Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.
Chapter 2
Sam lay on the floor, more or less paralyzed by both agony and despair.
Hot bitter tears welled in Sam's eyes as he gazed up at the cracked motel ceiling.
Be stubbornly blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.
He noticed that it was still completely dark out side from what little he could see of the motel room window.
He wanted to wail, to scream out his anguish and his agony, he wanted for God himself to hear and come help him.
But he stayed silent where he lay naked, bruised, bleeding, and covered in the wetness of fluids he dared not to think about.
And the reason for his silence was laying draped over him like a living blanket.
Dean Winchester lay equally as naked as his brother, dead to the world in slumber oblivious to the pain Sam was in.
He lay with his legs tangled around Sam's and his head pillowed against the skin just below the younger man's collarbone.
Sam lay in the quiet feeling desolate, filthy, and inhuman.
He lay their for what seemed like hours instead of minutes.
Then, thoughts of all that had happened mere hours ago crashed through his mind.
Disgust and shame washed over Sam and threatened to drown him as he remembered why he was here in this position, with his brother.
He was about to give in to his body's need to cry out and act out in the chaos of the many emotions swirling around inside him in a chaotic vortex when a small moan from Dean made Sam stop cold and cleared his slightly terrified mind.
Dean.
His big brother Dean.
With his mind cleared, Sam remembered that Dean was hurt too, that some of the blood that stained his skin was not his own, but Dean's.
Dean had been cut in several places from the hunt earlier this night.
Those cuts had obviously not been treated and while... it had been happening, many of these cuts had reopened and trickled crimson blood.
Sam felt his heart shatter at the thoughts of his brother.
It filled him with a sudden determination.
A determination to make sure that the only person he had left was alright.
A determination for he himself to survive all of this.
Gritting his teeth hard enough to hear them grind together, Sam slowly, carefully began the painstaking task of extricating himself from his more or less unconscious older sibling and getting them both up off the goddamn floor.
With a small cry of pain which was quickly stifled and a herculean amount of effort, Sam rolled out from under his brother's nude body.
Sam came to rest on his right side and nearly curled up into a full fetal position.
A harsh breath escaped him as he rode out the waves of pain the movement caused to his very abused body. He waited for the pain to subside as much as possible before he began moving again.
With a trembling hand, Sam reached up and gripped the sheets over the edge of the mattress he'd been sitting on hours ago and began painstakingly pulling himself upright.
After what seemed an eternity, Sam found finally found himself at least upright on his knees.
With a soft groan, Sam collapsed forward onto the bed, his hand gripping the edge in a white-knuckled grip.
He rested there for a few minutes, breathing heavily and shivering minutely as the air in the motel room, normal temperature, felt more like the air with the air condition on at full blast to Sam, biting mercilessly at his bare skin.
After indulging in rest, Sam urge his body into movement once again, he gingerly pushed himself back upright and slowly turned to have a look around.
Dean was still out cold, laying on his side facing Sam, the bruises and cuts caked with drying blood standing out in even starker contrast to his pale skin.
There were other stains on him but Sam did his best to ignore those.
His clothes lay strewn everywhere, having landed in several areas around the motel room... after Dean had ripped them off.
Sam swallowed back the bile that rose up from inside him and burned the back of his throat and screwed his eyes tightly shut to fend off the memories that instantly assaulted him.
With a steadying breath, Sam clenched his jaw and used every ounce of his will to properly stand up.
When he stood to almost his full height, Sam swayed dangerously as pain and dizziness threatened to topple him over.
He breathed through it and steadied himself as best he could before he dared to take the first step forward.
The simple act of willing his foot up off the floor, moved a little ways ahead, and then lightly fall back down to the floor was torture.
But Sam worked through the pain in true Winchester fashion.
With painfully tentative steps, Sam limped his way to the center of the room, where the item he wanted lay crumpled on the floor.
Once he'd reached it, he bit his lips hard enough to nearly draw blood and he bent down to retrieve his boxers.
His fingers managed to hook the piece of clothing and he quickly gripped it tightly.
Then with the speed of an old man, he carefully pulled them on.
The boxers shorts were rough and scratchy against his over sensitized skin, but once the elastic waist band was firmly resting over his hips, he felt glad that he was at the very least, no longer nude.
With what remained of his self-respect and modesty appeased, Sam turned back around to eye the task at hand.
He had to take care of Dean.
Though a small part of him was angry beyond Hell at what had happened, Sam refused down right to blame his brother for what had happened.
He knew full well that Dean had not been in control, that his brother had not been in his right mind.
He didn't blame Dean.
He could bring himself to.
Lightly clearing the lump that had settled in his throat before grim determination filled him.
Right now he had no time for pain, and he forced it to the back of his mind.
He quickly made his way back to where Dean was laying.
He sank to his knees beside his brother and reached out to Dean with a quivering hand.
His trembling fingertips lightly grazed over the junction where Dean's neck met him shoulder.
Sam's jaw began to tremble violently and his eyes burned, but in a manner that would've made Dean Winchester proud, Sam buried his emotions deep inside and put all of his focus on what needed to be done.
With a deep breath, Sam leaned forward and snaked his left arm under his Dean's neck, his right arm went under his older brother's knees.
The young man's muscles screamed in protest as in a show of raw strength, Sam lifted Dean clear off the motel floor.
With a small grunt of exertion, Sam took a shaky step forward and all but dumped the rather heavy burden he was carrying, albeit as gently as he could manage onto the hotel bed Dean had claimed earlier.
And thankfully, Dean remained in his coma like slumber, only stirring just a little bit when he landed on the cool motel sheets before stilling and sleeping on.
Panting lightly, Sam didn't stand there idle, once he'd deposited Dean onto the bed and saw that his brother didn't wake, he limped off towards the bathroom to get the items necessary to carry out his intentions.
Once he'd all but stumbled into the bathroom, Sam fought tooth and nail with himself to not look at the mirror the second he stepped over the threshold.
Instead, Sam grabbed one of the large, complementary towels and used the faucet to dowse a corner with warm water.
With the well saturated towel in one hand Sam grabbed up the med-kit resting on the sink with the other.
Hands with basically a death grip on these on these items, Sam limped back out of the bathroom as fast as he could.
He was immediately making his way back to his brother's side.
Sam came to kneel beside the bed and set down the med-kit on the floor. He then swallowed thickly before he brought the towel in his other hand up and began to painstaking task of cleaning the blood and semen from his brother's skin.
He started with the places farthest from any of the many cuts that marred Dean's chest and abdomen, being and gentle as possible.
Deep shame washing over him as he remembered that he was the one responsible for these stains.
After what seemed like hours upon hours of tremendously tedious work, through which Dean did not regain consciousness, much to Sam's relief.
Especially when it came time for Sam to clean... below the belt.
He may not have been angry with Dean but that did not mean he was ready to face his big brother just yet.
After all, how the Hell was Sam going to explain all of this to Dean when everything that had happened tonight was barely making any sense to him?
How could he tell Dean what had happened... What his older brother had done to him while under some kind of demonic influence?
Sam banished these terrified thoughts to the back of his mind and focused instead on finishing taking care of Dean.
Once Sam was sure that Dean was as clean as he could get him without aggravating any of Dean's many cuts and risk waking him, Sam dropped the now bloody and sticky towel to the floor beside him and reached for the med-kit.
He opened it with a soft click and rummaged through it till he found the anti-bacterial cream.
Picking up the hand sized container, Sam hurriedly unscrewed the lid and dipped two fingers into the white, gelatinous substance.
Using whatever amount that clung to his fingers he began to apply the cream to every single cut that marred Dean's skin.
Once that was done he set about bandaging the any of the cuts that were too big or deep to be left to the open air.
When he'd taped the last bandage on, Sam nearly collapsed as exhaustion and several warring emotions all converged on him.
With his strength rapidly leaving him and a deep need for a shower screaming in his head, Sam picked up the soiled towel and packed up the med-kit before climbing to his feet with a soft groan.
Sam limped over to on of the duffels and tucked the med-kit inside and then fished out a pair of sweats.
He then limped back over to his brother and somehow managed to wrestle Dean's legs through them and pulled them al the way up. After that he pulled the sheets up over Dean.
When Sam was sure that there was nothing else needed to be done, Sam turned and headed for the bathroom with the ruined towel in hand.
He was gonna burn it the second he had a chance.
Sam stepped over the threshold of the bathroom and pushed the door shut behind him with a small click.
The towel slid from Sam's shell-shocked fingers to fall onto the bathroom floor and was forgotten.
" I need to get clean." Thought Sam blankly as he basically sleepwalked over to the bathtub, pulling his boxers off as he did so.
Everything after that became a blur to Sam.
There was a squeaking sound.
Then nearly scalding hot water was cascading over his bruised skin.
After that, the nightmarish memories he'd been keeping at bay were pounding through his mind.
Dean.
His brother.
Dean choking him and pinning him to the floor like he had been nothing.
His brother's eyes.
How maddened they were, a deep red outlined each the circle of both of Dean hazel-green iris'.
How it had then that Sam realized that Dean was not in his right mind and stopped struggling against him.
Then his brother had touched him in a way he'd never been touched in his whole life.
His body had betrayed him and instinctively responded to the stimuli.
Responded to his brother.
Blood dripping onto him from above.
Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming as something hard and blunt forced itself inside him.
Creamy white ropes of hot fluid splattering between him and Dean.
Feeling something hot and liquid filling him.
Agony, unimaginable agony and a heavy weight falling on top of him.
Sam watched in morbid fascination as the now lightly pink colored swirled down the drain.
A few minutes later, the squeaking sounded again as Sam shut the water off.
He blindly reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist while shakily stepping out of the tub.
He made his way over to the sink and finally looked at himself in the mirror.
He was unrecognizable even to himself.
His skin was chalk white.
Dark bruises and angry bite marks littered his chest and shoulders.
There were long, finger shaped bruised poking out from under the waist of the towel around his hips.
As he stared at himself, Sam Winchester found the numbness that had settled over him rapidly disintegrating, along with his composure.
With a small shaky breath, Sam wrenched his gaze away from the pitiful sight in the mirror.
He got about one small stepped towards the bathroom door before his knees were buckling under his weight.
Like a felled tree, Sam tumbled to the ground with a light thud, landing on his side against the worn bathroom mat.
He lay there in silence for what seemed a lifetime.
Then, a small plaintiff mewl ripped itself from his throat as he curled up into an impossibly small ball.
" Oh my God." Whispered Sam before a violent sob wrenched itself through his body.
He lay there and let the walls finally crumble.
He lay there and finally let the tears that had been burning his eyes free to fall.
He lay there in despair and desolation.
He buried his face into his badly shaking hands as he gave in to the sobs and let them drown him.
He laid there along on a dingy motel bathroom floor, his heart and soul shattering, for himself, and for his brother.
He lay there hurt in the cruelest way.