fight. Always fight. Of course, I can't exactly say I'm the predator here but, hey, at least you're trying to get the hang of it."
Sam rolled his eyes, dropping his head against Dean's shoulder. There was just no point in fighting it. "Dean, you're so impossible."
That was one of the lesser embarassing moments for sure, and Sam was to remove himself from his thoughts before they continued in a less-than-acceptably graphic direction.
Sam turned and walked toward the front door, deciding to do one of the few things he was good at.
Escape.
Trying hard to ignore the group of girls, Sam pushed open the door to freedom. It was good weather, the wind cool against his skin and the sun glistening from above the clouds, giving everything in it's path a brighter, cheerier aspect. Sam's lips twitched into a smile. It was days like these that he wished he could live a normal life, where he didn't have to worry about training and endurance running all the time. He wanted to just be able to stare at the sky for hours and not worry about having his head eaten off by a wendigo.
It wasn't fair, not really, but Sam would deal. He walked in the direction of their current home, soon passing the school limits and reaching the street. He had been able to persuade Dean into letting him walk to the motel room today, and he was going to take advantage of the newfound independence.
After several minutes of travel, thoughts occupied and hands shoved deep in his baggy jeans, Sam was passing through a suddenly poor, deserted area, the walls dirtied and vandalized, the buildings' windows smashed and shattered on the barely paved ground. To his right was a dark alleyway, the shadows hailing deep within the mold-infested walls and, from within, was a loud, eerie snickering, echoing loudly off the black walls into Sam's ears. Sam stopped dead in his tracks, his hand crawling instantly behind his back for the knife he hid under his hoodie. It was a strong reassurance, feeling the cool metal pressed flat against the small of his back. He slid it out as he neared the alleyway, eyes searching endlessly inside the unyielding black.
His vision had almost become accustomed to the darkness when a small light erupted within the alley, revealing two men standing before him, tall, muscular, and more than deadly. Sam gulped, sliding his knife from his jenas in one swift motion. The men looked unarmed but their fists, in and of themselves, were just as much of a weapon as any knife, the knuckles protruding and the veins running deep along their toned arms.
Sam took a step back, instead preparing to flee, when his back bumped into something hard. He turned around swiftly, his knife drawn and held in a fighting stance. There were two more men behind him, just as menacing and huge as the other two. Sam backed up a step, subconsciously realizing he was surrounded. The two men stepped forward more and more until he was completely cornered, the four men standing around him offensively, all smirking.
Sam's heart was beating erratically, pounding against his chest so hard he nearly considered covering it, just in case it broke through his flesh and fled. Hell, Sam wouldn't even blame the damn thing if it did.
Another man, taller but slightly leaner than the others, came from behind him, hair jet black and cheek bruised a brownish-yellow. The same hue was surrounding his eye, fully engulfing.
A whimper almost escaped Sam's lips. This man, this hideous parody of a human, was the guy from the mall, the guy that...Sam shut his eyes tight for a moment, eyes bleary. How could this possibly end?
The man from the mall took a step forward, his mouth curled into a wicked smile. "I don't believe we've been formerly introduced. My name is Roy Thomas." His smile grew. "And you, Sam Turner, belong to me."
Sam took a step back, now only a foot from the wall, his mind rapidly calculating his situation, just as had Dean taught him. What he didn't understand was how this Roy had known he would be here. It was obviously planned. All five men looked prepared and more than capable of restraint, and Sam was neither. He was completely trapped, and had no way of defending himself except for a small four inch, suddenly useless knife.
Roy stepped forward until he was standing directly in front of Sam, having to lean down slightly to look him fully in his bright, beautiful eyes. Roy's smirk widened as he caught a glimpse of Sam's spilling emotions. Sam looked down, knife hanging limply in his fingers, as if forgotten, and Roy placed a finger under Sam's chin, pointing it up. He wanted to see Sam's eyes, needed to. He smiled. "We're going to have so much fun Sammy." Sam flinched, quiet and still, then suddenly swung out with the knife, the sharp point grazing harshly across Roy's cheek. The man screamed, probably more out of surprise than pain, his hand holding onto the gushing wound as Sam attempted his escape. The four men were already closing further in on him, and Sam thought of just weaving around them. He knew it'd never work, and he brought his knife up for another swipe. He went for the guy nearest him, his knife cutting into the man's chest before going again into his arm. Sam pulled out as the man did nothing more than gasp sharply. Of course it wouldn't hurt him that much, the four men were like damn bulldozers.
It took more of a literal meaning when one of them rushing into Sam's back, throwing him off his feet violently as he crashed into the floor, the knife being knocked from his grasp. His still healing bruises brushed harshly against the unforgiving asphalt. The man above him flipped him over, his fists connecting perfectly with Sam's face and chest. Sam tried to shield himself, his arms held protectively in front of his face, but it was no use.
"Stop," Roy ordered, now dawning a long red scratch across his right cheek. The man instantly stopped, his fist hanging loosely in mid-air. Instead, he got off the limp boy currently gasping for breath and knelt above the boy's head. He took Sam's arms into a tight and unrelenting grip, held high above Sam's head, acting as good as any pair of handcuffs.
Roy, though furious because of his own temporarily tarnished beauty, couldn't help but admire Sam's feeble attempts to escape, though entirely futile. Even more he couldn't help to admire, though, was how fucking sexy Sam looked. Sweat dribbled lightly down his face, his body stretched long, arms held uselessly above his head. He looked so vulnerable. Roy smirked in lust.
He was in control now.
Sam kicked out with his legs aimlessly, hoping to connect with something, anything. Two strong hands were grabbing onto each leg now, and suddenly he found himself completely subdued. There were two men at his feet and another restraining his hands. Where was the other?
Sam cried out, his arms and legs flailing out in hopes that one of them would make a mistake. Was this it? He was a Winchester, damn it, this couldn't happen to him.
But, Sam blatantly realized, it could. He was always the weakest, never really a true Winchester when it came to strength or courage. He was just a regular guy trying to be Superman. Of course it could happen to him.
Roy knelt beside Sam, not even attempting discretion as he carefully eyed every ounce of his body, soaking in the heat and pure beauty of Sam's perfection. His hand reached for the hem of Sam's shirt, and Sam stilled, his eyes wide.
"Please stop."
Roy looked into the boy's terrified eyes and smiled. "Now Sammy, why would I do that? You're much too beautiful to resist." He leaned in close, his eyes wandering over his perfect, plump, begging lips before looking once more into Sam's hazel-green eyes. "Do you realize how long I've waited for this? How long I've searched for someone like you?" He stroked Sam's smooth, unblemished face, playing with the light freckles scattered across his cheeks. "So beautiful...". He rolled his finger down to the boy's lips, tracing them in awe before leaning forward, eyes closing.
Sam thrashed again, his head butting violently into Roy's. Roy gasped, slapping Sam violently in the face. "You'll wish you hadn't have done that, boy," he said angrily. That hadn't stopped him, not one bit, and Sam almost regretted doing it. Almost. Roy grabbed his chin and pressed their lips together mercilessly. Roy forced his tongue in as it roamed around aimlessly against Sam's will, nearly sweltering in the heat of Sam's mouth. He tried pushing Roy off again but the man was more than ready this time, one hand pressing into Sam's cheek, keeping it glued to the asphalt.
Roy removed his tongue from the boy's mouth as he trailed his hands over his toned stomach. Once again grabbing for the hem of Sam's shirt, he lifted it and, grabbing the knife Sam had dropped, cut into it vertically. Soon, the shirt was being discarded and Roy could marvel in the utter masterpiece that was Sam. He felt himself nearly drooling at the boy's stupendous body, the muscles rolling underneath thin skin. Two bruises were crossing horizontally across Sam's abs, and Roy traced them lightly. "I did this?", he asked with an odd, twitching smile. This was his mark, his mark that signified Sam was his, his and no one else's. He kissed the two bruises lightly, and he felt Sam constantly bucking underneath him in an effort to get away.
"Now, Sammy, I don't want you getting too tired. We haven't even started yet," Roy said, his smile widening at Sam's panicked reaction, the realization still bright in his eyes.
"You're disgusting."
Roy feigned a hurt expression, looking insulted. "Don't say that, Sammy, all I want to do is love you."
As if on cue, Roy reached his hand out expectantly to the remaining bodyguard, instantly given a small syringe, the liquid a darker color in the poor lighting. Sam watched the exchange with wide eyes, fighting against his restraints all the more. Roy smiled ferally. "I have some rather unfortunate news to relay, baby boy. While I do trust my colleagues to keep you quite capably confined, I'm afraid I'm going to be slipping something into that beautiful body of yours to make sure it stays that way." Roy shrugged, nonchalant, and added with a smile, "I guess I prefer being in complete control of my...love life."
Roy brought the syringe to the crook of Sam's elbow and pushed it in hard. The drug entered Sam's system, and all the men watched as Sam's fighting slowed, what little movement he was capable of before now reduced and sluggish. Soon he was just laying flat on the ground, impeded almost completely of movement. The men had all made sure anyone under the influence of the drug could still see and change directions in eyesight. Roy had emphasized that he wanted his victims to be able to see what was happening to them.
Roy smiled wickedly, Sam's unfocused eyes watching Roy's every movement. "Now we can begin." Roy bent over the beautiful boy and nipped at his neck, his teeth lightly biting into smooth skin. He worked his way down Sam's body, his tongue tracing over his chest. Sam didn't even flinch, wasn't able to, and Roy was filled with glee at the mere thought of his complete and utter control. He could do this all night and still Sam would be unable to defend himself, his body used and loved on for hours without the slightest intermission. Maybe he'd allow the others to have a piece of Sammy too, after he was done.
And who says he'd ever be done?
Roy continued his ministrations, licking and biting at Sam's chest before rolling his tongue further down Sam's toned stomach, dipping briefly into his navel. He groaned, the bulge between his legs almost impossible to ignore. Still licking, he brought his hand up to the waistband of Sam's jeans and snapped the button undone, sliding the zipper down. He couldn't resist but place his hand on the boy's crotch, stroking it sensually through the denim. Roy nearly gasped, his mind still not fully wrapped around how gorgeous this boy was.
He looked up to see the boy's expression. A tear had escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek before hitting the cold ground. His eyes were looking to the right of Roy, almost accepting of his fate, and Roy looked behind him in realization.
He smiled, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. "Aw, so you found Joshua? Yeah, we wanted to make sure this memory stayed locked in our mind for good." Joshua chuckled behind him, the video camera held in both hands to keep it steady.
"Touch his cock again, that was really fucking hot."
Roy smiled, bending down to peck his lips onto Sam's crotch, his hand crawling under Sam's ass and squeezing tightly.
Sam closed his eyes as tightly as the drug in his system would allow, another tear gliding down his cheek. He shut his mind off, begging for reprieve from this nightmare.
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Is Sam going to be saved in time? Man, I feel extremely dirty right now. I hope you all understand the underlining message in all this, because that was hard to write and I don't think I can get much more descriptive than that. I was actually not planning on making it so graphic, not at all, but it somehow just kind of happened. Poor Sammy, look what I did to him.
So I'm thinking one more chapter, no more than two..probably. I'm such a pushover, so probably whatever y'all say goes. I'm not quite sure how to end this. Do y'all actually want Sam getting raped? I've gotten both sides in the reviews and messages in respect to this topic, but I'm thinking Dean and John should save him in time. I want him to be able to get on the mend quickly, you know? I hate hurting poor Sammy, so unless I get an overwhelming amount, I'll probably save the little guy.
Hope you enjoyed!