Work Text:
If there was one thing Dean hated it was a sore loser. Over a few games of pool, he had royally kicked the asses of an entire gang of bikers and the guys wouldn’t stop crying about it. It wasn’t Dean’s fault he was gifted. He’d won fair and square...mostly.
Dean smirked to himself as he brought a well-earned beer up to his lips. The bottle never made contact with his mouth. It was knocked from his hand and sent clattering to the floor.
“Hey!” Dean protested.
He looked up to see one of the men from the sore losers group standing beside him with way too much amusement sparkling in his eyes. Dean didn’t hesitate to match the man’s challenge. It didn’t matter that the son of a bitch was twice his size.
It mattered a little more when Dean realized that the guy had company who apparently followed the same weight loss program. While he wasn’t giving back his hard earned money, he wasn’t planning on dying tonight either.
“Relax, we’re leaving,” Dean grumbled dismissively.
He hopped off the barstool and turned to find his brother, only to walk straight into one of the barrel-chested giants. Dean squared his shoulders as he glared up at the man. It didn’t take looking behind him to know he was surrounded. He flexed his fingers as the man stepped towards him.
The guy shoved Dean hard in the chest, knocking him back against one of the other men, who leaned forward to speak in his ear. “We’ll tell you when you’re leaving.”
Dean was ready to smack the smart ass right out of both men when his eyes finally found Sam. Every muscle in Dean’s body coiled at the sight of the air being choked from his brother by the monster forearms of one of the bikers.
Sam’s eyes were wide, his face red and his mouth gaping in a desperate attempt to gulp in air that wouldn’t come.
A quick survey of their surroundings solidified just how totally screwed they were. Most of the customers had already cleared out. Even the bartender had booked. Everyone remaining looked like they were part of the steroid loving group.
It was time to get the hell out of Dodge.
Dean’s hand slid beneath his shirt, reaching for the pistol hidden there. His fingers didn’t make contact with the ivory handle before he cried out.
A large hand gave his arm a sharp twist and pulled him around. Another hand yanked up the back of his shirt, pulling out his gun. He heard the click of the clip being removed and the thud of it being tossed aside.
He was pushed forward and almost tripped over a chair that tumbled to the floor. Dean clutched his throbbing arm to his chest as he spun around. Shaking it off, he raised his clenched fists to the closest man.
“You wanna kick my ass? Let’s go! I’ll take you all,” Dean snarled. “Just let my brother go.”
“Your brother? Well, ain’t that interesting...” One of the men played his fingers over his graying beard before laughing. “Go ahead, Larry, you heard the little boy. Drop his brother.”
“Sure thing, Boss.” Larry released his grip, letting Sam collapse to the ground in a gasping heap.
Dean shoved past the men who surrounded him, skidding to Sam’s side. He crouched down to check Sam out. When he couldn’t find any permanent damage, he slung his brother’s arm over this shoulder and started to help him to his feet.
“There’s just one little condition,” Boss said.
Backing away, Dean gripped Sam closer. With his free hand, he dug the cash from his pocket and slammed it on the closest table. “Fine. Take your damn money.”
The group’s leader stepped forward to push the money across the table back towards Dean. “No, you keep it.”
“Huh?”
“Consider it advance payment for the floor show.”
His heart raced in his chest as his eyes scanned over the rough crowd of bikers closing in - way too many to fight, even if they were only humans. There was no way in hell he could take half of them even if he wasn’t supporting his still gagging brother.
If these guys didn’t want them to leave, they weren’t going anywhere.
Dean wrapped his arm tighter around Sam’s waist. “What floor show?”
“The one you’re gonna give us, princess. I’ll spell it out for you, real simple. Strip your brother down and fuck him. Then you can go.”
Dean scoffed at the bastard. “You’re one crazy son of a bitch.”
Boss smiled a toothy grin that sent a shiver down Dean’s spine and motioned towards one of the men. “There’s always door number two.”
The leaner guy Boss had signaled hopped over the bar. Dean was prepared for the man to whip out some weaponry hidden back there, but he only started pouring drinks.
Dean raised his brow questioningly. “You gonna slip roofies in our whiskey?”
After accepting a shot from the new makeshift bartender, Boss gave a toast and leaned back against the bar. “What’d be the fun in that? I want you conscious so you can sit back and enjoy the show while each of us takes a turn shoving our dicks up your brother’s ass.”
There was no longer any hiding the panic in Dean’s eyes. Sam had also apparently picked that moment to return to awareness. Dean felt his brother go rigid against him. By the horrified expression on Sam’s face, his brother had heard every last word.
“You ain’t touching him.” Dean stepped back, trying to put himself between the men and his brother, while still supporting Sam. “Nobody’s touching him.”
“Sorry, there’s no door number three. You get your rocks off on him or we do. It’s good for us either way.”
Dean exchanged an anxious look with his brother, who shook head. Sam no doubt knew damn well that Dean intended to make a break for the door. Maybe they’d make it, maybe they wouldn’t, but either way it was a better option than putting out for a bunch of drunken bikers without a fight and anything would beat boning his brother.
“Just do it, Dean.”
“What?” Dean gawked at Sam. “Did you hit your head there, Sammy? They want me to fuck you.” Carefully, he enunciated each word to highlight the insanity of it.
The pain in Sam’s eyes said he understood loud and clear. “We don’t exactly have a choice here,” Sam whispered back. “If it’s gotta be someone - I want it to be you.”
“It’s not gonna be anyone.” Raising his voice, Dean again addressed the group. “No one’s laying a finger on my brother. You wanna fuck with someone - you fuck me.” Dean released Sam, propping him up against a table, and didn’t hesitate in throwing off his jacket. His jittery fingers were already struggling with unfastening his belt buckle by the time he spoke again. “I got a damn fine ass.”
“Dean, stop it!”
Sam reached out to pull Dean’s hand away from his zipper, but Dean shoved him back. If Dean could keep the focus on him, these bastards would leave Sam alone long enough for one of them to come up with an actual plan that didn’t involve Sam taking it up the ass because Dean had screwed up.
Boss set his drink aside and shoved away from the bar. Casually, he strode over to Dean. The man hummed to himself as his hand stroked over the worn denim covering Dean’s thigh. Dean’s muscles twitched beneath the contact, his jaw clenched, but he stood his ground.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam surge forward. Two of the men stepped up to wrench him back, one on each side holding his arms while Sam bucked against their grip. Dean’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn to look at his brother.
“Here’s the thing, sweetheart,” Boss said as he moved his hand up to run along Dean’s lower lip, “you’re short and you got longer eye lashes than my ex-wife.”
Dean wrinkled his face incredulously at the man and struggled to breathe past the tension that clamped down over his chest. Boss’s hand moved down to shove between Dean’s thighs and up against his groin.
He shook with the effort to force himself to just stand there and take it. All he wanted to do was break every one of Boss’s fingers before ripping his hand off.
“Relax, I’m just checking to see if you’re actually packing.”
A growl rumbled low in Dean’s throat as Boss slapped the front of his jeans and a roar of laugher moved through the group.
“You blush like a girl too,” Boss added with a pat to his cheek.
Dean turned his face away, dropping his chin to his chest. He held his jaw so tight his teeth hurt.
“That’s real cute, but I wanna see a man get fucked. Now either you do it or I’ll have my boys start a line.”
Boss gave a wave of his hand and Sam was thrown to the ground. His brother must have seen him rearing back his fist, because Sam interrupted him before any of the other men noticed.
“It’s okay, Dean.”
“Like hell it is.”
“It’ll be fine.” It was nearly a broken plea that said loud and clear that Sam didn’t believe that, he just wanted Dean to. Sam stumbled back to his feet. “It’s not worth dying over.”
That was open for debate.
It didn’t even matter that Dean had Sam’s consent. He couldn’t make himself move, not even as Sam started fumbling to unfasten his own pants. Dean was too busy deciding how many different ways he was going to kill everyone here.
Dean nearly hit the floor when one of the men shoved him towards Sam. He caught himself on the table that still had his money sitting on it. For a moment he stood hunched there shaking his head before slamming his fist down on the table top.
He was such a stupid son of a bitch.
Someone gave him another push. Dean spun, ready for a fight that he didn’t give a crap he couldn’t win. He hesitated in taking the swing when he scanned the bar and saw that most of the men had taken seats at the tables around them.
“Strip for me, sweetheart,” Boss said. “We all wanna see that fine ass you’re promoting.”
Dean glanced to Sam, just to make sure that none of the men were anywhere near his brother, and then slid off his t-shirt. He threw it down defiantly on the floor while trying not to hear the wolf whistles from the crowd that was already goading Sam into stripping down.
“I’m gonna tear you apart,” Dean promised as he shoved his jeans down his thighs. “Every last one of you.”
Boss tapped a thick finger against Dean’s chest. “You just remember who got your brother into this mess.”
Dean grimaced and averted his eyes when Sam tried to look at him.
His finger hesitated on the waistband of his boxers. It wasn’t that he was modest - not that he wanted a bunch of leather clad horny bastards eyeing the goods - it was that they wanted him stripped so he could fuck his little brother.
“Come on, it can’t be that small,” Boss goaded.
With a sneer, Dean pushed down the boxers, kicked them off and moved to stand where he was motioned to. Goose bumps rose over his bare flesh as the drafty air brushed over his cold sweat.
Boss gave a twirl of his finger. “Let’s see you, now.”
Dean glared at the floor as he shuffled his feet and turned around as ordered, ignoring the commentary being thrown his way.
“Gotta hand it to you, sweetheart – you are one damn fine looking bitch. Now, go fuck your brother.”
When he forced himself to look at Sam, he saw that his brother was already naked too. Sam stood there twitching his hands and looking awkward as hell, trying to hide behind those ridiculous bangs of his.
He scooted closer to Sam to block the view of his brother’s body from as many of the roving eyes as he could. It wasn’t that there would be any saving his brother’s dignity. He just couldn’t take the chance that one of the men would like what they saw enough to try to take Dean’s place.
Dean sent another wary glance over the group before turning around to face his brother. “Sam, I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault, Dean.” Sam looked to the floor before uneasily meeting Dean’s eyes. “What am I supposed to do?”
Dean’s fists curled. For all he knew his saint of a brother didn’t even know how slot A fit into slot B. The kid wouldn’t watch porn, he’d barely been with girls by Dean’s standard and he’d been ready to marry Jessica. Experimentation wasn’t Sam’s middle name.
“Nothing. You don’t gotta do a damn thing. Just get on your hands and knees and I’ll take care of it.”
Dean’s stomach flipped at his own words. All his life he’d taken care of Sam. This was never supposed to be part of the job description.
Sam wordlessly did as Dean instructed, not that it helped to move things along. Dean couldn’t fuck anything with a limp dick, but there weren’t enough blue pills in the world to help him pull this one off knowing where he was sticking it if he ever got it up.
Cursing beneath his breath, Dean tried to ignore the fact that there were a dozen guys watching him stoke himself. He wasn’t typically prone to performance anxiety, but this was over the top even for him.
“Hey, girly girl, we’re falling asleep here!” one of the men shouted.
“You got ten seconds to rev the engine,” Boss said, “or brother’s gonna do it for you.”
Dean purposefully avoided eye contact with Sam and shook his head. “I need more than ten seconds.”
“What you need is some more fucking testosterone,” Larry laughed.
“Yeah? I’d like to see your six pack you two ton flabby son of a bitch.”
“Dean, just ignore them.”
“You ignore them and shut up while you’re at it,” Dean shot back at his brother. “I can’t listen to your voice and...fucking come on!” He squeezed his eyes closed as his fingers hurriedly worked to force blood into his flaccid cock. “Just give me twenty damn seconds.”
“Alright then,” Boss replied. “How about a countdown boys?”
Dean cracked an eye open and shot the man a glare that promised a slow, painful death. “Fuck every last one of you bastards.”
“Damn scary threat coming from the kid that can’t even get it up.”
Closing his eyes again didn’t help block out their verbal countdown or the one jackass at the corner table whistling the Jeopardy song. It did at least block out the sight of his waiting brother.
The thing was, Dean was used to getting off in strange places. The audience was a first, but he’d had more than a few well-concealed public moments. It wasn’t like he’d ever had his own room and sometimes it just couldn’t wait for the shower.
Before the crowd completed their countdown Dean was close enough to call it good to go. He turned his back to the group and kept pumping himself while he kneeled behind Sam. His brother couldn’t look more awkward waiting to get fucked on the dirty bar floor.
He put his hand on Sam’s back, feeling the knotted muscles tense further under his palm. “I’m gonna be as careful as I can, but this is still gonna hurt,” Dean warned him.
Sam gave a tight nod. “I’m a big boy, Dean. I’ll be okay.”
That made one of them.
Dean slid his index finger into his mouth, rolling it over his tongue before Boss again interrupted. “Dicks only. No fingers.”
“Back the hell off!” Dean hissed. “You want me to fuck him? Fine. I’m fucking him, but I won’t just shove it in. Let me get him ready.”
“I’m gonna get him ready with a goddamn beer bottle if you don’t skip to the good stuff.”
“I’m going!” Dean replied. “Do I have permission to spit on my dick?” He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that he’d let too much smart ass slip into the half sincere question.
“What the fuck?” one of the men nearest to them protested, as Boss stepped forward and swiped his beer.
Dean leaned protectively towards Sam as Boss came to a stop with his boots nearly touching Dean’s knees. The beer bottled was tipped, pouring the cold liquid over Dean’s semi-erect cock. He shivered as it flowed down his inner thighs. The beer pulled a sharp gasp from Sam as it was also poured down the crease of his waiting ass.
“Now stop stalling or you’ll loose your turn!”
Boss sloshed the remaining beer into Dean’s face before throwing the bottle. It shattered against the wall, startling Dean as he tried to wipe the stinging alcohol from his eyes. Blinking it away the best he could, he gave himself a couple more jerks before lining up with Sam’s opening.
He hesitated with the head of his cock leaking against the too-tight hole, the muscles retracting to try to keep him out. There was no way he wasn’t going to tear Sam up.
“Come on, Dean.”
He took an unsteady breath at his brother’s voice. Hearing Sam was still an erection killer, but the urgency underlying his tone was reminder enough to move things along. Putting this off wasn’t going to make it any easier.
“You gotta relax,” he told Sam.
“Okay...”
When Dean again pressed against him, it wasn’t actually any easier, but it was as good as it was going to get and it would only get harder the longer he waited. The slickness provided by the beer was already evaporating to a sticky mess.
Ignoring the urge of his cock to just force in, Dean held his hips back and eased in as gently as he could manage. Even at that, Sam couldn’t fully muffle his groans.
His careful progress shattered into a hard shove when something struck his ass, forcing his hips forward and leaving a stinging streak over his backside. Dean shot a glare over his shoulder to see one of the men holding a pool cue and wearing a crooked grin.
“Don’t stop on my account,” the man said before cracking the stick across Dean’s shoulders.
Dean grunted, having to catch himself against Sam. He forced himself to focus on controlling the motion of his hips, not the beating his back was taking.
“What’s going on?” Sam tried to look over his shoulder, but Dean leaned over him to shove his head forward again.
“Just keep your eyes on the ground. Don’t need you staring at me.”
Dean returned to using his hands to steady himself as he heard the heavy footsteps of another man approaching. There was a clink of metal followed by the sharp bite of a wallet chain tearing into his bare skin, sending a wave of pain over his back.
Hard swings fell in rapid succession and it was all Dean could do to stop himself from slamming into Sam. Despite his best efforts, a solid lash across his lower ass sent his hips jutting forward, burying his cock fully inside his brother.
Sam’s limbs nearly gave out as he fought through the wave of pain. Dean struggled to support his brother, murmuring apologies that didn’t mean a damn considering that he was the one that had gotten them both into this mess.
He steeled himself against the impacts, widening the stance of his knees and trying not to slide in the puddle of beer he knelt in. Once he’d gotten control of himself, the beatings stopped, leaving his backside burning, but his movements were again his own.
“Beer bottle or pool cue?” Boss asked.
The question didn’t register in Dean’s over-stimulated mind. His focus had constricted to only be aware of sliding in and out of his brother’s painfully clenched muscles with carefully measured movements. The only advantage to Sam being so damn tight was that Dean wouldn’t last as long as usual.
To speed things up, he moved his hand down to cup his balls only to feel the bite of the chain’s metal nick him there a moment later. The white hot intensity of the pain sprung moisture to his eyes, blurring his vision.
“Oh fuck!” Dean gasped. He again unintentionally nailed Sam, pulling a similar exclamation from his brother.
“No hands and do you want to get fucked with a beer bottle or a pool cue?” Boss asked again.
As another impact from the pool cue in question rocked him too far forward. Dean brought his hand back up, not to move himself along, but as a spacer loosely held around his cock between Sam’s ass and himself to stop his dick from penetrating too deeply with the strikes.
Someone from behind boxed his ear hard enough to stun him. Dean rocked unsteadily, flinching as the man leaned down to shout into the same ear. “You need an anatomy lesson, little bitch?”
Dean was pretty sure it was that Larry guy because whoever it was that knelt behind him was huge. The man leaned against his aching back, pressing the heavy leather of his biker vest tight to Dean’s bruising skin. He fought the urge to lash out against the man who held him trapped as Larry reached forward, large arms encircling him.
“This here is your hand,” Larry said, gripping Dean’s wrist hard enough to grind bone. “My boot is gonna crush it into lots of little pieces if you touch yourself with it again.” The guy’s giant hand reached down to grab Dean’s balls, giving them a brutal tug that made Dean arch back against Larry’s chest. He was panting hard by the time the guy’s fingers constricted around his already straining cock. “This down here is your dick. It works like this...”
Larry leaned back enough to dig his hand into the tender flesh of Dean’s hips, forcing them forward in a faster, deeper penetrating motion that released a new set of moans from Sam. Dean pushed back to try to slow the pace and Larry’s hand slid lower.
“And this is your asshole.” A sharp burn tore through him, breaking free a whimper, as the man shoved a dry finger up inside of him, giving it a twist, and again disrupting the motion of his hips. “It’s about to get a lot fuller – so what’s it gonna be?”
“He’s supposed to be doing me, just leave him alone,” Sam gritted through clenched teeth. His brother had fallen from his hands and was now resting on his knees and elbows, shoulders trembling while he buried his face in his arms.
“Beer bottle,” Dean replied, nearly choking on the words. He couldn’t let Sam succeed in drawing attention.
While he couldn’t see his brother’s face, and he was grateful for that, he could see the painfully twisted muscles in his back beneath the sheen of sweat. He knew that Sam was putting all the energy he had into not making too many sounds.
Sam didn’t want Dean to know he was hurting him, but it was a lost cause. He knew.
Even if he couldn’t see it etched in the tension of Sam’s muscles, in the way Sam was barely able to support himself or hear it in the few sounds that escaped him – he was still raping his little brother in front of a bar full of men.
When everyone stepped away from him, he could just focus on getting the friction he needed to finish, while causing Sam as little pain as possible. That brief moment ended when a hand on his back bent him further forward.
Rough fingers parted his ass, probing and stretching, feeling like they were tearing. His entire body shuddered, a hitched sob choked down in his throat as the cool lip of the threatened bottle pressed against his already throbbing entry.
The neck of a beer bottle was wider than the tip of a pool cue and if they broke it in him he was screwed, but it still seemed a safer bet than a four foot stick with no flare in the hands of an overzealous biker with scotch heavy on his breath.
Dean struggled to follow his own advice of relaxing as the moistened lip of the bottle was manipulated past his clenching ring of muscles. It felt like it was ripping him open and he wondered if the glass had broken. He knew the man shoving it inside him wouldn’t stop if it had.
His wet cheek pressed against the skin of Sam’s back. He squeezed his eyes closed with his cock still shamefully hard and his balls crushed against his brother’s ass.
He wasn’t sure how deep the bastard behind him planned on shoving the bottle. Dean could feel it forcing him open wider until the pressure finally steadied out.
There was some leeway given and he started to pull back out of Sam only to have the bottle shoved forward again, pressing him into his brother and only letting him pull back when the wielder decided.
The jerking motion irregularly sped up and slowed down. Through the pain and the fact he was barely breathing, Dean still felt the heat stir in his groin as the blinding haze of orgasm began to rise up in him.
His rigid posture must have given him away because the man with the bottle dramatically sped up the pace of penetration.
Dean’s head tilted back and he tried to pull out of Sam. He only ended up driving the beer bottle further up his ass, at first unintentionally, then purposefully, as he fought to feel only pain while his release spilled into his brother.
He collapsed forward onto Sam’s back. His cock fell free, but his body continued to rock with the force of the thrust tearing into him until the motion of the bottle suddenly stopped. He cried out as it was unceremoniously ripped from inside him.
“Dean?”
“It’s okay, Sammy.”
With ragged pants, Dean rolled onto his side, curling into himself for only a moment before forcing himself to his hands and knees. Each shift of his body ripped a new kind of pain through him, pulling at the torn skin of his backside and jostling his throbbing insides.
He went out of his way to overextend and fire the raw nerves full throttle. It was his fault that Sam felt like this too.
“Just...get up,” Dean coaxed. “We’re leaving.”
Dean sloppily pushed up to his feet while trying to gauge how much damage he’d done to his brother. Mostly, he was trying not to throw up his onion rings as reality began to settle in and he watched the sticky mess of fluids he’d shot into his brother slide back down Sam’s thighs.
The guilt sprung up stronger, suffocating him as he finally saw Sam’s face. It was a wash of lost confusion. Sam’s motions were stiff and uncertain as he climbed to his feet.
Dean bent down to grab his clothes, swallowing back a groan. His back hadn’t straightened all the way before he threw a punch when a hand touched his shoulder. Luckily, he was enough off his game that he missed plowing his fist into Sam’s face.
“Oh God, Dean...”
Dean stiffened all the more when he realized Sam’s hands were examining the damage to his back and rear. Shrugging him off, Dean pulled his shirt over the trickling trails of blood and jerked up his jeans over the ragged welts before Sam could get all worked up over nothing.
He’d just raped his little brother. He sure as hell deserved an even worse beating than what he’d gotten.
“Just get dressed,” he told Sam.
Dean kept his eyes down so that he didn’t have to see the men lounging around casually chatting. They sipped their drinks as if he and Sam were just some band wrapping up after the last set. He swiped at the sting at the corner of his eyes.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Boss told him. The man stepped forward and shoved the wad of bills into the waistband of Dean’s jeans. “You weren’t that bad and I’m sure your balls will drop eventually.”
It was only Sam grabbing him and hauling him back that stopped Dean from smashing straight through Boss’s skull.
“Sam, let me go,” Dean warned.
“Dean, no. Please. Let’s just go.”
After what he’d just done to his brother, Sam could have told him to put a pistol in his mouth and fire and Dean would have done it.
So he obliged Sam, even though every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to spend the next week gutting every last bastard in the bar. That urge only grew stronger as they unsteadily weaved their way through the tables towards the exit. Each congratulations, every grating comment and slap to his sore ass pushed Dean that much closer to shoving off his brother’s hold.
He couldn’t believe Sam could even stand to touch him and maybe that was why he didn’t push his brother away.
No one tried to stop them from leaving or seemed to be following, but they hustled across the parking lot, Dean forcing himself to move as quickly as Sam looked able. He relished the punishing pain, as he dropped down harder than he needed to into the driver’s seat. The impact shot a nearly blinding pain through his abused ass.
“You sure I can’t set the place on fire?” Dean asked as soon as he recovered his voice. His hand was trembling hard enough that it took a few tries to slide the key into the ignition.
“Just let it go, Dean.”
Dean slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “I fucking hate humans.”
Sam nodded silently. His eyes stared blankly back towards the bar as Dean fired up the engine. The Impala swerved out of the parking lot, blindly heading towards anywhere but here.
They’d crossed the state line before Dean realized that his brother’s eyes were locked on him. He swallowed hard, shoved in a cassette and increased his pressure on the gas pedal.
A moment later, painful silence again swallowed the car as Sam ejected the tape. Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his gut twisting in preparation for the inevitable.
“Pull over,” Sam said.
Dean nodded to himself. He took the first exit and turned down a few random roads before killing the engine behind some old warehouse. After taking a deep breath, he pushed open the car door and got out without meeting Sam’s eyes.
He gripped the keys to the Impala so tightly in his hands that the jagged edges of the metal bit into the skin of his palm. His shoulders were slumped as Sam walked around the car.
“What’s this?” Sam asked as he looked at the hand Dean held out to him.
“The keys.”
Sam stared perplexed. “You want me to drive?”
“I want you to take the car.” Dean’s free hand agitatedly rubbed at the back of his head. “You don’t have to say it. Please don’t say anything.”
“Okay...I get that you don’t wanna talk about it, but can you at least tell me what’s going on? Because I don’t want the car, Dean. I just need to look at your back.”
“What? Forget about my damn back.” Dean looked up from the rugged concrete of the lot. “How bad did I hurt you? And don’t you fucking lie to me, Sammy.”
“You didn’t hurt me, Dean.”
“Bullshit. I tore you up, I know I did.”
“Not like they did to you. Dean, you can’t even sit right. Just let me see how bad it is.”
Dean pushed his brother’s hand away. “Who cares?”
“Since when doesn’t it matter if one of us is hurt?”
“Since I raped you!”
Dean tossed the keys that Sam had refused to take into the driver’s seat of the Impala. He spun sharply on his heels and started walking, following a senseless urge to put as much distance between himself and Sam as possible.
He didn’t make it more than ten feet before Sam grabbed his arm. Dean instinctively turned on him, fist swinging. He stopped himself short when his body caught up with his mind. Instead of landing a punch, he twisted from Sam’s hold.
“Stop, Dean. Just stop!”
Sam moved in again, wrestling to get a firm hold on him. He left Dean no choice but to deck him or surrender and he’d already hurt Sam enough. Dean went slack in Sam’s grip, trying to ignore how much his body was shaking. He didn’t fight as Sam turned him around to face him, but he couldn’t look at him.
“You didn’t rape me.” Sam’s hands clutched Dean’s shoulders as he spoke. “I told you to do it.”
“You didn’t have a choice.”
“Yeah, I did, Dean. I chose you.”
“Right. Picking between me or the Hells Angels. Some fucking choice.”
“You didn’t even get that much. You didn’t know how big of assholes those guys were. You couldn’t have known.”
Sam grip eased up and Dean turned away, taking a few steps back towards the Impala before stopping and staring off into the blackness of the night’s sky. “I should’ve known. I should’ve found a way to protect you.”
“You did. They never touched me. It was just you and I meant what I said. If it had to be anyone, I wanted it to be you.”
Dean’s expression was doubtful when he finally turned to look at Sam. “Your own brother?” At Sam’s affirmative nod, Dean shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Do you got any idea how fucked up we are?”
“Yeah. I guess normal’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Now let me see your back.”
“No.” Dean walked the few feet back to the car and scooped the keys off the seat before tossing them to Sam. “But I am gonna let you drive.”
Sam caught the keys, gave them a glance then raised his brow. “Because you feel sorry for me?”
“Or because I need to get wasted and I’m not stepping foot in another bar...not for another two states at least.” Dean didn’t waste any time before pulling out his flask. He took a long swig before shooting his brother a wry smirk. “But if I were you, I’d play the pity card as long as you can.”