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tigriswolfTitle: blood on the undersole thickening to glass
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Adrienne Rich.
Warnings: AU for “Hunted” and everything after; non-con; character death
Pairings: Gordon/Dean
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1390
Point of view: third
Notes: months ago, I sent this to tru_faith_lostfor a looksie, because I had no idea what to do with it. Now, it’s finally finished. Thank you, dearie!
tru_faith_lostfor a looksie, because I had no idea what to do with it. Now, it’s finally finished. Thank you, dearie! “There’s a word for people like you, boy.”
Gordon’s voice is low in his ear, soft and vicious and inescapable as dusk. His hands are hard and warm, trailing along Dean’s body, and Dean hates him.
“You know what it is?” Gordon asks, biting Dean’s shoulder, breaking the skin. “Guess.”
Dean refuses to give him the satisfaction of any noise at all, and Gordon chuckles.
“Fine, then,” Gordon says. “I’ll tell you.” He slaps Dean, knocking his head to the side. “Traitor.”
It began a year ago. He thinks. Can’t be sure of anything anymore. Not since “friends” left him in Gordon’s custody and went after Sam.
They haven’t caught him yet. He knows because Gordon takes out his anger on Dean. Dean relishes the pain, revels in it—because Sam’s free. Sam’s safe as he can be without Dean watching his back.
Ellen has told him how sorry she is, how she wishes there were any other way. Dean spat at her and snarled; she fled without a look back, and hasn’t visited him since.
Bobby’s doing his best to get Dean free, but it’s slow going. Not many hunters are on their side, and the ones that aren’t see Gordon as the leader. Gordon told Dean that he’s sent a hunter after Bobby—traitors can’t be left alive. Dean’s almost convinced himself that Gordon was lying, that he wouldn’t dare.
Gordon tried swaying Dean to his sick-fuck views, promised Dean he’ll be let go the instant he swears allegiance.
Dean just coldly stared at him, his broken arm cradled to his chest, breathing shallowly because of his bruised ribs.
“Never,” he said.
And Gordon—sickbastardfuck—smiled.
Dean’s days are filled with boredom, his nights with pain. Gordon’s the only one who touches him, but that’s comfort colder than a Siberian winter.
He’s allowed to roam the property; there are guards to keep him within the gates and away from the weapons. He killed five before they learned their lesson. He killed six before he learned his.
When Gordon summons him, Dean answers promptly, not even bothering to shield the loathing in his eyes. Gordon takes pleasure in it, the disgusting bastard.
Dean tried killing Gordon, in the beginning. Tried snapping his neck, strangling him, stabbing him—it earned him scars and broken bones.
Apparently, Gordon likes to have an audience. And hunters don’t like it when people try murdering their boss.
Dean told Sam the truth Dad whispered in his ear. Sam took off in the middle of the night. Dean tracked him down and watched him talk to that cute girl.
And then Gordon started shooting at Sammy.
Gordon makes him sit in on councils about how to deal with the psychic threat. Makes him listen as they list all the psychics murdered—“put down,” Gordon calls it. Like they weren’t innocent kids.
They keep a tally that doubles monthly, finally topping two hundred. Dean feels sick as Gordon reads off the names and powers, pride in his voice.
The day he hears Andy’s name, Dean actually retches all over Gordon’s shoes.
Dean went berserk on Gordon’s bastard ass, but Gordon had friends. He woke in a dark room, chained hand and foot, naked as a newborn, bruised and bloody.
He hasn’t seen or spoken to Sam since.
Gordon told him, in those first, dark days, that Sam would come for him and die. Dean told him that Sam wasn’t that stupid.
Since Sam’s never come for him, Dean guesses he was right, and he tells himself he’s more relieved than hurt.
Gordon trains with Dean every few days, keeping him sharp. Dean takes each possible opening to make Gordon bleed.
The sick fuck takes pleasure in that, too.
It’s been a year and he’s no closer to escaping than he was in the beginning. He intimately knows everything about Gordon and Gordon’s operation, but he can’t do anything with the knowledge, can’t put it to good use.
As Gordon presses him into the wall and Dean feels shards of wood digging into his face, one of Gordon’s lackeys rushes in with the words, “We got the bitch.”
Missouri hasn’t changed one bit. She doesn’t cower before Gordon, but sasses at him. He slaps her when she says his mama is disappointed.
Dean lunges forward and tackles Gordon, unable to take any more. He may’ve never liked her, but still—you just don’t hit women. He’s wrestled off immediately and beaten down, but his gaze never leaves Missouri.
He’s coming, her voice whispers across his mind. Hold on just a little longer, honey. He’s coming for you, and boy is he angry.
She dies at dawn and Dean doesn’t speak for almost a month. He isn’t let out of Gordon’s rooms, and Gordon takes his pleasure. Dean follows his commands instantaneously, soft and pliant as a rag-doll.
At first, Gordon seems pleased. But finally he whips Dean’s back bloody and demands, “Where’d the wildcat go? I know you’re in there somewhere.”
Dean doesn’t respond and Gordon slams the door as he leaves.
He’s coming, her voice murmurs in his dreamscape. Hold on just a little longer, honey. He’s coming.
When Dean first hears the screams, he thinks it a part of his dream. When the explosion rocks the building, he doesn’t even give it a second thought, trying to sink into himself, into memories of his life before Stanford, back when Sam was Sammy and all he wanted was his big brother’s attention. Back when Dad was alive and they were together—he even goes back to Mommy, her golden hair and soft tones and the way she held him close.
It’s been over a year since he saw Sam, and he’s so tired.
Dean’s barely conscious when Gordon rushes into the room, locking the door behind him. “Get up, Winchester,” he snarls, gripping Dean’s shoulder. “We gotta go, now.”
Gordon drags Dean as he hurries through his quarters. The building rocks with another explosion and the scent of smoke wafts on the air. Gordon’s muttering a litany of curses, his fingers digging deep into Dean’s flesh.
They’re on the second floor and Gordon finally stops in front of a large window. “Out,” he says, pushing Dean in front of him.
“What?” Dean asks. His back aches, blood sticky and cool on his skin, and his head feels hazy. A part of him wonders if he’s still dreaming.
Gordon slaps him across the face and Dean loses his balance, slumps down. “Now is not the time to question me,” Gordon growls, sounding panicked. Dean’s never heard that tone before.
Dean stares up at him, at the wide eyes and sweat dripping down his face. He’s frightened, Dean realizes. Terrified.
Part of him howls with glee. He asks, “What’s going on?” and rises to his feet, getting back some of his bearing. His mind clears a little. There’s no way he’s going out of that window. Not alive, anyway.
Gordon reaches out and grips Dean’s neck, hard. “Do as I say,” he tells Dean, and shoves him toward the window.
Dean twists to the side, pulling away. He’s clumsy and slow, bogged down by pain and confusion, but he is not going out that window.
In the distance, fire roars. Gordon looks toward the sound. “You wanna stay here?” he says, voice torn by fear. “Fine.” He grabs a small table and throws it through the glass, then climbs out. “Burn in hell,” he shoots over his shoulder and is gone.
Dean slumps down to the floor, too tired to even think about escaping the fire. Too tired to do anything.
It’s been a year since he had good sleep, and the smoke really doesn’t smell that bad. Not bad enough to keep him from slipping under…
Your brother’s been busy, Dean, Missouri’d murmured in his mind as she died. Gordon’s mobilized the hunters; Sam’s prepared the psychics. War is coming, but we didn’t start it.
She glanced at him, hands bound behind her back, Gordon aiming the gun. Sam will finish it, she promised. Remember that, Dean. He’s coming.
Smoke pervades his dreams, and he’s four years old, baby brother in his arms, fire at his back, Mommy’s scream and Daddy’s cry following him down the stairs.
Smoke pervades his dreams, and he can’t feel anything beyond heat.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
oh sam has to find him...
Date: 2008-01-25 08:01 pm (UTC)mumble...mutter...
*waiting for part two when dean wakes up*
ahem...
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-25 08:49 pm (UTC)Otherwise, this was dark and haunting, and the ending was a real kick in the gut.
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Date: 2008-01-25 09:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-25 10:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-25 11:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 12:34 am (UTC)Other thant the tag... beautiful fic! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 12:35 am (UTC)I refuse to believe Dean's dead though. Isn't that interesting? Because you said character death up front, and I really thought he was going to... but then you left enough ambiguity at the end for me to engage my denial-ridden glass-half-full personality and imagine Sam carrying him out of the flames. I don't think you need a sequel, really, because I like that I have to work out the end for myself.
Also, Missouri, excellent. I was thinking the other day that we don't see her in fic enough any more, and there's so much possibility there.
Goooood story, I liked it a great deal.
Re: oh sam has to find him...
Date: 2008-01-26 02:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 02:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 02:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 02:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 02:16 am (UTC)Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 02:17 am (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 02:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 02:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 02:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 03:03 am (UTC)I'm choosing to believe Dean's not dead. You labelled it as Dean lives, and therefore Sam rescued him! (Yes, I'm completely in denial. What of it?)
Thank you for posting! (Feel free to post a sequel where Dean lives and Sam tortures Gordon slowly and painfully.)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 08:18 am (UTC)I'm thinking that Sam has him there, Sam carrying Dean out of the fire, and in his pain and confusion, Dean thought he was dreaming.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 08:24 am (UTC)I LOVED Missouri.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 03:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 03:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 03:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 03:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 11:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-26 11:19 pm (UTC)( I couldjust imagine it, but it's more fun to read it, and so much better! )
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-27 12:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
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