Charity (cherry916) wrote,
Charity
cherry916

Fic: Tears, Idle Tears

Title: Tears, Idle Tears
Author: cherry916
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~6,000
Warnings: mentioned non-con, and graphic torture
Author's Notes: This was written for spn_summergen challenge. The fic is for annie46. Basically, this is my attempt at making the reason Sam didn’t look for Dean more believable, and utilizing Amelia in a much better way than the show did. I hope this suffices for your prompt hun, I really wanted to make Amelia likeable. I played around with canon a lot, but tried to keep things as close as possible without making it too ‘au’. In this story, Amelia and Sam do not share a sexual relationship, it is purely platonic. I hope I succeeded at the very least, please enjoy!
Summary: Sam finds himself broken and alone, with no hope for things to ever get better, until she comes along and starts to become his only constant. Through her gentle, yet firm care Sam makes it out alive, however, sometimes wounds are so deep it’s unfortunately too easy to trigger the memories that go with them.







“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depths of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.”
― Alfred Tennyson




Dean’s shoulders began to tighten, preparing for the fight that is long overdue. He can’t take Sam’s attitude anymore. He is driving Dean insane, with the concerned looks, open invitations to talk, disdain for Benny.

Sam has absolutely no right acting like the victim in all of this, and it’s only serving to piss Dean off.

When Sam starts in on him for staying out late, something breaks in Dean.

“I just want to help you man.” Sam sighs, kneading at his forehead.

Dean’s had enough.

“Help!?” Dean laughs, standing up. “You want to help me? You realize how insane that sounds? You sure didn’t want to help me when I was fighting for my life in purgatory!”

Sam begins to shrink against Dean’s harsh words, his eyes glistening with hurt. It only manages to spur Dean on more.

“Hell, you were banging some chick while I could have been dying! Tell me Sam, was she that good? Huh? Maybe like Ruby, too addicted to quit. Maybe it would have been better off if you stayed with the bitch and left me with Benny, that way you can live your happy little life so I don’t have to bother you no more. You left me to die for some girl!”



~*~*~*~*~*~




“Where’s Dean?” Sam demands, his shoulders stiffening each minute Dean is gone. Crowley stares at him, an amused gleam in his eyes. Sam just wanted to march over there and punch that stupid look off his face, but he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking, or his heart from jackknifing inside his chest.

“That bone... has a bit of a kick. God weapons often do. They should put a warning on the box.” Crowley laughs, his English accent irritating Sam further.

“Where are they, Crowley?!” Sam demands again, his eyes going hard. He’s fully aware of Kevin behind him. How the boy is hunkered down, likely as fucking scared as Sam is right now. Sam has to protect him. He just has too. He couldn’t let anything happen to Kevin. Not if he could actively help it.

Crowley stares at him, the same amused glint lighting up at the fire in Sam’s voice. Finally, after what seems like hours, Crowley huffs out a mirthless laugh. Whether at the situation or his pathetic attempts to sound scary, Sam doesn’t know. “Can't help you, Sam.” With that, Crowley snaps his fingers. It all happens so fast Sam doesn’t even have a time to react.

Demons come and snatch Kevin; Sam tries his best to reach out. Maybe grab one of them and get a hold of Kevin but they are lightning fast.

“Sorry, Sam. Prophet's mine.”

With another snap of his fingers the demons and Kevin disappear. Sam feels his chest tighten up, panic beginning to claw at his throat. He hands shake at his sides as he turns in wide circles.

“You got what you wanted – Dick's dead, saved the world. So I want one little prophet. Sorry, moose. Wish I could help. You certainly got a lot on your plate right now. It looks like you are well and truly... on your own.”

The weight of Crowley’s words finally hit home.

Alone.

No Kevin, no Meg, or Castiel.

No Dean.

Sam is truly on his own.

Crowley smiles one last time before he snaps again and he’s gone.

Sam’s legs begin to shake, his world tilting dangerously. His breath puffs out in hurried beats. Alone.

Nononoonononononononono!

Sam will later blame it on his nerves and anxiety, but he knows he fucked up. He always does it seems like. He’s starting to think maybe it’s all he’s good for.

The same demons that took Kevin appear right in front of his face.

The first demon grabs his arm and yanks it behind his back. Sam yells, grimacing in pain at the tight hold.

The second one kicks him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him and sending him to his knees. He begins to pant, the air not quite making it too his lungs. It feels like one of his ribs may be cracked.

All he can do is kneel on the floor pathetically as he watches the demons’ boots move around.

Finally one bends down to his level and grasps his hair tightly until Sam is forced to stare him in the eyes.

The demon smiles, his black eyes looking manic. Sam twits his face in disgust before he finally breathes out, “Fuck you.”

That seems to light a fire in the demon, he bends down close so his mouth ghosts across his ear.

“Don’t tempt me boy. There are a lot of demons out there that would want to try. How’s about you be a nice bitch and come willingly.”

Sam shivers both from the words and the demons hot breath. He watches the second demon above him; he knows he has no way of escape. He’s injured and outnumbered.

Without thinking Sam spits right in the demons face. He feels a little like Dean, which may be why he feels a surge of adrenaline course through his veins.

When the demon closes his demonic eyes Sam launches his attack.

He brings his head forward and head butts the demon holding his hair. The demon yells in surprise, clearly not expecting his captive to fight and let’s go of his hold on Sam’s hair.

The second demon spurs into action and tries to make a grab at Sam’s arm, but before he could lash out Sam delivers a hard kick to the demon’s gut sending him sprawling backward.

His rib protests painfully at the movement, it takes him a second to catch his breath.

The second to rest costs him though.

The first demon comes behind him and puts him in a choke hold. The demons meat suit was bigger than him.
Sam’s convulses in his hold, the air getting less and less as the demon tightens his grip. By now the second demon makes it to his feet and stares at Sam with pure murder in his eyes.

“No more games.” The demon breathes out.

“You just tempted fate boy, I could have been nice but,” The demon smirks, staring at his partner.

Sam’s eyes widen when the demon’s hand roam his body. It makes him want to throw up at the unwanted touch.

“You’re in my playground now. Enjoy the ride.”

With that, the demon tightens until Sam feels his arms go slack. The light begins to fade from his eyes until all he could see is blackness.



~*~*~*~*~*~



She silently scribbles on some work forms, hoping to get done so she can go home. Working in a veterinary clinic could be exhausting, and compound that with her boss, Amelia, having a stick up her ass, it sucks even more.

As soon as the thought occurs, she shakes her head and silently berates herself for the mean thought. The only reason Amelia’s mood has shifted is due to the loss of her husband, she’s been throwing herself into her work 24/7 and seems to be very tightly wound.

Roberta watches as Amelia briskly walks toward the cupboard where the medication is kept, her lab coat is flowing behind her due to her fast pace.

Maybe they could all use a little break. Finishing up with the forms, Roberta smiles to herself and puts them in a folder in the desk drawer. She will need them tomorrow and she doesn’t want to lose them.

“Okay Amelia, it’s time to close up fo-” She doesn’t even get her full sentence out before the screech of tires could be heard ringing through the clinic.

Her heart speeds up when she hears a distinct thunk and more tires screeching as a vehicle makes a hasty getaway.

That can only mean one thing.

“Amelia!” Roberta yells, racing for the door. She soon finds Amelia in tow right behind her. Amelia always responds whenever Roberta gets that tone of voice.

It was a little cool out due to the fall weather and it was making her shiver but what made her bones freeze up was seeing a body of a man.

Roberta finds herself frozen in place while Amelia pushes past her to check on the beaten man.

This definitely wasn’t what she signed up for.

Amelia’s eyes were laser focused on the young man lying on the ground, because she wouldn’t refer to him as a body yet.

She drops to her knees with a wince, the wet pavement soaking into her scrubs. She feels for a pulse against his neck and is rewarded with a slight, trembling beat. The man is naked, his pale skin covered in bruises and cuts that looks as if they are infected. His long brown hair is limp, and dirty, his face a mass of swelling and bruising.


Amelia gasps when the man moans, her touch stilling until he settles again into blissful unconsciousness.

She has only ever taken care of animals, she should call the police, 911, something but all Amelia can feel is an overwhelming calm wash over her, her work face completely in check.

Amelia stands up with determination and stares at her technician who is gazing at them with a look of horror. “Roberta go clear a room out and make the chair a bit more comfortable for a human, bring in our first aid kit and make sure you bring extra blankets.”

“B-but Amelia-”Roberta’s lower lip wobbles; Amelia knows she is close to having a panic attack.

“Do it, Roberta!”

Roberta knows better than to refuse an order, so she nods and hurriedly walks back into the clinic. Amelia sighs and feels some of the adrenaline drain from her body.

She bends down again and does a mental check of the man’s injuries. First glance looks like a concussion, serious bruising, contusions, stab wounds, cuts and scrapes. All of this could lead to internal injuries, swelling in the brain, broken bones.
She knows how serious of a matter this is, yet she can’t explain why she isn’t dialing 911 right now. She just has an intuition that this man won’t do well in a sterile environment.

“It’s ready Amelia,” Roberta says in a soft voice, obviously noting the tender moment her boss seems to be having.

“Okay, help me try and get him into th-” Before Amelia can even finish; she looks past the beaten man and sees a hint of matted fur. Furrowing her brows, she stands up and walks slowly over toward the tree line; there she sees a beautiful dog lying limp, the fur matted with blood and dirt.

Amelia swallows; realizing whoever dumped this man off must have hit the dog.

Anger begins to bubble to the surface, Amelia can handle seeing people hurt but animals she just couldn’t bear. Ironic given her job title but she can handle animals, knows animals won’t hurt you, or think about hurting you.

People on the other hand always seem to.

“Make that two rooms Roberta!” Amelia shouts.

This was going to be a long night.




~*~*~*~*~



“We should call the police!” Roberta cries hysterically, her mascara running down her face.

Amelia is trying not to cry herself. The boy-man’s-handsome features are almost unrecognizable due to all the swelling and bruising. The implications according to his state of undress are likely more unnerving than anything else.

This part of town is known for its crime and drug handling but nothing like this. Amelia can’t shake the feeling that she’s been dumped into something huge; that this man is important in some way.

“Amelia!” Roberta finally screams, tired of being ignored.

“Roberta, please.” Amelia hushes quietly. She peels back the man’s eyes and flashes her pen light into them. She isn’t surprised when only one pupil contracts. “Concussion.” Amelia mutters to herself, not at all surprised. She, of course, has some knowledge of human medical care but maybe it is better to take him to the hospital.

“Should we call 911 Amelia? An ambulance?”

“No ‘opistal.”

Amelia and Roberta both jump at the noise. It sounds like nails on a chalk board.

Or maybe like he’s been screaming himself hoarse for days. Amelia thinks darkly to herself, making her shiver.

“What? What did he say Amelia?” Roberta questions, her voice reaching hysterical levels.

“He says no hospital.”

“What? He has to go to the hospital, Amelia look at him!”

Amelia stares at the man, watching as his eyes open briefly. They aren’t focused on any one thing or person, but rather busy rolling around in their sockets.

Shock as well is obviously a real factor. Amelia has covered him in blankets but he is still shivering.

Even though, logically, her mind is screaming at her to contact help. Her heart is screaming at her to listen to the stranger, that maybe something much bigger than she realizes is going down and this man is smack in the middle of it. And inevitably, so is Amelia by default.

“No, we won’t take him to the hospital. I can care for him.”

“Amelia?” Roberta asks, confused.

“Roberta, please go check on the dog. Do a preliminary exam and tell me if you think it needs surgery or not.”

“But Amelia-”

“Go Roberta!”

Roberta flinches then finally nods before going to check on the dog in their other room.

The man’s eyes are still roaming around the room, but when Amelia approaches him and settles a gentle hand on his shoulder; his eyes finally stay on her.

Amelia feels them leeching straight down into her soul, screaming out his pain and misery.

She feels herself shiver again; it’s almost like looking into her own eyes every day.

She swallows before she briefly pats his shoulder in comfort. “Don’t worry I’m going to take good care of you, okay?”

The guy doesn’t seem to understand, too out of it to follow even conversation at this point, but he sighs in relief before muttering something.

“De…”

One word holds so much hope, heartache, grief and love. It makes tears collect in her eyes before she hurriedly wipes them away.

She may be a lot of things, but Amelia isn’t heartless. She will do what it takes to nurse this man back to health.




~*~*~*~*~



Amelia mops his brow very gently. The man moans at the gesture, his head lolling on the pillow revealing the sweat beneath. She will have to change the linens soon but moving the hefty man’s body to another spot while she does so was easier said than done.
With Roberta’s help, she manages to wrangle the man’s abused body into her car. Being careful to cover him and respect his modesty.

Of course, this is only after Amelia attended to the hurt dog. It turns out the dog won’t require surgery but it did need stitches. Roberta has the dog at her house for recovery since Amelia is preoccupied.

The man’s murky eyes, dull with fever blink open, searching for something.

Amelia makes sure she’s in his sight, her smile kind and inviting.

His eyes focus on her for a second before disappointment registers.

Amelia sighs. This is like a daily routine. The man will become coherent and open his eyes, constantly searching for someone and when he doesn’t find that someone he will get this look in his eye. Like the world is burning or something.

Amelia figures it’s likely this ‘De’ figure, or Dean at least that’s what she thinks it stands for.

This Dean person seems really important to the man currently laid out on the bed. His ribs in bandages, his face a mass of bruises, his right eye swollen and sore. A man who has clearly been through hell.

This isn’t accounting for his numerous other injuries, including the infection and any injury that may have happened below the belt. Amelia shivers, rolling down her jacket sleeves even though the room is a warm 75 degrees.

She doesn’t know for sure what happened but she highly suspects some form of sexual assault. Why else would he be dumped naked? The man isn’t up for telling and Amelia isn’t up for asking.

Which, as of right now, she is definitely thankful for.

“I wish I knew your name.” She mutters sadly, tucking an errant curl behind his ear. He is clearly in his late 20’s but he held such a boyish charm that…well let’s just say if they met under different circumstances maybe Amelia might open up and give it a shot.
Amelia continues to care for her patient as if he is another animal in her emergency room.

Despite how simple everything seems it seems, Amelia knows it’s more complicated than she realizes.




~*~*~*~*~*~



“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Roberta asks hesitantly while holding the dog’s leash tightly in her grasp.

Amelia doesn’t know herself but she’s willing to give it a shot. While the man slowly recovers she wants to surround him with something that might cheer him up.

What better way than a dog? At least that’s her thought process. However, she couldn’t discount that maybe him seeing the dog again might be traumatic and remind him of what happened.

She isn’t very good at figuring these things out. “It’s worth a shot Roberta. I’m at the point that I’ll do anything.”

Roberta sighs swiftly before handing over the leash. “Here. Just…just don’t do anything stupid Amelia? I mean after…”

Roberta doesn’t even have time to finish before Amelia snaps back. “I’m not stupid Roberta for god sakes.”

Amelia grabs the leash roughly and feels a little bit guilty at her attitude but by that time Roberta is already out the door and she doesn’t feel like running after her to apologize. Her only hope is that Roberta knows she doesn’t mean it.

Focusing on the dog at hand, Amelia bends down and pets his silky locks. She and Roberta discovered the dog’s gender when they gave him an examination. “Hey boy.” The dog’s tail eagerly swishes back and forth, excited for the attention it’s getting.

“Ready to meet a new friend?”

Suddenly she hears a loud thump coming from her guest bedroom. The dog barks harshly before taking off.

Amelia curses, running after the dog to the guest bedroom.

What meets her is certainly a shock. She thinks the dog might be as surprised as her.

The patient-man-is standing up from the bed and wobbling in place, but what frightens Amelia is the look in his eyes and the wicked looking shard of glass the man is holding.

Noticing her broken lamp on the floor, Amelia feels tension begin to mount in her body.

“Now sir, just calm down.” Amelia breathes both hands at her sides.

“Wh-o who are you!?” The man demands, the glass shard beginning to cut into his hand due to how tight he’s gripping it. It’s clear to Amelia the man is disoriented and in pain. He’s finally conscious enough to question his surroundings but not enough to really do anything about it.

Or so Amelia thought, but that glass shard is begging to differ right about now.

“Answer me!” The man demands, his eyes still glazed with fever. She hears the dog growl but not at the man, as if Amelia is the bad person in all of this. She feels her small frame begin to shiver, a bit out of her element at the moment. She figures right now the man needs the truth.

“I’m Amelia and I’m a veterinarian. You were dumped in front of my practice and badly injured. I brought you here to care for you. You’re still pretty beat up and you have a fever. It would be very pertinent to your health to put the shard down and get back in bed.”

The man’s face is a mass of confusion, horror, and absolute grief. He’s clearly hurting and in bad need of someone to guide him.

“Why should I listen to you?” His words wobble a bit, as if he’s having difficulty standing on his feet

“You have no reason to listen to me. I know I’m a complete stranger but whoever this ‘Dean’ person is, I have a feeling you would listen to him and that he cares about you a lot. I’d hate to see you waste away to nothing and not get to see Dean again.”

As soon as the name Dean left her lips the man’s expression changes to one of despair. His fight and resolve beginning to die as all his energy left him; he collapses back onto the bed. The shard dropping out of his bloody hands with a dull thunk.

The dog immediately hops up into the bed with him, lightly licking at his hand.

Amelia rushes over and feels his pulse while he’s distracted. It unnerves her to see the man so lifeless. His pulse is strong and his heart beat is certainly elevated but given the circumstance that’s normal.

“Why are you doing this?” The man whispers, his voice wrecked.

“It looks like you were lost and I know how that feels.” Amelia replies back, softly tucking his sweaty hair behind his ears.

The man stares up at her in wonder, swallowing before his expression becomes pinched with pain.

“I see your little show has hurt you further. Not to worry though, I’m going to take good care of you. I’m a doctor after all.”

“Yeah,” The man murmurs, about ready to fall asleep. “For animals.”

Amelia laughs; she looks over to the dog and watches as it seems to comprehend how special this man is. “We’re all the same.”

“Yeah, maybe so.”

“I’ve been calling you ‘man’ this whole time; please tell me what your name is?” Amelia isn’t sure she’s going to get an answer. The man’s eyes are closed and his breathing is beginning to even out.

Disappointed, Amelia straightens up from her crouch, ready to begin checking over his wounds to make sure he didn’t injure himself further when she feels a light touch on her fingers. She looks to see the man’s hand tangle with hers.

“My name is Sam.”



~*~*~*~*~



In the weeks after it begins to get easier. While Sam is still in tremendous amounts of pain, and can’t even manage to get up and go to the bathroom by himself things seem to get better.

Sam is rather talkative and has a quick wit about him that reminds Amelia of her father. Amelia also knows that he’s a total softy for animals, if Riot, the name Sam decided to give him, sleeping in his bed is any indication.

Riot is healing up nicely himself. He’s no longer limping or whining in his sleep. In fact, Riot now acts as Sam’s bodyguard, sleeping with him every chance he gets and even growling at Amelia on occasions when Riot isn’t sure what she is doing.

The thing that doesn’t seem to get easier is the nightmares.

And boy does Sam have plenty. Amelia figures that Sam is in too much pain early on to even register he’s having them. However, now that he’s more alert, the nightmares become a regular occurrence.

Sometimes Amelia hears him scream for the Dean fellow again, sometimes it changes and he’s mumbling ‘Jessica’, other times he’s not screaming for anyone, just screaming until it feels like all of Amelia’s windows might break.

She never asks, because she gets the feeling Sam will never tell, but she knows that the nightmares are somehow all related to the trauma he experienced.

As she stands watching Sam toss and turn in bed from the doorway, she decides that something has to give soon.



~*~*~*~*~*~




”How are you this morning lovely?” The demon taunted, letting Sam know it’s now daylight.

Time stands still for him. There are no windows, clocks, or anything in his imprisonment to tell him what time it is, or even what day.

Sam pays the demon no mind, like he’s been doing since his capture and simply stares at the dirty concrete ground.

A swift slap to his face sends his head jerking to the right. He gasps harshly, holding in a sob when he feels the scratches on his cheek reopen.

“I asked you a question boy.”

Sam shudders, but does his best not to give in. He hasn’t done so yet, and he doesn’t plan on it. The one shinning beacon he has is his brother. Sam knows he would never give in so easily, in fact his brother would likely piss off the demons just because he could. If Sam can do one thing right, its make his brother proud.

Instead of another hit to the face, he hears the demon laugh. It sends chills up his spine despite the humid conditions.

“I see we’ve been too easy on you.”

Sam feels his heart start to pound harder, their idea of easy is to mock him about Dean and his family, beat him with their fists and feet, torture him with knifes and any kind of weapon.

The demon grabs his face in a harsh grip, eliciting a scream of pain due to the demon’s nails digging into his open wounds. Sam feels tears leak out of his eyes, making the demon’s smile blurry.

“You want to mess with us? Remember what I promised you earlier?” The demon smirks as its other hand wonders down Sam’s body. He is stripped of all his clothing minus his boxers.

Sam feels himself shake when the demon’s hand toys with the elastic of his boxers, softly rubbing over his hip bone.

“Maybe it’s time we have a little fun, what do you say Sammy?”

Sam screams and thrashes but it doesn’t stop the demon from doing anything.

Maybe this is his penance, a good old ‘fuck you’ from the world for what Sam has done and is still doing.

After a while the pain and torment blends together and Sam stops fighting altogether.


Sam jackknifes up in bed, his heart beating loudly in his ears. The dream feels all too real, almost like he is back in that place, with the demons.

Sam shivers, pulling the blankets back up around him. He uses his arm and does his best to wipe off the sweat collecting on his forehead.

As the adrenaline beings leaving his body, Sam’s ribs start to protest, making him grimace. He really needs to use the bathroom.

It’s almost like the woman can read his thoughts, because as soon as he expresses his inner desire Amelia pops up in the doorway.

Her curly hair is limp for once, and her eyes are dull with sleep but alert as soon as she sees him awake.

“Sam, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sam says, although he knows that Amelia cam see right through his bullshit. She seems to be good at that.

Just like Dean.

The pain is just as fresh as it was when Dean disappeared. It’s leaving a gaping hole in his heart he can’t seem to fix.

Maybe he doesn’t deserve to.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels Amelia’s small hand on his shoulder, softly squeezing and murmuring words of comfort.

“It’s okay Sam, let it out.”

He doesn’t know why he’s crying in front of her, seeing as how she’s still a complete stranger but somehow her words carry weight. A weight that is all too familiar with Sam, grief.




~*~*~*~*~*~




Sam’s petting Riot’s shiny soft coat as the dog drops the ball right in front of his feet.

“That a boy,” Sam murmurs softly, rubbing the dog’s head before he throws the ball again. Riot bounces on his heels before he takes off after it.

The screen door bangs open before Amelia settles down next to him, handing him a glass of cool ice tea.

“Figure you could use this about now.” She says with a smile.

Sam thanks her and takes a long sip. The sun is slowly setting, painting the sky in blue, pink, and orange tones. He can hear the crickets chirping and see cars pass by on their way home from work.

It’s so peaceful outside, Sam feels relaxed, more so than he ever has in about four years or better.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Amelia offers, noting the stern look of concentration on Sam’s face. Riot comes bouncing back again, dropping the ball before plopping right at Sam’s feet, obviously too tired to play anymore.

Sam sighs, his muscles beginning to unclench. It’s been a few months since Amelia found Sam outside her clinic. The bruises have all but faded away, his ribs have healed nicely, and he almost appears normal except for the limp he still has due to damage to his knee.

He’s been going to a therapist for that though, and Amelia assures him that it will go away with time.

It’s almost like they are living in a dream world. Amelia doesn’t want it to end, quite frankly. It was nice having company around the house. Roberta gives her odd looks every time she goes into work these days; it takes her a while to recognize that look as pity. Roberta is likely figuring that once Sam healed he will be gone.

Why wouldn’t he? He’s a young man, and they’re practically strangers.

“Hey,” Sam smiles. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to share my thoughts?”

Amelia laughs, her black curls bouncing with the movement. “Sorry, I guess we’re both pieces of work.”

Sam smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, maybe we need someone to fix us.”

The sad glint in his eyes tells Amelia exactly who he was hoping would come and fix him, problem is, Amelia is pretty sure this Dean person is dead. Which would mean Sam would likely never truly be 100% better, and even though she’s a doctor for animals, Amelia can’t help feeling that she failed somehow.





~*~*~*~*~*~




Once Dean delivers the final blows he can’t rein them back in. He realizes all too late what he was saying is deeply hurting Sam, if his silence is any indication

In fact, Sam seems to be in a stupor. His eyes are big and wide, staring off into nothing. His knuckles are beginning to whiten from the grip Sam has on the chair he’s sitting in. What scares Dean the most though, is Sam’s breathing speeding, almost like Sam’s beginning to hyperventilate.

“Sam? You okay?” Dean asks worriedly, his earlier anger leaving him almost as quickly as it started. Worry replacing his feelings of betrayal as he marches over to where Sam is sitting.

“Sammy?” Dean gently touches Sam’s cheek, which elicits a reaction he isn’t expecting.

“You like that Sammy?” The demon taunts, his hands roughly gripping his cheeks forcing Sam to look up into the demon’s dead, black eyes.

“Does he make you feel good?”

“Nuhhh,” Sam moans.


Sam flinches violently, a scream emanating from his terrified mouth. “No, please!”

“Sam!” Dean barks, grabbing onto Sam’s arms so he wouldn’t topple over. But the more Dean tightens his hold the more agitated Sam becomes.

“Please, don’t hurt me. No more.” Sam utters, trapped in some sort of nightmare that Dean can’t see.
Sam trembles in his hold, his breathing beginning to t erratic to the point that Sam can’t even speak.

“Sammy, Sam! Hey! Calm down for me alright?” Dean gently, but firmly managed to get Sam off the chair so he can focus on helping Sam breath. Sam’s limbs are tight, almost like he’s bracing for an attack.

Dean manages to sit him down on the floor so he can lean against his chest. Sam isn’t even taking in a full breath, too busy gasping and choking, trying to mutter please amidst his broken gasps.

“Alright Sammy, calm down for me.” Dean whispers in his ear. He gently rubs at Sam’s stomach, hoping to make Sam unclench his muscles. “I’m not going to hurt you, and I won’t let anyone else hurt you.”

“Please…” Sam mutters brokenly.

Dean’s heart breaks at hearing the plea. Sam is absolutely terrified, but of what? Him? Or was it something else? Something he doesn’t know about.

Dean feels his eyes begin to water as he draws his arms around his brother, hoping to offer comfort to calm Sam down. “I’m sorry little brother, I was just…I was so angry and I wanted to hurt you. But never again okay? It’s just you and me. Maybe we can even go see that one chick huh? What’s her name? Amanda? Or something like that. Just calm down okay? Please, for me?”

Sam is beginning to slowly calm down. His breathing begins to even and the tremors are subsiding. He’s left spent and sweating, still leaning against Dean’s chest for support.

Dean gently stills Sam’s shaking hands and manages to look the kid in the eyes. Still seeing remnants of terror, and worst of all, shame, Dean knows he has to do something.

“Okay Sammy,” Dean watches as Sam gulps in air shakily. “I think we need to talk.”

Sam continues to stare up at him, his doe eyes emanating such pain and sadness. It has Dean’s head spinning in circles.

It’s then that he realizes they’re still piled on the floor.

“Let’s try getting up off the floor first.” Dean recommends. He helps his gigantic brother off the floor by pulling him up with his hand. Sam’s legs are still a little shaky so Dean guides him to sit down on one of the motel beds.

Dean doesn’t release contact however; he simply keeps one palm on Sam’s back. He can feel it quivering under his touch and it unnerves him how messed up Sam is.

How could he have missed the signs? He was just so angry that he completely ignored everything else. Purposefully assuming Sam was doing things just to piss him off.

When did he stop listening to his little brother?

It isn’t until a few minutes later that Sam begins to talk. He almost doesn’t hear him due to how softly he’s speaking.

“It all started after you caught a one-way ticket to purgatory…”

Then Sam goes on, to explain Crowley and the attack, then being taken to some sort of warehouse and…and tortured.

Dean closes his eyes and breathes slowly through his nose so not to lose his lunch. Now that Sam has stopped shaking, it’s him who begins to shake.

Not from fear, but from anger. Pure, hot anger boils in his veins. He can imagine Crowley’s smug face laughing as those demons…

“Dean?”

Dean opens his eyes again and turns to his broken, vulnerable brother. “I’m sorry.” Dean whispers, not having anything else to say.

Sam’s smile is completely false because it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay.”

No, it really isn’t. It likely never will be again. However, the anger and betrayal that has been churning in his gut since he returned dies down in an instant, leaving him with an empty, queasy feeling. “So this Amelia chick, did you ever?”

Sam gives out a watery laugh. “Yeah,” He croaks. “Once. It was completely awkward though. Our relationship was purely for comfort and nothing else. I mean she nursed me back to health, even stopped me from…” Sam shakes his head, more bad memories flashing across his eyes before they’re gone.

Dean swallows at the implication. “So she took care of you, huh? Was she a hot nurse?”

He gets a jab to his ribs for that one, but the smile on Sam’s face is worth it. “Um, hey I’m going to call Garth see if maybe he has anything else for us. Why don’t you maybe take a shower and lie down a bit.”

Sam looks like he’s going to argue, but one harsh reminder about the headache Dean knows Sam is nursing shuts him up.

Dean can be stupid sometimes, a stubborn jackass as well, but he stills knows his brother, even when he’s too lost in anger to notice.

Once he sees Sam go in the bathroom, he finds Sam’s phone abandoned on the table. A quick flip through his contacts reveals an ‘Amelia’. With his heart in his throat Dean presses the send button.

It only takes two rings before she picks up.

“Sam?”

“Uh, no actually. You don’t know me but I-I’m Sam’s brother, Dean. Can we talk?”

“Dean.”

The way she says his name, as if she already knows everything about him has Dean standing to attention.

“Actually yes, I have a lot to tell you, Dean Winchester.”

The End




Tags: fandom: supernatural, fic: tears idle tears, genre: au, genre: gen, season: 8, warning: non-con
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