Dean awoke groaning. His body ached all over. His eyes burned. He rubbed at them weakly, taking a shaky breath in.
As he became more alert, his senses picked up- he wasn't alone. He leaned his body, glancing up at his father.
John stood over him ominously, holding a glass. 'Here..'
Dean looked away immediately, his eyes searching for a safe place as he braced himself for the oncoming attack from his abuser.
John swirled the beverage around in the glass, lowering it into Dean's view, 'Whiskey. It does wonders for pain.'
John smiled as he watched Dean's shaky bruised arm emerge out of the covers, reaching for the glass. Dean took the glass from his father, propped himself up on his elbow and gulped it down. He didn't pay any mind to the alcohol burning down his throat.
John took the glass from Dean's hand and roughly petted Dean's back in approval, 'you'll feel better in no time,' John confirmed, 'i'll let you get dressed,'
Dean eyed his father walking out of the room with disgust. How could he pretend that this was fine? Or normal? Did that really happen last night?
He pulled himself up out of the bed, pain shooting through his body. It must have happened.. He ran his hand through his hair, preparing himself to stand.
The front door opened and closed. John must be going out somewhere. Dean pulled his pajamas on and limped out of the room, steadying himself against the door frame of the hallway. He leaned forward, gazing out the window.
All John's gear was packed and he was outside loading it into the truck.
Fear struck Dean's stomach. What was John planning? Was Dean going with him? Was Sammy going? He didn't want to go. He bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood. He couldn't go with his father. It'd kill him. John had packed the truck. He turned toward the house, out of view of the window.
'no, no, no, no...' Dean braced himself against the door frame, tears burning at his eyes.
John entered the house, glancing up at Dean before grabbing a bag off of the couch, 'I dropped your brother at school, you've got to pick him up,' he grabbed at another bag, 'then you're both to stay in the house until I get back. I'll be gone for a couple of weeks,' John tapped his fingers on a post-it note by the phone, 'There's numbers on this paper. If you need anything, you call them. If I don't come back, call the last number.'
Dean walked into the kitchen, peering down at the numbers. He eyed Bobby's name at the bottom of the short list.
John stepped toward Dean and lifted his chin with his fingers backing him into the wall. He breathed hot thick air over Dean's face seductively, 'If you leave, i'll find out,' John pressed himself against Dean's frame, stopping his son from turning away, 'and God help you if you're not here when I get back.' He leant in, his face was inches away from Dean's, 'do you hear me, Dean?' John's voice was low and threatening.
Dean snapped his eyes closed, voice trembling, 'Yes, Sir..,'
John turned and left without another word.
Dean dragged himself to the bathroom, staggering down the hall. He turned on the shower faucet and stepped into the scolding water. Steam filled the small room quickly. Dean pulled a coarse, bristled brush out from underneath the basin next to the shower and started scrubbing his arms, his stomach, his ass, his neck, his back, his legs, his shoulders.. As hard as he could stand.
He used a full bar of soap, scrubbing at his skin until it was red raw. Scrubbing until it bled.
It wasn't coming off.. The stain, the filth.. Dean grit his teeth in a panic. He was still dirty, he needed to get clean. He stuck his fingers down his throat and threw up until he was dry wrenching. He brushed his teeth until his gums bled. The whole process took him almost all day.
Dean awoke from the cold water rushing over his body. He gasped and shut off the faucet. He must have lost consciousness. He was exhausted.
He grabbed at a towel hanging on a hook behind the door and threw it over his head. He wiped at his hair and his face slowly, feeling his features lightly from beneath the cloth.
He entered his and Sam's room and found some fresh clothes. He struggled pulling his jeans over his hips, the denim cut into the bruises. He pulled on a shirt and a hoodie, and lastly slipped his feet into his boots, not bothering to tie the laces. He was late picking Sam up from school. He snatched the key off of the hook by the door and made his way down the street toward the school.
Sam was wandering around the yard, kicking at rocks that fell out of the garden beds. 'Sammy?' Dean called to him, 'Sorry i'm late,'
Sam's head shot up at his name. He ran to Dean, clinging around his big brother's stomach when he reached him. It knocked Dean back a couple of steps, 'Ah, gentle, Sammy.'
Sam released Dean and looked up at him with a hard look in his eyes, 'I don't want to go back there, Dean.'
Dean glanced around the school yard, eyeing off the kids walking home, assessing the proximity between himself and them. He started walking. The place was too crowded to talk openly, 'Dad's gone away on a hunting trip,' he uttered casually, 'he'll be back in a couple of weeks-,' Dean paused and turned back, noticing that Sam wasn't walking with him.
'No.. That's not good enough,' Sam was shaking with anger, 'I don't know what happens when he takes you, Dean..'
Dean blinked. 'What?' Dean noticed some woman slowing her pace as she overheard. He quickly closed the gap between them to avoid anyone else overhearing,
'But I know he hurts you,' Sam continued, 'and I don't want him to do it anymore.'
Dean rolled his eyes and adjusted the sleeves on his hoodie, the autumn wind picking up fiercely, 'Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about, Sam,' Dean glared down at his brother, 'he's our provider, we would be dead without him. Remember that, before you open your big mouth.' Dean turned his back and started walking again.
Sam breathed loudly out of his nose and started walking straight past Dean, 'I'm gonna call Uncle Bobby,' Sam declared,
Dean scoffed, 'Go ahead!' Dean raised his arms and dropped them, 'he'll tell you to shut up, too. You don't know what's going on, don't pretend that you do- ah,' Dean held his side, slowing himself back down to a limp.
'Do you know what's going on?' Sam retorted, picking up his walking pace.
. . .
Sam pulled his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He threw his bag across the room and picked up the phone, eyeing Bobby's number on the post-it note. Dean was out of breath when he huffed into the house. He kicked his boots off and slid onto the couch, hugging the cushion under his head.
'Uncle Bobby?, Uh yeah, it's Sam,'
Dean pulled at a thread in the cushion, attempting to focus his concentration on that. This was not a call for help. This is not a big deal. He could handle this. He could keep Sam safe without any assistance. He is the soldier. He is the grunt. He'll take it all. It's his fight.
Sam's voice broke Dean's distraction, 'no, it's just Dean and me.. Yeah, a hunt.. Today..,'
Sam glanced across the room at Dean, 'He hurt Dean.. Yeah, last night, he took him to his room.. I.. I don't know.. Sure,'
'Dean,' Sam held the phone out to Dean, staring at him intently, 'Bobby wants to talk to you,'
Dean winced as he crawled off of the couch to his knees. Resting his body made it stiffen up fast. He crawled into the kitchen and swiped the phone out of Sam's hand.
'Bobby? ..Yeah..' Tears blinded Dean as they welled. 'No, I-'
'I can't tell you-' Dean's voice hitched. He wiped at his mouth as the tears fell silently, 'okay,' he choked, 'okay, i'll get him ready,'
Dean pressed his hand over his face and sniffed back fluid as he hung up the phone.
Sam pulled him into a hug, 'he won't hurt you again, Dean.'
Dean exhaled and clung to his brother.
. . .
Bobby was there that night. He pulled up at their house a couple of hours after the call. He honked the horn and stepped out of his car, eyeing off the boys as they emerged from the house. Sam was pulling at two duffle bags, and Dean was struggling with a back pack. Bobby grabbed all three bags off of the boys and loaded them into the trunk of his car. 'Now, you kids strap yourselves in. It's going to be fine now. We will work this out, alright?'
Sam nodded at Bobby, 'thank you, Bobby,'
Dean buckled himself in to the front seat, and Sam took up the back. Bobby nodded to himself and took off down the highway. Something was up. Something bad. And he intended to find out what.
Dean was drifting off to sleep. He finally felt safe. Like a cage was over him, protecting him from his father. It was going to work out.. It has to be okay. "God help you if you're not here when I get back."
Dean gasped and clutched at his shirt collar. Bobby swerved at Dean's fast movements, 'Damn it, Dean..! You alright?'
Dean's knuckles turned white. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the window. 'God, help me..,' he breathed.
