Rating: hard R/NC-17
Warnings: AU, Normal Humans, Child Abuse, Angst, Violence, Rape, PTSD, Prostitution, Under Age Sex, Possible Slash, Probable Homophobia,
Spoilers: there are mentions of character from all seasons but no real spoilers, also I switch up some relationships and locations as to where people live.
Summary: Dean had been living with a serial killer for twenty-six years, but he already knew that. What he didn't know was how it was going to change his and his brothers lives. As he grows up Dean struggles to protect his brother and himself. After twenty-six year of this something happens and things in Dean's life begin to change, for better or for worse, well that's yet to be decided.
Monument, Colorado 2005
"What happened next?" Hendrickson prompted eagerly.
Dean lifted his eyes to the FBI Agent. The bad attitude had left and intrigue had replace it. Dean Winchester's story was one that played in movies, not one that happened in real life. Dean did not want to tell the next part of his life. Things got so much worse for him after his father found out that he knew. He kept a horrible secret for years; a secret ate away at him daily.
When Dean did not respond Hendrickson left him alone for a minute. The agent relaxed in his seat and replayed what he had just listen to. He had so many more questions for Dean now, but he knew that most would never get answers.
"How did you keep Sam safe?" Hendrickson asked knowing that this was an answer he needed to help Dean's case.
"I did what I had to do," Dean said into the camera.
"And what was that?"
"Everything," Dean said, then with more sadness to his voice added; "anything."
Dean paused for a long time before speaking again.
"When we got to the next city and Sam was in school again, I put him in any after school program. Math or science, whatever, just something to keep him away from our father. It worked for a while. I would go get Sam around five, and we would have dinner and dad would either be asleep or going out by then. Sam hardly saw him, and that's how I liked it. We stayed in Texas for almost a year, when I was twelve and Sam's school had ended, so I made Sam go to summer camp. It was one not to far from where we were, only a couple of miles, but it was three weeks and Sam didn't see dad for almost a month."
"What about you?" Hendrickson questioned.
"What about me?" Dean shot back.
"What did you do while Sam was gone?" Hendrickson pursued. "More importantly what did your father do to you?"
"I got a job or two," Dean said. "I tried to make some money for me and Sam, but dad found out I was working and decided that that money was his. So, other then get my ass beaten and work a job as a paper boy and get most of my money stolen, I didn't do anything but plan out how I was going to get Sam out of this life."
"How did you think you were going to do that?" Hendrickson asked.
"I had many plans, not all of them were good, but one did work out," Dean told him.
"And which one was that?" Hendrickson took the bait.
"The one that has you sitting here with nothing on Sam Winchester," Dean said with a little smile on his face.
"Okay so how'd you do it?" Hendrickson laughed.
"Money and a friend," Dean said. "I had some money stored up, and I was able to pocket a little that my father didn't know about when I had that paper rout, but I needed more, a lot more, to help Sam disappear. To make Sam disappear Dean paused for a long moment, then took a deep breath and continued. "The first time I sold myself I was fourteen. I was at a bar trying to pickpocket the drunks when a trucker offered me fifty to suck him off, so I did. I put the money in my sock and Dad never knew and Sam was at summer camp and I never told him. That same year dad stopped leaving me money when he left me and Sammy alone, so I had to get it someway. And then Sam's after school and summer things all cost money dad didn't have, so...I got it."
Dean stopped talking, Hendrickson didn't say anything either, they just stared at each other until Dean gaze wavered and eventually fell down to his hands. Hendrickson watched the flood of emotions dance across Dean's face, from disgust and anger, then to resolve and sadness. Then Dean cocked a grin, a sarcastic front covering the horrific past.
"You gonna add prostitution to my record?" Dean joked offhand.
"No," Hendrickson said. "I'm not."
"Well, thanks," Dean said then turned his attention back to the wall.
"Do you want to take a break?" Hendrickson offered.
"Can we?" Dean asked quietly.
"Yeah," Hendrickson said as he flicked off the camera and stood up. "I'll go get you something to drink."
Hendrickson watched Dean nod then he exited the room. He stopped just outside it and took a deep breath. The cops and his co-worker from the FBI stepped out of the room beside him, the one that was on the other side of the double sided mirror. His partner, Reidy, narrowed his eyes at him.
"You don't think he killed anyone do you?" Reidy said.
"No," Hendrickson told him and moved away from the door and with a quick motion of his hand telling the cops to stay behind and guard the door.
"He's lying to you Hendrickson, you gotta know that. Only killers can lie that good," Reidy said. "He's just fucking with you. Trying to get on your good side with his sob story, there ain't no truth to it."
"You're wrong," Hendrickson told him. They stopped at a soda machine and Hendrickson bought a drink for Dean, though he thought Dean would probably prefer a beer or some Jack. He plucked up the soda then glanced at the vending machine with snacks in it and hesitated only a moment before grabbing the peanut M&M's.
"Victor," Reidy said solemnly. "I know you like mysteries, but the mystery of who Sam Winchester is, is a lie. We know there is no Sam Winchester. You are gonna get to the end and realize that you have been played. There's no Sam!"
"I think there is," Hendrickson said as they went back to the interrogation room. "There is a Sam Winchester, and when Dean tells me where he is I'm gonna find him. Then we will know the truth. That's all I care about, the truth."
"You ain't gonna get it from him Hendrickson," Reidy sighed. Hendrickson paused and thought for a moment then spoke up.
"Where is John Winchester being held?" He asked.
"In their isolation cell," Reidy said. "We're were waiting for you to finish questioning Dean, then we were gonna bring him out to you, but you're taking forever with the kid."
"I want to see him," Hendrickson said quickly.
"What," Reidy said exasperatedly. "Now?"
"Yes," Hendrickson hopped over to the interrogation room and handed one of the cops Dean's soda and M&M and asked him to give them to Dean then turned on his heel and headed towards the cells with Reidy trailing him. Hendrickson took long strides to try and evade Reidy, but to no avail. They arrived at the cell together. There were another two guards positioned outside the cell, they eyed Hendrickson and Reidy wearily.
"I'd like to speak to John Winchester," Hendrickson said calmly. The guards hesitated but obediently moved aside and opened the door for him. John was sitting on the ground at the back of the cell. His hands were cuffed together behind his back and he looked about ready to kill again. Hendrickson tried to find the family resemblance between John and Dean, but he couldn't, not in this man who was feral looking and flat out evil. Hendrickson took one step inside the cell. Reidy opened his mouth to protest but Hendrickson held out a hand to stop him. John Winchester leered at the man, then spat at his feet.
"John Winchester," Hendrickson started.
"What?" John spat, interrupting Hendrickson. "You my lawyer, or something?"
"No," Hendrickson actually laughed. "I'm not your lawyer, I'm not sure who would want to represent you. I'm Agent Victor Hendrickson, I was dealt your case. I was the one who found you."
"You found me," It was John's turn to laugh. "You mean that piece of shit out there called you and you came running. When I get out of here I'm gonna kill him," John muttered.
"You are not getting out of here Mr. Winchester," Hendrickson told him. "Not ever. All I want to know from you is one thing."
"What's that," John scoffed.
"Did Dean ever kill anyone?" Hendrickson asked bluntly.
"Besides me and his brother?" John laughed mirthlessly. "That stupid fuck couldn't even aim a gun at a fish in a barrel."
"That's all I needed to know," Hendrickson said and turned swiftly. He smiled to himself, as John had no idea what he had just told the FBI agent. He left the cell but could hear John yelling after him, shouting that it was Dean who had killed all those people, that it was Dean who was the mastermind behind their rampage. Hendrickson ignored it, he knew who the lier of the family was and it wasn't Dean. The door shut and the yelling was cut off. Hendrickson took off back to the room with Dean waiting in it with Reidy on his heels. His partner was trying to get Hendrickson's attention but there were more important things on his mind then the idea's of Reidy. Hendrickson let himself back into the interrogation room where Dean was eating the M&M's. Hendrickson sat back down across from Dean and turned the camera back on.
"These are my favorite," Dean said pointing to the candy. "Thank you."
"Sure," Hendrickson said. "Dean I need you to tell me the rest of your story." Dean stopped eating and there was a flicker of pain in his eyes.
"Alright," Dean said softly. "But the rest really isn't my story, it's Sam's."
"Okay. Tell me Sam's story."
"The summer I turned sixteen," Dean started and stared down the camera, "Sam was at a science camp for almost two months and I think my dad was in Minnesota, but I'm not really sure. I was in Nebraska and I got a job at a bar bussing tables."
Vally, Nebraska 1995
Dean had just put Sam on the bus for summer camp. He waved goodbye along side the other parents who came to see their kids off. The small crowd dissipated and soon Dean was left alone in the middle school parking lot. He gave one last look at the spot where the school bus had been then briskly took off towards his car. Dean thought himself lucky, he was an actual sixteen year old who had gotten a car for his birthday. Well it wasn't really a present, and it had been five months late, but it was still a car. John decided that since Dean could drive he could take Sam places and do whatever needed to be done, and gave him the Impala, while John bought a new truck. When Dean saw the truck all he could think about was that his father was planning to kill more, and that truck was going to help him.
But Dean still thought he was lucky. Sam was at camp for two months and their father had taken off to only God knows where, Dean was blissfully alone. He figured that John would return before Sam, but he planed to enjoy the time he had to himself. Well, he would enjoy the few moments he had after Sam left, then he was back to looking for a job. Dean drove through the small town then drove right out of it. The outskirts of town were a better place to find a job where people wouldn't look to close at an ID or care to much when he disappeared. It was also a good place to pick up a Jon. Dean usually found his clients at sketchy bars and truck stops, there were never the nicest men, but they payed and that was all that mattered to Dean. Only a couple miles out of town Dean came across a place called the Roadhouse. He pulled up outside, there weren't many cars outside, but then again it was only five in the afternoon. He opened the door slowly and poked his head inside.
It was dark, the lights were dim and there was a video game making noise from the left side of the building. Dean stepped in and noticed one man at the bar then a women came out from a door behind the bar. She eyed him for a second then dismissed him and began to clean the bar top. Dean walked over and sat down at the counter. The women raised an eyebrow at him.
"You ain't old enough to be ordering anything boy," she told him. "What do you want?"
"A job," Dean deadpanned. The women pursed her lips and set down the rag she was using.
"Ain't got need for ya'," she said.
"That's fine," Dean said, he was used to being turned down. "Mind if I sit here awhile? Won't be a bother, promise." He was tired and he didn't want to drive anymore, that was what he would tell the women if she asked, but honestly he was hoping for a Jon to cash in on. The woman nodded and Dean thanked her. He stood up and made his way to the back of the bar and sat down at one of the booths that faced the TV. He watch the football game that was on and kept an eye on the door.
Dean sat there for a good two hours before a burly man came in and ordered a beer then took notice of Dean in the corner. Dean sent him a weak smile, that was all he usually needed. He was able to pick out in a crowd who would want him, and those who didn't. By the looks of this man he liked young boys and when he came over to Dean he wasn't surprised. The man said nothing to Dean just nodded to the door and left the building. Dean followed close behind him. Once outside the man looked over Dean then placed a hand on his hip. Dean tried to act normally, he hated when people touched him and he hated doing this, but he needed the money. The man's hand was to tight and Dean could already hear his rough breathing as they walked over to the man's truck. The man opened the door and told Dean to get in. Dean complied and scooted over to the passengers side as the man got in. It was a tight space, but Dean had worked in worse.
"How much?" the man asked as he pushed Dean down against the seat, touching his side and running a hand under Dean's shirt.
"Depends," Dean said. "What do you want?"
"Wanna fuck you," the man growled, and pulled at Dean's shirt.
"It'll be a hundred," Dean said and looked anywhere other then the man. "Fifty up front."
"Fine," the man said and pulled out the cash. Dean took the bills and tucked them into his shoe.
"What's your name?" The man asked stroking at Dean' stomach.
"Colin," Dean lied.
"Colin," the man repeated. "I like it, cute. Turn over Colin." Then he forced Dean over when he was moving to slow. Dean dug his fingers into the passenger seat and slammed his eyes shut.
"You got a rubber?" Dean asked over his shoulder.
"Do I need one?" The man asked.
"Yeah," Dean said back, ready to get out of the truck if the man did not complied.
"Fine," the man huffed then pulled out a condom from the glove compartment.
Dean could hear the man unzip his pants and then the sound of the condom foil being ripped open. Dean's pants were then pulled off and the man grabbed his hips and forced them up. Dean tried to blank out, like he had done so many times before, but the man kept talking and Dean couldn't disappear into his subconscious. The man pushed in, and without any preparation it really fucking hurt. He hissed and held back a yelp of pain. The man babbled and Dean tried to relax. He could not remember sex ever not hurting, but he knew that if he relaxed it wouldn't hurt as much. The man thrust into him and grasped the young man's hips tightly, Dean knew there would be bruises later. The man yelled the fake name that Dean had given, and Dean felt like vomiting. His head started to hit the door as the man's thrusts became wild and uncoordinated. Dean pushed a hand against the door to stop his head from hitting it. It felt like ages before the man was finally reaching his orgasm. Dean let the man fuck him until he heard the man stop talking and still in his body. The guy then flopped down on the younger man and breathed hard. Dean turned over a little and pushed him off. The man placed his hand on Dean chest and brought it down his stomach.
"Did you get off?" the man asked.
"Yeah, sure," Dean said and grabbed his shirt. "The money?" Dean asked as he pulled his pants back up. The man, finally, said nothing as he got the rest of Dean's money. Dean took the cash, made sure his fly was zipped up and got out of the truck as fast as possible. He limped a few steps but shook it off, it wasn't the worst he had ever had. He went over to the Impala and unlocked her. He opened the glove compartment and took out a small envelope. He put most of the money he had just got inside then the rest in his pocket. He shut the car back up and went back into the bar. The woman at the bar sent a look his way when he came back in but did not say a word. Dean walked to the booth in the back and wondered how long he would be able to stay before the owner kicked him out. Apparently not long because the woman was now coming over to Dean.
"Do you really need a job?" she asked.
"Yeah," Dean said. The woman bit her lip then nodded.
"You can help me bus tables tonight, it's gonna be busy," she told him. "If you're any good you can stay for a few more days."
"Thank you," Dean said.
"I'm Ellen," she said holding out her hand to Dean.
"Dean," he said standing to shake her hand.
"Follow me," Ellen said. "I'll show you around."
Ellen bought Dean to the back of the bar then out though the swinging door. There on a table near the door was a man sleeping. Dean gave him a weird look, but since Ellen didn't say anything, he didn't either. She showed him where all the cleaning supplies were and the extra glasses.
"It'll get busy in a couple hours," Ellen said once she was done explaining the rules of the Roadhouse. "Why don't you go clean off all the tables."
"Sure," Dean said and grabbed a rag and a spray bottle of cleaner.
Dean cleaned and Ellen poured drinks for the customers. She was right it did get busy, in the next few hours the rode side bar filled with people. Lots of hunter looking guys and a few bikers and then a couple women who had come along with them. When it got to be too many people, Ellen went and woke up the man who was sleeping on the table in the back. The guy who came out looking like he was hungover, but when he stepped up to the bar he handled mixing drinks like a pro. Dean hurried around clearing the empty glasses from the tables and when he needed to he washed them and put them under the bar for Ellen and the other guy to use. At eleven things slowed and Dean finished cleaning all the glasses he had plucked from the tables. He and Ellen restocked them and she introduced him to the other bartender.
"Dean this is Ash," Ellen said.
"'Sup dude," Ash said with a hillbilly slash surfer tone.
"Hey," Dean said back.
"So how'd you get the lovely Ellen Harvelle to hire you?" Ash asked as he leaned over the bar. "Took her ages to allow me behind here."
"That cause you drink like a fish," Ellen mumbled.
"Ellen, I'm family," Ash said trying to sound offended.
"Just needed a job," Dean said honestly.
"Why Ellen you philanthropist," Ash laughed.
"Go do something useful," Ellen told Ash as she took the rag she had and threw it at him, hitting Ash square in the face.
The flow of people stopped and Ellen had to kick out the last drunk at midnight. The three then cleaned the bar. Ash turned on some classic rock and danced around the floor as he put the chairs on top of the tables. Dean offered to mop the floor and Ellen did not try stop him. Dean liked it there. He liked the banter between Ellen and Ash, and how he could see that they really loved each other. He listened to them talk happily and when silence fell between the two there was still the melodies from Led Zeppelin and Foreigner to fill the space. When they were all done Ellen payed Dean. She handed him the cash and told him that he could come back tomorrow at four if he wanted. Dean said that he would be there. He counted the cash and realized that she had given him more then they had agreed on. When he told her she just shrugged and told him to go home. She rounded on the cash register and began counting the money. Dean thanked her and left the bar.
He really didn't have a place to stay in Nebraska, he figured that he would just sleep in the Impala. Dean trudged outside and unlocked his car. Once more he split the cash he had made, most going into the envelope in the glove compartment the rest going to him. He locked he doors then rolled into the back seat. There was a blanket back there just for this occasion, Dean pulled it around himself and tried to fall asleep. It was uncomfortable in his jeans but his boxers would be to cold and he really didn't want to change outside. He lay there for a long while and was about to drift to sleep when someone knocked on the window. Dean jumped up and his eyes shot to the noise. Ellen was standing there with her hands on her hips looking a bit angry. Dean leaned over and unlocked the door and before he could reach for the handle Ellen pulled it open.
"Why didn't you tell me you had no place to sleep?" she said hotly.
"Uh," Dean said dumbly. He thought the Impala did qualify as somewhere to sleep.
"Get up," Ellen snapped. "I got an extra bed. All ya had to do was ask."
She started walking away and Dean scrambled to get out of the car. He popped the trunk and grabbed his duffle and ran after the woman. He followed her back into the bar then past the kitchen where there was a set of stairs. Above the bar was a nice home that Ellen had made for herself.
"Down that way, last door," Ellen dismissed. "You can sleep there."
"How much?" Dean swallowed.
"Nothing you fool. Get in there and sleep," she scolded him. "I'll think of something you can do for me in the morning. Oh, and don't mind if you hear Ash tumbling around here, don't think that boy sleeps."
Ellen then turned and took off to the other side of the second floor. Dean stood there for a long moment then tightened his grip on his duffle and went to the room Ellen had told him to. He opened the door and was surprised to see the room was completely decorated. It had a hunter lodge kind of theme. Dean stepped inside and set his bag on the bed. He let his eyes travel around the room and wondered if he ever had a room to himself if it would look like this or not. Probably not, Dean wasn't one for hunting. Dean then imagined as to what he would decorate his room to look like. He had no real hobbies or likes so when he dreamt up a room it had nothing in it, just a bed. Dean sighed and opened his duffle and pulled out a clean t-shirt. He swapped his shirts then disposed of his jeans. He put the dirty cloths back in his bag and got into the bed. It was soft and there were more blankets than he was used to. Dean dove under all of them and embraced the warmth they gave and within seconds he was asleep.