Set in Season 1 after Asylum, this is the darkest thing I have ever written so please heed the warnings:

Non-con/rape; violence; strong language; major Samwhump; possible OC behaviour by all characters.

Fade to Black

Chapter 4

Sam watched his brother crumble. His body itched to move, to help, but fear paralyzed him; his heart pounding hard through the thin skin of his chest. What if this was sick new game? What if it was just another a trap to break Sam in a whole new way?

What if-?

Closing his eyes, Sam forced deeper breaths through his nose.

What if it… wasn't?

Slowly. Painfully. Inch by inch, Sam uncurled himself and pushed away from the headboard of the bed, guarding his hurting hand as he kept it close to his chest. It wasn't just broken fingers that screamed agony though as his whole body hurt, shook and shivered, but, by sheer will only, he continued to move, his eyes fixed on the still form of his brother sprawled out between the beds.

"D-Dean?" he hated the tremor in his voice as he slid his long legs over the side of the bed. He gripped the edge tightly of the mattress with his good hand, his shoulders screaming in agony, his body too weak, muscles too fatigued, to stand. Thirst burned at the back of his throat, saliva coating his mouth with a thick paste. "You okay?"

A low moan had him scurrying backwards again, terror propelling with startling speed. His back banged against the wall and darkness crept at the edges of his vision but he fought to stay conscious, tenacity and stubbornness forcing all attention to the slowly rousing figure on the floor.

Dean moved like a man in a lead suit, his motions uncoordinated and unusually slow.

Sam frowned, his brow furrowed. His brother was never clumsy.

"S'my?" the word was slurred and hurt to hear. Dean sounded eerily vulnerable – "I'm s'rry… oh gawd…"

This wasn't right. Sam shook his head. Something was more wrong.

With a load groan, Dean pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and swayed a moment before finally, first one leg, then the other, he stood up. Staggering back to sit on the other bed, Dean bowed over, his head in his hands. "Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He whispered. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I fucked up. Oh God, Sammy, I really fucked up."

Sam's eyes burned. What was Dean saying? Was he – apologizing? His breathing started to quicken again.

Dean must have picked up on the change because his eyes were suddenly fixed on his brother. "Sam?" his voice held a note of caution. "Bro?"

"I-I don't – I – please, Dean," Sam didn't even know what he was asking as his mind fractured, splintered, as he struggled to make some sense out of this. That morning Dean had been raping him and now? Now he was apologizing? Sam didn't know what he was supposed to do. "Dean?"

His brother gave him a sick smile. "I – uh – I think maybe I was possessed."

Possessed? Sam slowly started to shake his head.

Dean let out a heavy breath, his face pale. "I swear, Sammy, I swear. I don't remember anything from leaving here on Friday night to waking up today sore as all bloody hell and feeling like shit. Whatever happened -" his mouth tightened, "- it wasn't me."

"Possessed?" Sam finally got the word out. Yes people got possessed, but not that often, right? And the chances of it happening to one of them? To a hunter's son? He shivered, his mind trolling through two days' worth of damage. Was it possible? That'd mean – "So you – you didn't…" tears wobbled in his eyes. "You didn't do- this?" his eyes flickered down to his body and then right back up, belatedly his good hand reached for the soiled sheet to pull it over his exposed groin.

Something dark and akin to sympathy flittered across Dean's face, "No, Sammy. I'd never do that."

"But," Dean's angry words washed over him. "You said…"

"It wasn't me," venomous conviction filled Dean's tone. "I'd never hurt you like that. Never."

"But," Sam tried again, his thoughts scattered as he tried to reconcile what had happened with this new possibility that it wasn't his Dean who'd attacked him. "I shot you – I tried to kill you."

"And you were possessed," Dean nodded his head, certainty straightening his shoulders. "Like I was." He cut Sam off before the younger man could say anything else. "Yes, I was pissed… no, not pissed, that's not right. I was hurt that you'd do something like that. Even though I knew, deep down, that it wasn't you, not really. But even then, I'd never do anything like this. Never." Hazel eyes shone with worry. "You have to believe me, Sammy, you have to."

Mirroring his brother's actions from moments earlier, Sam licked his dry lips, his heart pounding, hope pushing blood hard through his body. He was starting to feel light-headed and knew he needed help. "Okay," he extended the olive branch of trust and prayed he wasn't being stupid. "I believe you."

Relief tugged some of the worry from his face and Dean let out a deep breath. "That's good, Sam. Real good." He started to stand. "Now… will you let me help you?"

Sam watched, his body tensing as Dean stood between the beds. "I, uh," he looked sadly at his brother, hating to admit it, "I think I need a hospital." And then darkness he'd been holding at bay overwhelmed him and the last thing Sam saw as his eyes rolled back in his head was his brother's panicked face as Dean lunged towards him.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Dean barely caught his unconscious brother as Sam toppled forward.

Cursing under his breath, he carefully laid his brother back out on the bed knowing Sam was right, he was going to need a hospital. Dean could fix a lot of things but from the blood pooling between Sam's thighs he knew this was something he couldn't. He just didn't have the expertise or gentle touch needed to stitch the kind of ripping he was sure his brother was hiding. Unfortunately, his worse fears were confirmed when Sam placed Dean's ownership on Sam's assault and Dean could pretty much guarantee the demon hadn't been considerate with preparation. And knowing exactly how large his own cock was – and he was not trying to brag about it – Dean was sure there'd be substantial tearing.

So a hospital it was.

Deciding against call an ambulance because they'd take one look at the room and call the police, Dean moved quickly, grabbing a clean blanket from his own bed and carefully wrapping his injured sibling in it. He tried to keep from noticing the bite marks that he knew would match his own mouth as the smell of blood and semen (his own, oh my God) burned like acid in his lungs with each breath. He tried breathing only through his mouth, un-Dean-like whimpers with each exhale, as he fought back surges of horror, his heart pounding out 'I-did-this-I-did-this' in a painful staccato against his ribs. Only for Sam did he keep keep it together, his mind numbing so he could help his brother.

Sam roused outside during the short trip between the motel room and the impala, but in place of expected panic was dull acceptance and a barely muted gasp of pain as Dean manhandled him into the back seat. He tried to be gentle, but his own body was still shaking with its own fatigue by the time, he gave his brother an apologetic look, pressed the blanket as well as he could around Sam, then backed out of the car, slammed the door and got in his own seat. "The hospital isn't far," he tried to sound reassuring, remembering seeing the sign on his way back to the motel. "You're going to be okay, Sam."

"Dean," Sam's voice was reed thin. Dean paused mid turn of the ignition key and glanced at his brother through the rear-view mirror. "Don't…" Sam paused as if to gather his strength then tried again. "Don't tell them anything."

The muscle in Dean's jaw clicked, "Sammy…" He knew there were going to be hard questions about these kinds of injuries but was already prepared to do whatever it took to get his brother help. Even if he made sure Sam was out of the hospital before the rape kit results could pin the attack on him.

"No, Dean," Sam's voice was firm. "Nothing."

Against his better judgement, he gave a short nod of his head. "Okay." Then turned on the car, put it in drive and pulled away from the room.

As expected the hospital staff were all over them as soon as Dean staggered in and yelled for help. He shook his head when they asked what happened, his worry unconcealed as he just kept pleading, "he's my brother, help him… just help him please…" then watched them wheel his brother away.

A surprisingly short time later a short brown haired nurse pushed through the double doors separating the waiting room from the treatment area. "Dean?" she asked, zeroing in on him and obviously remembering him from his dramatic entrance with Sam. The name 'Selma' titled her tag. "Sam's brother?"

Instantly Dean was on his feet. "Yeah, that's me. How is he?" Quick turnaround in an emergency room didn't always mean good things.

She indicated for him to sit back down, her face unreadable. "How much do you know about what happened to your brother?"

"Not much," he admitted honestly. "I found him like that."

Selma nodded her head as if expecting as much. "You are aware of the sexual component of his injuries, are you not?"

Dean felt the blood draining from his face. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry as his hands started to shake. "Yeah." He managed. "Kinda hard not to be."

Her smile seemed forced, even as she reached out and gave his arm a brief squeeze. "I know it's hard to see someone you love hurting like this, but I just wanted to let you know that he is getting the treatment he needs right now and should be okay."

Dean's relief was guarded. "I sense a but coming."

"But," her unsympathetic gaze belied her words. "I really do think you need to have a talk to your brother with regards to his personal safety… I am not sure how much you know about your brother's sexual proclivities, and I understand that this is a life-choice, however, without proper restraint these kind of deviances can be dangerous… The results of which, we are seeing here tonight."

"What?" Dean had no idea what she was talking about. His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean sexual proclivities?"

The nurse seemed surprised. "Oh," she looked a bit embarrassed. "I just assumed you knew about this… what exactly do you think happened to Sam?"

"Uh uh," Dean bristled. "What did Sam tell you happened?"

Selma looked uncomfortable and something inside Dean was pleased, but then she stilled and faced his glare. "He told us that he picked a guy up for a bit of fun, only the fun got out of hand."

Dean was taken aback. Stunned was a better word. "Huh?"

"Like I was saying," the woman continued, the previously supressed arrogance bleeding through and into her voice. "While I personally don't condone this type of behaviour, people who do partake in BDSM activities need to exercise proper caution and protocol. Both clearly of which were ignored in this case."

When Dean continued to stare at her like she had three heads, Selma finally just huffed out. "If your brother enjoys being tied to a bed, beaten, and screwed into unconsciousness, he should at least pad the handcuffs and make sure his partner properly prepares him first. There? Is that simple enough for you. I just hate seeing people put themselves through needless humiliation and pain by having to waste time in an emergency room because they got a bit out of hand while having fun."

The anger that Dean had been nursing since seeing first seeing his brother in the motel room, surfaced. He stood up to his full height, his fists clenched in rage, his jaw twitching from the exertion of holding himself back and not slamming her against a wall. He really wanted to rip her heart.

The nurse rose with him. He saw her shrink back a step as he levelled a deadly glare on her. "Listen here, you sanctimonious bitch, you have no fucking idea what is going on here," he held up his hand to cut off her protest, drawing some satisfaction when she flinched. "So if I were you, I'd keep my narrow minded, missionary style, judgemental thinking away from my brother. If you can't? And Sam even feels a smidgeon of it? You'd better pray to God to have mercy on your sould…" he gave her a chilling look. "-because, I won't."

The woman went as white as a sheet. "You can't threaten me," her voice lacked any conviction and Dean snorted softly.

"Don't take it so hard," he made a show of reading her name tag, "Selma. I think I just did… of course, you could just get your supervisor and I can lodge a formal complaint about your attitude instead, if you'd prefer." He waited a moment then added; his voice syrupy slick. "Or how about you just let me see my brother, instead?"

Swallowing hard, Selma gave a quick nod of her head. "Of course. Follow me."

And he did, his heart doing a sick little swoop at the story his brother had obviously cooked up to save Dean's ass. If the hospital thought the damage was consensual, a sex romp gone out of hand, there'd be no rape kit DNA or pressure to find Sam's attacker. Unable to imagine his normally straight laced little brother confessing to being a voluntarily victim added fuel to Dean's determination to find the demon who had done this and send it's smoky black ass back to hell. Although hell was too good for the likes of it and Dean wished, not for the first time, that there was some way to actually kill the fuckers. But even his father's journal only contained exorcisms and such –

His father – holy shit – Dean faltered as he walked, his limp a bit more pronounced as he tried to keep his own 'injury' from chaffing. He needed to call his father. Even after Sam healed and knowing that Dean was possessed during the attacked, Dean wasn't stupid enough to think this wasn't going to affect his brother in other ways. More permanent ways that his father should be aware of.

But how the hell do you call your father – the great fucking John Winchester – and tell him that not only did you let yourself get possessed, but that you raped the shit out of your little brother?

Swallowing hard, Dean pushed the thought to the back of his head and followed the nurse into Sam's room. He'd figure it out later.

Dean ended up having to wait outside the small room Sam was being treated in as the doctor finished with the internal stitches. The nurse, before excusing herself to do something else (Dean didn't care what, only too pleased she was going to be somewhere else), had been kind enough to tell him that the lacerations to Sam's wrists would also need stitching and that once Sam was cleared by x-ray, they'd probably keep him overnight for observation, on an IV to replace lost fluids and strong antibiotics. Then, if there were no further complications, they'd release him in the morning. Dean had only partially listened. Nothing she said came as a surprise – he'd seen the damage himself, though the dehydration had come as a mild shock, but he was more focused on listening to what he could hear from the room then on anything she had to say. The muffled voice of the doctor and softer tones from Sam had him relaxing a bit – at least the physician didn't sound like he was giving Sam a hard time.

Finally, he was allowed back in where his brother, now clothed in a white gown, had his eyes closed and seemed to be resting, reclined on a small bed. The doctor glanced up at Dean from where he was writing something down on a chart at the end of Sam's. "You must be Sam's brother. Dean, is it?"

Dean's eyes laser focused on his brother, not missing how Sam's eyes shot open and his whole body tensed when he saw Dean. The kid's face was a mess. His lips were red and swollen, his eyes darkened with bruises, his right one almost swollen shut. Sam's body was mostly hidden by the gown but Dean still saw the handprints on Sam's arms and the stark white bandages protecting damaged wrists as his eyes followed the IV tubing. Dean breathed out an unhappy noise and nodded at the doctor's acknowledgment. "Yeah, I'm Dean. How's Sam?" He tried to brace himself for what he was going to hear.

"Not too bad, all things considered." the doctor was a tall, thin man with thick grey hair and square black rimmed glasses. He pushed the glasses up on his nose and glanced at Sam. "He needs to take it easy while his body heals but the damage is mostly superficial, the concussion and rectal tearing being the worse." Dean flinched but the other man didn't seem to notice as he continued. "I've stitched his wrists and cleaned the other bites and scratches. The IV is a saline mixture of anti-inflammatories and antibiotics to both help with swelling and prevent infection, as well as topping up his fluids." He tapped at the bag. "His level of dehydration was a concern. I do understand how one can get – caught up with things, but there really are some basic needs that just can't be ignored," the doctor stated, matter-of-fact, no judgement in his tone and Dean decided right then he really liked the guy, even if he really hated Sam's cover story. Instead of being treated like the victim he was, Sam was being lectured, albeit this time, lightly.

He looked at his brother but Sam wouldn't meet his gaze.

"He's also been given a shot of Demerol for pain and I'm going to prescribe a topical mediation to help with healing. It is going to need to be applied three times a day though to start and it's something Sam will need help with. He can be brought back here on an outpatient basis of course, if you're uncomfortable helping him with this."

Swallowing hard, Dean closed his eyes for a moment knowing exactly where that cream was going to need to be applied. "Yeah – okay, I'll…" his gaze flickered to his brother but Sam still wasn't looking at him. "It's up to Sam." It would awkward as all bloody hell but there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for his brother but this was not his decision to make. Sam already been violated by Dean's body enough.

Seemingly satisfied the doctor turned his attention back on his patient. "Sam?"

"We can come back," Sam almost made it a question.

"Yeah," Dean readily agreed as he licked his lips and sighed quietly. "Whatever Sam wants."

"Good," the doctor nodded then fixed his patient with a frown. "Now about those tests-"

"Can I talk to my brother alone for a moment?" Sam interrupted, his voice oddly quiet in the room. He gave the doctor an imploring look.

The man looked from one brother to the other then shrugged. "I do have another patient to check on – I'll be back in ten." And then he was gone, leaving the hunters alone.

Shifting where he stood, Dean waited to see what Sam was going to say.

"He wants to test me for STD's and things, so I have to ask you," Sam's voice was monotone. "Do I need to be tested?"

Dean gaped at his brother, his mind struggling for a moment before full horror at what Sam was asking/saying flooded him and barely made it the few feet between him and a visitor's chair before collapsing into it. "I – uh – damnnit… no condom, huh?"

"No lube either," Sam said nastily and then looked horrified as soon as he realized what he'd said. "I'm sorry, Dean – that was uncalled for."

Dean shook his head. "Don't you dare apologize to me, Sam. You have nothing to apologize for."

"And neither do you," Sam was adamant. "You're as much a victim as I am." At Dean's look of disbelief, he amended. "Okay, maybe not quite as much but – you didn't want this happen."

Dean's head was reeling. Sam was trying to make him feel better? Unfortunately Sam misinterpreted Dean's silence.

"I mean… did you? I know you were pissed – and-"

"And nothing," Dean leaned towards his brother, insanely relieved when Sam didn't flinch away. "Sure, I was pissed, but you're my brother, Sam, and I'd never want something like this to happen to you. Ever. I was being petty and stupid… I knew you weren't in control and not only did I know it, I pushed you to pull that trigger. Hell, I pretty much dared you – so it was hypocritical of me to then blame you when you did. Sam – I don't know how else to say this but I am so fucking sorry… I don't even know what to do here. How am I supposed to make this better? Tell me, Sam, just tell me. Anything. I will fucking do anything."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Sam listened to his brother's impassioned plea. His heart ached to believe but it was too soon, the hurts too fresh. So instead of answering just yet, he fixed his gaze on his injured hand and repeated his earlier question. "Do I need to be tested?" He hated needles and just prayed that for as sexually active as his brother had always been, that Dean had also used common sense… and protection.

For the longest time, Dean didn't answer and then a quietly and oddly subdued, "No. It's not necessary. I'm clean, Sam," broke another piece of them and Sam wondered if they'd ever get all those pieces back together again.

Authors Note: Um, Okay. Here is the thing… It has come to my attention, that the content of this story might be too graphic for fan fic dot net, so I am not going to be posting any more chapters here. However, if you still want to read, you can go to my Live Journal, where it will be posted in its entirety.

If you don't know how to get there, go to my profile on fan fic dot net and click on HOMEPAGE. It will take you right to my Livejournal.

Bottom line, is that I am having 'fun' writing this story and do not want to have to worry about getting into 'trouble' so I am going to play it safe.

Phx69