A/N: So I was on Pinterest when this bunny got ahold of me...
"Why did you always listen to dad?"
Dean stops washing the dishes, stilling do quickly his joints groaned at the sudden halt, whispering "What?"
Sam shuffled in the bunker kitchen nervously, a weird look on his face Dean couldn't place. After a minute of shuffling, Sam blurted out "Why did you always listen to him? You always took his side and never once challenged him. It's like you didn't have any of your own thoughts Dean!"
Sam frozen as the words left his mouth, a hand coming to cover his mouth before he said shakingly "Dean I didn't…"
But Dean wasn't there, in the bunker kitchen. He was back in the asylum, bleeding and hurt, an angry Sam over him snarling as he gestured with a gun towards Dean's chest.
"That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you".
"So what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me?"
"You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago."
"Well, then here. Let me make it easier for you. Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it! You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it!"
"Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol!"
"Sorry, Sammy."
Then he was in hell, crying out as pain ripped through his body and an oily voice whispered in his ear.
"You keep crying out for dear old Sammy. Just realize he isn't coming for you. After all, the only thing you're good for is being a soldier. But...you aren't even needed now, are you? Dear old dad is long gone, and you don't know how to think on your own...maybe Sammy is better off with you dead? It's not like he ever really cared. He only kept you around out of PITY! He only kept you around because you were a broken, empty little wind-up soldier, and your key was gone...now, lets make Sammy happy again."
Dean let loose a piercing scream as the knife dug into his throat, being slowly pulled down his body while opening him up for all of hell to see.
Then he was back in his head, fighting himself while trying to block out the cruel words he spat at himself.
"Dad knew who you really were. Good soldier, nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?"
"Son of a bitch! My father was an obsessed bastard! All that crap he dumped on me about protecting Sam, that was his crap. He's the one that couldn't protect his family! He's the one who let mom die! Who wasn't there for Sam, I always was! It wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me and I don't deserve to go to Hell!"
A body on the table.
A shot, still echoing through the air.
A laughing, ragged voice snarling out as black eyes glittered with malicious intent.
"You can't escape me, Dean. You're gonna die. And this. This is what you are going to become!"
Then, he was in a motel room, along with a sleeping Sam and a pissed off father.
Dean let loose a whimper as the door slammed shut, Dad slammin his bags on the ground with an angry growl. Dean quickly tucked Sam in bed, prayed the younger boy wouldn't wake up, and slowly slipping out the door. He quickly made his way into the kitchen, where his dad was opening a beer and said "Dad, I-"
"Shut the hell up."
Dean stood stiff as a board, even as terror ran through him at the coldness and the harshness of his father's voice. His father growled before smashing the top off the beer he had grabbed, sending glass shards everywhere. Dean stood still, even as some of the shards cut his face, making small trails of blood on his tan skill. Dean swallowed nervously before saying "Dad, it was an accident, i swear! He rushed me and i got so scared, i didn't mean to drop the gun!"
Dean flinched as his dad slammed his beer onto the table and asked in a low tone "What did i just say boy?"
"Dad-"
Dean's head snapped to the side, pain radiating from the side of his face. Tears filled his eyes as he looked at his father in shock, his father's knuckles red from the force of the punch. His dad glared at him before snarling out "I said shut up! Next time, you wont be the only one I hit."
His dad sent a threatening look towards the door Sam was in and Dean scrambled to get in front of the door. He knew that their father would never hit Sam, because he actually loved Sam, but even the thought of Sam getting hit made his blood freeze in fear. His father snorted in disgust before throwing an envelope at Dean, muttering something about how "Bobby would get mad if you didn't get the stupid thing."
Dean quickly grabbed the envelope and scurried off into the room he and Sam shared. Sitting on the bed, Dean pulled the envelope open and was surprised to see a card. Opening it, Dean read 'You're growing into a fine boy Dean. Don't let your father get you down. Stay happy.', and in the note was a small tape, one to go with his walkman. Dean felt tears running down his face as he read the band label 'Metallica' on the tape. Crawling under the covers, Dean held the card and tape to his chest as he whispered to himself "Happy 7th birthday Dean."
"Dean?"
"Dean?"
"Dean!"
Dean was jerked out of his thoughts by Sam's frantic voice, and notice a warm on his hands. Looking down, Dean realized, in a detached sort of way, that he had shattered the plate he had been holding , and the shards had cut his hands up, causing blood to pour down his hands. He was silent as he let Sam lead him to a chair by the table and wrap his hands up. Once Sam finished with the last bandage, Dean whispered "Cause it wasn't just me I was protecting Sam. I had to listen."
He then slowly walked towards his room, his mind such a mess he didn't notice Sam's concerned face watching him leave.
