The 'silent treatment' is a form of social control. It consists of ignoring a particular individual, neither speaking to them nor responding to their words.

Granbury, Texas
April 6, 1992

Sam

He's been staring at the same page in his math book for two hours now. Not moving, barely breathing, just staring. This eerie quietness from my usually loud and obnoxious brother always meant one thing. Dad's ignoring him again.

Over the years it had become more common between my brother and father. If Dean didn't finish his training quick enough, if he said too much to his teachers about our home life, even if he didn't make sure he was watching me like a hawk, Dad would give him the silent treatment for weeks as punishment. It steadily grew worse over time, especially once Dean began to hunt. That brought entirely new reasons for our dad to ignore Dean's existence. And it killed my brother.

"Dean?" My voice broke the tension in the air, startling Dean. "Can we go play basketball?"

A small smile appeared on my brother's face, but didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Not today, Sammy. Sorry."

I sighed and stood up from the kitchen table, putting aside my own homework. I turned on the small television in the corner of the room, and sat staring at the screen, not really watching it. When my brother hurt, I hurt.

Two hours later I jerked my head over to the front door when I heard the key in the lock and my father's heavy boots on the linoleum.

"Hi, Dad," I smiled.

"Hey, Sam." He laid his coat over the back of the couch. "How was school?"

"Fine," I glanced nervously over at Dean, who was watching us both avidly, a spark of hope in his hazel eyes. "Dean's been working on his math for a while now, maybe you could help him?" Please, Dad, just look at your son, look at what you're doing to him.

"You want some dinner, kiddo?" And the moment was broken.

I watched as my brother's eyes darkened and he went back to staring at his math book. Anger filled me when I saw the hurt flash across my brother's face.

We sat down at the kitchen table beside Dean, and Dad filled mine and his own plate with macaroni and cheese before dumping the rest into the trash. I could see Dean biting his lip as he continued to look at that same page in his book from earlier.

"What about Dean? I'm sure he's hungry?"

"Did you finish all your homework, Sam?"

"Yes, sir," I mumbled as Dean got up from his chair and slowly walked out of the room. The rigid air immediately vanished but my anger was back in full. "I think I'll go to my room now," I bit out, not even bothering to wait for a response.

I followed my brother to the room we shared and sat down on my bed.

"You know Dad loves you, he's just-"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean snapped, turning his back to me.

I sat watching his unmoving form for the longest time until eventually I changed out of my clothes and laid down, too.

There was nothing I could do that I hadn't tried dozens of times before. It would be over soon, anyway. Dad would give Dean some order when he decided quiet time was over. And then for the next few days Dean would eat up anything Dad had to say to him, negative or not. He'd follow him around like a puppy follows his master. I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about it. The control our father had on my brother was disgusting, and someday I'll stand up to him and protect my brother.