"Did you have nice parents, Sam?"
That question made me snort-laugh… I'm not proud of it, but that's what I did…
Anyway… I came up with this fic to go along with it…
All things considered, Sam hadn't had the worst of childhoods. And he knew exactly whom to thank for that. His older brother, Dean.
Dean was the reason he hadn't turned into a serial-killer long ago… Because, he knew deep down that if his childhood had been a little bit worse, and with a little less guidance from his hero… He would have gone dark-side.
He had avoided most beatings, because someone always placed themselves in the middle. Between him and, let's face it…
A drunk out of his mind father…
John did his best… At least as best as he could with the means he had…
Sometimes it was a lot, other times…
Dean had kept it a secret for many years. He had carried the pain alone, shielding Sam from it. Making sure his little Sammy didn't have to feel the hurt.
Sam cast a glans towards his older brother, sitting on the floor of the basement. Up until that question had been spoken, his brother had kept his game face on, focusing on Sidney's face.
Sam could see the almost invisible pain behind the green eyes, he saw how Dean all of the sudden got a problem with seeing Sidney eye-to-eye…
Then she lifted her shirt. Revealing the old burn-marks from old cigars and cigarettes…
Sam felt his heart drop. All those years… All their childhood…
Only beatings Sam ever got, was during practice or hunts… And it was only because of Dean, that it didn't happen more often… Outside practice, and off hunts…
Sam had never noticed the scars before he came back from Stanford. He had never really stopped to think about why Dean always held himself in different ways, why he seldom changed his clothes outside the bathroom…
Dean was covered in scars. Scars of all kinds… Some from hunts, some from John's alcohol intoxicated rage… There were burns, cuts, scars he had no idea what was from… Though Sam was pretty sure one of them was from a broken bottle…
Sam felt awkward. Yeah, he had a nice parent… And it had been Dean.
He sensed his brother regaining his confidence. Slowly getting strong enough to lift his eyes from below Sidney's knees.
Sam knew Dean was fighting invisible demons from the past. Demons that, quite honestly, Sam knew nothing about… Not really anyway…
"Except now you're an axe murderer…"
Nice recover Dean… Sam almost smiled to himself.
SPNSPNSPN
Hours later, they were in the Impala. Dean had his left hand wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. He had been quiet ever since they left the town. He knew he probably should speak up, he could feel questions gnawing holes in Sam's brain…
But he didn't want to touch those memories.
Nope… He had no urge to bathe himself in pain tonight…
Distant memories of the stale smell of alcoholic beverages, and vomit. Blended with warm breath and insults… He remembered his father losing control after heavy nights of drinking, he remembered thinking he had to protect Sammy…
So he did…
He kneaded the area about an inch above his left wrist. That had been one of the worst ones… Almost two months in a cast… His father had been drunk out of his mind, Dean had placed himself between John and the door leading to the bedroom…
A small quarrel later, his dad had twisted his arm until it snapped, and then some…
He remembered doing his best not to cry out in pain, even as a sixteen year old… That is nearly impossible… But he managed it…
He remembered coaxing his father outside. Taking the rest of the physical out behind the parking lot. Then they had stayed out there until the morning lights came around.
He remembered his father sobering up, and remembering what he had done. He remembered the apology, and the 'you did good boy…'
And the backstory they cooked up for Sammy…
He had gone out with some friends past midnight, and borrowed a skateboard…
But hey… There was worse things…
At least he never got… You know…
"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam's voice startled him.
Dean looked over at his little brother, sitting in the passenger seat with a worried expression plastered to his face.
"I'd rather not…"
"You know some things, it's better to talk about it…"
"Yeah…" Dean nodded, "And some things are better off buried deep down in a bottomless pit!"
Before Sam could come up with a response, Dean reached down to the cassette player and cranked the volume up as high as it took to make conversation impossible.
Hope I didn't torture you guys too much…
Those micro responses between the brothers was too much for me… I just had to…
I'm sorry…