Dean moaned but did not scream out when Sam hit him with his belt. Sam watched as the red mark darkened on Dean's skin. He brought the belt down across his brother's thighs again and listened for the scream that did not come. Sam shook his head and whipped Dean again.
Dean tried to double over because of the pain but he was bound to the hotel chair. His wrists were duct taped together behind the back and his ankles were taped to the front legs of the chair. He clinched his teeth and hissed out his pain. Sam leaned over and whispered into his ear.
"Scream."
"No," Dean panted then, almost a scream, but not quite when Sam laid the belt across his naked thighs again.
"You know you want to."
"No."
Sam whipped Dean's right thigh hard until it whelped up from hip to knee, stopping short of making it bleed. Dean was gasping for breath now and tears were streaming down his face though Sam could not hear him cry.
"Fuck," Sam cursed as he cut the tape from his brother's ankles and shoved him onto the closest bed. Sam reversed the belt and wrapped it around it hand for a better grip.
"Damn you," he whispered and whipped Dean. He was rough and fast, watching as the buckle bit into his brother's skin. Dean panted, grunted, and gasped out his pain. He was sobbing pitifully, wordlessly cussing, when Sam stopped. Sam watched as the blood oozed out of the cuts, not a lot but enough.
"Scream."
"N-nn-no."
He yanked his brother off the bed by his hair and dragged him to the bathroom. Shoving him into the shower, Sam turned on the cold water and listened to the startled cry. Dean shivered violently and tried to get out but was pushed back in by his younger brother. Sam kept him in there until Dean was soaked through.
"You f-fuck'ng bitch."
"Scream."
"No."
"I know you will."
"B-bite m-me."
Dean was nearly blue with cold, shivering uncontrollably, and his teeth chattered. Sam frowned then pulled him out. He half dragged, half carried Dean to the corner of the motel room by the door. Grabbing his hair again he banged his brother's head into the corner.
"Scream," Sam ordered as he dug the fingers of his other hand into one of the cuts on Dean's back. Dean hissed harshly, trying to twist away. Sam could hear as his older brother ground his teeth together in an effort to remain silent.
"F-fuck y-you," Dean replied in a shaky whisper.
"Then stay," Sam ordered his shaking brother who was struggling to remain upright on his knees.
Sam circled the room looking for inspiration. Finding none, he opened the laptop and did some searching. He took some notes on a few that seemed quite interesting then closed it for the night. Putting the laptop away, he observed his brother in the corner. Dean had slipped to a sitting position and was slumped over, leaning on the wall. He was still shivering but not constantly nor as violently.
"Damn it," Sam said, picking up the discarded belt by the buckle. He wrapped it around his fist once then let it fly, hitting Dean square across the shoulders where three of the deeper cuts were. Dean screamed that time, long and hard, which gave Sam relief. He dropped the belt and quickly brought over a towel to dry his brother off. Initially Dean flinched at the touch of the towel but relaxed to the gentle touches. Sam then helped him up to a standing position then guided him to his bed.
He lay his brother face down on the unused bed, cut the tape from his wrists careful not to move his arms too fast. He inspected the cuts and deemed all but two were fine; the deeper ones he cleaned thoroughly and used super glue to close them up then bandaged them. Sam repositioned Dean in what he hoped he was comfortable, then he looked for any other wounds. Nothing as bad as the cuts, so he covered him up. Dean's eyes were half mast with exhaustion but flew open when Sam got up.
"Sam!" Dean weakly reached for his brother, eye wild.
"Shh, shh, sleep now," Sam whispered, moving Deans arm back under the covers. He brushed the hair off his forhead, absently wondering why his brother's hair was that long, and watched him as he closed his eyes and relax.
"Thank you Sam. You need to get some sleep," Dean said sleepily, barely getting the words out before he was out himself.
"I will, don't worry," Sam replied even though he knew his brother did not hear him.
When Dean fell into a deep sleep, Sam grabbed his duffle and returned to the bathroom. He quickly got undressed and got into the shower. He scrubbed his skin nearly raw as if it was a contagion he had to rid himself. The water was so hot that his skin would have been red without the scrubbing. Hate engulfed him. 'Why do you make me do this?'
After drying himself, he then sat on the toilet lid. He took a knife from his bag and stared at the shiny surface of the blade. Sam spread his legs and placed the blade against his right inner thigh this time. Slowly he drew it across the skin and hissed with the pain he inflected upon himself. He watched the blood well up from the four inch cut then slide down his skin to drip on the floor. Sam watched the spot grow with every drop. He repositioned the blade an inch over and cut again. He closed his eyes and felt every millimetre of the cut. The blade was sharp so it sliced through the skin easily. At first it was almost cold then burned when the nerves caught on to what was happening.
He had tried other places in the past but found this to be the most sensitive that he could reach. Plus a few inches deeper and he could reach the artery. The possibility of final release was a fear and a prayer.
Pain shot up and down his leg and at one point he nearly stopped. Yet he continued until he had five cuts of equal length. The blood had pooled below him and was spreading toward the bathtub. He idly thought about the floor not being level and then touched the cuts. Sam hissed out his pain through clinched teeth but did not stop. Tears ran down his face as the agony in his thigh intensified. He probed relentlessly at the cuts causing them to bleed more. When he was covered in sweat and gasping for breath in a effort not to cry out loud he stopped. His hand and leg were covered with blood and the puddle on the floor was nearly one foot in diameter. Carefully he cleaned up and bandaged the wounds noting that his leg trembled. Sam smiled when his underpants and sweatpants caused his cuts to burn.
The next morning after a restless sleep, Sam woke to find Dean gathering their stuff. He noticed that Dean was limping a bit. He felt bad but knew he could not say anything. He got up, readied himself, and got moving.
"How'd you sleep?" Sam asked the only question he was allowed and waited for the rage that never came.
"Slept great. Sam we need to be on the road in thirty minutes," Dean said without a hint of accusation. He smiled at his younger brother and added, "I brought you coffee and breakfast. It's over on the table."
"Okay, Dean, thanks," Sam ducked his head and went into the bathroom. He pulled down his sweats and ripped off the bandage. He pressed his fingers against his cuts. Pain shot through his leg causing his to clamp shut his mouth before a cry escaped. Blood seeped out of each cut offering no answers to his questions. How can Dean forgive him when he could not forgive himself? How could Dean forget the pain he had inflicted upon him the night before? Why did he make him endure such abuse? Why did Dean ask, no beg him to do that to him? He had no clue what it was doing to his little brother.
Sam did not get the luxury of watching his life's blood drip to the floor. Dean banged on the door and yelled for him to get a move on. Sam hastily reapplied the bandage and changed into a pair of jeans. Leaving the rooms for the last time he enjoyed the harsh feeling of his jeans against the cuts reminding him that he still needed to be punished.
End Hurt