Warnings: strong language, abuse, blood, depression, suicidal thoughts... more warnings will appear in later chapters.
Sam is 15, Dean is 19.
Four days ago, it wouldn't have mattered. But now, it was different. Now, Dean couldn't look into his father's eyes without wanting to throw punches or something sharp. He wanted to hurt him, just like the bastard had hurt Sam.
Two weeks before
It was dark out, just like they wanted it to be. The trunk was loaded and the engine was on. Sam sunk into the backseat with a heavy sigh ignoring the usual pain, this time located around his rib area. He tried to keep his mind off it, but damn, it seemed to hurt more than his usual bruises. He tried to adjust himself in his seat to be more comfortable, but with no success. Luckily, it kept his mind off his other injuries.
Dean slumped down next to him making it challenging for Sam not to let out a whimper. He looked out the window at his dad who was walking briskly towards the car. Sam mind wandered for a moment, what if I reached out, locked all the doors, stepped on the pedal and just drove off?
His thoughts were immediately cut off by his father slamming the door shut. His gruff voice filled the silence of the car which had immediately tensed up, although Dean, luckily, and as usual, which was unlucky, didn't notice.
"Why are you sitting in the back, Dean?" He asked, his eyes meeting his son's in the rearview mirror.
"Thought I'd keep Sam company," Dean said, smiling at his father before checking the weapons he had on him. Dean was still angry at Sam because was siding with his father earlier, again, but decided to push it aside as he wanted to spend more time with his brother, especially since he seemed to be acting differently. In the spare time of Dean rummaging his coat, and other places where he kept weapons in, his father took the opportunity to glare at Sam in the mirror, his eyes dark, penetrating and unwelcoming. Sam tensed up. Again, Dean didn't take notice. To Sam, he seemed naïve. Their family was far from perfect, but Sam was happy that Dean hadn't found out the worst parts. He unintentionally brushed a hand over his ribs and noticed that they were slightly cracked. Shit, Sam thought while chewing on his bottom lip. He wished that he could live in the dream world of his brother where their father wasn't abusive, but knew that things were different for him. He knew that no one, with the occasional exception of Dean, cared for him. He couldn't blame them.
"So," Dean said, looking up at his father, breaking yet another silence, "are we ready to go?" Dean asked innocently, although he couldn't be more excited for the hunt as he had yearned for it, ever since they arrived in town. It had been a while since they had taken something down as big as a Wendigo. John gave a short nod and started the car.
SPN-SPN-SPN
"Alright there, Sammy?" Dean asked, when they were near the entrance of the forest. His brother had been awfully quiet during the ride, only giving a small unsatisfying "fine" when Dean had asked how school was going. Sam had always been a quiet person, always keeping to himself, but over the last few years he seemed to become more distant, nearly to the point of alienating people.
Sam took a deep breath, covering up his his masked pain that he didn't want Dean to see.
"Yup," he answered, rather confidently, turning to give his brother a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Immediately after, Sam turned back to the window and stared at the flashing fluorescent lampposts as they rapidly drove past them. He just couldn't face Dean right now. Not with what had happened earlier that day. Not with the nearly throbbing pain in his side. He blinked the tears forming in the corner of his eyes away, quickly, before anyone - especially his Dad, as he knew too well what would happen if John found out, that he was crying - saw the tears threatening to roll down his lashes.
The car was completely silent after the dead-panned, again unsatisfying, answer from Sam. The only sound came from the rumbling engine as the music player had broken. Dean didn't know what happened to it, only that he wanted to repair it. Only John and Sam knew why the music player was broken, and it wasn't something they wanted to bring up in front of Dean.
Dean didn't know what else to say. He tried to pick up a conversation, but then decided to drop it. He was annoyed with the short answer Sam had given. It just didn't seem right. It didn't seem like Sammy. He had just called him that, where was his usual response? Where was the, "it's Sam, and of course" ?
Everything about him had seems off lately, Dean thought. He corrected himself, not just lately, for more than a while now.
Trying to remember the last time Sam had actually acted like Sam, he turned to look out the window himself, when the car, along with his train of thoughts, halted abruptly.
Everything from when the car stopped, to getting the weapons ready, happened so swiftly that Sam could barely keep up because of his most recent injury. His other injuries he had become used to.
"Hurry up, Sam!" He heard his father call angrily. Sam knew that he would have yelled if they weren't on a hunt, with Dean. Sam took a silver knife and bullets, again ignoring his pain. This is getting tedious, Sam thought, gritting his teeth together.
SPN-SPN-SPN
"SAM! For fuck's sake! If you don't start paying attention, you're going to get Dean and I killed!"
Dean and I. That wasn't the first time Sam had heard those words in that context.
"Y-yes sir," Sam stuttered through the pain and fear. He closed his eyes. Stuttering. How pathetic.
Dean shot his father a look for yelling and swearing which John didn't notice. His focus was on Sam, who had spaced out just a second ago. How was he suppose to hunt, especially when it was a creature like a Wendigo, with a useless son like Sam? At least he had given him an easy job. It was Sam's job to be the bait. Dean had protested this dad's idea.
"Dad, we're NOT using Sam as bait! What the hell are you thinking?" Dean had shouted. His John's eyes flared up.
"Do NOT use that tone with me boy, I know what's best for the family, and Sammy here," - Sam inwardly cringed when his father called him that name - "wants to be bait."
Dean smacked his hand on his face in frustration.
"Dad, no one wants to be bait." Dean argued.
Sam was officially on the spot when they both wheeled their heels towards him. The next thing Sam knew, was that his spit was hard to swallow. The pleading look on his brother's face was tempting, but seeing the dark, threatening look on John's, he decided.
"Yes, I thought being bait would be a good idea, especially as it would mean that I'm actually doing something useful, for once," Sam said calmly then completely shut up when seeing the hurt look from his brother's face. Dean shook his head.
"I'm heading out," he said, while grabbing his jacket, swinging it over his shoulder, and slamming the door shut. John thundered towards Sam.
"Especially as it would mean that I'm actually doing something useful," he said, imitating Sam before raising his big fist and thrusting it into Sam's stomach, making his son's knees buckle. He then kicked Sam's side. Over and over and over…
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review as this is my first fanfic, therefore feedback would be extra awesome. :)
I'm currently working on chapter two if you're interested. :)