Title: Paint it Black 8/9
Pairing: John/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4230
Disclaimer: If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*
Warning: Drug abuse, Sexual abuse, Violence

Summary: Dean's been keeping secrets. His family's not sure how to deal with that.

A/N: This has not been beta'd. If I made any really bad mistakes (or just did something that annoys you) let me know.

Chapter Eight

Three Days Ago…

There were a lot of reasons for Sugar's nickname. The first, obviously, was that he sold 'candy', drugs that were in high demand among teenaged users. The second was that he had a nice little shop of desperate young sluts, mostly female but there were a few pretty boys, who were willing to endure just about anything a john could dish out just to keep the flow of drugs coming.

Of course there was also the fact that he had some 'sugar in his tank'. It was no secret that he enjoyed breaking in his boys far more then breaking in the girls. So when he saw Dean... Fuck, that boy was pretty with his big green eyes, freckles and cock sucking lips. He even looked younger than he was, young and innocent. Johns ate that kind of thing up with a spoon. One weekend, when the kid had shown up with his girlfriend all tied into knots over something but a little short of the cash he needed to get himself right, Sugar had laughed when he said he was 'good for it'. If he had a dollar for every time he heard that one. He took the boy out back and explained to him how things were. It was obvious that the prissy little bitch thought he was too good to give a little head to get what he needed. In the end, Sugar got what he wanted, and he was pleased to realize that the boy was no stranger to having a cock in his mouth.

After that, he became determined to add Dean to his candy shop. He'd bring in a lot of money before he was all used up. But he only got a couple more blow jobs out of the boy, and only when he was wound so tight that he probably would have done a lot worse to get his drugs.

When Dean came to him all desperate to buy 40 pills with a hand full of cash he'd done God only knew what to get, Sugar saw his chance. He offered him a bag filled with 100 pills, told the kid all he had to do was work for the weekend and they were all his. The kid had refused. Sugar said he wouldn't get another pill from him until he did as he was told. He thought the kid was desperate enough to be pushed into it… but the next thing he knew he was picking himself up off the floor feeling like a freight train had hit him to find the pills and the kid gone.

He'd thought it was a great stroke of luck when he saw him that day at the gas station. He hadn't been carrying, otherwise he'd have shot Dean's meddling father so he could finish beating the boy into submission. He still had plans for him. He'd stolen four thousand dollars' worth of drugs from him. He'd killed people for less. He was feeling merciful, though. All he wanted was to tie the boy to a bed and see how many trains he'd have to pull to earn it back. Plus interest.

But he hadn't had his gun and Dean had disappeared after that. Until two weeks ago when he'd walked into his diner. He looked different, sure. The years had given his features a hardness he hadn't had at eighteen. He was broader, more muscular. He'd grown into those ridiculous lips. He was also clean; Sugar could tell that just from watching him. After all these years, addiction would have long since destroyed his looks. But he still had the same short sandy hair and the same charming, contagious smile. He was still gorgeous even if he wasn't a sweet little twink anymore.

Sugar knew he'd have to come at the man sideways. Even that day in the bathroom, after having had his head smashed pretty good twice – once in the mirror and then again on the corner of the sink – and being kicked in the ribs, he'd still managed to fight three bigger, older boys off. He wouldn't have lasted long if his father hadn't come riding to the rescue, but still. He'd have done some damage during the take down.

He called the waitress over. Her name was Cheryl and she just happened to be one of his best customers. He offered her a day's free ride if she put a crushed oxy pill in Dean's coffee.

"Make sure it's dissolved," he told the stupid cow, digging his fingers into her arm hard enough to bruise after palming her the Oxy.

Then he just sat back and enjoyed the show. The alarm on the kid's face was clear, almost comical, when he realized that he was high. He stumbled out of the diner like he was desperate to get away and Sugar followed him, pushed him into a nearby alley.

Dean turned to face him as he stumbled deeper into the alley. He blinked and squinted at him and Sugar could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "Sugar?" he slurred out.

"Good memory. Daddy's not here to save you today, is he?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fuck."

"Yeah. That's exactly what I'm gonna do to you. And then I'm gonna have a couple dozen customers come by and do the same thing. How many do you think it's gonna take for me to get back my 4k? Of course, there's the interest. Unfortunately, the more used you are the more the price drops. And you're not worth as much as you were when you were 18 anyway. How much do you think's gonna be left of you by the time I get my money back?"

Dean's eyes were wide and desperate. "I'll kill you."

"That's not how this is goin' down, Deano."

"Don't fuckin' call me that," he gritted out, sounding angry and leaning against the wall for support. "Only my Dad gets to call me that."

Sugar snorted out a laugh. "You're Dad ain't gonna be callin' you anything anymore."

That's when Dean rushed him, like a wild animal. If it hadn't been for the drugs, Sugar was sure he wouldn't have stood much of a chance. But Dean was uncoordinated and slow and Sugar easily put him down with a few well-placed punches. The kid was heavy, solid, but he managed to manhandle him into his trunk.

That had turned out to be a bad idea. One of his boys ended up with a broken nose getting Dean out of there. The kid managed to get the tire iron out of the wheel well. It took three more guys to subdue him and by the time they got him tied up, naked and spread eagle, to the bed in the spare room, he wasn't lookin' so pretty anymore.

Sugar was pissed. So pissed that he waited for Dean to begin sobering up before he started anything. He found Dean trembling and sweating.

"Want some Oxy, Dean."

"No thanks."

"You're gonna beg for it before I'm through." He pushed a dry finger inside Dean's hole. It offered only slight resistance. "I see you're getting' fucked regular. Nobody's gonna want you after this, Dean. Not unless they like used drug whores. Gonna fuck you dry, Dean. Only lube'll be your blood."

"You'll never get your money back you hurt me too bad," the kid pointed out. Sugar could barely hear the fear in his voice.

"You think this is about the money anymore?" he crooked his finger and twisted.

Dean grunted and trembled. He never did scream, but he did cry. He enjoyed that almost as much as how tight the kid was, and how he never stopped trembling. Sugar had given him to the guy who's nose he'd broken next. But somehow Dean got out of the ropes. There were five men in the house besides Sugar. Three of them were muscle. Dean had gone through them like a hot knife through butter. Sugar had ended up in the hospital with multiple contusions, four cracked ribs and 49 stitches.

That had been bad enough, but he came out of his back room a week later after he finally got out of the hospital to figure out what the commotion was to find Dean's father in his house, all the men guarding the house in crumpled heaps around him. The man didn't even look winded. Sugar knew he was in trouble. Everything Dean had done… he'd been in withdrawal after being fucked bloody twice. The father was even bigger and meaner looking. And from the looks of him completely uninjured.

"Hey, he's not here, I swear. I don't know where he is."

"But he was here? You brought him here."

"I got no beef with you or your kid."

"You gave him drugs."

"That's what I do, man! I'm a dealer!"

"You spiked his god damn coffee. What else did you do to him? Where is my son?"

"I don't know where he is!"

The man growled like an enraged bear and Sugar pissed himself. "You're gonna tell me what you did with him one way or the other."

"I just fucked 'im, okay? I was gonna make him work off the twenty grand… but he got away. I just wanted my 4k back, plus, you know, interest. And then there's inflation. If he'd just done what I wanted in the first place, none of this woulda happened."

"He got away?"

"Yeah. He put me in the hospital for three days. Look what he did to me! So… we're even, right? I fucked him over, he fucked me over."

He thought the man would leave then, but he didn't. He seemed to take extreme exception to the coffee spiking and the fucking, despite that his son had already beaten the shit out of him. He forced Sugar to show him where he'd tied Dean down. The man's face turned white.

"This my boy's blood," he asked. Sugar really should have had someone change the damn sheets.

"Uh… I dunno."

"You know what I think? I think you're lyin'." The man's voice was a dangerous growl. When he made Sugar strip down before tying him to the same bed, he thought the son of a bitch was going to rape him, but he just left him there. Once his boys came to, they'd let him go. This was humiliating, sure, but he could come back from this. That's when he felt a sharp pinch in his ass.

"The only reason I'm not gonna end you now is that I don't kill people," a deep gravelly voice said in his ear. Dean's father. Shit, he hadn't heard him come back inside the room. "Not even pathetic, worthless pieces of shit like you. But you ever come after my boy again? I'mma stop carin' and kill you slow and painful. Course, the shit in this syringe might kill you anyway since I got no idea what the hell it is. Just found it layin' around." Then there was a rush of something cold under his skin as Dean's father pushed the plunger on the needle he'd stuck in Sugar's ass. It felt like someone was submerging him in an ice bath.

"Hope I didn't give you too much," the man said, his voice sounding a thousand miles away and getting further. "I'd hate it if you couldn't properly appreciate this."

Then there were hands all over him. "You sure this is free?" said a voice he vaguely recognized. Panic seized him as the realization that they didn't know it was him slowly seeped into his drug addled brain. Dean had done one hell of a number on his face. Not even his mother was likely to recognize him with all the bruising and swelling.

"Yeah," Dean's father said. "Sugar's orders. Don't got no lube around. Guess you'll just have to take 'im dry."

That's when he started screaming. Only he couldn't scream. Whatever the man had injected him with turned his screams into pitiful moans.

"Look at him… he's moanin' for it already."

That had been nearly a week ago. He woke up in the hospital with a torn intestinal tract. None of his people would look him in the eye and rumors were running rampant on the street. The truth was bad enough, but the shit people were coming up with was worse. He was finished here. He was going to have to relocate somewhere far away, and hope that this didn't follow him. And he never wanted to see Dean or his damn father again.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

The thing about Dean was that he was affectionate. Not verbally, of course. The boy was still a Winchester and that meant he wasn't big on words. But he liked to touch and be touched. Liked sitting on the couch next to John with his head on his shoulder. Liked it when John rested a hand on his thigh while they were driving. Liked long, lazy make out sessions until they were both so wound up they couldn't think straight.

Now all that was gone and John felt like he was trying to live without oxygen. He was always angry. Always frustrated. He wanted to track Sugar down again and kill him for sure this time, slow and painful. He wanted to turn back time and prevent it from happening at all. He'd promised Dean that he wouldn't let anything happen to him. That he wouldn't let anyone hurt him.

It was good, though, to spend some time with his youngest son again. Made him wonder if things could ever be good between him and both his sons at the same time. Avery took to Sam, repeatedly pulling his leg. It was obvious that the boy had never spent any time around children, so Avery ruthlessly exploited his lack of knowledge. It was kind of entertaining to watch.

"You know my son has been completely taking advantage of you, right?" Dean finally said the day after John arrived with the kid, clearly amused. Avery was sound asleep on the little portable bed that John finally brought up from the car.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Seriously, kiddo," John said, trying to take his mind off the curve of Dean's neck. He wanted nothing more than to run his tongue along it and feel his son shiver against him. It was starting to come close to an obsession. "You bend over any further for the boy and you're gonna be lookin' at the world from between your ankles."

"He's just a kid," Sam said defensively.

"He's five, not two," Dean countered.

"So, he's really…"

"Manipulating you?" John asked, barely keeping a straight face. "Like it's his damn job."

"You haven't touched me since you been here." Dean's voice floated softly through the darkness and John was instantly, completely awake. He'd fallen asleep on the couch after dinner, like an old man, and the boys had left him there. They were the only people who could move around without waking him up if he wasn't on high alert about something. The sounds of his boys were as much a part of him as his own heartbeat.

John cleared his throat and focused on his son's outline. "I've been dyin' to since five minutes after you pulled outta the hotel back in Tulsa."

"But you haven't," the kid pointed out.

If only he knew how badly John itched to touch him. How much he wanted to hold him and never let him go again. "What's best for you, what you need, comes first. I love you more than I want you. And I want you a whole hell of a lot, baby."

"Even after what happened?"

"Yes."

John felt the couch dip and suddenly Dean was lying next to him, the boy's breath hot against his neck. And fuck, he missed this more than the sex. Missed having his boy in his arms, feeling his breath on his skin. "I want you too. But I can't get… can't get him outta my head. I want you to touch me and 'm afraid for you to. Afraid I'll remember at the wrong time and freak out. Afraid that I'm not… worth it anymore. I feel dirty… like 'm not good enough for you to touch anymore. Like he ruined me."

He fisted his hands in an effort to keep himself from touching. "'S not true. I love you and I ain't ever gonna stop. Nothin' he did can change us or ruin you. Would it be okay if I held you?"

There was silence and John was afraid he'd say no and he'd have to go another night without Dean in his arms. Everything he'd read said he'd have to ask permission before touching, and that he would have to find some way to deal with the frustration when he didn't get it. He felt his boy nod and wrapped his arms around the boy, grateful for the chance, and held him close until they both fell asleep.

SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN

When Sam found his father and brother wrapped around each other on his couch in the morning, he thought maybe it was just a strange one-time event. But eventually he realized it was more than that. There was just something about their body language when they were together, something about the way they looked at each other and spoke to each other as Dean made them breakfast and John set the small table. They'd packed up all their stuff just after lunch and John had taken Avery out to the car when Sam cornered his brother.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"The guy you fell in love with. Was it…" his voice trailed off and he took a deep breath, unable to believe that he was actually about to ask this question. It was insane. He'd be lucky if Dean didn't actually knock out some teeth. "Was it Dad?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"It was, wasn't it?" Sam felt a sudden rush of anger. If it weren't true, his brother would have been angry. Instead his was defensive. It was bad enough that John had turned Dean into the perfect soldier, now he was using him for sex. And Dean was letting him, even thought it was love or some shit. "God damn it, Dean," he hissed out through clenched teeth.

"What?" Dean asked, scowling. He didn't seem angry really. Just… offended. "You gonna judge us? You don't got the right to judge us, Sam!"

"'M not judgin' you… but he's our father, Dean. How long has he been taking advantage of you like this?"

Dean shook his head. "I was over 18. He didn't… he didn't molest me or rape me or take advantage of me. I wanted it so bad that I started drinkin' and usin' drugs 'cause I was tryin' to forget what a fuck up I obviously was. I mean, who the hell wants to have sex with their own father, right? Everything you're thinkin' about me right now, I thought about myself and worse. You hear about plenty of fathers who wanna fuck their kids, who sneak into their beds at night and fuck 'em up real good. But you never hear about kids who want their fathers to sneak into their beds. The Oxy kept me from thinkin' about how wrong I obviously was, from feelin' like I would die from the shame and pain of it. When he found out about the drugs, Dad insisted I get clean and stay clean but to do that… I had to tell the truth. You have to be brutally honest about shit in order to get off an addiction and stay off, especially the shit that hurts. So I told him."

"And he just decided that it would be a good idea to have sex with you?"

"No… he loved me. I'm not gonna apologize for that. Are we fucked up? Yeah, Sam, we're seriously fucked up. But it's okay because we're honest with each other and even better we work. And we're actually happy. I'm not gonna feel ashamed of it, or of myself or how I feel. I'm not gonna live a lie. Not again. This is me. I can't be anything but who and what I am, not if I wanna stay sane. So take it or leave it."

"You'd choose Dad over me?"

Dean snorted. "You already chose 'normal' over both of us, Sammy. We're still right where you left us."

"This was goin' on… years before I left."

"Yeah. I'm sorry for that. Sometimes I think one of the reasons you wanted to get away so bad was because you could feel that we were hidin' somethin' from you, that we kept you out of so much. Lies destroy. That's why I can't go back to livin' one. Even if Dad and I don't work out, even if we end badly… If one of us dies or gets sick of the other, it'll still be better than never having had what we got."

"What if Dad didn't… feel the same way about you?"

"Then that would've been… awkward. But it wouldn't have mattered. What mattered was that I was bein' honest. That I was bein' myself. It hurts to live a lie, Sammy. It hurts to deny who you are and be someone else every minute of every day. It hurts and it's exhausting and it… it kills you inside."

Sam couldn't meet his brother's eyes. Why did it feel like they weren't just talking about Dean anymore? He felt Dean's hand on his shoulder.

"When you get tired of dyin' inside, you know how to find us."

"I'm not…"

"Not a single person in your life right now knows the real Sam. I'm not sayin' you're an addict, man. I didn't see you gettin' drunk or high or any of that shit. But you live like one. You lie like one."

Sam's head shot up at that. Dean's eyes were so fucking sad. "They know the Sam I want to be."

"Then you need to want to be the Sam you are," Dean said with a smirk. "I know I liked that guy. Dad did too. Have him call me when you see him again."

Dean moved his hand to the top of Sam's head and smiled. Then he was gone, heading out of the apartment. The place felt impossibly small and empty without his family there. His father came back in a few minutes later, filling up even more space than Dean had, sucking all the oxygen out of the room. He wanted to rail at John for using Dean… but his brother had been so damn happy since John showed up. Whatever had been wrong with him was still obviously there, but it had done him a world of good to have their father around. That had to count for something, right?

"We're headin' out, Sammy. Dean said you know everything?"

Sam shook his head at a loss for words. "I don't… what the hell am I supposed to say? Congratulations?"

John snorted. "Yeah. I can see how you wouldn't feel like throwin' us a party. I sort of consider it a good sign that you haven't tried to shot, stab or at least punch me yet."

"Crossed my mind."

"I bet."

"If you hurt him, I'll kill you."

John pursed his lips and studied Sam's face. "Good. I'll deserve it. So… about you and me?"

"I don't know if I want anything to do with you anymore."

His father looked stricken. "Oh. I guess… I guess I can understand that, son." He swallowed and cleared his throat. He finally gave a half-hearted smile and a nod. "Take care of yourself, okay? Try to find a way to work the word 'Cristo' into a conversation or two every now and again."

Sam didn't expect seeing that look on his father's face would hurt so much, or that seeing him willing to just walk away would feel so wrong. His father was actually walking away for the first time. "Dad?"

The older man stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

He took a deep breath. "If you call, I'll still answer."

John snorted out a relieved laugh and turned to face him again. "Then I'll definitely call." John held out his arms and Sam stood to give him a hug.

It was almost embarrassing how much he craved his father's affection. More than that… his approval. He wondered if John had been holding back all this time for fear of his reaction when he found out about his relationship with Dean. John was still bigger than he was. He was shorter now, but his was still broader and stronger and… Dad. "I missed you, Dad," he said in an attempt at honesty.

"I missed you too, Sammy. Let's not go this long without seein' each other again."

"Yeah. Okay." Sam pulled away. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, feeling a little awkward.

"And don't forget your wards, kiddo."

"I won't."

"Good boy," John said, sounding amused. His eyes were sparkling with silent laughter. "I love you, son."

Sam nodded. It was going to take a while to get used to this new version of his father. "Yeah. Me too."