Word Count: 1,262
Warnings: hallucinations, remembering of past non-con, angst,
A/N: This is written for theheartofspn lovefest. I couldn't resist writing some Season 7 Sam, more specifically during Plucky's because there are a lot of unanswered things to explore during that time frame. EEEH so sorry I'm late to posting /0\ I totally forgot I had to post *face palm* hope the fic makes up for it though.
Summary: A particularly bad nightmare causes things of the past to come rushing back, leaving Sam begging for Lucifer to return and Dean guiltily wondering how he could have screwed up so badly.
“Come on, clowns are fun, kid. You like to have fun don't you?” Sammy stared wide-eyed at the clown, weighing in whether he should run or just go with him. The clown was gesturing toward a door; Sammy had seen people bring out toys and other goodies from that door.
“So, you coming?” the clown asked again, holding out a gloved hand, painted face set in a permanent smile.
Sammy chewed on his lower lip. “Okay.” Taking a hold of the gloved hand, he followed the clown to the door.
Sam gasped, shooting up from his position against the door.
Finally registering the voice as Dean's, Sam turned toward his brother and noted the freaked out expression. “I'm okay.” Sam took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves. He wasn't there anymore.
“Was it Lucifer?” Dean asked hesitantly.
Sam almost laughed but seeing the serious look on his brother's face, he figured that wouldn't be appropriate. “Yeah, it was,” Sam lied.
I wish it was Lucifer.
Sam shuddered again and settled back against the door.
“You sure, dude?” Dean asked again, brushing off the array of glitter on Sam’s jacket.
“Let's just find someplace to settle down. I need a shower,” Sam mumbled, not ready to talk about it; certain Dean would be able to see through his carefully built lies. It was easy to hide behind Lucifer but he didn't know how much longer he could. Long forgotten nightmares were beginning to rise to the surface until they were all Sam could think about.
Feeling his hands shake, Sam pulled them in toward his lap, hoping Dean didn't notice it. Swallowing loudly, Sam stared at the road as it whizzed by, the car's headlights barely illuminating the path.
Dean shot sidelong glances at Sam, who was hunching into himself and pressed against the door.
“Come on, kid, it'll be fun remember?” The clown leered, gloved hand now covering Sam's mouth as he whimpered and did his best to yank the hand off.
“It'll be so much fun.” Sammy suddenly heard a snap, like something being unbuckled.
That's when he screamed but no one seemed to hear him as the clown laughed.
Sam sat bolt upright. He wildly searched for the clown again, his muscles tightening, getting ready for the struggle. He could hear his brother in the distance but it's too much, the air was becoming thin. He was going to be sick.
“Sick,” Sam mumbled weakly, pushing and prodding at the door until he finally felt the car pull to a stop. He fumbled with the handle before he flung the door open and dropped down onto all fours and retched.
Memories of white paint, small closets and that menacing laugh left him dizzy and weak.
He heard his brother's concerned voice above the puking but it only made him tense up further. No no Dean can't know. But it hurts. Hurts so much. Dean will help. He has too. Please...
His back shuddered when Dean's warm palm settled between his shoulders, lightly running up and down his back in comfort and whispering soothing words in his ear until Sam was done puking up everything he could.
It wasn't until the ringing in his ears stopped that he could finally hear his brother.
“God, what happened to you?”
Dean said it with such revulsion and deep concern it made Sam sob. Remembering the days after, he would sit up and stare at the ceiling, listening to Dean breathing and quietly cry as the clown's words haunted him
.“If you try and tell anyone about this, I'll take that pretty brother of yours and do the same thing. Bet he's a screamer? Huh? Those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock, man that would be fun.”
Sam felt his back shake as something coalesces into sight before him. He stared up with trepidation as Lucifer leaned over, hands on his knees and his mouth twisted into pity. There was glitter on the devil's cheek.
“What? Our time wasn't fun? I seem to remember you loved it Sammy. Now tell me why in the hell are you thinking about that cheap loser? Did you know that the pathetic kid who terrorized you for so long in that stupid clown suit was killed by a drug overdose not long after you guys left town?”
Lucifer grinned evilly when he saw Sam's mouth turn down in shame.
Sam closed his eyes and counted to five before he lost it completely. His arms sagged until he was about to face-plant into his own vomit.
Dean caught him easily, though, before he could. Sam crawled into his brother's arm, burying himself in the scent of Dean's cologne and gun powder. He felt tears leak out as he sobbed, wishing it would all end.
Please make it stop.
“Hey, hey, hey Sammy, Sam look at me, please?” He kept his face tucked tightly against Dean's chest, like the five-year-old he used to be.
Sam’s hands scrabbled for purchase against Dean’s jacket, the familiar smell of gun oil soothing his errant nerves. With hands shaking and tears dripping off his face, he pulled away from Dean’s comfort to stare at his brother’s concerned face.
“I-I I’m so-sorry I-I didn’t wan-nt oh god I just wanted it to stop.” Sam felt more tears leak out causing him to close his eyes, refusing to look into Dean’s in fear of seeing shame or disgust on his face.
The calloused palm that brushed against his cheek made him flinch at first. Memories of a similarly calloused palm roughly stroking over his face in mock tenderness took him back to the pit, making him shudder despite knowing Dean was here and Dean got him.
“Sammy? What are you talking about? What didn’t you want? Come on little brother, talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Oh god he doesn’t understand. Sam felt his carefully constructed walls finally fall to pieces.
Pulling back one last time, Sam blinked away his tears and whispered the words he’s been keeping inside for so long.
“At-at Plucky’s I-I was…”
Seeing the realization dawn in Dean’s eyes made Sam dive back in and hide in Dean’s jacket.
“Are you telling me…?”
Sam nodded, not prepared to even whisper the word 'rape'. And just as easily as Sam’s walls cracked, Dean’s floodgates opened, his arms tightening around Sam’s midsection. Whether for his own comfort or Dean’s reassurance, Sam wasn’t sure. Either way, it felt good.
“Oh god.” Dean whispered brokenly. He tucked his face against Sam's curly hair. “I'm sorry. So sorry. Jesus, Sammy. I'm sorry.”
Sam clung tighter to him at the words, his sobs increasing in volume.
He hard Lucifer laughing in the background, a cackle mixed with amusement and pity making him freeze, but above all else he heard Dean’s heartbeat. Frantically beating a rhythm that matched his words.
“It’s alright. I got ya. It’ll be ok, I’ll fix all this I promise. Just calm down for me, okay? I’m gonna take care of ya, I’ve got you.”
Sam felt himself responding to the words. His sobs grew quieter as Lucifer’s cackles vanished into the background.
Now the only sounds Sam heard was Dean’s heartbeat and his words, both frantic and panic laced but equally as reassuring and comforting.
So he clung tighter, believing every word Dean said and storing it away for future reference. He may be broken but Dean always knew how to put the pieces of him back together.