So my Dark Muse has been pestering me with this story for a while now. It is much darker than anything I've ever done before. So please be warned. There will be bad language, mentions of rape, abuse, and torture. But I will not go into too much detail. I have it rated at T for now. Please let me know if I need to up it.
I do not own Supernatural or the characters but I do own the characters that I have created.
If you have a moment please let me know what you think.
Dean knew something was wrong with Sam. It wasn't that he saw something wrong, as much as he felt it. Once the feeling hit, Dean started watching his younger brother closer. Watched as he came out of the school, head down hair falling forward in his face. Watched as they walked home and instead of keeping pace with Dean, talking about his day, Sam fell back a few steps not saying a word. Watched at dinner, as he poked at his food but wasn't really eating it. Then Dean knew for sure something was wrong with Sam.
It had been a couple weeks since Dean had first got the feeling. He had tried all of his usual tricks to get Sam to open up. Nothing was working. Dean looked across the small table studying his little brother's face. At sixteen Sam was quickly filling out. Gone was the chubby cheeks, replaced with more chiseled features. Dean had to admit his brother was good looking. This thought brought another thought to the front of Dean's mind. Why weren't there more girls around? When Dean was sixteen he had at least three girlfriends at every school they stopped at. Granted Sam wasn't that kind of guy, but at least one girl.
Sam slightly turned in his chair, bringing Dean back to the problem at hand. Something was wrong with Sam. The open pizza box between them showed Dean's half almost gone, Sam's barely touched. Dean knew this was Sam's favorite pizza.
"Something wrong with your pizza Sam?"
Shrug
"You can have a slice of mine if you want."
Small shake of head.
The room fell again into an uncomfortable silence. Dean took a bite of pizza having a little trouble getting it down. He just couldn't shake that damn feeling. "So how's school?"
Sam turned further in the chair, until his back was almost to Dean.
"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean finally asked. "You've been in some deep dark funk for days now."
"I'm fine." Sam said as he lowered his head more.
"The hell you are." Dean's voice rose slightly. "I've barely heard more than two words from you."
"I would think you would be celebrating." Sam mumbled.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
Sam just stood and walked over to the couch. This had been one of those rare times that John had agreed to splurge for an apartment. It had helped that Dean had insisted on staying behind, to get a part time job for a while. Sighing Dean started cleaning the table.
"You know you're going to tell me sooner or later." Dean said glancing at Sam. The teen's head was down, shoulders slumped. That feeling in the pit of Dean's stomach multiplied by ten. Walking over Dean sat on the coffee table facing Sam. "Okay out with it Sam. You're going to tell me what the hell is wrong."
"No." The word was barely above a whisper, and Dean knew he must have been hearing things.
"I'm sorry what did you say?"
Sam slowly raised his head, Dean was surprised to see pure anger. "I said no Dean." Sam slowly stood, never taking his eyes from his brother. "As no I'm not going to tell you a damn thing."
"Sammy…"
"Don't call me that!" Sam screamed. For a split second Dean thought Sam was going to throw a punch. "Don't ever call me that again."
"Sam I just…" Dean stood reaching for his brother.
Sam jerked away. "You're not my father, Dean." Sam's voice was suddenly cold, but Dean noticed his eyes wet with unshed tears. "You are nothing but my brother." Sam turned and stormed off down the hall. When the door slammed Dean winced.