Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
This story is unbeta'ed so all mistakes are my own.
A/N: My Supernatural beta asked for a story for her birthday.
Sam – 18; Dean – 22
Summary: Sam is keeping a secret. The last thing Sam wants is for John and Dean to find out.
Warning/Trigger: John is NOT nice in this fic. Physical abuse though not graphic, mostly implied.
Secrets
It was a beautiful evening; Sam was having a wonderful time. He was out on a date. It was his third date with this particular person. He enjoyed their company. Their first date was just to the library. They sat at the coffee shop that was inside the library and talked for hours. The second one, they went to the movies. Though it was an action movie they saw, Sam still enjoyed himself.
What made this even more special was that Sam was able to keep his friend from Dean and his father. The last thing he wanted was to get a million questions or teasing from them about his date.
Sam and his friend walked out of the restaurant.
"Do you want a ride?"
"No, thanks," Sam said, shaking his head. "That's okay. I'll see you later."
"When am I going to meet your family?"
"That's complicated."
"No, it's not. We've been seeing each other for a while. I would like to meet your family."
"It's not that simple."
"What? Are you embarrassed by me?"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
Sam said nothing.
"You haven't told them."
Again, Sam said nothing.
"You know your silence speaks volumes."
"Please, understand," Sam said. "I love you. I do. I'm not embarrassed with you. Actually, you're the most normal thing in my life. You just don't understand my family."
"Well, I would like to."
"Just give me some time."
"Fine. But this isn't over."
Sam's date pulled Sam close for a quick kiss.
"I'll see you later."
"Goodnight," Sam said, smiling. He walked towards the line of motels a few blocks away.
While he walked home, he thought about his conversation. Of course, he would like to introduce his friend to his family, well Dean, but he knew that it would not go well. As much as he loved his dad and his brother, he knew without a shadow of a doubt they would not understand. He knew his dad would insist that they move again. Sam didn't want that. He wanted to stay in this town for as long as possible. Stay with his friend for as long as possible.
Reaching the door to their motel room, Sam fished the key out of his pocket and let himself into the room. The Winchesters lucked out with this room. It was big. It had a front room where there were a sofa and chair with a small coffee table in the middle. There was a television in the corner. It had a small kitchenette with a stove top, microwave and a mini-fridge. Down a short hallway next to the kitchenette were two rooms. Since John was away on a job, Dean and Sam had their own room.
In some instances, he liked having the privacy, but a small part of him missed hearing his brother's snores at night. Sam walked into his room, closing the door.
"Where you been?"
From the quiet of the room, the sound of the voice startled Sam. He quickly turned towards the sound, his hand at the small of his back, where he kept his knife. He released his knife when he saw it was just his dad. John was sitting on the end of the bed, leaning against the wall.
"Dad," Sam sighed. "When you get back?"
"Couple of hours. Where were you?"
"Out." Sam walked over to the small desk in the opposite corner.
"With who?"
"A friend."
"A friend?" John got up from the bed and walked over to his youngest son. "What's this friend's name?"
Sam, feeling trapped, side-stepped his father trying to get out of the room. John gripped Sam's arm. Feeling the tightness of the hold on his arm, Sam knew to try to get away from his father wasn't going to happen.
"Nothing to say," John snapped. "Well, then, how about I do some talking."
Sam felt his heart both drop in his stomach and shoot up to his throat; He didn't like the sound of his dad's tone. His heart started pounding, hard. Sam's legs felt weak. If he wasn't leaning against the desk and the grip John had on his arm, Sam figured that he would be on the floor.
"Let me tell you a story," John began. "It's been a long drive. I've been on the road for about twelve hours straight. All I could think about is coming home and getting some rest. When I finally get into town, I see that my sons have not done what I told them."
"What? Wait—"
"No, don't speak," John said cutting Sam off. "Cat seemed to have caught your tongue, so I'm speaking. Where's your brother?"
"The library," Sam whispered.
"Why aren't you with him?" John's grip gets tighter on Sam's arm. "You two are supposed to stay together."
"Dad," Sam said. "I'm eighteen. I don't need a babysitter."
John, with his other hand, backhanded Sam across the mouth. Because of the limited space, Sam couldn't block the hit or move.
"I will not take any of your sass, now." Gripping Sam's jaw, John forced his son to look at him. "Since you weren't with your brother, where were you?"
Sam said nothing. His mouth hurt. The grip his father had on him wasn't helping nor was the hold that was still on his arm. Sam was trapped.
"I will not ask you again," John growled. "Where were you?"
"Out," Sam grunted out.
"Out? With who?" Sam said nothing. John pulled Sam's head closer so that he would whisper in his ear. "Who?"
Sam didn't want to say. He didn't want his dad to know just yet. Actually, he wanted to explain it to Dean first before telling his father. The grip was getting tighter and tighter.
"A friend."
"A friend," John echoed. "What is his name?"
Sam looked at his father. If his jaw could drop, it would. His dad knew. How did his dad know? He had been so careful about hiding it. Dean didn't even know. Looking at his father, Sam could see pure hatred in his eyes.
"How…"
"How did I know?" John asked, cutting Sam off. "Driving through town I see my youngest son kissing another boy. I just assumed this friend was a he."
Sam swallowed hard. If ever there was a time he wanted his big brother, it was now.
_0000_000_000_000
Dean pulled into the parking lot of the motel, parking in front of the room he and Sam had been staying in for the past two months. He grabbed the bag of hamburgers he had picked up from the fast-food chain down the street and got out of the Impala.
Dean was tired. All he wanted to do was eat and go to bed. Holding the bag in one hand, he pulled out the key and let himself into the room. The front room was dark. Dean wondered if Sam was home or not.
"Sammy? Sammy, you here?"
When Dean didn't get an answer, he figured Sam was still out. Not that he minded. Sam was growing up, and he didn't need to follow his big brother around. It was about time that Sam stood on his own and not in Dean's shadow.
Walking into the kitchenette, Dean put the bag of burgers down on the table and walked out, shrugging out of his jacket. As he walked to his room, he heard a sniffle and a groan.
"Sam." Still no answer. Dean let his jacket land on the floor and walked closer to Sam's room. "Sam," turning the knob and letting himself in.
What he saw made his blood instantly boil. Sam was sitting at the end of his bed. There was a look of pure fear on Sam's face. The fear alone made Dean go straight into big brother mode. What made him angry was the bruises on Sam's face and the bloodied nose and lip.
Rushing to his baby brother's side, Dean knelt in front of Sam.
"What the hell happened?"
Sam looked at his brother. It was such a relief seeing Dean that tears started to pool in his eyes. Dean may hate him, but he knew that right now, he could make it all better.
"Who did this?" Dean growled.
Sam sighed, "Dad."
"Dad? Why?"
"I'm sorry, Dean." The first tear escaped.
"Sorry for what?" Dean carefully lifted Sam's head so that he could get a clear look at the bruises. "Why would dad hit you like this?"
"I should've told you."
"Told me what?" Dean lightly touched Sam's nose to make sure it wasn't broken. "Why would dad ever put his hands on you like this? And why would you think it was your fault?"
"You're going to hate me."
"What? Sam, I'm not understanding." Dean stood up. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and then you're going to tell me what's going on." Dean walked out of the room and headed to the bathroom.
Sam stood up and followed Dean out of the room. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom and watched as Dean grabbed a towel from the rack and started soaking it.
"Why don't you go to the living room and sit down," Dean said. "I'll be in there in a minute."
Without saying a word, Sam did what he was told. Dean watched his baby brother walk away. The tiredness he was feeling when he drove to the motel disappeared when he saw Sam's face. It was taking every part of him not to leave and go find their father. Right now, Sam needed him, so he was going to stay. Dean gathered all the supplies he thought he needed. Taking a deep breath, Dean walked into the living room. Sam was sitting on the couch.
Dean walked over to his brother and sat across from him on the coffee table, sitting the supplies next to him.
"All right," picking up the damp hand towel, "start talking."
Dean lightly gripped Sam's jaw being careful of the bruises on it and started wiping the dried blood from Sam's face.
"Talk."
Sam looked at his brother. There was no heat behind his brother's words. Just curiosity.
"Dad was home when I got home."
"Okay."
"He asked me where you were."
"And did you tell him?" Dean put the bloodied rag down and picked up the peroxide.
Sam nodded.
"What else?" Dean dabbed the peroxide-soaked cotton ball on the cut on Sam's lip.
"He asked me where I was."
Dean looked at his brother, waiting on him to finish.
"What did you tell him?"
"I'm sorry, Dean."
"What are you apologizing for? So far I haven't heard anything that would warrant this kind of abuse. So how is this your fault?" Dropping the cotton ball on the table and resting his arms on his knees, looking at his brother.
"I should have told you about him."
"Told me about what? Your boyfriend?"
A surprised look came across Sam's face. If Dean didn't know any better, he would have thought he saw a little bit of fear cross Sam's eyes.
"You know."
"Of course, I know. I've been known." Dean said as if it was the most obvious thing. "Sam, I raised you. Since when have you ever been able to keep something from me?"
"Y-you're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad? You're my baby brother. I figured you would tell me when you were ready."
"How long?"
"How long, what?"
"Have you known?"
Dean shrugged. "Your first date." Sam's jaw dropped. "Sam, who you choose to date, is your business. I have no say in who you see. Does it change how I feel about you? Absolutely not. As I said, I raised you. I will always be here for you."
Sam lowered his head. Dean reached out gripped the back of his neck and pulled him close and embraced him. Sam wrapped his arms around his brother, tightly gripping Dean's shirt.
"Have you eaten?" Dean said, softly.
Sam nodded against his brother's shoulder.
"When was the last time you ate?"
Sam mumbled something against Dean's shoulder.
"Well, I want you to try and eat something. I bought hamburgers. So, let's finish getting you cleaned up and then I want you to eat.
Dean could feel Sam mumbling again.
"Don't worry about dad," Dean said. "I'll deal with dad."
Sam pushed away from Dean and sat back on the couch. "Thanks, Dean."
"Nothing to thank me for, Sammy."
Sam smirked as Dean continued to clean up his face. Sam thought about everything that has happened. All this time Sam thought he was keeping a secret from Dean and he already knew. Sam had been so scared about telling his brother. His first fear was that Dean would look at him a different way. Then he thought that Dean would hate him. Neither turned out to be true. Dean still loved him. Dean still cared. Sam started to feel a little stupid for doubting Dean.
A hand on his shoulder brought Sam out of his musing. He looked up to see Dean standing by the couch with the used supplies cradled in his arm.
"Why don't you go take a shower, then come back so that you can eat."
"Okay," Sam said, getting up and walking to the back of the room.
Dean watched him leave. He walked into the kitchenette and put the bloodied rag and cotton balls in the trash. Putting the peroxide bottle on the counter, Dean pulled out his phone. Finding the number he was searching for, hitting dial, he put the phone to his ear.
"Hello."
"Dad," Dean said. "We need to talk."
"I don't have time. I'm heading back out."
"Make time. It's about Sam."
"What about him. What's wrong this time?"
"You."
"Me?"
"Yeah, how could you?"
"How could I what?"
"He's your son."
"No son of mine will be like that."
"I see. Goodbye, dad." Dean lowered the phone. He heard the shower turn off and figured Sam would be in the kitchenette soon. Dean thought about how he felt. He was tired when he came home but knew that he was on pure adrenaline since he saw Sam's battered face. Deep down he wanted to leave but didn't want to drive Baby on adrenaline. He knew he wouldn't make it too far.
Sam walked into the small kitchen, bringing Dean out of his thoughts. They both sat down at the small table. Dean pulled out a burger for each of them. They sat in silence, eating their meal.
THE END
A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Please leave a review, letting me know what you think of it.
Many hugs and kisses to you all.
Mandancie