Previous part of Control.

***

September 24, 1999 -- Friday

"Friends for Life Help Center, this is Annie, you can talk to me," Annie answered the phone.

"H-hel-lo?" came a tenitive reply.

"Hello, I am Annie, what's your name," she said in her nicest voice, she did not know if the caller was male or female, but she wanted to appear friendly.

"I, um, d-d-n'na th-thi-nk I, uh, h-hh-ad tt-t' g-gg-ive my n-name," the haulting male voice spoke softly, "I th-thought-t it w-was c-con-f-fi-d-dental?"

"You don't have to give your name honey and you're right the phone call is confidiental," Annie was mentally kicking herself for the slip up. She had only been at this job for a week and this was only her third real call. "I do have tell you that we can not give out any information on anyone who calls, so if you are looking for someone, I cannot help you," She knew that there had been an increasing number of men who had been calling in for help, but she did not want to be dupped into giving anything away.

"N-no, I, um, th-th-at's n-not-t..." the voice said immediately but then faultered, "I h-have a f-frien-nd who I th-thin-k is-s b-bein' a-abus-s'd. He w-w-on' ad-d-mi' it b-but I th-thin'k his-s br-broth'r b-beats-s him," he finished in a rush.

"How do you know this? Has he said anything?" Annie glanced at her list of questions. 'The stutter must not be from nervousness,' she noted on the sheet.

"N-no, l-like I s-said he w-won' s-say an'th-thin', b-but I s-see br-bruis-ses, n-new ones-s ev'r' w-w'k. He t-tries-s to h-hide 'em b-but I s-see," his voice at first high pitched then had gone quiet as if he was revealing some terrible ailment, like elderly people often do.

"Are you sure that they are not caused by normal sibling activities? Boys can rough house," she was pleased with her thinking fast on her feet.

"I n-not-t t-talkin' 'b-bout k-kids! H-he's t-twen'y y-years-s ol-l' an' he sh-shouldn'n h-have s-so m-many bl-black ey-eyes or b-bust'd l-lips-s. H-his br-broth'r h-hates-s 'im," his voice was angry and sad at the same time.

"I'm sorry, I just have to verify that our help is what is needed. So he lives with his brother?" Annie was embarassed at her flub but tried to make up for it.

"Y-yeah at h-home w-wi' th-their p-par-rents-s," he calmed down though the sadness was still there.

"Do they know about this? The parents, do they see the abuse?" she was quickly scribbling down notes.

"N-no, he h-hides-s it-t f-from 'em," his voice cracked. "L-look, um, w-wha' c-can I d-do?"

"Can you get him to call? Is he with you now? I would really like to talk --" she continued as she looked at the list of suggestions in front of her.

"N-no! He's-s a-fr-frai' his br-broth'r w-will fin' out-t, an' h-he's-s g-go'na b-be p-piss'd I c-call'd. I j-jus' w-wan' to h-help 'im," he said fiercely, then after a pause he added in a more quiet tone, "H-he's-s ash-sham'd he c-can'na do an'thin' 'bout-t it-t. He th-thin's th-this k-kin'na thin' o-only h-hap'ns-s t' w-weak an' h-helples-s, wo-women an' ch-chil'rn, n-not-t g-guys."

"Sir, this is not something that happens to just one type of people, anyone can be a victim if someone else has power over them," she attempted to get through the sterotype that society had hammered into people's minds. "If I could talk to him..."

"L-look, um, I g-got'a g-go," he sounded distracted.

"Please, just stay on the line," Annie tried one more time but she knew she was talking to dead air.

***

January 24, 2000 -- Monday

Worry is one of the most useless activities known to man and is directly related to waiting. What is waiting but the act of doing nothing in expectation of doing something? First of all nothing can be done about either, it is enevitable. It is how people deal with them that changes perspective. Some people use the time to do other things, in the name of multitasking, take their minds' off the reason for the wait, thus seeming to speed up the time passage. Others sit and wonder, ponder, worry, pray in one order or another, which can seem to slow down time. And then there are the people who do absolutely nothing. These people could care less occupy their minds with anything but the act in and of itself, they have achieved the higher level of existance which allows them to wait without the worry or anticipation of the upcoming event.

Dean happens to be in the part of all groups. First, he tries to do other things to occupy his mind. Second, he worries and wonders what exactly will happen. Third, when it all comes down to it, he knows what is coming and can do nothing to stop it, so he blanks his thoughts and waits. Unfortunately, Dean has a good reason to worry today, it was his birthday.

Birthdays are supposed to be a day of celebration for the one having it and the ones contributing to it. Cakes, cards, drinks, stories of the years past, hopes for the future, none of which Dean will have on his day. No, on his day he could look forward to pain. Sam had taken to "celebrating" Dean's birthdays with a whipping. He had perverted the innocent tradition into his own twisted pleasure. Dean wished Sam would just forget about it like he made their parents forget but he had more than one scar to show for his birthdays.

Dean sat cowering in the back of his closet waiting. It was close to five and Sam would be home soon. All Dean ever did these days was wait. Wait for the pain, wait for the nightmares to consume him, wait for punishments for imagined offenses, wait for Sam.

Most of the time John and Mary ignored Dean, not of there own choosing, but from the suggestions of Sam. They did not see him even though he was in the same room. When they did interact with him it was polite, shallow, always in a rush, like they had something more important to do. It left Dean with a hollow feeling, he knew it was Sam but it hurt him none the less. He should be used to it by now, years of neglect compounding the pain.

After Sam ruined his escape plans a year and a half ago, Dean wondered aimlessly around the house. Sam had put more restrictions on his actions, where he could go, who he could see. Dean was cut off from the few friends he had and he was not to leave the house except for going to work. Last March Sam had declared that Dean had a job down at Alton's Garage and Body Shop, Monday through Friday, eight to three. Dean had to leave the house at 7:30 am and be home at 3:30 pm, no exceptions. Sam was always there to check and the one time Dean was late he was punished for it.

So now Dean waited. He had gotten home at 3:29 pm, just in time for the phone to ring. It was one of the only times that Dean was allowed to use the phone. If Sam was not home at 3:30, then Sam would call and request to talk to Dean, if Dean did not answer. Today was no exception.

"He-ll-lo?" Dean said into the receiver.

"Good boy, Dean. Right on time," came a lilting voice. "You are such a good boy, that I am going to do something very special for your birthday."

Dean cringed at those words. Nothing Sam did was special, it was all painful. But he responded as expected, "Th-thank-k y-you S-sam-m." Tears trailed down his face as he tried to stop his shaking.

"That's my boy," Sam's voice dripped lust. "Now get cleaned up and be waiting."

"Y-yes-s S-sam-m," Dean barely choked out before he heard the click. He stood there staring at the phone wishing Sam would just forget this one time. With a heavy sigh, Dean hung up the phone and did as instructed.

"Where is my birthday boy?" Dean jumped when he heard the yell. He scrambled to get down the stairs before his brother got mad thinking that he was hiding.

Dean found Sam in the kitchen sitting at the table. "H-hey S-sam-m," he hesitantly greeted his younger brother.

Sam smiled as he got up and approached his older brother. "Happy Birthday Dean," he said with a glint in his eye. He then reached up and cradled Dean's face in his hands and kissed him deeply. He pulled back placing his hands on Dean's shoulders. "So you are 21 today. You know what that means."

Dean fought to control his fears, but he had no idea what his brother was getting at. So he stood and shook his head.

"Dean, you get to go buy beer!" Sam said with delight even though Sam had been doing it for years, making the shopkeepers see what he wanted to see. With that they left the house and bought a 30 pack.

Back at the house they drank the beer in the living room while Sam talked about his day. Dean had one to Sam's three. When Dean was sure that Sam was good and drunk he tried to get away, thinking that Sam would pass out soon. He got up with the pretext of putting the rest of the 30 pack in the frige.

"Where da ya think yur goin'?" Sam slurred after Dean grabbing his leg.

"I w-was-s pu-ttin' th-thess-ss aw-way," Dean answered hoping Sam would take him at his word.

"Why d' hell would ya wan' t' do that?" Sam demanded, though he had about twelve he was not as inebriated as Dean had hoped. "Did I tell you to put them away?" his voice was getting dark and even.

"N-no," dispite his best efforts he was trembling. 'please just pass out,' he pleaded silently.

"Then bring them back," Sam ordered and when Dean got close he grabbed his arm and painfully jerked him down to his knees. Sam then slapped him hard, hard enough to cause Dean to loose balance.

"You do nothing without my permission," Sam said and slapped him again, this time it split Dean's lip. Sam grabbed Dean hair then kissed him forcefully causing his lip to tear more. The blood was coppery in his mouth and his lip hurt, he whimpered into Sam's kiss.

"Take off your clothes," Sam ordered when he released Dean. Dean wanted to protest but he knew better. Slowly he complied until he stood naked in front of his younger brother.

"Yes," Sam whispered then took Dean's dick in his hand and started to stroke. Dean wished for the billionth time that he would just disappear. His body responded and then Sam did something he never did before.

Standing shock still he watched as Sam sucked him. He did not know what to do. Before he could register what he was feeling Sam stood and shoved him face down on the couch and raped him. It was brutal and painful but luckily it was over fast. Sam came quickly, biting Dean on the shoulder barely missing the place that had almost healed from the last time. Sam pulled out then sat on the floor and grabbed another beer.

"Damn Dean, you are one fine piece of ass," Sam chuckled drinking in celebration. "Happy fucking Birthday big brother."

***

May 29, 2000 -- Monday

"Friends for Life Help Center, I'm Annie, you can talk to me," Annie answered the phone.

"H-hel-lo?" an almost forgotten voice spoke to her. Annie had not heard that voice in over several months; she wondered what had happened to the young man and his 'friend.'

"Hello, you've called before," she greeted him hoping to keep him on the line while she signaled for a trace. She also looked to Wilma, her supervisor, indicating her to pick up on the piggyback line.

"Y-yeah, I...," he faltered, "I c-call'd 'b-bout m-my fr-frien'."

"Yes, I remember, he was being abused by his brother and his parents did't know or did't care," Annie was rifling through her papers trying to find his file. She just put it on her desk when she heard his reply.

"N-no, th-they d-don' kn-now. Th-they w-would c-care if S-sam w-would l-let 'em s-see," it was almost as if he were speaking to himself on the last part. But it was a slip that Annie jotted down, 'sam must be the brother.'

"But if you can see the injuries can't the parents?" she wondered about the home life. She glanced at Wilma, who was indicating her to continue.

"I t-tol' y-you, he h-hides-s it-t. S-sam c-can m-make p-people s-see w-what he w-wants-s 'em t-to s-see," the young man was getting angry with Annie.

"But how can he do that? I mean, there has to be something your friend can do to let his parent's know what is going on," she was fishing hoping to keep him on edge enough to slip again.

"I c-can't l-- h-he c-can' l-let 'em... he th-thin's h-he's p-prot'ctin' 'em," he sounded so defeated.

"Does the brother also hurt the parents?" she was confused by this new information, the man had not indicated before that is was a family being terrorized.

"N-no, n-not ou'r-right-t, o-only w-when S-sam th-thin's he n-needs-s a l-less-son," the young man seemed exasperated.

"If you could get him to call we could work with him, help him to get out of that situation. Maybe get the family into therapy --" Annie went on with the list.

"S-sam w-will n-ne'r l-let-t th-that-t h-hap'n," he added forcefully, he was panting with effort to control his anger, "He c-con-t-trols-s ev'r-r'thin'. If-f he kn-new I c-call'd h-he'd p-pun-nish m-me," there was a sharp intake of breath, "S-shit-t! F-for-rget-t I s-said an'thin'. I g-got-ta g-go." The fear in that voice seemed to double and there was a sense of dread that was not there before.

"Sir, don't hang up. No one will know you called, no one can find out, the phone number is blocked," Annie tried to keep the frighten man on the phone. She had had the suspicion that he was talking about himself and he just confirmed it. "We have safe houses, place that no one can --"

"Y-you d-don' un'nrs-stan'," the young man sobbed, "S-sam w-will f-fin' out-t, he alw-ways f-fin's out-t. Th-there's n-no pl-lace I c-can g-go tha' he c-can'na f-fin' m-me an' I'll b-be p-pun'sh'd ag-gain-n."

Annie's heart broke as the man cried, he was so scared.

His voice dropped to a gruff whisper, "I-it h-hur's tt-too m-much. I h-hur' s-so m-much, all-l t-time. Y-you c-can'na h-help-p m-me, I sh-shou'na c-call'd," he hiccuped and took a ragged breath, "Y-you s-soun' s-so n-nice... y-you h-hear m-me, An-annie," he finished softly, "n-no one el-lse h-hears-s m-me."

"Please, just stay on the line, I can help you," Annie cried but she knew he was gone again.

"Did we get the damned location?" Annie demanded.

***

August 30, 2000 -- Wednesday

Sam leaned back in the recliner enjoying the feel of the rough material against his bare skin. That coupled with the warm wet mouth that was sliding over his long hard erection sent shivers down his spine. It was not the best blow job he had ever had but it was one of the ones he enjoyed the most. His older brother was naked on his knees sucking him. Reveling in the power, Sam reached down and gripped Dean by the hair, stilling him. "Bitch, you are not into it tonight. Let me show you want I want," Sam purred then fucked Dean's mouth with a brutal delight. When he came, Sam watched as Dean swallowed, "Yeah, bitch, drink it all." Laughing he shoved Dean away, got up and went into the kitchen.

"Dean, you are such a pathetic loser," Sam laughed when he returned drinking a beer seeing his older brother huddled against the couch were Sam had pushed him. Flopping down onto the couch, he picked up the remote and flicked on the TV. Flipping through the channels trying to find something to watch, Sam noted that Dean was waiting for him to tell him what to do. 'such the obedient brother,' Sam was pleased and disgusted with that.

"Get up here," he ordered patting the place beside him. Sam watched as his older brother slowly get up and sit on the edge of the seat. Sam pulled him back and said, "Lean back, it is your turn." Sam smiled when Dean looked at him in confusion sitting stiffly beside him. Sam elbowed him all the way back against the couch and wrapped his long fingers around Dean's limp dick. He chuckled when Dead hissed at his tight grip.

"I want you to scream for me," Sam said as he started to stroke his brother. Like Pavlov's Dog, Dean responded to the stimulation with the expected result. But unlike the past where Sam would toy with him for a bit then rape him, Sam continued with the hand job. Dean let another hiss of pain escape while he tried to comprehend what his younger brother was doing.

"You are going to come when I say. Now, get into it, relax and work with me," Sam demanded.

Unfortunately, Dean did not think that he could do what Sam wanted. He could not relax in anyway in order even think about having an orgasm. He had never jerked off before, not wanting to have anything to do with sex because of Sam. To Dean sexual activities of any kind were not pleasurable experiences, they were punishments.

"Damn it, Dean, I can't do this all night," Sam complained, "I want you to spill and do it quickly." Sam was jerking Dean's dick so hard that the poor excuse for an erection faded causing Sam to stop.

"You are doing this on purpose," Sam's voice got low and even.

'shit, what can i do? i don't know how...' Dean was thinking frantically as sweat poured off his body.

"You are a bad boy, Dean."

-------------------------

Hours later Sam awoke thirsty and in pain. "Damn it," he cursed examining his hands in the bathroom, then went to check on his brother. He found Dean in his bed lying on his back.

Sam watched his brother sleep, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest with shallow breaths. Carefully so as not to disturb him, Sam slipped the covers from Dean's naked body. He observed the marks he put there and frowned, 'Crap those are ugly.' He did not like what he had done, although he had to discipline Dean. 'Both eyes are swollen shut, nose is broken, both lips are split and swollen. Looks like several ribs are cracked or broken. Left knee looked dislocated and the ankle looked sprained if not broken. Damn it, where does one bruise end and the next begin?' He had lost control and went too far this time. Now he was going to have to back off until Dean healed a bit.

"It's all your fault, I try to do something nice," he whispered to his older brother. Sam absently rubbed his bruised and split knuckles. "Shit Dean, if you loved me you would have done what I said," Sam shed tears, not for Dean but for himself. "Why don't you love me? You are the only one who..." he let the words die on his lips.

"Fuck you," he said then left the room leaving his brother uncovered.

***

December 31, 2000 -- Sunday - January 1, 2001 -- Monday

The end of one year and the beginning of the next had found Dean in his bed trying to find a comfortable position for sleep. His whole body hurt from the punishments he had endured in the last few days. For no apparent reason, Sam had been in a bad mood and was taking it out on Dean, but then again Sam always took everything out on Dean. The last had been the Water Test that had Dean holding onto tin cups while Sam poured in boiling water. It burned his hands but he did not let go. Dean's hands were blistered and raw but he did not complain even though that was what Sam wanted.

Lying on his back, Dean cradled his hands to his chest and tried to fall asleep. Nothing he did helped him get away from the fear or the pain. 'i have to get out of here, i have to get away,' the same words floated through his mind and the same answers came with them, 'but mom and dad, they have no idea what sam can do.' Tears flooded his eyes but he refused to let them fall. 'i just want to sleep, please let me sleep,' he pleaded with his mind for release, he knew Sam would be out for the rest of the night and most probably the day. Sam had a big party to go to.

Rolling onto his side with his back to the wall, Dean started to recite the periodic table. After that did not work, Dean started calculating to the twelth digit the value of pi. Finally, he started to drift off.

------------------------------

Dean was jerked awake by Sam in the early morning hours. He felt his arm nearly pulled from it's socket as Sam moved him to the center of his bed and start to kiss him.

"N-nn-o!" Dean could not take it any more, he had to make it stop. He constantly hurt and was always on edge, he never could relax. He got a backhand to his face and a punch to the gut for his efforts. Gasping for air, Dean could smell the alcohol on Sam breath.

"Happy New Year, bitch," Sam slurred into his ear then planted a rough kiss on Dean's mouth. He whimpered in pain when Sam bit his lip causing it to bleed. Dean pushed against his younger brother hoping he was drunk enough to roll with it.

"Damn it," Sam hissed then slapped Dean, "Are you fighting me?" he had disbelief in his voice.

"J-jj-us-t-t s-st-top-p it-t!" Dean fiercely pleaded as he felt his hands being pulled to the edges of the bed. "Th-this-s is-ss n-nno-t-t r-rr-right-t!" he was trying to get Sam to listen to him. Dean's chest and shoulders were pinned to the bed along with his arms and legs by Sam's powers.

Sam laughed, even thoroughly inebriated he still was in control. "Not right? You stupid bitch. Like I give a shit," Sam growled punching Dean in the gut again.

"Gonna fuck you good," Sam purred then reached down to shove his finger into Dean. He bit back a cry of pain as Sam finger fucked him. Dean was not going to give him the satisfaction, he was going to stop this one way or another. Dean just needed a plan. So Dean endured silently the painful abuse.

Sam was up to three when he pulled out, "Now you're ready," he said with lust in his voice. Spreading Dean's legs as far as they would go, Sam grabbed hold of Dean's hips and entered, laughing when Dean did scream out in agony this time.

"You love it, bitch," Sam was enjoying the look of pain and hopelessness on his brother's face while he raped him. Sam had Dean's arms pinned straight out to his sides. Dean wanted to look away, but Sam did not want him hiding in any form. So he was forced to look into those hateful eyes enjoying the terror and pain he was feeling.

Tears filled his eyes and left salty trails down the sides of his face. He screamed when Sam hit that tender spot and pounded it harshly. Dean wished just once someone would hear him and save him, but was so ashamed of his weakness and helplessness that he was almost glad no one did. Sam saw to it that any noises that Dean made were registered as background sounds to their parents. It took a few tries, but Sam had John and Mary believing that every sound that Dean uttered was silence. And unless they spoke directly to him, Dean was unheard in the Winchester household. So he could talk and yell and scream until he was blue in the face, no one paid any attention to Dean.

Sam came with a harsh gasp and collapsed, causing Dean's breath to be labored under his brother's weight. He concentrated on just that for the longest time waiting for Sam to move. It had been so long that his legs started to cramp and his back to spasm painfully. When Dean was able to move he heard the soft snores of his brother, he carefully pushed Sam off and out of him.

Sam shifted and turned back towards Dean, curling around his brother as if snuggling. Dean tried to push him away but Sam held on. Nuzzling in close, Sam murmured into Dean's ear, "Why don't you love me? I need you, Dean. I'm so alone."

***

August 15, 2001 -- Wednesday

It was almost a year later when Annie got another call from 'Lawrence'. She had dubbed him that because when they did a trace on the call they found it was a pay phone outside of body shop in Lawrence, Kansas. She had often wondered about her failure and what had happened to the sad young man.

"Friends for Life Help Center, I'm Annie, you can talk to me," Annie answered the phone with a forced cheeriness, she had wanted to go to lunch but Rebecca had not gotten back yet.

"H-hello An-annie," a halting voice said.

That voice immediately got her full attention, she had prayed he would call back. "Hello? Is this you?" she did not know what to call him since he never gave a name. She saw that the phone number displayed was for a John and Mary Winchester. She quickly logged the address and started the back up recording.

"Y-yeah, I c-call'd b-b'fore. I j-just w-wan'na t-tell y-you th-thanks," he did not seem so frightened.

"Thanks? What for? What did I do?" she was confused, she thought that she failed him on those other calls.

"Y-you h-heard me. Y-you t-talk'd t' me," he also sounded as though he was about to break down. "S-sam is-s th' o-only o-ne wh-who t-talks a-at me. M-my b-boss an' co-w-workers d-don' s-speak t' me an' M-mom an' D-dad ig-gnore me, S-sam s-saw t' th-that." It was almost as if he were speaking to himself, his tone was so lonely.

"I hear you, anytime you want to talk," she wanted to give her extension but that was against the rules.

"I, um, j-just n-need'd t' h-hear a fr-frien'ly v-voice," he was interrupted by a coughing fit.

"Are you alright? Are you still in that situation you described before?" Annie wanted to help him.

"I f-fi', j-jus' al-al'gies," he paused to blow his nose, "N-nut'n's ch-chang'd. S-sam s-still h-hates me an' sh-shows me e-ev'r d-day. Th-though he d-did l-let me st-tay h-home c-cuz of my al-al'gies t'day," the next pause was a long enough to make Annie think that he had hung up again except for the number displayed on her screen still. Then she heard, "I h-hur' all'l da t-tim-me. S-sam b-beat-t's me an' r-rapes-s me. I d-don't-t w-wan'na h-hur' no m-more."

"Oh, honey. No one should have to go through that," Annie did not know what to do, the rapes were a new revelation. "Let me get you some help."

"N-no!" he immediately answered, then added quietly, "H-he'll h-hur' m-mom an' d-dad."

"What?" she was confused as to what to say next, his need to protect was clouding his judgement. "How do you know that? Have you seen it?"

The man was crying now, "I d-don' w-wanna d-do th-this an-ny m-more. I j-jus' wan' it t' s-stop-p. It-t's b-been t-too m-many y-years-s."

"I can send help to your location if you just say the word," Annie was getting anxious.

"N-no! S-sam w-will b-be m-mad if a-an'one f-fin's out-t. I'm t-takin' a r-risk c-callin'," the man sounded panicked.

"I will listen as long as you want, but you have got to let me help you," she was pleading, trying to get him to trust her.

"J-jus' t-talk t' m-me," his voice dropped down to a whisper, "I s-so l-lone-ly."

"What do you want me to say?" Annie questioned, tears forming in her eyes.

"T-tell m-me 'b-bout y-y'r d-day," he had tears in his voice.

"Well, so far I have taken three calls, not including yours, and Rebecca is late coming back from lunch," Annie tried to keep the conversation light in order to keep the man on the phone and herself from breaking down.

"Y-you h-have l-lunch y-yet?" he quizzed.

"No, I am talking to you," thinking that he might take that the wrong way she added, "but then I would have missed your call. And I am on a diet anyway." She chuckled.

"I s-sorry t' k-keep y-you," he apologized.

"No, I would not have missed your call for the world," Annie meant it, she knew she could help if he would just talk.

"Th-thanks, I, um, y-you --" he was cut off by a yell.

Annie heard an angry voice on the other end of the line.

"What the hell are you doing?!" a door slammed and hurried footsteps followed.

"S-ss-am-m!" fear radiated from every stuttered letter, "I-I s-sor-rry, i-it-t --" the young man tried to answer but then she heard the sound of her caller getting slapped.

"Who the hell are you? What did Dean tell you?" the angry voice demanded, not getting an answer he added, "I will find out."

Annie was so shocked that she just sat in stunned silence. She did not know what to do so she hit the mute button on her phone so that the angry voice, Sam, would not know she was still on the line. After a moment she heard Sam again, this time directed at her caller, Dean.

"I did not give you permission to talk on the phone. You know what this means," the voice became low and steady.

"I-I s-sor-rry S-sam-m. I-it-t r-rang-gg --" tere was desperation in his voice.

"I don't want to hear your excuses. You broke the rules and now you have to be punished. You are a bad boy, Dean."

Annie heard the sounds of a beating. She could almost visualize Dean being hit with the handset of the phone from the sound of the blows and his cries of pain. Dean was begging for forgiveness almost as if he knew that it would not make any difference but did it anyway. The last thing she heard was the handset being slammed home ending the call.

***

August 15, 2001 -- Wednesday

Dean's breath was labored as he tried to move from the living room to the kitchen. Sam had just gotten through with beating him for being on the phone
without permission. Sam had wailed on Dean for over an hour, breaking his jaw, his nose, every finger on his right hand, and three ribs on the right and two
on the left. Dean did not have a place on him that was not bruised or bloody.

Sam ordered Dean to clean up the mess and himself because it was not over. He promised more punishments to come. After disabling all the phones he left, he
still had errands to run. Sam had only stopped back at the house to check on Dean and maybe a quick fuck when he found his older brother on the phone.

Dean just needed to rest a bit before he started to clean. He could not stay in the living room because when his parents came home he did not want to be
ignored to his face. They would come in and just not acknowledge him at all. It hurt too much, much more than the bruises and broken bones.

Dean was up on his knees hanging on to the door frame. He coughed trying to catch his breath through his busted mouth. He could not steady himself enough
to stand so he crawled on his elbows and knees to the sink. It took nearly fifteen minutes to make the ten foot trek. Blood dripped from his nose and
mouth, his eyes were swelling, and he could not hear anything in his left ear for the ringing.

Every breath was a struggle, every move torture. Dean could not remember movement without pain. He could not remember a day he did not hurt; the past year
had been a particularly brutal one. He sat, propped up against the cabinet, concentrating on breathing and not puking. Sometime later he got up on his
knees and leveraged himself up on to his feet. He hung onto the sink for dear life because he did not want to fall. If he did, he did not think he could
get back up again.

Dean let the water run as he washed the best he could the blood from his face. His right eye was not quite swollen shut like the left so he could sort of
see what he was doing. The cold water felt good on his battered face and broken fingers. He leaned on one of the double sinks filling it with soapy water
so that he could start to clean the place up. He had not looked but he knew his blood was everywhere.

'at least he did not rape me this time,' tears filled Dean's eyes at the thought, because at that moment he felt Sam on him, in him, violating him. He could
smell Sam's musk, hear his breathing, feel his dick inside him ripping him to shreds. He shook but remained up right. 'please don't, just stop, please,' he
begged his mind. Dean was as helpless against his own memories as he was against his younger brother.

"What the hell have you been doing?"

Dean jumped at the voice then turned to see Sam standing in the doorway.

"You are a bad boy, Dean," his voice was low and angry. A slow hard smile crept across his face when is saw the tears in his brother's eyes and on his face.

"N-no, I'm n-not-t," Dean whispered to his younger brother. His left hand had slipped into the sink that he had piled the dirty dishes into, causing him to
bobble but remain standing.

"What? Are you defying me?" Sam laughed, a humorless, ugly sound. He approached his older brother ready to discipline him again for his insolence. He
watched as Dean cowered at the sink, shaking with fear. Bruises from the beating earlier already formed and turning from red to blue. Sam froze Dean to the
spot and ripped off the ragged remains of his bloody t-shirt. Sam smiled again at the ugly marks decorating his brother's body.

"Dean, you are so pathetic," Sam purred running his fingers over Dean's chest, reopening cuts, smearing blood that was not already dry. He enjoyed the tears
newly trailing down Dean's face and the hiss of pain. He undid Dean's jeans, pulled them down, then spun him around.

"P-pl-lea-s-se d-don'," Dean begged, he could not handle it any more. "J-jus' k-kill me," his last words were so faint Sam did not hear him.

"You are a bad boy and this is what bad boys deserve," Sam crooned and jabbed a finger up Dean's ass. He could hear the labored breathing from his older
brother, almost gasping in the effort. Sam unzipped his own jeans and wetted his hard dick with the soapy water in the sink. He buried himself in Dean,
enjoying another muffled cry of pain.

Dean clutched at something in the sink trying with little success to brace himself. His right hand tried for purchase but found none on the water slick
countertop. Dean's stomach was pressed against the sink and his hips were being banged against the cabinet with each thrust.

"Pl-lea-s," Dean begged, feeling Sam wrap his arms around his chest. Breathing was hard enough without Sam adding to the struggle. 'maybe if he punctures
a lung, I can die,' the thought actually gave him hope.

Sam pounded Dean's ass hard, biting into his shoulder. 'oh, yeah, tight and hot,' Sam thought ignoring Dean's rough, ragged pleas. He came with a gasp and
held onto his older brother. Sam staggered back releasing Dean.

"You are so fuckin' pathetic," said Sam as he was pulling up his jeans. Then took a step closer continuing, "I don't kn-"

"Pl-lea-se st-top-p," Dean whispered, trying to stop Sam's new advance he had held his hands in front of him. He watched as Sam stumbled back staring at
him with a strange look on his face.

Sam looked down to find a handle sticking out of him. Sam continued to back up until he hit the far cabinets then slid to the floor. Sam looked up at his older

brother in disbelief. 'He stabbed me,' the thought raced around in his head but he could not come to grips with what was actually happening. He felt his control

slowly slipping away. Sam tried to get angry again, however, the pain was pushing all efforts away. Gingerly he gripped the handle and pulled. He let out cry

of tortured pain he had never felt before and let the knife drop from limp fingers.

The clatter on the kitchen floor brought Dean's eyes to focus, they had gone blurry in effort to control the pain. He, too, had slid to the floor causing
him to cough roughly, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Dean failed to noctice the foamy blood added to the bright red that was Sam's on his left hand.
He had wanted to pass out but something held him there. He stared at his younger brother waiting for retaliation. He did not understand why his brother was
now on the floor as well. It took several minutes for him to register that the red on Sam's shirt was not his but in fact his brother's because it kept
getting bigger. That was when he looked at his hands.

"I- you-," Sam started but could not finish, his vision was fading to black. He blinked and tried to focus but he started slip to the right, a gental slide
to the floor. Sam violently shook his head to clear his vision then yelled, "Dean, you bitch!" He started with venom but ended with a plea, "What the hell have you done?"

Dean raised his head from his chest, an effort. His breaths were shallow and short, blood dripping from his lips. He squinted at Sam across the room. His
mind was in chaos; words had little meaning.

"Dean," Sam's voice was weak, "why don't love me?" Tears were falling down his face.

Dean heard his brother that time. He was dumbfounded by the question. He tried to answer, "S-sam-m..." A cough stopped him.

"I just wanted you to love me," Sam said through tears. He was fading fast, he knew he did not have much longer. Nothing he tried worked, he was going to
die.

"I alw-ways-s l-love you," Dean finally answered, though he doubted that Sam could hear him. He never listened in the past. "You h-hat-ted m..." he could
not finish. Dean breathed his last breath and slumped forward, his hands slipping to the floor.

Sam did hear his older brother. "What have I done?" he whispered, confusion clouded his mind, he tried to think back on his life and all he came up with was
Dean. Always Dean, there for him to play with, to punish, to torture. Dean was a constant in his life that never would go away. Sam blinked and raised his
head one last time.

"You never left," Sam's eyes were wide, the epiphany happened too late. The last tears he shed were not for himself. The last thing he remebered was
thinking, 'what have i done?' before he himself joined his brother.

fini

***