More non-con throughout, a little less bad than all the non-con in previous chapters.

Dean

Dean had been through a lot. He had almost died several times, his father abused him, his brother was almost homeless, but these just pale in comparison to what he walked into.

He had heard screams and moans in Gabe's bedroom, on his way to pick Sam up for a doctor's appointment, and the sound of a bed frame beating against the wall. Obviously, someone was having sex with another person.

But the screams were not of enjoyment, and he heard crying. Crying that sounded familiar.

Dean slowly walks into the bedroom, poking his head inside. He never wanted to see what he saw next.

Gabriel has Sam on his stomach on the bed, both completely naked, and was roughly shoving in and out of his brother, oblivious to his tears and pleas to stop. Sam has his eyes screwed shut, his hands gripping the bedsheets hard enough that it looked like it hurt, and tears were streaming down his face. 

Rage fills Dean, white hot and blinding. How dare that, that monster, do that to his baby brother?! Dean crosses the room in two strides, yanking Gabriel by his hair off his Sammy and throwing him to the floor, while Sam sits ramrod straight, eyes wide with horror and gratitude.

"HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO MY BROTHER!?" Dean roars at the top of his lungs, heat and anger bleeding through his pores as he yanks Gabe up to a standing position and fucking decks him as hard as he could, the smaller man's head snapping around almost 180° and his body collapsing and thudding to the floor, where he lay like a sack of disgusting, pedophilic, inhuman sack of potatoes.

Dean picks him up again, draws his fist back, ready to beat the living shit out of him. Gabe's eyes are unfocused and bleary, a bruise blossoming next to a bloody nose.

"Dean!"

Dean hesitates, turning to see Cas in the doorway, his face horrified.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Then Cas looks around the room. His boyfriend's naked little brother, crying quietly, hunched with his legs pressed to his chest, on a rumpled and unmade bed. His brother, naked as well, barely conscious. His boyfriend, rage filling his features, his eyes clouded over with deep fury.

"Gabriel..." Cas says, his face shocked and horrified, his hand covering his mouth when he put two and two together.  "Did you just...did you just rape Sam?!"

"No, I wanted it!" Sam finally speaks up, his voice cracking, thouroghly unconvincing. 

Dean's head snaps around. "You wanted this? Are you fucking kidding me?! Look at you, you're crying, you're shaking, you are not okay. And I'm going to fucking kill this son of a bitch!"

Dean winds up to punch Gabe again, but is stopped by Castiel's shaking hand. Cas pushes Dean away, ignoring his boyfriend's protests, glaring at his brother with unbridled hatred.

"Gabriel....what the fuck have you done? WHY the fuck did you do this?! After what Luci did to you..?" Cas says, his features contorting with emotional agony.

"Castiel..." Gabe says warningly.

"Wait, what? What did Luci do?" Dean asks.

"Castiel!" Gabe shouts as Cas starts to speak.

"Lucious raped him. Over and over. He abused all of us, but Gabe got the worst. He would sexually harass him almost every night, and no one did anything about it until our parents caught him. That's why he's estranged. Because he's a filthy monster who dared violate his own brother." Cas spits, hatred filling his face.

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone!" Gabe shouts again, hands forming into fists at his side.

"And you weren't supposed to hurt him!" Cas screams back, his voice breaking. Dean had never heard Cas speak above a soft tone, and hearing the raw emotion and volume coming from his boyfriend was heart-wrenching. "You were supposed to keep him safe, to make sure no one gets hurt like you did! What he did was unforgivable. But you're just as bad as he is."

"You don't mean that," Gabe says, his voice shaking. 

"Yes, I do." Cas says, his voice deadly cold. "I want you out of this house and out of our lives. I'm telling our parents, and I don't think they'll disagree."

"You can't tell them, Castiel, you can't. I have nowhere to go, I can't leave." Gabe says, his eyes filling with tears. Dean feels intense disgust at this pathetic display of emotion.

"You should have thought of that before you did this." Cas says, still maintaining an unforgiving, cold tone. "You should have known, out of all people, how much this can destroy a person. I didn't see the warning signs. I knew Sam was young, but if I had known that this is what would have happened, I would never have supported it. Get the fuck out of our lives. I don't want to see you anywhere near Sam again. Get. Out. Now."

Gabriel is silent, speechless. Anger, hurt, betrayal, guilt, all flashing across his face as he roughly yanks his pants on and storms out of the house. A collective sigh is let out, as if his presence had been suffocating the whole room.

"I'm sorry."

A small, broken voice breaks the silence. Sam was still on the bed, the sheets and duvet pulled up to cover him. His face was red and splotchy from tears, and he was still shaking and crying silently.

"It was my fault. I'm sorry."

Dean crosses the room and catches his little brother in his arms, holding him as tightly as he could as tears slip their way out of his eyes. His chest felt like a great hole had opened up, swallowing his heart and his breath, so full of absolute sorrow and anguish for his Sammy.

"Stop it," Dean says, his voice breaking. "None of this was your fault. I should have been here for you, Sammy, I should have stopped this. I am so, so, sorry. I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry." Dean is crying now, still holding his brother like he would never let go.

The two sit in an embrace for the next few minutes. Guilt is crashing over Dean in waves, sorrow and anger and utter depression washes over him. He was supposed to keep Sammy safe. He rescued him from an abusive dad just to put him in an abusive relationship. The poor kid wasn't even legal yet, and he had to have his virginity and innocent stripped from him with knives. Dean is so overcome with sorrow that he doesn't know if he'll ever be happy again. And now he has to leave Sam alone.

Selfish.

Dean is a selfish man. Expecting the world to spin on after he goes as if he meant nothing to the people around him. All so he could save Cas from a fate he wanted to have.

Sam eventually pulls back from Dean, sniffling and wiping his eyes. 

"I got snot and tears on your jacket, I'm sorry," he mumbles.

Dean gives a half-hearted chuckle. "It's okay, Sammy, it's just a jacket. I care about you more."

Sam nods, his eyes and nose puffy and red. "I think I'd like to take a shower now."

Dean nods sympathetically. "Of course. We'll leave. Just...come find me when you're out. I don't think you should be alone right now."

Sam nods, still looking entirely miserable, the sheets still pulled up to his chin, shaking ever so slightly. "Okay. I will. It's going to be a long shower though. I'll be fine."

Dean smiles thinly. "Okay. We'll leave. We love you, okay."

"I love you too."

Castiel and Dean leave the room, leaving a disconsolate Sam in their wake.

***

Samuel

The water was hot, almost too hot, but Sam endured the pain. He would never be clean again. He could scrub his skin off and burn his flesh, but he will aways be dirty, unclean, used. The though sparks more tears, his tears mixing with the water and his sobs lost in the noise. He scrubs at his arms and legs with a loofah, pressing as hard as he can to strip the filth of Gabriel away, leaving his skin raw and tender.

He looks at the still-healing cuts on his forearms and thighs. Gabriel saw them, but said nothing about him. He probably doesn't even care, just as long as he was able to be fucked. He was grateful that Dean and Cas didn't see, he managed to cover himself while the two were preoccupied with Gabe.

How many secrets does he have? How much dirt is ground into his skin? How many scars does he keep hidden? He doesn't know, and he doesn't think he'll ever know.

He wants to cut, but just the thought of the effort it would require makes him tired. All he wants is to be clean. But no matter what he does, Gabriel's atrocities will always be a part of him.

Sam turns off the water, dries himself off, and goes to find Dean. 

***

Castiel

He was so, so stupid. 

The warning signs were there. Dating someone younger than him, his recurring interests in younger boys, the weirdass incest porn he found on his laptop, the fact that he was raped himself as a child. Everything. It all pointed toward's Sam's sexual abuse. If Castiel had just opened his fucking eyes, he would have seen it, he would have stopped it.

And now? Now Sam was truly, utterly broken.

Cas knows the feeling of being broken. He knows the feeling of being sexually harassed. He knows how it feels to be ashamed that he didn't do something, say something, anything. And he would never wish it on anyone else. 

He wants to talk it out with Sam. Comfort him, tell him he's not alone, that what Gabriel did doesn't make him worth any less, and that his disgusting actions do not define Sam. He feels a desperate urge to relate, to help him through it. But doing that is so hard. Cas had pretty successfully trauma blocked most of the events involving his brother Luci, and although he would be lying if he said the abuse didn't fuel his depression and eating disorder, he feels as though he has left it in the past. Besides occasional nightmares about unrelated events (which is a symptom of trauma), he didn't think about it much. He didn't want to think about it much.

Is that what Sam needs, though? Does he need to talk it out and bare his flayed skin to him and purge his system of the trauma? Or does he, like Cas, want to bury it deep within him and never look back?

Castiel doesn't know. And he is getting really fucking tired of not knowing things.

***

Dean

Dean sits on the bed in his dorm room, listening to the water running in the adjacent bathroom. He was sick with worry. What if this caused a relapse? What if he was cutting, bleeding, dying in the shower, 20 feet away from Dean, and he could stop it now? What if he could stop it like he couldn't stop Cas?

He gets up and paces, back and forth a bit, then stands outside the bathroom door, listening hard. He heard sobs, quiet and muffled by the water, but still audible nonetheless. While it broke Dean's heart to hear his brother cry, at least the tears mean he's breathing. And he wasn't crying the last time he tried to kill himself.

God, that was a horrific day. It was the worst day of Dean's life, even including the day Cas almost died. There's something about walking into the bathroom and seeing your little brother, naked, pale as the bathroom tile, and floating in a bathtub full of red water. He doesn't ever want to remember that again, but the image of his Sammy in that bathtub will haunt him for the rest of his life.

It had been a normal day. He was 16, and had recently obtained his license, and had inherited his father's Impala. He had been surprised when his father had handed him the keys on his birthday; for most of the day he had assumed John had forgotten. That was one of the last kind things Dean had received from his dad, but that's another story. 

He had taken all his friends on a joy ride, and had originally invited Sam, but his brother was having one of his worryingly frequent depressive episodes, and had asked not to be bothered. So Dean, thinking nothing of  it, had left him behind. He got into the Impala with his friends, and they sped off, not looking back once.

Dean had gotten a text. A simple one, but it chills him to his core to think about it now.

Had a great time with you. See you later :)

Dean didn't quite know what he meant, but he didn't bother to respond. If only he had thought about it some more. If only he paid attention to the signs. But he didn't. He ignored the text, silenced his phone, and kept driving.

When he got home a few hours later, his dad was passed out on the couch, drunk. Shocker. He had called for Sam, slightly concerned for his safety; John did get a little rough after a few too many. No answer. Dean was getting increasingly worried, and as his feet pounded up the stairs, he felt more dread with each footstep. No Sammy in his room. The bathroom door was open, though, and he could hear water sloshing softly, as the light spilled into his bedroom.

He saw Sammy then, and immediately pulled him out, screaming in terror, and dialed 911.

An ambulance ride, 2 days in ICU, and a mandatory 1 week psych hospital stay later, Dean was a completely changed man. Almost losing a brother does that to a person. He didn't know what to do with himself. His father was of no use, it was a miracle that he agreed to pay the hospital bill, and with a little legal pressure, Sam's therapy too. Dean would visit every day, his heart tearing to pieces every time he saw his dead-eyed little brother with stained gauze peeking from his long sleeves. The scariest part is that it wasn't the meds making him look dead inside and utterly broken, it was just his depression sucking the life out of him.

After he was discharged, they never spoke of it again. Not until he met Cas.

Dean hears the shower turn off, and he quickly leaves his spot outside the door and walks into the kitchen, where Cas is pacing the floor, running his hands through his already mussed dark hair. He lifts his head to see Dean, and immediately throws himself onto his boyfriend, hugging him so tightly that Dean was short of breath.

"I'm so sorry, Dean, I never should have allowed Gabriel to date Sam, I knew it was wrong, I knew it wasn't as innocent as it appeared, I should have fucking done something, said something--"

Dean pushes Cas slightly back, making eye contact with the blue-eyed man. His glasses magnified his tear-soaked eyes, and Dean feels his heart breaking.

"Its not your fault," Dean says softly yet firmly. "It's no one's fault but Gabe's. You couldn't have known. You were just trying to make them both happy. But you made the right call back there. He should never be able to touch anyone again. He deserves the same fate as Luci, in my opinion."

"And," Dean adds, "we've been forced to acknowledge that Hell exists. Maybe it's a consolation to know that eventually, both your brothers will pay for what they did."

Cas sniffles a bit, a pained look in his eyes. "But that's the thing, Dean. I still love them. They're my brothers. I'm beyond angry at them, and I never want to see their faces again, but I can't help that I don't want them to burn like you will. Nobody deserves that."

"I get that," Dean says, not fully agreeing with his boyfriend's statement, but still wanting to comfort him. "But that's not our decision to make, I guess. You're right to disown them. But I'm not sure you can influence what happens next."

Castiel nods, wiping his eyes on the frayed sleeve of his trench coat. It was May, in Kansas, but he still insisted on covering his arms with that battered trench coat. It made Dean's chest ache, but there was nothing he could do about it besides check for cuts and offer love. One day, he hoped, he would be able to show his arms and not be ashamed of what he went through.

They both hear footprints down the hall, and Sam enters the kitchen wearing some of Castiel's old clothes that had been left at Gabe's house. The sleeves and cuffs of the sweatpants are almost comically too short, but no one was in a laughing mood at that moment. Sam kept his arms crossed and pressed tightly to his stomach, looking anywhere but at Cas and his brother.

Dean was at a loss for words. What the hell does someone say in this situation? What was the proper course of action? Dean was only 20, majoring in automotive repair, how was he supposed to fix this?

Sam breaks the silence, darting glances at his brother, never long enough for Dean to get a read from his eyes. "Can we go home now?" His voice is so small, so broken, exactly the way it was the first time Dean saw him conscious after his suicide attempt.

"Of course, Sam." Dean says softly. "Do you want to go get your clothes?"

Sam shook his head, his body tensing up with a repressed sob. "No. They're ruined. Gabe ca...never mind. I don't want them."

Dean carefully throws his arm around his Sammy's shoulder and walks him out, wanting so fucking badly to never let go of him again. To never let him get hurt again.

The three, a somber trio, walked outside, got in the Impala, and drove home. Each person had the same question in mind: What do we do now?