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The shifter was panicking. It was only natural. There was someone after him that was... to put it mildly, insane. He looked around the apartment fast. He didn’t mean to cause any harm really, he’d dressed up as the thing’s brother just to scope the place out. But that child... that strange child, just knew it wasn’t the right brother.
The glass panes in the front door shattered, and a small form slipped through. Bleeding a little, but mostly ok. Holding a Taurus that the shifter knew must hold silver bullets. The child looked at him with big eyes, somehow the more intimidating for the coldness in their seemingly innocent depths.
“I don’t know who you are,” the child began, “But you aren’t Dean. Dean wouldn’t have walked in without having driven Baby back, and you weren’t in Baby. I didn’t hear Baby at all.”
The shifter cursed his luck. Of course. The memories hadn’t been quite that... current.
Sam’s lip jutted out mullishly, defiantly. “So who are you, then?”
The shifter eyed him, then blinked rapidly, another onslaught of memories hitting his brain. And that was all he needed, really. He straighted up and deepened his voice. “Sammy, c’mere.”
Sam’s eyes widened, and his gun lowered slightly. “Y-you’re not... you’re not Dean.”
The shifter crossed his arms. “Hey, when I give you an order, you listen.”
Sam flushed, eyes flashing. “You know I don’t like it when you order me around.”
Bingo. The shifter fought back a grin that would break the spell he had over this doe-eyed teen. “I know, but you know I just want what’s best for you. Gotta look out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother, right?” He flashed Dean’s just-for-Sammy smile, and was rewarded with the gun being lowered completed.
Sam nodded, eyes on the floor.
The shifter adjusted, feeling his jeans grow tighter at Sam’s total obedience to his big brother. How sweet would it be to just fuck the little brat and then seduce Dean too. Take their first times from each other, make them feel like incestuous freaks. It would make the annoyance Sam had put him through worth it. Plus, it’s not like they could go to their father about it. Their father, the reason he was even in this situation. What revenge could be more sweet? John wouldn’t even know, and shifter could get away with revenge and live.
“C’mere, kiddo.”
Sam holstered the Taurus in his jeans pocket, and came trustingly to the shifter. The shifter didn’t resist his smirk this time. How easily the lamb came to the slaughter, if only the killer shared the same poisonous blood in their veins. He waited until Sam was close to him and grabbed the Taurus out of Sam’s pocket, pistol whipping the child in the head. Sam went down like a ton of bricks, and the shifter let out an appreciative whistle. “Damn Sammy, you even look good getting knocked out. Impressive.”
This was going to be so much fun.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Sam awoke, he was sore. Sore in wrong, strange ways and Dean was on his back and Dean was... Dean was inside him. A tumble torrent of emotion rushed through his body. Shame, arousal, fear, love, lust. Sam felt like he could drown, drown in the waves created in his body by Dean’s motions. Dean’s dick, stretching him out, his hips snapping and adjusting in an undulation not unlike the rocking of a boat. Sam felt drowsy, like his brain was melting or maybe just coagulating, the blood in his veins slowing to a sluggish drip to match the pounding in his head.
Not even the pain seemed to discourage his body’s reaction, though. There was no doubt that Dean didn’t want him, not if he’d done this to him. He let out a little whimper, needy and pitiful. Dean chuckled, low and hot by his ear. “Look so good with a bump on your head... bruises on your neck, my dick in your guts, flushed and pale all mixed up under that betrayal that your brother, your protector would do this to you. Tell me Sammy, you’re the smart one. Did kings get nothing for having knights?”
Sam whimpered again. “D-dee...”
Dean’s hands closed around his neck, and he gave Sam a little shake. Sam saw stars. Dean released his hands violently, basically throwing Sam’s head back to the ground. It hit with a dull thunk. Dean snarled and snapped his hips, driving the rhythm, the pace forward to a sick sort of feral beat that only he seemed to hear.... Except Sam could hear it now too, in the rushing of his blood, in the too-tight feeling of his skin, and that fire that had started burning in his gut. The one that would burn up such an unclean, unholy little freak like him.
Who wanted their own brother?
Who?
Sam, that’s who.
Sam, the sick freak. He hadn’t gotten mad at Dirk because he was wrong. Sam got mad because Dirk was right about Sam. Sam was a freak. Sam was a disgusting freak, even getting off at the thought of his own depravity, of being used like a thing by his brother as a payment. A king to his knight. “A boon, my liege?” A giddy, hysterical laugh burst out of Sam’s mouth, scaring him with its whiney, biting pitch. Dean backhanded him with a growl.
“I asked you a question, kiddo. I expect to be answered. And not with that crazy-sounding laugh.”
Sam had drifted, right. He was a little stunned, momentarily, at the perversion of his sweet nickname though.... He didn’t think he’d ever hear Dean say “kiddo” the same way again.
“Kings would grant knights land, titles, wealth, and sometimes a knighting boon.” Sam was toneless, trying to retreat. He should have known Dean would never let him go far.
“Good.” Dean bit Sam’s neck, sucking a dark hickey in there. Under another circumstance, Sam would be glad of it. “Do you know a knighting oath?”
Sam was drifting again. He had been given so much attention over the years... not in front of Dean, no, everyone was scared of Dean, but even Dad had looked him up and down. Sam supposed it was inevitable that someone would rape him someday. In a sick way, he was glad it was Dean. Dean, his big brother, always taking care of him. “Oh, yeah, I’ll give you what you need.” Hadn’t Sam heard his brother say that to a girl before? “It’s m’ job to look out for you, Sammy.” Dean was sure doing that. Another hysterical giggle bubbled in Sam’s gut, tangled around a sob that was trying to break through.
He received another shake from Dean. “I asked you something, Sam.”
Toneless. “Yessir.”
“Recite it.” Dean’s hips began losing rhythm, stuttering and chasing. Sam knew he would soon be baptized. What a religion!
“By the power vested in me by God, I dub thee Sir Dean of the Impala.” Dean shuddered, hips convulsing against his own, and Sam felt the fire finally take over. No, no, please no, not when... not...
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam wasn’t moving on the floor. He wasn’t out. He wasn’t dead, either. He was just... somewhere else. The shifter smirked, grabbing the clothes he’d stripped from the boy. He motioned to the bathroom. “I’ll take first shower.” Sam’s dull eyes gained a spark. He looked fiercely up at the shifter, so much venom. “Hey, Sammy, don’t look like that.”
A mullish pout. “Only Dean gets to call me Sammy.”
“I am Dean.”
Sam looked at him and shook his head. “Nope. You don’t have your amulet. You never take that off, not even when you’re fucking girls. Ever.” He rolled over, staring at the door. The shifter shrugged, heading into the bathroom.
The change was, as always, painful. As he was dressing, he paused, staring into the mirror. He could feel the download. And...
Oh.
Oh.
OH God.
The little brat had liked it. Deeply. Sam had been turned on enough that the shifter felt his own cock begin to stir just from the memories. The shifter shook his head. Focus on the plan.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam was tied up, and the shifter was just preparing to leave when he heard a rumble of a car. The car. Dean’s car. Shit.
The shifter cast a quick critical eye over Sam. Anything he had missed? Nope. The shifter drew the gun, pointing it at Sam as if he was about to shoot. When Dean burst through the door, the shifter threw him the same look the tied up Sam on the floor was giving him. The shifter acted breathless.
“Dean, come on, I’m just about to put this shifter down!”
Dean merely pointed his gun at the shifter. The shifter spluttered. “Dean, dude--”
“You aren’t Sam. Don’t try to bullshit me. Don’t try to tell me I don’t know my OWN BABY BROTHER YOU STINKING SON OF A BITCH!”
The shifter gaped. Dean’s gun didn’t waver.
His eyes immediately shifted to scan Sam, but he addressed the shifter, tone cold and business-like. “Here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna untie my little brother. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. I’m going to tie you up, and I am going to kill you as slowly as I can with the tiniest silver razor blade. The depth and amount of cuts depends on you, so for your sake, you better hope that you didn’t do anything real bad.”
The shifter shifted. This was... welp. Nice knowing ya, world.
Dean continued, “oh and I’m not gonna keep my gun to you while i check over my brother. If you so much as attempt to leave, that’s also gonna affect your cuts. Keep it in mind.”
He holstered his gun, running over to Sam. Dean’s hands made quick work of the bindings, and then he carefully examined Sam. Every bruise and cut he saw, Dean’s eyes darkened and sharpened further. When he examined Sam’s neck, Sam flinched. Dean saw.
“Sammy, kiddo, what’s wrong?”
Sam choked. “D-don’t call me that, don’t call me k-kiddo...”
Dean froze. “What? Why not?”
When Sam didn’t answer, Dean tensed.
“Sam. What did he do to you?”
Sam raised his eyes and said simply, “He took a his knighting boon.”
Dean’s face registered confusion. Sam’s eyes dropped to the floor again. Quietly, “He fucked me, Dean.”
“Sammy... I hate to ask you this, but did you...?” Green eyes scanned kaleidoscope ones. Whatever Dean saw, he seemed to have his answer. He wordlessly took off his jacket, wrapping it around Sam, and placing an extremely gentle kiss to his head. He left, coming back in just a minute or so with some clothes. “Come on, baby brother. Let’s get you to the car, k? You can read or do whatever you want, I’ll give you money, anything.”
Sam’s luminous eyes met his, as he took the clothes. “We aren’t leaving?”
Dean sighed. “Soon. I gotta take care of this first.”
Sam looked down, nodding.
“Hey. Bitch.”
Sam looked up, a small smile breaking across his face for a moment. “Jerk.” He went into the bathroom. While he was in there, Dean glared at the shifter. “You raped him. Wearing my face. Made him think there might ever be a time, ever be a reason I wouldn’t come after him, ever a reason I’d hurt him. You had NO RIGHT. Do you even know what you’ve broken? Do you realize how much you’ve fucked everything up?” Dean snorted, a disgusted sound. “I’m sure you do, I bet that’s just what you wanted, huh. It must be.”
Sam came out and instantly gentle, sweet big brother was back. Dean brought him out to the car, getting him set up in the passenger seat in a blanket, with a book of Latin verbs.
Both Sam and Dean knew this might take a while.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The shifter was back to that syrupy place he’d been before. He? Oh, that’s right. I’m Sam.
As the blood drained, the shifter was vaguely aware that he was not Sam. That he was being punished as much for the sin of wearing Sam’s face as he was for what he did to Sam. What he did to Sam.
The shifter opened his mouth, the death rattle already creeping into his voice. “Dean. There’s something you gotta know about your baby brother. I felt it after I... when I turned into him.”
Dean regarded him with cold indifference.
“Sam is in love with you. If you had been the one actually doing it, he might not have minded.”
The shifter closed his eyes, feeling the last of his strength drain away. Distantly, he thought he heard someone say, “If you had been Sammy, I wouldn’t have minded it either...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
On their way back to the hotel, Sam and Dean were oddly out of sync. Eyes darted to look when the other wasn’t looking. Hands shifted nervously on the bench seat, wanting to be close but not daring to touch.
That was until Dean sighed. “Oh, fuck it.” He grabbed Sam’s hand. “Listen and please don’t interrupt,” at Sam’s nod, Dean continued, “The shifter told me how you felt about me, Sammy. And... baby boy, I’ve been madly in love with you since the day you were born, and maybe it’s sick, maybe it makes me sick, but baby, remember how you said you wanted to marry me when we were little? I was overjoyed because I wanted to and I still do, Sam I’d do anything for you, and I hate that he did this to us, that he took this from us, I hate--” Dean choked up.
Sam laid a gentle finger to Dean’s lips. “Shh. I know. Me too.” He leaned up, placing a kiss to the corner of Dean’s lip. “For the road.”
Maybe what the shifter had taken from them wasn’t the most important thing, after all. Maybe the shifter hadn’t been able to take the real thing. Because here was Sam, holding Dean’s hand, and that meant just about everything in the world was where it should be, for the moment.