Apparently there is one more chapter after this one. Thank you to everyone for their kind words and support of this rather dark story. Please heed the warnings on the first chapter and a special thank you to Trasan for encouraging me to post and Alaina for having the courage to read this. Even if she didn't get the blood lust she wanted :P
Unconventional
OR
When good fans, go bad
Chapter 2Dean's here. Dean's here. Dean's here, Sam's mind chanted, the relief like an ice cold glass of water for his burning mind, but still those unwanted touches didn't move, just stilled.
But Lucifer was gone; the cajoling voice fleeing in the light of such strength.
Dean was here.
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"Get the fuck off my brother, bitch," Dean raged at the woman, his handgun trained on the guy as he saw the other weapon lying on the night table behind the man.
The woman, a tiny thing with too much lipstick, pouted. "Dean?" She slowly slid off Sam, apparently smart enough to know Dean wouldn't be asking so nicely the second time. "Guess you got out of hell then, huh?"
"Something like that," he growled, motioning for them to get away from the bed as he moved towards it.
"D-Dean?" Sam's voice rasped out. The kid sounded terrible; Dean needed to get him out of here.
"S'okay, bro," he assured the younger man as he dropped a hand to the closest of Sam's bound wrists and started to work the knot. "I got this."
The man made a move towards the other gun but Dean crossed the distance between them and backhanded him with the gun. The pervert dropped like a ton of bricks as the woman screamed. The hunter fixed her with a deadly glare and she shut up.
Satisfied for a moment, Dean turned back to his brother and saw a knife lying on the mattress. Rolling his eyes at the stupidity of the bitch for not having grabbed it herself, Dean deftly snagged it and made quick work of his brother's bindings.
As soon as he was free, Sam shot up and was off the bed, one hand grabbing at the waist of his jeans and yanking them up as the other steadied him against the far wall. He was still breathing too fast, his face too pale. Blood red lipstick smeared Sam's face, neck and the painful looking scratches on the younger man's chest – it settled Dean's determination.
Forcing himself to turn his back on his brother, Dean steadied his aim on the woman and spoke over his shoulder; his voice gentled as he spoke to his obviously traumatized sibling. "Wait in the hall, Sammy. I'll be there in a minute." His tone hardened as locked eyes with the blond. "This won't take very long."
"Dean… no," Sam protested. "Please. They aren't worth this."
"You're right, they aren't," Dean easily agreed. "But you are. Outside, Sam. I mean it."
"Sam –wait, no," the woman called out, Dean's intent finally seeming to hit home. "This is all a silly mistake-"
"Silly?" Incredulity clung to the anger in Dean's voice. He knew Sam had just jerked without even looking back. "You call sexual assault? Attempted rape? Silly? Sam. Go. Now."
"No!" the blond tried again, "We didn't mean any harm. I just love Sam sooo much… I wanted the ultimate fan experience. I just had to have him."
"Love?" Dean stepped towards her in disbelief. "How can you love him? You don't even know him… Sam is a person, a human being. Not an object, not just something you can force yourself on just because you want him. What about what Sam wants? Huh? What about that?" He flung a hand back towards his brother. "Did you even stop to ask him?"
The door behind them opened to a shamefaced Chuck.
"Get Sam out of here, Chuck," Dean growled, knowing the little prophet felt horrible about all this and would do anything Dean said to try to make it up. "Now." The conversation with this bitch was over.
Sam made some sort of protest but let Chuck shepherd him out of the room anyway.
It was only when the door closed safely, blocking his brother from witnessing this that Dean smiled. "Okay, bitches," he grinned, his eyes darkening with his own feral lust. "You've read about how pissed off I get when someone targets Sam… Now you're going to get to see it, up close. And personal…"
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"Don't touch me!" Sam pushed Chuck away as the author closed the door separating him from his brother. His body was badly shaking, his nerves shot, but he shoved his own feelings aside, afraid now of what was going to happen to Dean. As much as he wanted Heather and Guy dead – oh God, he'd never felt so helpless before – he didn't want Dean to destroy himself killing them. He knew how much the older man was still haunted by those years in hell, and was afraid that doing this would open barely sealed wounds. No, Sam didn't want that. He'd rather die first.
Becky, waiting in the hallway, watched with wide eyes.
"Sam," Chuck tried to grab his arm again when Sam turned towards the room again.
Sam shook him off, knocking the smaller man back against the wall.
"Sam!" A horrified sounding Becky rushed towards them but Chuck warned her off with a shake of his head.
"It's okay," he told her.
The sound of muffled screaming in the room behind them set Sam off again. He had to get back in there –
Or…
Sam had an idea. He just hoped it worked.
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Dean felt no remorse as he savagely tied Guy face down to the bed using the same ropes he had just cut Sam free from. Behind him Heather whimpered through her gag as she watched from the chair he'd forced her to sit in while he bound her first then turned his attention to her husband.
The idea that they teamed up to assault his brother sickened Dean and fired hatred through his hell-seared soul. Oh God, if he'd been any later… Dean didn't even want to think about it. No, it didn't happen. Or at least it didn't look like it happened… but he knew there were many other ways to hurt a man that were easier to hide.
Fury colored his moral code and he relished in the horrified look on the woman's face as he slammed the knife he'd found in the room, deep into the mattress next to her husband's face and pulled out his old, much bigger and wicked version.
Blood from her split lip stained the gag as she screamed something and Dean turned away from the man and stalked towards her, his voice low and venomous, the blade dangling deceptively loose in his grip. "I always come for my brother," his voice was so low it was more a rumble than words. "Everyone at this convention knows that much, except, it would seem, you…" The woman paled further, tears running the mascara down her face as Dean pressed the knife against her cheek. He drew blood. "But that's okay," his voice turned conversational as a deadly smirk twisted his lips. "I'm going to make sure it's a lesson you won't live to forget."
And then as he drew blood, Castiel was there.
"Dean."
"Go away, Cas," Dean growled the knife still biting Heather's skin, drinking in her blood.
"You can't do this."
"Oh yeah?" Dean snorted. "Just watch me."
The angel put a hand on the hunter's extended arm. "Dean," he tried again.
"Cas…" he growled the name in warning. "I need to do this for Sam." And for himself, but Dean didn't consider what he needed right now.
Dean could feel the intensity of the angel's gaze. "Sam would not want you to do this."
And wasn't that a kick in the nuts because the angry young man knew that his celestial friend was right. Sam would not want this at all. But what his brother wanted and needed were two different things.
"What your brother needs is you," Castiel answered as if he'd read Dean's thoughts, which he probably had. Heather watched, hopeful eyes on the angel, although she would have no idea who he was. "Not this."
"You don't understand," Dean grit out, his eyes firmly locked on the woman's.
"I understand far better than you may realize." There was true compassion in the angel's voice and Dean felt his resolve wavering. "So believe me when I say your brother needs you more right now than he – than you – need this."
Dean swallowed hard, his desire for revenge beating heads with his pounding heart. It screamed at him to go to Sam, make sure Sam was okay. Make sure Sam stayed okay.
"He didn't deserve this." The hunter finally met the angel's gaze. There was deep sadness in his friend's eyes.
"No," Castiel approved, "he did not."
And it helped. Dean could not say how but to hear an angel, albeit a fallen angel, admit how wrong this was, helped.
Slowly, he let his knife hand drop.
"What about them?" Dean asked, his eyes traveling between Heather to a still unconscious Guy. He couldn't just let them go –
Castiel met his dilemma with one of grim countenance. "Go," he instructed softly. "I will take care of them. You take care of Sam."
"Okay," Dean finally agreed but before he could walk away he looked at Heather one more time. Leaned in so close that she could count the freckles on his nose and whispered. "I will make sure he forgets you," then straightened up, turned away from her and left the room. He would never ask Castiel what he did or what happened after he was gone. Dean honestly did not want to know.
He had a little brother to check on.
------
"I'm sorry."
So intent on what might be going on behind the closed door, Sam startled when Chuck spoke. He'd forgotten that Chuck and Becky were still here.
Brow furrowed, the hunter stared at the other man, his agitated mind trying to focus on the writer. "Sorry?"
"Yeah, you know for -" Chuck grimaced and waved a hand at Sam, "-that."
The hunter's eyes automatically tracked the movement, and looked down… at himself. His coat and unbuttoned shirt hung open; his bare chest peeked out between the ruined folds of his undershirt, traces of blood tickling the edges. He snaked a shaking hand through the material and grasped at it, pulling the pieces together; covering up.
Comprehension melted Sam's face, renewed horror threaded his veins. "What?" his throat heaved out the word. Surely, he had to be wrong –
It couldn't be –He lifted his eyes back to the prophet.
Chuck wouldn't have –
"Chuck?" Becky's voice was like a buzz in his ear; it made his skin crawl. "What's going on?" But Chuck didn't answer; he was completely focused on Sam.
"I didn't really realize – well I knew, sorta, but I didn't… until Dean - Oh Jesus, man." The profit shifted uncomfortably in front of him as Sam just stared. "It's not right, I know but… what was I supposed to do?"
The hunter saw the blossoming bruise on Chuck's stubbled jaw. "You… knew?" he managed. "And?" His voice was starting to crack. There was no noise coming from the room now and as desperate as he was to know what was happening and to make sure Dean was okay, Sam couldn't get past this. "And, you were okay with it? Okay that… I was going to be-"
He couldn't say it.
Sam couldn't get the word out.
Around him the hallway was starting to blur, the air getting harder to breathe.
"No, man, no!" Chuck tried to refute but Sam wasn't listening. His mind was spinning, fracturing on the idea that this person – this man that Sam might have called a 'friend' only an hour ago – had known what was going to happen to him and still let it happen.
"But," struggling, Sam turned towards Becky gesturing helplessly with his free hand. "But she brought us here… and you knew what was going to happen?" He remembered Chuck's apology only yesterday after the Winchesters had shown up. Sam had thought it was for what they were about to see, but now he wasn't so sure. Chuck knew.
Self-loathing raised its head again. "You think I deserved this," he spoke slowly, like someone working hard to soften a tough piece of meat before swallowing. "You told me before that I had to know that the blood thing was wrong…" Chuck was shaking his head but Sam was just shaking. "You think I deserved this? That I should be punished?"
"No. No," the smaller man tried to interject again. "Sam, you're not listen-"
"Dean made you talk," Sam pointed towards Chuck's bruise. Dean had obviously somehow figured out that Chuck knew something and convinced the man to talk; with his usual tack and threat of violence of course. "You didn't come up here on your own to stop this… You were just going to let them rape me -" Bile rose in the back of Sam's throat.
Oh God, he'd said it.
And before he could see the look of revulsion on their faces, Sam turned and bolted down the hall. Becky called after him but he kept running.
Dean would be just fine.
Dean had an angel with him and Castiel wouldn't let his brother do anything stupid.
But Sam?
Sam's skin burned from unwanted touch. His mouth knew the taste of another man.
Sam had Lucifer.
So he just kept on running.
------
Dean yanked open the door and stepped into the hallway. He looked around then settled on Chuck. There wasn't anything friendly in the gaze or tone as he just barked out, "Where's Sam?"
Chuck swallowed hard and offered a meek and apologetic smile. "Uh, yeah, about Sam…" he shifted uncomfortably then just blurted out. "I think I made a horrible mistake…"
tbc