Summary and Cover art under the cut.
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Part Three
Turning his mind away from this thought, he moved around Dean and Dad and got the plates and the forks and the glasses and arranged them on the table. He got the salt and pepper shakers out too, thinking that might help with the taste.
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Part Two
Dad didn’t say anything as he looked at Dean, but the muscles in his jaw tightened and he started to glare. At Dean, which felt pretty strange, since Sam was always the one being glared at, always the one at the end of that look that said he’d just failed Dad in too many ways to count.
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Part One
For a moment, the slow hush of the river beneath the low bent trees was all the sound there was. Beyond that, the hum of the forest played a scratchy green sound in Sam's ears as he hunkered low in the water, bare feet braced against the gravel and stones, feeling the slow, cool rush of water over this thighs and hips. As he peered over the edge of the line of willow sticks, he could see that there were three fish circling around, all alive, fat and sassy, and they would make the best cookout ever. Ever.
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Author: lovesrain44
Rating: PG, Gen, violence, angst, hurt, but not a whole lot of comfort
Verse: Sparta Verse
Pairing: None
Word Count: 17,652
Summary: Since it’s been so hot, Dad finally takes Sam and Dean to the river for a little fishing trip. This makes Sam feel a little bit better for not being able to play soccer, but not a whole lot because it’s still the summer from hell. This story is a sequel to The Gauntlet
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Barnabas whipped him. Hard. With a switch. Told him to take down his trousers, bent him over the table, and whipped him for an offense that seemed so inconsequential when he’d done it, that by the time Barnabas let him up from the table to pull up his clothes, all thought of it had vanished from his head. The only thing that remained was the leftover taste of his heart sliding into his guts from Barnabas pouncing on him the moment the sun went down, and the slices of acid heat that now marched up and down his backside and legs. The cloth beneath his armpits and along his back was soaked with sweat, and a single hot track of it traced its way along the back of his ear, sliding down his neck to join its fellows. Heart thumping, pushing blood through new cuts and welts that his pants now pressed against, his fingertips pulsing with each shivery jerk of his lungs.
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LRF Version