lostandalone22 | Fic: Damages

Title: Damages
Rating: NC-17, just to be safe. There's graphic description of non-con in third person view, but absolutely no pairing
Word Count: 1293
Timeline: Pre-series
Summary: The fall-out both from inside and outside views after a rape
A/N: Just a real quick one-shot. I didn't mention which brother it was, and actually no names were really added, so you can pick which brother was attacked. However, y'all know which one it was if you've read anything else I've written.

Tucked away in a little corner, under the table in the hotel room that his family has been staying in the past few weeks, he folds in on himself and cries, the pain never seeming to want to leave him. They can’t leave; he knows this, because their father would never abandon a hunt...even for his son. So, he sits here, hiding, shaking, while his father and brother are out, trying with everything he is to make the dirty feeling go away. He’s took a shower, stayed in there until the water turned cold and the tears stopped running so hard. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to run, and he couldn’t run, and the man would be back and he would hurt him again. He couldn’t tell his father or his brother. He didn’t want to deal with what they would do to him if they knew. They could never know.

He’s cold, numb, and shaky and alone. So emotional that he never hears the door slam, never hears the voice of his brother as it calls out for him, never notices the table being dragged out, away from him, and doesn’t feel the strong hands of his brother or those being replaced with the even stronger hands of his father. He never feels himself being shaken, being asked and then demanded and then pleaded to say something, to do something other than dig himself deeper within himself and cry. He doesn’t hear his brother curse or his father finally leave him to go examine the clothes that he doesn’t realize that he left on the bathroom floor when he got in the shower. He doesn’t feel the harsh hands come back and squeeze his biceps so hard that it’s gonna leave bruises and the loud, authoritative voice of his father yelling at him to tell him what happened. He doesn’t feel the slightly less rough hands grab him from around his back and behind the knees through the dark haze that has taken over his vision. He didn’t hear the much too gentle voice tell him that it was going to be all right, that he was safe. And, he didn’t feel them move him to the Impala before the darkness completely overtook him.

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They had been waiting for a few hours now, in the hospital’s waiting room, to hear any news about his brother. He had held onto the dirty, bloody clothes tightly, making them a beacon to his brother since he couldn’t be near him. Before the police had taken them away, he had already pieced together the horror of what had happened in his mind. Dirt, the kind you get on your clothes from running through the woods, like the ones behind their hotel, was all down the sides of his pants. His brother came through the woods on his way home from school. He had been walking and someone had come out of nowhere, tried to attack him. He had run and gone through the vines and bushes and branches that came out from his trek off the beaten path. There were mud stains that were darker, more mud, then the ones that the branches had left, on the back of the jeans, on the ass, where his brother had been pushed down on the ground and his assailant had held him down. Then, it dragged to the front of the jeans. More dirt and the button had been ripped off. He had been attacked. There was blood on the back of the jeans where he’d put his clothes back on and ran for the comfort of home, tried to make it back to him and his father.

He had gone home and there was evidence that he had taken a shower. He’d then got into a new pair of boxers, just boxers, and sat under the table. He and his father had been doing research, waiting for him to get out of school so that he could help them on a hunt. Right now, he was ready to leave the hunt, let one of the others hunters deal with it. He knew that his father had called Caleb, asked him to come out here. There was pain on his face when he explained that his son had been attacked and he needed to be here right now, and not out hunting something that didn’t directly hurt his family. His father told him, after he came back inside, that Caleb was on his way, had heard what had happened and was just as ready to kill the human monster that had done this to his boy and would help to deal with the one that they’d been hunting.

They had come home to find his brother, sitting and rocking himself under the table, completely in post-traumatic shock. His skin had been pale and he was sweating and shaking like a leaf. He had moved the table and went to kneel by his brother. He grabbed onto the naked shoulders and called to him, asking what was wrong. Blank eyes stared ahead, filled with horror and tears and fears. His father had pushed him out of the way, told him to go get some cold water. He thought it was a fever. The man had done the same thing, only with stronger, larger hands, and his brother had shook even harder. His father asked first, what had happened. Then, he took on the authoritative tone and demanded of him, and then he had dropped down beside the boy and pleaded with him to say something, let them know he was still in there. His brother’s breath had started coming out in fast, shallow gasps, and his eyes registered nothing around him. He ran, started to get the water and froze. The clothes still laid on the floor.

"Fuck!" He yelled in frustration, finally catching on to what had happened while they hadn’t been there. He grabbed the clothes and ran back out to the main room. Their father had left his broken son for a moment and came to examine the clothes with him. They were dirty and bloody and in all the wrong places. His father moved quickly back to his brother, shaking him harshly and demanding to know what had happened. Knowing that this was only going to make things worse, he moved their father away from his brother and knelt down in front of him. He gently placed his hands on the boy’s biceps, and he flinched back, becoming more upset, more shocky. Very gently, fearing that if he made one rough move, his brother would be lost to them, he slipped one arm around his waist and the other behind his legs and told him that he’d be safe, that everything was going to be all right. He could tell now that his brother was fading out on them, completely leaving, and his eyes lost the light that had just been in them. They moved him to the Impala, and somewhere along the way, he completely lost consciousness.

When they’d gotten to the hospital, he’d been taken from them. The police had been called and they’d taken the clothes, his brother’s clothes as evidence, and left them waiting. The doctor had come out once to tell them about the physical damage, and they were waiting to go in there to sit with him. This was not all right. He was not going to be all right. Ohmigod, they were not going to be all right. And, he was going to hunt the bastard down who had hurt his brother, no matter what his father and Caleb told him was the right thing to do, justice system be damned.

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