Warnings for abuse.

Chapter Six

The coarse leather of his brother's belt collided hard against his already bruised flesh as he curled up tighter on his throbbing side against the rough carpet, clutching at himself as he desperately tried to squeeze in tighter into himself, and he could feel a few trails of blood trickle lightly down the skin on his back. He blinked furiously against the tears burning in his eyes and held in the harsh sobs and strangled whimpers struggling to burst out of him, knowing they were only bound to make his abuser even more furious than he already was. He was burning with agony, every inch of him, screaming with blazing hot pain against the never-ending beatings that stormed down on him, his vision flashing white with anguish as merciless agony rippled through his body with every jarring pelt.

"You kill everyone around you. You know why? 'Cause you're a big, worthless goddamn screw up who can't ever do anything right."

He wanted to press his hands against his ears so he couldn't hear his brother's crude, piercing words; scream as loud as he can just so he could drown them out; run far, far away if he could escape so he would never have to listen to them again.

"Who knows? Maybe you'll kill me one day too, just like you killed Mom..."

Always reminded of his mistakes, his failures, of his value in life and to them. Never once told that it was okay, that it wasn't his fault, that he was more than just a worthless piece of shit who screwed up everything he ever did. That he was loved.

"You're lucky I'm still keeping your useless ass around instead of tossing you out on it or feeding you to the next monster we hunt, just like you deserve. Pretty sure that's what anyone else would have done by now."

And the worst part was that he believed them. Believed everything his brother said to him, everything his father used to tell him. It was hard not to when it was all he ever heard his entire life.

Don't scream. Don't cry.

Every kick against his body, every backhand against his cheek, every smack and punch, every lash across his back and torso; they hurt like hell, of course, sometimes to the point where he could barely move the next morning. At least, not without wincing in pain or releasing a gasp. But even then, they were probably never as hurtful as the words that came out of their mouths, words that made him want to vomit until his stomach flipped itself inside and out or to yell until his throat was raw and his own ears bled or cry until he ran out of tears and stopped breathing altogether. Sticks and stones? Bullshit.

Don't say a word. Don't make a sound.

The racous strikes slammed down on him, one after another, making new long stretches of bruises on his body over old wounds and recent ones, some even breaking skin. A strangled whimper tore out of his throat, followed by a hurt, trembling sob as he silently prayed for them to stop. He tried to clamp his mouth shut, sank his teeth into his lip until he tasted blood on his tongue, tried not to say anything or make another sound and not piss Rick off even more by his pathetic cries and his display of weakness.

But he could only take so much. It didn't matter how hard he tried.

In the end, he always broke.

So when the agony that reached deep into his coiled, battered body drowned out all of his thoughts and consumed his abused mind, there wasn't much he could do to stop the desperately restrained cry that burst forth from his lips without his willing consent, which took away any sense of control that was still left within him and opened the way for the tears and sobs that he had tried so hard to keep down, and now they were wrenching out of him uncontrollably, shaky and strained and hard, and he couldn't do anything to stop it, not even the hand that he had pressed over his trembling mouth could muffle them completely and hold them in.

And he wished he could take it back, wished he had been stronger and had managed to stop himself before he fell into pieces right in front of his brother. But all he could was say,"I'm s-sorry."

He hated himself for it. Almost hated himself like Rick hated him, if not worse, but he just wanted the pain to end.

"Please."

But now it was only going to get worse.

SPN

"Shut the hell up, you worthless piece of shit!"

The emotion that Dean felt after denial was horror, his eyes widening with recognition of the fact that this voice truly did, in fact, belong to Rick. Then after that, he felt disgust as the harsh snaps of leather belts against flesh filled his ears, muffled by the door between. His stomach churned with revulsion and acid and nausea at the relevation of the older Wesson's true colors.

Which was then followed by fury.

Fury burning in his veins and chest like flames.

Because no one should do something so vile to their little brothers. No one should hurt their little brothers like that. Little brothers shouldn't be yelled at with such cruel words, shouldn't be taunted and told they were worthless, shouldn't be beaten and abused and made to cry.

Little brothers should be loved and cared for and protected (like Adam should have been).

SPN

Rick kicked the body beneath him one last time, his boot colliding into ribs hard, before he threw his belt to the ground, swaying on his feet with the alcohol still in his system and the fatigue falling over him from the sapped energy of teaching his useless brother a lesson.

"Hope y'u don' f'rget," he snarled down at the shaking form curled at his feet, his words slurring slightly. He turned away and began heading towards his temporary bed, his head buzzing and spinning.

But before he could reach it, a loud crash exploded in his ears, causing his head to whip towards the source in reaction, his trembling and uncoordinated hands fumbling with the gun in his waistband as he did so.

But when he squinted and realized it was just Dean Winchester, the man he had bonded and hunted with, he relaxed.

"Bet you're piss-pissed at 'im too, aren't ya?" Rick said drunkenly, smirking. "Sh-shot y're papa n'all."

"No, douchebag. I'm actually friggin' pissed at you," Dean retorted, a sneer twisting his mouth as he stepped forward.

Rick's smirk faded, and he tilted his head. "Y-yeah? Wh-why me?" he asked, and then looked down at his brother, jerking his chin at him. "S'him you shou'd be pissed at." He raised a boot and kicked the boy's side, causing a shaky whimper to emit from him.

"Maybe you should get the hell away from him," Dean hissed, irritation blazing in his green orbs.

"Gettin' on m'nerves, Winchest'r. It aint any f'your bus-business, s'back 'ff," Rick said, glassy eyes glaring at him.

"Oh, it sure is, Ricky," Dean replied, smirking mirthlessly. "I'm a hunter. It's my job to keep people safe from monsters."

"Do I look like s'me kinda fr-freaky beast with claws and f'ngs t'you?"

"Monsters can be human," Dean answered simply.

"S'what you gonna do? Snuff me out?"

"I'd definitely love to," Dean retorted, the humorless smirk replacing into a cocky one. How he'd love to pull out his gun and aim it at the ruthless bastard's face. But he knew that his father taught him that saving people was more important than killing monsters, and he knew that was what he was going to do. "But I've got better things to do right now, so I guess I'll just have to leave you to the cops."

As if on cue, the sirens of cops rang out distantly, announcing their nearing arrival, and Rick's head snapped towards the direction the sounds were coming from. Dean knew Rick wouldn't be able to escape, what with him being too drunk out of his mind to be fast enough to run, let alone know where to go. And so, he wasn't worried in the least when he saw Rick's infuriated expression, glowering at him through narrowed oval eyes.

"When I get out, Winchester. I'm gonna take back my things from you," he snarled, not looking at Sam, but Dean knew he was talking about him, and he felt disgust rouse within him at the way he thought of his brother as some kind of object, as his property. "And then I'm gonna kill you."

"Well, until then, buddy," Dean said, mock and sarcasm oozing out of his voice, and felt repulsed and incredulous at the fact that he ever considered this asshole a friend.

Dean turned away from him to face the kid, still lying curled up on his side. His bare back was splattered with lashes of bruises and dried blood, his thin body shaking as heart-wrenching sobs and whimpers tore out of him, stirring up a feeling of the same protectiveness he had felt that day he saw the wounds on his face.

The same one he felt for Adam.

He didn't bother to watch as the police barged through the door and rushed in, pointing a gun at Rick. He didn't bother to see the look on his face, cold and hard with fury and vengeance burning in his eyes, and didn't bother to look as they took him away.

All he could see was Sam (Adam).

Dean walked over to him, his feet stopping behind him, and he knelt down before the form, reaching out a hand and placing it down on his arm, right above the hand-bruises.

He felt the kid flinch violently at the touch, felt him press tighter into the ground to get away from it as he cried and shook his head frantically, whispering desperate apologies and pleading for Rick to not hurt him.

"It's alright, kid," Dean whispered softly, resting a hand on his hair soothingly (and feeling Adam's soft blonde locks between his fingers). "You're safe."

Author's Note: I don't think I can apologize enough times to make up for my horrible timings. But I'll say it anyway. I'm so, so, so sorry for my delayed updates, and I know I should be better by now. I can't promise that it won't happen again, but I can promise you that I am trying my hardest to write and post my chapters as soon as I can. And I can promise that I will continue to do so. I have said this before, and I will say it again, this story and 'Broken' Soul will not be abandoned. No matter how late my updates will be, I will continue this story until the end.

I love you all so much. You're all awesome, every one of you! :) Thank you so much for all your support, reviews, tags, PMs, patience and loyalty. I can't ever be grateful enough for it, and I can't express how thankful I am. Receiving all your encouragements and support has been a pleasure and an honour.

No flamers. Constructive criticism is welcome! :)