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Shattered	By : angeljade Category: Supernatural > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4002 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Shattered
- 1
Title: Shattered
Author: Angel Jade
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: incest, rape/non-con, slash, language, violence, abuse, angst, dark fic!
Spoilers: S2 vaguely, none past 2x14
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Summary: Dean couldn�t save Sam. Now he hangs on by a thread while Sam�s sadistic streak threatens to cut him loose.
Setting: S2 AU�see author�s note
Site: http://www.badsideoftown.net/
Author�s note: While this is based on the plot progression of season 2, as at the time of writing this the plot has not got this far, this is completely AU. Maybe I�ll change it at a later date or write a sequel if, when the rest of season two finally airs, I am given reason to do so. But for now, just look as it as an AU, based on what could happen (well, maybe not) during the end of S2. To put it simply, it�s an evil!Sam fic, without much in the way of plot.
Sam brought the belt down onto the skin Dean�s beautifully pale ass, smiling as it left an angry red mark in its place.

As always, Dean refused to make a sound, holding back his pain with everything he had. Each strike was sadistic in its force and accuracy, biting at every inch of his ass until there was nowhere left untouched. As the skin grew sorer, the strikes became more excruciating, until keeping back his cries of pain was near impossible.

But then Sam had no intention of stopping until those cries finally escaped and they both knew it. Dean�s stubbornness would not be swayed by logic; he was determined to show his brother that no matter how hopeless the situation, he wouldn�t give up.

Once he�d coaxed enough sound from Dean�s lips, Sam dropped his belt to the side and gently ran his finger over the abused ass, watching as Dean tensed with a sharp intake of breath. He leant down, kissing the red-hot skin before slapping it hard, for good measure. �I still love it when you fight me, you know.� Sam smiled, cruelly, his attention creeping up Dean�s back, watching as his shoulders shook with the effort of keeping the angle they were forced at, to meet his handcuffed wrists at the top of the headboard. �Is there anything I can do to you to break you down?� Sam didn�t expect an answer, but Dean�s heated glare provided one. �I think I know what might�� He teased, moving over to lie beside his restrained brother.

Dean said nothing, focusing on his breathing to get through the pain of Sam�s latest assault. If he hoped to get through the rest of the day without any serious injuries and unbearable pain that would last for weeks on end, Dean knew he�d have to stay calm and as still as possible. Sam�s words hurt almost as much as the belt; they stung in different places, a constant reminder that he had failed his brother. This, Dean told himself for the thousandth time, was his punishment.

The sudden movement at his wrists caught Dean�s attention and before could see what Sam was doing; he�d been freed from the headboard. His wrists were violently sore, two months of bruising and skin being worn off without a chance to heal. He resisted the urge to try and massage feeling back into his hands, not wanting to make the pain any worse.

There was nothing to do but lie there beside Sam, waiting for the former hunter to make his next move. When the younger Winchester finally made it, Dean flinched away from the hand reaching out to touch his cheek. It was these touches he hated more than anything�he could take pain, he�d been dealing with it his whole life. But these soft and pseudo-caring gestures were heartbreaking. Perhaps, Dean thought hopelessly, Sam did know how to break him after all.

�Do you still love me, Dean?� Sam asked, the cruelty gone from his voice and the old Sammy back in its place, a reflection of how things had been only days before Sam lost control and Dean didn�t save him.

Unable to answer, Dean just looked at his brother with empty eyes, too tired to make a sarcastic quip�too afraid to tell the truth.

�Why didn�t you stop me?� Sam whispered, leaning in until their foreheads almost touched. �You were supposed to save me, Dean.�

He looked away, not wanting Sam to see the tears spring up in his eyes. His chest ached with a pain that rivalled any that Sam could deliver, it threatened to tear him down and break him into tiny shards of who he once was.

�Dean�� Sam�s pained voice came from behind him. �Please, don�t leave me��

�Stop it.� Dean finally spoke; unable to take hearing his brother�s voice like this. The whiney, touchy-feely, vulnerable and loving voice of his baby brother�it was too much. Months of being tormented and raped at the hands of the only person left in the world Dean loved had sent him so close to the edge so many times. He was physically and mentally exhausted, barely able to keep things together. Now Sam wanted to play a new game and Dean knew this time he couldn�t hang on.

Sam�s hand rested on his back, in a mock gesture of sympathy, caressing his skin. �I still love you, you know that, don�t you? Nothing can change that.� Sam swore, his eyes betraying his amusement at the new game.

�Why are you doing this?� Dean demanded, turning back to face his brother.

�Because,� Sam answered, softly, �you let this happen to me.�

Dean clenched his jaw and refused to hear any of it. His guilt was already consuming him; there was nothing else Sam could say that could make things any worse than they already were.

�You didn�t answer my question, Dean.� Sam reminded him, pressing up against the older boy�s body as they lay together. �Do you still love me?�

Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat and fought to keep in control. �You�re not Sam anymore.�

�Does that mean you�re ready?� Sam asked, sitting up. He left Dean�s side, returning with a gun cradled in his right hand. He held it out towards his confused brother, his expression deadly serious.

�You want me to shoot you?� Dean asked, with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. �Is it even loaded?�

�You remember the first time you ran away from me, I slit a girl�s throat to teach you a lesson?� Sam asked, his hand still outstretched. Dean�s eyes dropped, the memory still fresh in his mind, another reason to feel guilty. �Do you know how many people I�ve already killed? How many I�m going to kill? You were supposed to stop me and you failed, their deaths are your fault. So here it is, your last chance of redemption. Put me out of my misery and save all those lives with one little bullet.�

Dean looked back up and eyed the gun, waiting for Sam to get to the punch line.

�Take it, Dean.� Sam ordered, his voice changing back to the cold, sadistic one Dean was used to.

He reluctantly reached out and took it, the cold metal feeling foreign in his hands. He�d never known a gun to feel so wrong, especially one of his own. Tying to sit up, he bit his lip as sore skin met the bed sheets painfully.

�If you don�t do it, I�m going to fuck you so hard you�re never going to remember what it feels like to walk without pain again. Then, while you�re still screaming in agony, I�m gonna go out and kill every last human I find, slowly�and painfully.� Sam described, his mouth twisting into a smirk. �Your choice.�

Dean held the gun in a vice grip, before aiming it at Sam and tightening his finger over the trigger, feeling the metal slide back but not quite enough to set it off. Sam didn�t flinch, just stared down the barrel with a smile on his face. Not believing for a second the gun was loaded, but hoping he was wrong anyway, Dean swung the gun round to his own temple and pulled the trigger.

A click followed, but no bang. Dean was left feeling as hollow as ever and Sam just laughed, clapping his hands in amusement.

�I was really hoping you�d do that.� Sam grinned, taking the gun off Dean and chucking it across the room. �Still can�t shoot me after all this time.�

�No point, wasn�t loaded.� Dean muttered, miserably. �I�m not an idiot.�

�Of course it wasn�t loaded. But tell me, when you pulled the trigger, did you pray to a god you don�t even believe in that it was?� Sam questioned, snorting as Dean lay back down on his front. �You�re pathetic. Why do you even bother fighting me when you know you can�t finish me off? Why not just admit you like being my bitch?� He moved back to the bed, climbing over Dean and straddling his legs. �I could beat and fuck you all day long and you�d still love me, wouldn�t you Dean?�

�No more mind games. Get it over with.� Dean snapped, knowing exactly what would come next and that there was no getting out of it.

�Mind games?� Sam asked, feigning ignorance. �I�m serious here. No matter what I�ve done, I still love you.�

�Just fuck me already.�

�I know you love me too, Dean, admit it�� Sam demanded.

�If you�re not horny, can I get some sleep? You kept me up last night with your snoring�� Dean expected a slap for that, or at least something. He had to get Sam�s attention off this conversation, anything to change the topic.

�Dean.� Sam stated, reaching down to guide his brother onto his back, forcing the older Winchester to look at him.

Wincing at the pain, Dean struggled to just lie there, wishing he had the freedom to get into a more comfortable position.

�Tell me you love me.� Sam pouted, leaning down to kiss Dean�s cheek, affectionately. When Dean tried to move his face away, Sam simply followed, laying kisses wherever he could get them until he finally captured Dean�s lips. He�d forcefully kissed Dean many times before, but this time he had no intention of making it painful. �Dean, please tell me.� He begged, softly pressing his lips back on Dean�s, waiting for his brother to give in. He gently took Dean�s cock in his hand and gave it a squeeze, rubbing his thumb over the tip before massaging it to hardness. This was not the first time he�d forced Dean to come for him either, but before it had always been in mocking and brutal. This was anything but.

Dean felt his erection growing in Sam�s hand, hating himself for being so easily manipulated. Sam had never been so gentle before, it threw him at first, before he reminded himself it was all part of the game. He struggled to keep from responding, his desperate need to grasp onto this memory of how Sam used to be almost winning out.

But when Sam leant down and whispered in his ear, �Need you so much, Dean, always needed you.� He finally gave in. His lips parted and Sam dominated his mouth with a kiss that sent shivers down Dean�s spine. Hands that had broken and bruised were now caressing his skin and jerking him off with smooth firm strokes. Dean couldn�t forget what Sam had become, but as his body shamefully responded to Sam�s touches, he lost the will to care anymore.

�Love you so much.� Sam whispered once more, watching as Dean came undone beneath him.

Before he could stop the words from falling from his mouth, Dean replied, �Love you too, Sammy.� As he came across his own chest, realisation hit that Sam wasn�t Sam anymore; Dean had played into his hands and said the one thing he�d never wanted to say again.

Satisfied, Sam thrust inside Dean with one brutal movement, catching him off guard. The cry of agony that followed made Dean�s admission that much sweeter and Sam came harder that night than he�d ever come before. �I knew you still love me.� Sam panted, the smugness in his voice not lost on the trembling man beneath him.

Tears of pain ran from Dean�s eyes, he�d bitten down so hard on his lip that it now bled. With shaken movements, he tried to crawl out from under Sam, not knowing where he was going, but determined to get away from the sadistic bastard who�d once again managed to get his own way and shatter Dean�s fragile state of mind.

�Say it again, Dean.� Sam begged, pulling him back under and kissing away the tears.

With nothing else to lose, Dean closed his eyes and gave in. �Love you, Sam.�

End.
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Shattered