Tested

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: Thanks for reading and for the comments. I appreciate you guys so much! This is where things start getting explained….hold onto your hats.

oooOOOooo

Bombarded by multiple choices twenty-four-seven,

Navigate your tangled web of logic compassion,

Guided by subconscious voices astute and sharpened,

Tested,

Tested, oh oh oh. –

From the song Tested by Bad Religion

oooOOOooo

Dean woke up from another nightmare and lay on his back, a hand on his stomach, trying to calm himself. He didn't want to wake Kristine, but also didn't want to risk getting out of bed just yet. He was shaking, his breathing was rapid, and his heart beating hard. He wasn't sure he could actually stand because even lying down, his legs felt like rubber.

He couldn't remember ever having more than one nightmare every few months and now he'd had three close together. He didn't understand. A moment later, he had no choice but to get out of bed; his stomach started to roll and he could taste bile in the back of his throat. Hoping he didn't collapse to the floor, Dean pushed the covers aside and made his way to the half bathroom knowing he wouldn't be able to make it to the one down the hall.

He didn't feel much better once his stomach had been emptied into the toilet. He leaned back against the wall, his head resting on his knees. His skin was tingling. It wasn't the least bit pleasant; it was actually almost painful and he really just wanted it to stop.

He wrapped his arms around his legs and rocked back and forth slowly. He felt cold and alone. Kristine was right on the other side of the door and Sam was just down the road, but he felt like he was isolated from everyone.

After another few moments, Dean pulled himself up and splashed cold water on his face. He swirled mouthwash and almost gagged as he spit it out into the sink. He leaned against the counter, his arms shaking.

"Shit." He stared at his reflection. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean?"

A few minutes later he pulled open the door, grateful to see that Kristine was still asleep. He watched her for a moment, then slipped into his jeans and walked downstairs. He had an almost overwhelming desire to call Sam. No, what he really wanted was to go to the main house and slip into his room. He rested his head on his arms, folded on the table in front of him.

He hadn't turned any lights on, but the kitchen wasn't completely dark. He closed his eyes, trying to talk himself out of this unfamiliar state. He hated feeling weak. His dad hadn't tolerated weakness and his way of dealing with it in his boys had been to be harder on them. Dean lifted his head and looked out of the window. Maybe he should go for a run. Or clean the weapons. He should do something other than just sit in the kitchen being pathetic.

"Dean?"

He heard Kristine's voice behind him and he sighed quietly. He figured he'd come to North Carolina to talk, but he would have been fine with putting it off.

"You okay?" Kristine laid a hand on the back of his neck. He liked the feel of her skin on his. But not now. Not while he was feeling so bad about himself.

When did he ever really feel good, though? He did after a hunt; after helping some innocent person. But then he'd realize he was nothing special. He was just a loser who didn't deserve anything good in his life. He couldn't shake the visions he'd seen in his dream; the things he'd seen in real life. He couldn't blame these images on an overactive subconscious. These were things he'd seen for himself; up close and personal.

God, how had Sam survived the dreams about Jessica? He was tortured for months with them and Dean had only been having dreams for a few nights. He really was weak.

"Dean." She put her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against his.

She had to feel him shaking. Kristine was smart and it wasn't going to take long for her to realize that he was useless and she'd make him leave. That thought made him shake harder.

"Hey, what's going on?" Kristine asked gently while holding him more firmly.

Dean couldn't speak. He couldn't force words out of his mouth.

Kristine stayed with him, holding him close, but not speaking. She caressed his arm gently, kisses whispered against his cheek. Dean felt tears on his face but he didn't make a move to wipe them away.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he managed to whisper, "Please don't make me leave."

"Leave? Why would I make you leave?" she asked, still keeping her voice soft.

"Please." Dean closed his eyes.

"I'm not going to make you leave, Dean. But I need you to talk to me."

"I can't."

"Do you want me to call Sam?"

"No! God no, please."

"Shhh…okay, Dean. I won't call him."

Dean felt her arms wrap more tightly around him. He caressed her arm, almost compulsively.

"You know about the horrible things I've done," she whispered into his ear. "You know about the hospitals I've been in, you know about the drugs and the men….the cutting. You didn't judge me. Dean, what makes you think that I'll judge you?"

He was confused. Did Kristine already know? How could she? Damn, he was so cold. Even with Kristine's arms around him, he was cold.

"Please talk to me, Dean. Tell me what's going on."

"Nightmares."

"You've been having nightmares?"

"Just for three or four nights, but they're bad."

"They must be. Tell me about them."

Dean shook his head.

"They're just dreams."

He shook his head again.

"Tell me."

Dean took her hand and unwrapped her arms from around him. He could feel her resistance, but she let him lead her to the chair across from him. She sat down, but held onto his hands. Even though the room wasn't lit, there was enough coming from the full moon that he could see her face clearly. He didn't see any fear or judgment in her eyes; all he saw was concern and affection.

---

Kristine knew how Sam and Dean grew up. She knew that John had left him with people he trusted when he could, but all too often he'd left them alone in motel rooms. Sometimes they ran out of money or food if a job ran longer than John thought it would. Dean was a capable kid, even before he hit double digits, but he was still just a kid.

They'd talked a little bit about it before, but Dean always shied away from the subject. He didn't like to talk about himself anyway, but about this subject in particular. Somehow, though, she knew that this was the exact topic that was causing Dean so much pain right now.

She knew she couldn't push Dean to talk, but that she had to encourage him. He had to feel safe or he would disappear behind his walls again and push the pain deep down inside him. It wouldn't go away; it would just come back again and probably even stronger.

Kristine squeezed Dean's hands and rubbed them with her thumbs. He was staring at the table, but made no move to pull away from her.

"Tell me about the nightmares," Kristine said quietly.

"I can't. I don't want to. They're not just nightmares; these things really happened."

"Dean, you know that when you keep pushing things away and not dealing with them they gain power over you. If you just talk about this stuff….Are you afraid that they'll change the way I feel about you? Or how Sam feels about you?"

"Sammy can never know this stuff."

"Your brother loves you, Dean. Nothing will change that."

"He already feels guilty about so many things. I don't want to add to that."

"So, tell me then."

Kristine felt his hands grip her tighter.

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

"I don't know what this is," Dean said. "Between us, I mean. But I don't want to fuck it up. I don't want you to hate me or –"

"Hold on, Dean. After all that stuff I told you – do you honestly think I could hold anything against you?"

He shrugged, still staring at the table.

Kristine could feel she was losing him, so she decided to take a more direct route.

"Is this about stuff you had to do when you were a kid?"

Dean looked up sharply.

"We've talked a little about it," Kristine said. "Is that what you've been dreaming about?"

"Yeah." Dean took a deep breath. "I was at a convenience store the other day. Sam and I were working a gig; trying to find a body that needed to be salted and burned. Sam was doing research and I went to get us something to eat. There was a kid sitting outside of the store; looked like he was in kinda rough shape. His clothes were dirty, his hair was long and stringy….He couldn't have been more than 10 or 11. I heard him ask a woman who was coming out of the store for money. She just shook her head and walked away. I saw the look on his face….He glanced off in the distance and I followed his gaze. There was another little kid sitting on a bench at the bus stop – a little girl. She was maybe six. I gave him some money and that was it."

"That's when the dreams started?"

"Yeah. Pretty pathetic, huh?"

Kristine saw the nervous smile. "No, it's not pathetic."

"I guess it just reminded me of when Sammy and I were kids. Most of the time, we were okay. Dad left us with plenty of food and money when he didn't drop us at Pastor Jim's or Bobby's. But sometimes…."

"He'd be gone longer than he expected."

Dean nodded. "I got pretty good at scamming people. I guess I'm a natural born hustler. But once in a while it got bad and I had to do more than scam."

Dean pulled away from her and almost seemed to fold into himself. He looked very small sitting across the table from her.

"Sammy got sick once and I didn't have money for medicine. I tried to call Pastor Jim, but he was away at some convention or something. I don't know where Bobby was, and Caleb was with Dad….I didn't know what to do; I didn't want to leave Sammy alone for too long and I thought about stealing what I needed, but I wasn't real good at that yet and if I got caught and they tried to call Dad…."

Dean's eyes had gone blank, his posture slack. Kristine wasn't even sure if he remembered that she was in the room, so she sat quietly and waited for him to continue. A moment later he took a deep breath.

"I called Dad's number, this was before cell phones, but he had a number for messages. I was afraid something had happened to him when he didn't call back. He missed his normal phone call later, too and Sammy was just getting worse. I went out to the drug store to see if I could get someone to buy me the medicine and I was still thinking about just taking it….I took a shortcut through this park – lots of drug dealers and shit at night, but it was the shortest way. A guy offered me $20 to jack him off. That was a lot of money for me then. All I thought of was being able to buy the medicine and maybe some ice cream for when Sammy felt better."

"How old were you?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe twelve. Or eleven; I don't remember for sure."

"That had to be scary for you."

He shrugged again. "I didn't think about it much. I did it, he gave me the money and I went to the store. Dad got home the next day all freaked out because he'd gotten my message about Sammy."

"And that's what you've been dreaming about?"

"That and other stuff. I started hanging out in places like that park when Dad was gone so I could get money to save up. I got older and…."

"And you got different offers?"

"Yeah. But I never did anything more than hand jobs and that stopped when…."

"When what, Dean?"

"When I realized that I liked it."

That wasn't exactly what Kristine had expected to hear, but she managed not to react.

"You know I like girls, right?" he was looking down at the table again.

"I don't think what you were doing was about sex. It was about power. You were in charge – for a few minutes at least. You called the shots."

Dean didn't respond.

"What's wrong with liking it?"

The question seemed to take Dean by surprise, but he didn't answer immediately. A moment later he took a deep, shaky breath. "I didn't want to be in charge, Kristine. Dad left me in charge when he'd go away and it was scary. I was so afraid a hunt would go wrong and he'd never come back. Or that something would happen to Sammy while he was gone that I wouldn't be able to handle."

"But you did handle it, Dean."

"I guess."

"You're here, Dean, and so is Sam. You did more than any little boy should ever have to.'

"What about when I got older?"

"What about it?" she asked, confused.

"Not all towns have pool halls, but they all have men willing to pay for sex."

"I thought you said –"

"I did. I said I never did anything other than hand jobs. Sometimes blow jobs….One guy took me into the woods when I was 20. Said he wanted a blow job, but he changed his mind and wanted more. When I said no, he….He didn't take no for an answer. I should have been able to get away. He was probably 20 years older than me, overweight, slow. Dad always insisted Sammy and I stay in shape and train, but somehow the guy got me down and…."

Dean wrapped his arms around his waist and began to rock in the chair. Kristine hated to see him in so much pain. She wanted to hold him, but she wasn't sure that was the right tactic. And she wasn't sure if it was more for his benefit or for her own.

"It was horrible; the worst pain I ever felt. But the thing is, I sorta liked it, too." Dean stopped rocking, but he didn't move his arms and he didn't meet Kristine's eyes. "Sometimes I still do."

Kristine knew there were other women, but she'd never thought about there being men as well. But she knew that she had to put that aside for later thought because this wasn't about her or their relationship; this was about Dean. She didn't have the chance to say anything before he continued.

"But I would rather be with you."

"Dean –"

"I miss you when I'm not here. I said before that I don't know what this is, but I like it. It feels right."

"You don't have to worry about my feelings right now, Dean. This isn't about us. Look, you need to be okay with your past. You were put in a horrible place when your dad was gone and you did what you had to. If you got a little pleasure from it along the way, well what the hell is wrong with that? And if you like sex in, well, less conventional ways than some, is that so wrong? I mean, there are lines, but two men together consensually doesn't cross any of them in my opinion."

"Thanks," Dean muttered. "You see why I can't tell Sammy any of that stuff?"

"Honestly? No. Dean, this is eating you alive and I think part of the reason is because you're so desperately trying to keep it from him."

"What am I supposed to do? Next time I see Sam, say hey, Sammy, guess what? I used to jack men off for money when we were kids."

"Dean."

"He can't know about this stuff. Especially the stuff I still do."

"What are you going to do, Dean? Stuff it all away again?"

"I told you about it."

Kristine leaned forward. "Yes, you did. Thank you for trusting me with it."

Dean glanced at her. "You don't hate me?"

"Of course not," she assured him. She laid a hand on the table and a moment later, Dean covered it with one of his.

"How am I supposed to tell Sam when he already hurts about so many other things that aren't his fault? And why? Just to make myself feel better?"

"To give yourself some peace. Sam loves you, Dean. He wants to understand you; he wants you to talk to him."

"It's late," Dean said, clearly shutting down for the time being.

"Let's go back to bed," Kristine agreed, knowing Dean had gone as far as he could for now.

---

Dean pulled Kristine into his arms once they were in bed. She rested her head on his chest and he kissed the top of her head gently. He knew that he could trust her with almost anything and he had to admit that he felt better having talked about some of the things he'd done as a child. He felt very close to her right now and so grateful that she hadn't turned her back on him. In a flood of emotion, he lifted her chin and began to kiss her passionately.

She slipped her hand under his t-shirt and the feel of it on his skin sent a wave of heat through him. Things progressed and soon Dean was on top of her, beyond conscious thought. Every move was instinct. But suddenly he felt a cold blast in his stomach as flashes of memory forced themselves on him. At first he tried to ignore them, but it wasn't long before they overtook him.

"Dean?" He rolled onto his back and Kristine lifted herself up on one elbow to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"I…." he got out of bed and put his pants back on. "I'm sorry."

"Dean!" she called as he rushed out of the room. She followed quickly, moving even faster when she heard a crash from the living room. "Dean?"

---

When she got downstairs, Kristine saw Dean sitting on the floor, an end table was overturned and the few trinkets it had held were strewn about. He was sitting cross-legged near the mess, not appearing to be hurt. She slowed and approached him carefully.

"Dean?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

She sat on the floor across from him, mimicking his stance. "There's no reason to be sorry. What happened?"

"Sammy…." Dean got up quickly. "I have to make sure Sammy is okay."

"Dean, wait." Kristine got to her feet and rushed after him as Dean grabbed his coat from the closet next to the front door.

She held his arm and he jerked away, whirling around to face her. "I have to make sure Sammy's okay!"

Kristine looked into his eyes, afraid when she saw they were glassy. She didn't think he was completely with her at the moment and she was suddenly very worried. "Dean, Sam is up at the main house. He's fine."

"I have to see my brother." Dean opened the door and sprinted outside before Kristine could stop him. A dusting of snow had fallen but she didn't think his bare feet registered the cold.

"Dean, wait!" she ran after him and saw him patting his jacket pockets, probably in search of the car keys.

She stood between him and the car. "Listen to me, Dean. Sam is at the estate house; he's probably asleep. If you go rushing in like this, you're going to scare him. How about we go back inside and call him on the phone?"

"You don't understand!"

"Then explain it to me." She struggled to keep his tone neutral. This kind of thing was so much easier with her patients.

He didn't speak, but his chest heaved as he took several deep breaths. She carefully made her way to his side and touched him gently. "Dean."

"I need my brother, Kristine. I need to see him and make sure he's okay."

"Okay. But at least go inside and put on some shoes. How about you call his cell phone first?"

"His cell phone….Yeah, his cell phone."

Dean let Kristine lead him back inside, but she couldn't stop him from going right to the telephone. She knew the call would scare Sam, but not as badly as his panicked brother rushing into his bedroom. He struggled with the buttons on the phone and in what looked to be total frustration, he threw the cordless receiver onto the couch. Kristine saw that his breathing was shallow and a sheen of perspiration was on his forehead.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked, shaking.

"I think it's a panic attack, Dean. Take deep breaths." She approached him slowly and took his hands. "Sit down."

Dean let her lead him to the couch and he sat down, struggling to breathe. She spoke to him softly, reassuring him, and several minutes later, he was calm again. He leaned his head against the back of the couch, eyes closed and a stray tear rolled down his cheek, seemingly unnoticed.

"I appreciate everything you've done tonight, Kristine," he said quietly, his voice low and gravelly, "But…."

"You need your brother." She smiled at him and reached for the telephone Dean had thrown to the couch before. He looked at her, unspoken gratitude in his eyes, but he made no move to take the phone. Kristine dialed Sam's cell phone number and he answered quickly, almost as if he'd been awake and waiting for the call.

oooOOOooo

Sam arrived at the cottage a few minutes later and after a moment of hushed conversation with him near the front door, Kristine went upstairs. Sam wasn't entirely sure that Dean hadn't fallen asleep; his head was on the back of the couch and his eyes were closed. He sat on the coffee table; his right knee gently touching Dean's left.

"Hey, Sam." Dean's eyes didn't open.

"Hey. How're ya doin'?"

"What did Kristine tell you?"

"Nothing much. She said you had a panic attack; that's never happened before."

"Sam…." Dean opened his eyes and looked at his brother. Sam wasn't quite sure how to read his expression, but he saw the tears that welled in his eyes. "I…."

"You know what?" Sam began when Dean's eyes closed again. "If you don't want to talk right now, that's okay. We can just sit here or whatever."

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

"What for?" Sam asked.

"Brining you over here this early in the morning when –"

"Dean, I'm your brother. If you just need me in the room, that's where I'm gonna be."

Dean surprised him by reaching out and laying a gentle hand on the side of his face. "I'm just so tired."

Sam covered his brother's hand with one of his own. "Then go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

TBC