Summary:16 yo Dean and 12 yo Sam get jumped on their way home from school. Unable to save his boys, John is forced to watch as Dean is brutalized and sacrifices himself for his brother to the human monsters at his back. Will Dean be able to cope with the aftermath of his assault? Will any one be able to stop the abuse before it's too late?

Notes:This is very graphic, very brutal, and was hard to write. Please be warned! This will have a happy ending (probably), but it won't be a happy journey getting there. Please proceed with caution!

Male x Male.

Dean/OMC

Rape/Non-Con!

Chapter 1:

It was worse than the night the fire burned up his wife. It was worse than the night Sam had run away to Flagstaff. It was worse than any of the hells he'd made his sons live through just by association...and it was a goddamn humans ripping his family apart.

"You sick sons of bitches." John growled low, knife in his white knuckled hand, hanging just by his side, ready to be up and used in less than a second the moment he had any sort of opening. "You let my sons go." He felt sick, terror crawling it's way up his throat as he saw his beautiful boys held like that, being threatened like that.

"You hear that, TJ?" The bigger one laughed, hand tightening harder around Dean's fragile neck, sharp metal tipped gloves digging faux claws into Dean's tender skin, a single line of red dripping down the teen's neck from a puncture at the base of his neck and shoulder. "We scored us a nice set of baby boys, didn't we?" The nasty, smoke rough voice was full of sick delight, his tongue darting out to slither across Dean's delicate ear and to nip at his lobe. "And papa bear's got a front row seat to the show. Thinks he can order us around."

The one off to the side, TJ, as the bigger one had identified, smirked cruelly from where he was positioned. His gun was poised at Sammy's head where the younger brother was pinned to the ground on his chest. TJ was kneeling on his small frame, a knee jammed into his upper back between his shoulder blades, the boy's small wrists were twisted up and pinned next to it, his other leg trapping Sam's own slender legs from flailing beneath him. He was perched on the twelve year olds' back in such a way he had full view of Dean in his partner's hold, eyes set now on John as the gun pressed into the side of Sam's head where it was tilted so he could see everything that was going on to his older brother, as well. Tears were streaming down his bruised face, and from John's quick assessment had Dean's over shirt he'd been wearing earlier shoved into his mouth to stop him from making any noise.

"Aint that a treat." TJ drawled, digging the gun into Sam's temple harder, drawing a muffled whine of pain from him where the metal dug into a deep purple bruise. "Not often we get an audience."

"Specially one that knows how to fight. Pity it's pointless to try." The unnamed one purred from where he was kneeling behind Dean on the dirty concrete floor. He had the older brother on his knees in front of him, hands tied up with Dean's own belt, his jean's unbuttoned and unzipped already. The green eyed teen's eyes were hooded with pain, but sharp with defiance, tracking his Dad with a desperate hope. Dean hadn't gone down without a fight. Neither had Sam. It was clear as day, and John would have praised him if not for the more pressing matter at hand. His battered son was still a pretty sight to see with his full pink lips, his vibrant green eyes, his creamy golden skin and soft brown freckles. The bruises across his jaw, the blood running down his nose from a gash and swollen lump on his forehead hardly took away any of his youthful good looks, and there was a man pressed into his back with a giant paw around his throat.

John made an aborted step forward, only to freeze up when he saw the tip of another clawed digit dig into Dean's throat, a fresh stream of blood flowing down his neck into his blood stained and torn under shirt. Dean's face went paler, a pink flash of color highlighting his freckled cheekbones as oxygen was cut off and he gasped inaudibly for air, shoulders quacking as his hands twisted in their binds behind his back trying to get free so he could claw at the hand blocking his air.

"Ah, ah, ah!" The big man tisked, at John, a sick smile curling his lips. "Any closer and pretty green eyes here gets his throat ripped open." His eyes were cold and sharp where they peered over Dean's broad, but still small frame. The kid was only sixteen, still coming into his own body as puberty made him grow taller, fill out more. He had muscled in all the right places from training and hunting, but he was still small. He was almost John's height, now, sure, but he was just a kid, and the man behind him was built like a bear. He was all broad, big muscles, sharp cruel facial features, gruff and grizzly. He was bigger than John, and he absolutely dwarfed Dean. He had one hand tight around Dean's throat, and his other arm wrapped around Dean's front, possessively holding on to a slender hip, holding Dean tight against his bigger body with ease.

Sam let out a muffled cry, twisting on the ground helplessly under the smaller of the two assailants. Even though he was smaller than Bear, TJ was built like a barge, too. He was about John's own height and build, but he obviously had more muscle on him, just a bit broader, a bit heavier. He looked like he could break Sam like a twig.

"Back away, or you lose baby boy here." Bear said, making a show of how easy it was to move Dean's head around with the grip on his neck, pushing Dean's head back so his neck was bent backwards, head on his big shoulder, pale neck exposed more to the big clawing hands on his bruising neck.

John's heart plummeted as he saw the color leaving Dean, the faint twinge of blue creeping into his lips as air was cut off the longer John stood their unmoving. He was helpless to do anything, any move he made risked his son's lives. He didn't have his gun on him, and he was completely unprepared. The knife in his grip did no good to a man with a gun to his son's head and a hand on his eldest's neck. He took a jerky step backward, face falling as he realized how helpless he was. He had no hope of rescuing his boys. He could only pray Bobby was still on the other end of the phone where it rest in his jacket pocket. He'd called for backup when he realized something had taken his sons, thinking it was a monster. After not having been able to find Sam and Dean for nearly an hour after making it back to their apartment, panic had set it. It had taken him too long to find the self storage building not far from the school and their apartment, a popular bikers bar not too far down a nearby street, too. The sick bastards must've known that kids walked back from school nearby, and had waited to catch a few. When they'd seen Sam and Dean walking together a good half hour after the rest of the school had gotten out (because of a club Sammy stayed after for), they'd known they'd found their targets. No parents around, and no big audience. John had been attracted to the correct storage unit because of the sounds of the end of Dean and Sam's fight. They'd bought him time to find them, but not enough.

"Drop the knife." TJ snarled next, eyes unwavering where they watched John. "Now." His free hand twisted one of Sam's wrists just enough for John to worry about it breaking with a little more pressure. The pain on the muffled boys face was enough incentive, and John dropped the knife with a clatter. Oh god. His boys.

"Good." Bear smirked, drawing John's attention back to him and Dean. He barely got any warning before he noticed the panicked look in Dean's wide green eyes where he was staring over his Dad's shoulder. He twisted and mouthed wordlessly for him to turn around, trying to warn his dad, but it was too late. John saw the shadow of someone behind him just as something hit him hard on the back of the head. He went down with a clatter, vision spinning as he teetered on the edges of consciousness, feeling blood slide down the back of his neck.

Weaponless, now, and injured the newcomer quickly took him down, grabbing John's wrists and tying them tight together before he was being dragged up to his feet again, arms yanked above his head and looped on to a hook, rope twisting around the end several times before he was left to dangle just on the edge of his tiptoes. The door to the storage unit closed with a bang, after that, clicking shut to the outside world. The newcomer walked around in front of John and smiled. He was built like the other two men, and it was with horrified understanding that John pieced together their relations.

"Hello, brothers." The newcomer said, right on cue. His smile was sugary sweet as he appraised John before turning to face the other two men on the floor. He whistled when he saw their catch, saw John's boys trapped in his sibling's arms. "Oh, very nice catch. Looks like you had some fun with these two already." He chuckled, walking forward and closer to Bear and John's eldest son.

"Feisty little fuckers, these two." Bear grinned up at the newcomer. "Gave us a good fight. Got some training, they do." He glanced at John where he was dangling, dazed and dizzy with a bleeding lump throbbing on the back of his head. "Papa bear over their oughta be proud of them." Bear rolled Dean's head around so it was tucked slightly under his head, like a doll being held. "Green eyes here even had three separate knives on him." He said, showing off his catch.

The newcomer licked his lips, taking in the sight of the trapped boy in front of him. He reached out and cupped Dean's pale cheek, John's only comfort coming from the color that had returned to his cheeks with the loosened choke hold, and the dark defiance still burning there as he glared up at his assailant. "He's got some life in him." He purred, trailing a finger through the stream of blood on Dean's nose, smiling at the flinch he got when he brushed a thumb over one of his eyes. "He's a pretty one." He smiled big. "Good job, Max." He praised the big man still holding Dean captive. "I like this one already."

Bear, or Max as he'd just been named, beamed with pride. "Got his little brother, too." He said nodding over to where TJ had Sam. "Scrawny thing, but just as much fight in him as this one. Definitely been trained together. Had each others backs til we got uhm seperated."

The yet unnamed man walked over to TJ and Sam, earning a low growl from Dean. As he squatted down in front of Sam's tear streaked face he heard Max hiss something harsh into Dean's ear to settle down. A childlike smile curled the ringleader's face as he wiped the same finger he'd used on Dean's blood across Sam's wet cheek, smearing blood over purpled flesh. "Oh, this one has some rage inside of him." He laughed, patting Sam's cheek as it flushed hot with anger. "You did good, real good." He praised, standing up again, rolling his shoulders before walking over to John purposefully.

"You still with us, papa?" He smeared his tear wet and blood streaked fingers into John's scruff covered jaw, forcing his eyes up to focus on malicious dark brown ones. "Good." He said when John's angry, dazed and desperate eyes met his. "Not used to not being able to protect them, are you." He said observationally. "I almost feel bad for you." Max snickered from behind him. "I'm going to give you a treat, though." He punched John hard in the stomach, and then hard across the face. "I'm going to give you a memory to cherish for a life time." He grinned manically. "Something to share with your pretty baby boys over there." He laughed, kicking out John's legs once he saw the light of understanding in John's eyes. He turned back to the struggling children waiting for him. His eyes fell on Dean instantly, so prettily presented to him by his brother..

"Can we play now, Artie?" Max asked with childlike eagerness, licking up a little of the blood on Dean's neck with a wide wet tongue. "I want to play with this one so badly." He nearly whined, grinding into Dean's back as he rocked the boy's body back into him. Dean bit back a snarl at the feel of another man rubbing his erection into his ass. It was wrong, so very wrong, and he didn't like the sound of "play" at all.

Artie sauntered over to Dean and stood in front of him, peering into those wild green eyes. "TJ." He called, not looking away from Dean's face. "Strip the little one." He ordered, taking in the display that was a bloodied, outraged Dean.

Dean's eyes went wide and he started thrashing violently in Max's arms, straining against him as he forced his voice out past the tight grip still on his neck. "Youleavehimaloneyousicksonofabitch!" He growled, nearly knocking Max off him with his renewed anger, only to be grabbed tighter and pulled deeper into Max's arms.

Artie smirked, grabbing Dean's jaw as TJ stood up, dragging Sam with him. "What's your name pretty boy?" He asked, running a thumb over Dean's lips and snagging his bottom one with a nail as the pink flesh twitch with anger. "Tell me truthfully."

Dean twisted hard in Max's new grip on him, both the man's arms tight around his chest now, letting his throat free at last, holding him tighter, more firmly as Artie took control of his face. It immobilized Dean more, but gave him his voice back. Dean grit his teeth at the older man in front of him, growling low. "Let my brother go."

"Name. Now, or baby brother gets his wrist broken." Artie snapped, slapping Dean hard enough to twist his head to the side to see TJ manhandling Sam out of his clothes. The littler Winchester was no match to the big hands, or the way the man used his shirt fabric to twist his arms together in a make shift bind . His body was covered with bruises from where he'd fought, but luckily no blood was seen on him besides the single smear of Dean's own across his cheek. "His name, too." Artie demanded.

Dean's faced paled of color as he saw TJ practically rip Sam's pants and underwear off, tossing the clothes at John's feet with a cruel quirk of his lips. He stood now with the gun tucked under Sam's vulnerable chin, holding the twelve year olds shirt entrapped wrists in his free hand, waiting for further orders.

Dean shuddered, eyes darting frantically between his exposed brother, his trussed up and steadily bleeding father, and the monster of a man in front of him. "D-Dean." He croaked out, swallowing hard and lowering his eyes as they darted to his brother again. "a-and…" Green caught on Sam's hazel eyes for a split second, seeing the frightened look in his baby brother's eyes. With a little spark of defiance Dean scrambled his brain for a name, any name but Sam's. "Dean and Scott." He bit out. "Scottie…" He faux corrected himself, looking away in shame. If he could he'd spare Sam the humiliation of his name being thrown around throughout whatever torture they were put through. It would be a small victory if the man accepted it, but it would make Dean feel better.

Artie raised a brow at him, twisting Dean's head back to stare at him. He searched Dean's eyes for the truth, thinking he'd gotten it, he thumbed his way through Dean's blood again, smearing it across his nose.

"Dean. That's a good, sturdy name." He said with a lazy look to the way the blood stained his finger tip. "Dean." He rolled the name on his tongue like he was tasting it, smacking his lips and leaning down. "Dean, Dean, Dean." He repeated the name as his eyes roved over the teen's bruised face. "You're a good, smart boy aren't you? You'd do anything to keep your precious Scottie safe, wouldn't you?" He ran a finger nail down from Dean's chin to the hollow of his throat beneath his small adam's apple. "I can tell just by your reactions you'd do anything to keep him safe, wouldn't you?"

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, nodding once. "Don't hurt him. Do whatever you want to me, but you don't touch him." He demanded in a pleading voice, not having to hide the desperation in his voice. He could see the threat to his brothers well being from a mile a way, and if he could stop any harm from befalling Sam, than he would. He could put up with whatever this monster did, as long as Sammy made it through this safe. Or at least spared anything else they had in mind. "Please, he's just a kid, let him go, please." He begged, looking desperately to his frightened little brother, seeing the panic in those hazel eyes at Dean's words.

Artie smiled sweetly, leaning down close to Dean's face. "You're such a good big brother, aren't you? Trying to protect your brother. I admire that. I'd do anything for my brothers. You've did a good job, Dean, put up a better fight than your daddy did." He glanced over at John who was fighting to stay conscious. "Look at him, barely even scratched and he's just hanging there uselessly." He felt the tremor in Dean's frame as his father's uselessness was pointed out plain as day, their only hope of rescue gone. "But you, you're still fighting for your brother, aren't you? Willing to take any pain I give you, any punishment I see fit if it means baby brother Scottie stays safe."

Dean nodded weakly. "Anything…" He whispered hoarsely, a heavy stone settling in his heart at the mere thought of Sam being hurt. "Just let him go, please. Don't hurt him."

Artie leaned in and pressed a wet, silencing kiss on Dean's plump lips, tasting the bitterness of defeat on his lips, plundering in deep before pulling back to admire the look of disgust on the boy's face, to hear the muffled weak cries of distress from Sam and from John. When Dean said nothing about the treatment he smirked, patting his cheek gently.

"Good boy." He said, turning to look over at Sam and his own brother. "TJ, tie up his legs and arms properly and then hang him up to this hook over here." Artiee ordered, pointing to another hook hanging from the ceiling, lower, closer to Dean and Max. "Make sure he has a good view, can see everything big brother Dean here goes through for him. I want him to see every, single little thing I make him sacrifice for his brother."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Artie grabbed his jaw with four fingers hooked into his mouth, dragging his head forward harshly and tilting his head back roughly. Dark eyes glared into Dean's desperate green ones. "You." He shook Dean's head harshly, pressing nails into the boy's tongue beneath his fingers. "Asked for this. Nothing will happen to him as long as you take what I give you. Do everything I say and not a single hair will be harmed on his head. Understood?"

Dean's eyes watered but didn't leak. He nodded shakily with the man's fingers still gripping his teeth and aching jaw. Satisfied, Artie let got of the boy and turned to walk over to John again, checking on him as TJ did as he'd been told, stringing the naked boy up to mirror his father's position, but instead just barely four feet from where Dean knelt still trapped in Max's arms.

"Papa bear, papa bear…" He sighed, slapping John hard a few times for the fun of it. "I need you awake and aware. I want you to see what your failure has caused. I want you to see how helpless your sons are despite all your…" He glanced over John's features, assessing. "..military training." He snickered, grabbing the edge of John's tshirt and rucked it up, shoving it up around his neck and into his mouth as a gag.

"Artie, can I play with him now? Please, brother?" Max asked with a childlike tone and eagerness, impatient but waiting for permission. "I want to taste him, brother, his blood was so sweet." He licked his lips and stared longingly at Dean's blood stained neck in front of him.

Artie turned back to his brother on the floor, looking Dean over from afar, seeing the stiff jaw, the green gaze focused on Artie's feet , mind working and working, trying to think of a way out of this, trying to prepare himself for the worse, trying to stay strong. He liked this green eyed boy his brothers had caught. He had spirit, loyalty, majesty. He licked his own lips hungrily.

"Princess Dean." He said, catching the boys attention with the demeaning nickname. "You look like you belong on a throne, so let's give you one." He walked back over to the flush faced boy, seeing the humiliation in his eyes at the name. "Such a pretty princess shouldn't wear such dirty clothes."

To Dean's horror, Artie walked over, picking up John's discarded knife on the way, and used it to tear the front of his shirt open in one rip, exposing his already bruised chest. One side of his ribs looked bruised already, a dark ugly purple spot looking swollen, his sternum and shoulders mottled with red and blue bruises too. Artie used the knife to slice the sleeves off the shirt as well, pulling the fabric off the boy's chest without unbinding his arms. "Princesses ought to be showered in affection and love, don't you think, Maxie?" He asked the brother still holding Dean's now shivering frame. "Let's make our little princess feel good."

Artie grabbed a handful of Dean's hair and dragged him forward to force his tongue into his mouth again, licking into him and groaning at the taste of the youth's sweet mouth. Like apple pie and whisky. Max's big arms spread around Dean, gloved fingers scratching down the delicately flat muscled chest, catching over his nipples and making Dean jerk helplessly against his bindings, eyes screwed shut and mouth unresponsive as he was violated. He just had to remind himself to breath through it, that it would be over soon, hopefully. Max's big hands dug into his sides as the man's face curled over his shoulder, lips settling on sore skin and sucking at the punctures he'd made earlier, licking into the little holes there to draw out more coppery blood.

Artie pulled back from Dean's mouth after a devouring moment with a wet, obscene pop, gripping Dean's spit slick chin as he admired his handy work. "Oh, Dean, Dean, Dean." He sighed against swollen lips, memorizing the puffy look of those full, red lips. "You were made for this, weren't you? Such pretty little pouty lips." He chuckled, ignoring the other prisoners in the room, knowing TJ was watching them, gun at the ready. TJ always had been the most patient of the three, always willing to wait and be the last to play. He preferred to be the final player on the board.

"Artie, I want to be his throne." Max whispered over the trembling shoulder in his arms, brown eyes pleading brown for the honor of laying into the captive first. "He fits so perfectly in my arms, can I play first, please?" Dean felt oily thick dread curl in his veins at the childlike demeanor of the bastard behind him. They were sick, twisted, all of them.

Artie snapped his eyes over to Max, expression almost angry looking before sparking with mischievous delight. "Oh, Maxie." He slid his hands down Dean's now red scratched chest, watching the way the boy tried to stay silent, tried to bit his tongue against the storm in his mind that reflected in his eyes. "After finding me such a sweet, sweet treat? Of course." He slotted his fingers against Dean's hips, sliding them slowly down jean clad thighs and curling them into the tuck of his knees.

He removed one hand to pick up the knife again, pressing its flat side against Dean's tense, freckled cheek before slowly gliding it down his chest, watching the way his breath caught when the sharp edge caught on his nipple, paused to dig slightly into the swollen welt of a probably broken rib, and then down to press against Dean's length through his jeans. He smirked at the little shuddering whine that Dean tried to bite back.

"Oh, Princess Dean, you're being such a good little girl." He smiled at the shame flushed color on the boys cheeks. "Blushing all pretty for your brother and your new friends. Such a pretty little princess, all thin and lean. Big pouty lips, long dark eyelashes..." He moved the knife to slide into Dean's jeans down the side of his hip and ripping the fabric roughly along the seam as he admired the teen before him. Dean jerked back instinctively, biting back a panicked whine as his jeans were cut from his legs.

"Such a cute little voice…" Artie praised as Max pressed in closer to Dean, grinding up against his backside and panting against his neck.

"Artie, he's so pretty." Max groaned, pressing his hands flat to Dean's belly and pressing him back further in to his chest. "His ass is so perky, it's just made to sit on my throne." He laughed, playing along with his brother's sick game. "Such a pretty princess, all smooth and toned and tight."

Artie finished cutting the fabric from Dean's with a cry of triumph, ripping the tattered fabric from his form and leaving him exposed completely, save for the bronze necklace against his chest. Artie looked at it and went to rip it from him when Dean let out a pathetic whimper, shaking his head furiously.

"No! No...please, leave it...please…" He begged, squirming against the binds on his wrist, face heated with the shame of being exposed to these pedophiles. "Please, it's special."

Artie looked up into big, teary green eyes, spotting movement from the other young captive in the room. Seeing the burning rage in Sam's eyes, the desperate attempts to get free, the growl behind the gag. He raised a brow, wrapping his hand around the bronze figure, seeing the flash of horror on Sam's face at the threat of taking away the pendant.

"Ah, did Prince Scottie give this to you?" He asked, pressing the bronze figure into Dean's chest so the sharp edges dug in uncomfortably. He got a weak, pathetic nod from his green eyed captive and chuckled warmly. "Oh, well in that case we don't want to ruin that. After all, a princess does need a little decoration."

He pressed the figure harder into Dean's skin, rocking it back and forth a little and digging out a spot in Dean's chest with it, watching the twitch and tick of Dean's expression as his precious necklace carved in to him. "You're a good brother, Dean. Doing this for him, protecting his precious gifts. You can keep this. Good reminder of who you're doing this for…" He dug the bronze head deeper until a red pool was dripping down the center of Dean's chest, and the figure stuck into the ripped flesh. "Let's keep that right in there then."

Dean nodded, sucking in a desperate breath, biting down on his tongue to stop himself from saying anything else, from crying like a baby, from making this all worse. He had to endure this for Sammy's sake. If he could just hold himself together, try to block it out he'd be okay. He had to be, this nightmare would end eventually, right? He had to stay strong. No one was coming to save him.

"Scottie." He dared to whisper out his brother's fake name. "T-try not to watch. Please." He begged, knowing what was coming next. He didn't know if Sam understood yet, if he'd figured out what they planned to do to him. Sam was still young, still innocent, and Dean wasn't sure if the younger man fully realized what these monsters planned. He hoped not, hoped he could close his eyes, block at least the images out, not see what was about to be done to him.

Artie tsked at him, slapping him hard, shaking his head at Dean. "We'll not have any of that, Princess. You're prince needs to know just how much his princess loves him, right? Has to see him seated on the throne she's earned." He gave TJ a look to keep his eye on Sam, to make sure he watched. Pleased his brother already understood his role, he nodded to Max, who pushed Dean forward suddenly, into Artie's waiting chest. The ringleader's hands grabbed Dean's hips and held him up straighter on his knees as Max undid his pants, pulled his cock out of the folds of fabric and slid back up against Dean's exposed backside, rubbing his heavy, full cock into the crease of Dean's ass.

Horror washed through Dean at the feel of it, the size of it. Oh god, this was really about to happen.

"Oh, Artie, he's so pretty back here. Such a pretty princess. He looks so tight." Max rubbed his leaking crown against Dean's entrance, smiling as he pressed but didn't enter, sliding back and up the crease again in a teasing rock that brushed the top of his wet dick against Dean's bound hands at the small of his back. "Can I , please?" He asked, looking to Artie again where he was gripping Dean firmly from in front. Artie's hands slid around from Dean's hips to his backside, brushing across his bound wrists and twitching fingers and to the meat of his ass. His fingers dug in and pulled the muscle apart for Max, letting him rub and press with a better view of the clenching opening.

"So small and pink." Max laughed, delighted.

Dean let out a little whine, breath hitched in his throat as he bit back panic and desperation, shaking visibly between the two human monsters. He swallowed down the urge to bawl, to beg for them to stop. His eyes suddenly locked on John's across the room where he hung uselessly, tears streaming down his own face into the fabric of his shirt. Dean sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to calm himself, trying to stay strong. For Sammy. For Dad. Even John couldn't stop these monsters, so Dean would just have to take whatever they dished out. They could try, but Dean refused to break. He wouldn't make a sound for them, not if he could help it. Sam would try to look away, keep his eyes closed like Dean asked, and if he stayed quiet then Sam wouldn't hear anything more than just bodies moving. He wouldn't hear pain, wouldn't hear his brother's weakness.

Oh god, he wanted to just shrivel up and die.

Artie pulled his cheeks apart again, kneading his fingers in to taut muscles. He licked his lips, breathing in the smell of Dean's fear and his fight to stay in control, trying to school his expression as he shut his eyes against the world. Pointless really. "Make him scream." He instructed with a nod to Max.

With no more warning, the bear of a man shoved the blunt head of his cock into Dean, only his slick prerelease adding any lubrication. Dean eyes jolted open as he felt himself tear, agony ripping up his spine and making his body desperate to fight back, to flee. He couldn't stop the knee jerk reaction to pull away, to try to claw his way free. He bit hard into the shoulder of the man in front of him without thinking, blinded by the brutal intensity of raw penetration, fighting off the scream that wanted to roar out of him. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Bright hot pain rippled through his thighs, his ass, his lower back, crawling up his spine and into his abused shoulders and numb, tied arms. He felt like liquid fire had been poured through his veins. He didn't realize there could ever be this much pain at one time.

In a blur he found himself being pulled back by the hair harshly, a punch across the jaw dazing him before a wet tongue was pushing into his mouth, teeth nipping and biting at him, trying to force more noises from his throat. Claw tipped gloves grabbed onto his hips for leverage as Artie's two large hands returned to spread his ass cheeks open for Max to rut into him with reckless abandon, grunting obscenely as he tore into Dean's body with enthusiasm. Teeth bit into his neck and sucked blood from wounds already there, again, digging sharp points into tender tendons. Max moaned his pleasure into Dean's back as he thrust and thrust and thrust, forcing himself into Dean's virgin body a little bit more with each roll of his hips in and out.

"Oh! Artie...he's so tight! So hot! Just perfect on my throne, taking me so-" He thrust up hard, rocking Dean forward unsteadily. "deep-" Another short, but sharp thrust open Dean's torn hole more. "So hot." He moaned as he settled into Dean balls deep. "Took me so nice." He stopped moving almost as suddenly as he'd entered, just kneeling behind Dean, buried to the hilt, balls pressed against his ass tender ass. "Such a pretty princess." He mocked, sucking on Dean's ear lobe.

Artie pushed Dean back firmly, slotting him back onto Max's lap and across his chest, so he was sitting fully across his lap. He admired the agonized look on Dean's face with sick satisfaction. Dean's eyes were screwed shut with wet drops clinging to his long eyelashes, jaw set tight as he refused to make a noise, refused to let Artie back in to his mouth with his vile tongue. Artie couldn't help but laugh at the pretty picture he made.

"Stay right there, Princess." He purred once Dean was leaning solely on Max, body trembling as he tried to stay up on his knees some to stop from sinking any further down into the source of his pain. "Let me look at you." He ran a hand down Dean's pale, sweaty cheek, down his battered neck , scratching over his chest and across tender nipples and settling on his belly, pressing down suddenly hard into the softer flesh there.

Dean's eyes jolted open at the new pain, air being sucked in greedily through his teeth as he looked to see what Artie was doing to him, panic stricken eyes desperate for escape as Artie kneaded Dean's belly down until he could feel the bulge of Max's cock pressing into his body. Nausea settled back into his throat, a harsh acidic burn threatening to crawl up his throat from the bruising press into an already abused area.

"Can you feel that, Dean? His big fat cock filling you up so deep, so fucking deep I can feel it through your stomach? Can you feel that? Feel my hands rubbing his cock through your little belly?" Artie spoke in a poison voice, destroying any hope Dean had for this to be a private humiliation, narrating the horrible truth for their audience to hear. "He's balls deep in you, Princess. You took his cock like such a good little slut, didn't you, baby boy? Just opened right up for him without a sound."

Artie slid his hands down and around, pushing Dean's trembling knees out further, forcing him to sink a little more on Max as his thighs spread wider trying to steady his precariously balanced body again. A sharp desperate whine choked out of Dean as he was forced to spread himself open on Max's lap, Arties fingers sliding down his limp cock, across his balls, and to the torn flesh stretched around Max.

"So wet for him, so wet and hot." He smeared Dean's blood into his fingers and around his stretched out hole before moving them to fondle Dean's balls roughly, making him cringe at the sticky press and pinch. "That's right, baby boy, so hot and wet for us. Like a good little slut. Just taking it all without complaint." He smirked cruelly up to Dean, leaning back on his haunches, having a full view of Dean's body on his brother's cock.

"Fuck him hard, Max." He commanded.

As ordered, Max used his grip on Dean's hips to lift him and drop him down hard. Each thrust up dug claws deeper into bruised hips and made Dean's hips slide open further, unable to stay steady on the floor. Max set a brutal pace as he panted into the teens neck, the wet slap of flesh on flesh echoing loudly in the room. "Oh, Artie, he's so hot. So hot, Dean. Just taking my big fat cock, bet you love being stuffed full like this. Your ass was made for this, made to be a hole for me to fuck, to gape, to claim." He bounded Dean's smaller body like a ragdoll on his lap. "I knew you were made for this the minute I saw you, walking around like you owned the place, all swagger and confidence. Bet your ass was just waiting to be opened up, to be ripped and ravaged. So tight, god, so fucking tight you little slut, just taking it like you were made for this, baby boy. Not even fighting it, you fucking slut. Desperate for it, aren't you. I know I am. Gonna burn myself into you, fuck you til you can't walk for weeks. You're just my tight little fuck toy, aren't you? Just take it, you whore." He punctuated his thrusts with an occasional slap to Dean's pouncing ass, scratching red lines into the taut flesh. "Gonna make you gape, gonna fuck you so deep , baby boy, gonna open you up and fuck you full of my seed. Wanna breed you like a slut. Want to see you full of my cum, full of my babies. You fucking slut, bet you want this. Want to be fucked hard, don't you baby boy? Want me to shove my fist up there next? Want to feel my hand up that tight little ass?" He grunted like a pig, spewing filth into Dean's ear without filter. "Make your pretty little tummy big and swollen with my fist and my cum. Wanna breed you like a bitch, fill you up, make you fat with my seed, swollen and bloated. Want to shove my cum so deep inside you you'll never get it out. Never be clean. My pretty little slut."

Hot, wet tears rolled down Dean's cheeks, sobs caught in his throat as he tried to block out the words, the numbing pain. He phased in and out of awareness as the pain became too much, head dizzy from blood loss and energy loss. He tried to put up a wall, tried to block it out, tried to ignore the burn in his arms as Max grabbed those instead, now, using them to yank him down onto his dick with each thrust up. His vision blurred and he tried to remind himself not to make a noise, not to break, not to let it get to him. These words were lies, all of them. He wasn't a slut, he didn't want this, he wasn't wet for them. No. He wasn't theirs. He was Sammy's and Dad's. He had to stay strong. He could make it through this, shove it down later, and pretend it didn't happen. He could just keep on living his normal life with his dad and brother like none of this ever happened. He kept repeating nonsense reassurances to himself as he tried to ignore the wet, sharp slaps, the panting moans, the filthy words. He listened for his brother, for his father, for any sign of help, praying this would be over soon, praying it would just stop.

He was drawn out of his head when he was suddenly being thrown forward onto his chest on the floor, his shoulders impacting with concrete loudly. Sammy's amulet dug into his chest with a sharp intensity, radiating down his stomach and making him gag on bile before swallowing it down desperately so he wouldn't puke on himself, all reassurances in his mind forgotten.

Max forced him over, holding his hips up only , keeping his legs spread out in a sharp burn as he fucked into him with a handful of more wild thrusts, uneven, desperate and sloppy. Moaning loudly, Max spilled hot, sticky seeds inside him. Dean's stomach instantly rolled in disgust again, and he had to swallow down more bile as his body twitched, muscles burning all over from the painful position, the beating from before, and now...this. He could feel the burn of acid in his nose.

Desperate to hide his shame, Dean buried his face into the rough, dirty floor, fighting back the helpless gasps and sobs that were lodged in his throat, trying so desperately to escape. He couldn't stop a small, broken cry of pain from escaping when the man behind him pulled out roughly, slapping Dean's gaping entrance with his blood and cum covered cock, the head catching on the torn pucker of his hole and making everything burn more. Stripping off one glove, Max hooked three fingers into him and twisted, pushing his cum back inside Dean's weeping hole.

"Gotta keep it in there, pretty boy. Keep my seed in there. Gotta fill you up, bloat you with our seeds, breed your little slutty hole." Max said as he twisted a fourth finger into Dean's abused body, tucking in his thumb next and pushing his hand in. "Just like that, you fucking slut. Taking my hand like you wore born to fucked open. So pretty all covered in blood. Gonna fist you full of my seeds." He curled his hand inside Dean, closing his fingers into a proper fist and scratching his inner walls with blunt nails. Dean's whole body spasmed and twitched helplessly on the floor, body trying to save him from the burn, from more pain. Max shoved his fist deep, pressing his seeds in deeper and pressing into Dean's body. His stomach twitched and he audibly gagged a little at the feel of someone's hand pressing into his organs, forcing him open.

Biting back a sob, Dean desperately prayed for it to stop, prayed for the strength to make it through this. He hardly got a second to recover from Max's fist, from the relief of being empty, before he felt something...no, someone, else sliding into him. He recognized the touch of Artie's hands as they pressed into his shoulder blades, digging into his bones and shooting more pain through his back. Artie slide his cock in to fill the space his brother had just left, forcing the abused channel back open on another thick length. Dean's hole twitched against the burn, clenching and fluttering as it tried to adjust from the fist there a moment ago. This was almost a welcome relief, and Dean felt tears pool beneath his cheek on the floor as he was rocked into.

"Like a glove, princess." Artie breathed out on a sigh, sinking in slower than Max had, cum and blood easing his way. "So tight still, after being fucked open so pretty. Shoulda seen the way his cock looked sliding into you, spreading you open. You just suck us right on in, don't you, so tight and pretty even after a fist." He palmed his hands down Dean's bound arms as he thrust into him slowly, taking his time as Dean sobbed silently into the floor, unable to stop the tears now. It was too much, too intense, too brutal and too gentle. He couldn't take it anymore, he wanted out, he wanted it to stop. "So good for us, princess, taking my cock so eagerly, being such a good fuck toy in your brother's place."

Sammy. He was doing this for Sammy, so he wouldn't be hurt.

"Taking us like a good little bitch, just sucking me right on it. So warm and tight, Dean. Such a good little slut for us, such a good little princess taking your throne. " His hands ran up and down Dean's arms, alternating between caressing, squeezing, and pressing down hard so his chest rubbed into the floor with each slow, deliberate thrust. "So pretty for me, baby boy. Bet you could take two of us at once, couldn't you? Bet you'd just open right on up for us, suck in or big thick dicks, milk them dry, squeeze them like a vice." Artie groaned as Dean's body spasmed and twitched. "Oh yeah, just like that." He slapped Dean's ass hard, with a echoing smack, fucking into Dean a little faster. "You just love being fucked open, don't you, baby boy? Not even saying a word. So good for me, so good for your brother aren't you, just taking my cock for him."

Oh god, Dean bit back a sob at the mention of Sam, trying to banish the mental image of Sam in his place. What if they went back on their word? What if they broke him and left him and turned to Sam next because Dean wasn't strong enough, wasn't good enough? What if Artie had just lied to him and was taking Dean first so he was weak and broken and then turned to Sammy next? No, no, no! He had to get a grip. Had to stay awake, stay focused, keep his strength up. If he passed out they could easily just dump him, ignore him, turn to Sammy instead. "Don't y-you-" He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath. "t-touchhim,youpromised."He grit out raggedly. His voice didn't even sound like his own any more.

Artie laughed horribly into his ear, leaning over him and biting at his ear lobe, sucking on it and then licking down the edge of his jaw, across the side of his lips. "Such a good boy, Dean, such a good princess. Stay awake pretty boy and I won't touch your precious Scottie. Doing such a good job taking my dick for him. Bet you imaged it, him in your place. This is so much better, isn't it? Me filling you up instead, fucking your tight little ass. Fucking your little princess cunt."

With a sobbing desperation, Dean breathed in deep and tried to block out Artie's awful words, tried to compose himself. He just had to stay awake, stay awake and keep Sammy safe. He could do this, he just had to find his head space, try to find anything in his mind that would block this torture. Anything to keep Sammy safe. He imagined Sam growing up, of John teaching them how to fight, how to train, how to laugh and joke. He thought of that awful day when his mother died and he carried his brother to safety. He thought of his baby brother's first steps, first words, the first time he said Dean's name. Sam's first day of school, his first report card, the first day in every knew home. He thought of the fourth of July, of army men in the Impala, of teaching Sammy to shoot his first gun not even a few months ago.

"Think I might keep you, Dean. Such a good little slut for me, taking everything I give you. Could keep you tied up and gagged at my feet everyday, just fuck you whenever I wanted. Let my brothers ride you and breed you full of their seeds, baby boy. Want to see this tight little cunt just dripping with our cum, want to see it dripping down your pretty little legs. Such a good little slut." He groaned, rocking in to Dean as he held on to his shoulders, pulling him back into each thrust. "Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you slut? You'd just take it, let us take what we want as long as your baby brother stays safe."

He cackled into Dean's ear, pressing an arm across the back of Dean's neck and making it harder to breath. "Take my fucking cock, baby boy. My big, fat cock. God, baby boy." He moaned loudly into Dean's ear. "So tight for me, so wet and warm. Feel so good with my brothers cum in you, gonna fill you up so deep, gonna flood you with cum. You want my seeds, Dean? Want my baby makers in your hot little cunt? Bloated and full of my thick cum?" A hand wrapped around Dean's middle, fingers digging into his belly hard as Artie fucked into him, groaning at the feel of Dean's stomach bulging with his cock head. "Fuck, Dean, you're so tight." He pressed his big hand across the expanse of Dean's stomach, curling into the edges of his ribs. "Fuck, so tight and tiny. Such a good little slut for me. That's right, you take it like you mean it. Suck me in deeper. Want to feel you digest my dick. Gonna have my babies inside you for months." He jack hammered hard into Dean, all prior gentleness gone. "Gonna flood you and fuck you til your oozing with cum. Then I'm gonna let me brothers breed you full again, and again. Never gonna let you go, baby boy. You're mine now. Mine."

Dean felt a wetness fill him suddenly, sticky and hot and nauseating. Swallowing down bile once more, Dean barely even realized the everything had stopped until a heavy weight was suddenly falling on top of him, all of Artie's mass crushing down on him, hot wet, heat spreading over the burning muscles of his arms and shoulders. It felt wrong, off, and his ears were ringing. Dean shouldn't feel hot wet heat there, not when Artie had just cumed inside...not when he was still buried to the base in his ass. He was so heavy. It was hard to breath, and he was already light headed, dizzy. Confusion washed through him as he tried blinking his eyes open, red filling his vision, blood pooling in front of his face. He shut his eyes again, everything spinning as the noises of a gun echoed and registered in his mind at last. Two gun shots, in quick succession, another unheard shots result laying across his back. Suddenly it was quiet, so quiet, nothing but his own labored breath making sense to him. The weight on him and in him was so heavy, unmoving, and silent. Wrong.

"Dean!"

He was vaguely aware of his name being shouted, being repeated as unconsciousness started pulling at him. There was no new pain, no brutal movements rocking him and keeping him conscious, no taunting voice threatening Sammy. He latched on to the darkness and let it pull him under, pull him away from the sudden noises, the awful wet heat, the heavy, dead weight and the burn, oh the awful, awful burn in his ass, in his muscles, in his heart. He realized with almost hysterical delight that his body was shutting down. It was welcome, so welcome. It meant he didn't have to think, to act, to hold back the tears anymore. He would be in peace. Sweet, blessed peace. Pain free. Silent. No more awful words in his ears.

The sound of his baby brother's desperate, croaking voice begging for him to open his eyes was the last thing he heard before sinking away into the void of his own mind. Everything disappeared with the final thought of Sammy echoing in his head.