New chapter and new version of "Distant Soldier" or "Distant Dean"! Be warned that this chapter holds foul language and abuse. "Abusive Dean" ahead. This is when Dean is distant but also very intact in his brother's life. This chapter is unrelated-but-related to the first chapter. Different story plot behind it. I hope you guys understand what this chapter's gonna be about. So, I hope you enjoy!
"Hey, Sam!" Mitchell, Sam's friend from school, ran up to him. "Where's your brother?" he asked, looking around.
Sam sighed softly as he switched his weight to his left foot. He's been standing awkwardly outside the school for almost thirty minutes now.
"He's . . . running late . . . again," he mumbled. Mitchell nodded slowly.
"Again, huh? Well, that sucks." Mitchell ran his hand through his blond hair. He looked at Sam and then back at the road. He gasped when something caught his eye. He turned back, looking at Sam.
Sam felt Mitchell's staring and looked back at him. "What? What is it?" he asked. Mitchell cleared his throat and scratched his head.
"That bruise is big as hell, man." Sam's eyes widened slightly. He thought he covered it up! He fixed his hoodie over his neck a little bit more. "What happened?"
"Nothing, dude," Sam said, trying to brush it off. But knowing Mitchell, who is just a pain in the ass as Sam is when he's curious, wasn't going to.
"Was it him again?" Sam sighed once more. He looked away from Mitchell's blue eyes. Since when did I start telling him about Dean? he asked himself. Sam finally nodded. Mitchell clicked his tongue. "Sam, why does he hurt you?"
"I guess he doesn't like me very much."
"But he's your brother. How can he not like you? How can anybody not like you? Ahem—well—as a friend obviously, I like you. You know what I mean!" Mitchell was stuttering and just babbling and that seemed to get a giggle out of Sam.
"I don't know, Mitchell. For some reason, I piss Dean off and I don't know how. When we're at home and stuff, he gets as far away from me as possible! And then out of nowhere, I see punches being thrown at me!" Sam gave a frustrated sigh as he fumbled with his curly brown locks. "He even says horrible shit to me," he mumbled quietly.
Mitchell almost didn't hear him but then he asked, "Like what?" Sam sniffled a bit from the cold air.
"He says stuff like, 'You killed my mom!' and 'Fuck you, you piece of shit!'"
"He says things like that! What does your dad do when that happens?" the blond asked. Sam began to bounce on his heels, trying to get over the fact that he didn't want to tell his friend any of this, he didn't want Dean to find out, he wanted to go home, and it was fucking cold!
"Dad punched him once . . . it was when Dad found out that Dean had beaten me for the first time in my life. Like a real beating. Not some belt-on-the-ass action, but a real beating." Sam shivered slightly. He felt as if something was coming.
"What . . . what kind of beating? Sorry Sam but as you can see, I come from a perfectly suburban bat-shit-insane family and I will never experience the shit you've been through," Mitchell said, trying to sound humorous. Too bad for him, Sam took it all in and agreed because the shit's he's been through will never, ever compare to these kids around his age.
Suddenly, a familiar rumble sounded through both of the teens' ears. Sam knew the sound very well and almost took great comfort in it until he saw who was driving the marvelous vehicle. Sam let out the breath he was holding.
"Get in," was all Dean said. Sam said a quiet goodbye to Mitchell and hopped in the passenger seat of the Impala.
"W-Wait!" Mitchell ran up to the Impala and God forbid him that he doesn't die in the next twenty-four hours as he placed his pale hands on the door of the car. Sam stared hysterically at Mitchell.
"Are you fucking crazy?! What the hell is it? And get your hands off the car you dumbass!" Sam whispered frantically. Mitchell panted heavily as he tried to catch his breath, all of a sudden feeling like knives were stabbing him in the throat.
"Is it okay if I come with?" Mitchell asked Dean. Dean didn't even acknowledge him let alone look at him or Sam. He kept his eyes on the empty road in front of him. "Uh, me and Sam have a school project," he lied. Sam inwardly punched himself in the face. You can't lie to him you fuckface! He knows everything! He's my brother!
"How important is it?" rumbled Dean's low, husky voice.
"Very." Dean suppressed a sigh as he glared emerald daggers at the blond kid.
"Hop in. Don't touch anything." Mitchell gave a loud sigh of relief as he hopped in the backseat of the Impala.
Sam sighed to himself, glad that he hasn't died yet. This is gonna suck!
Once home, the three males were greeted by the oldest Winchester who was sitting at the dinner table reading the newspaper, probably looking for some jobs that were available in the area.
"Dad," Dean said as his greeting as he walked past him to get a beer out of the fridge. Sam walked in behind him.
"Hey Dad," he said quietly. Mitchell walked up behind him and put a hand up in a cool gesture.
"Hello, Mr. Winchester! Nice to meet ya!" he said as cheerily as possible.
John sipped his cup of coffee and stared at the blond teenager. "Sam, who the hell is this?" Sam cleared his throat and looked from his father, to Dean's avoiding back, to Mitchell's blue eyes.
"This is my friend, from school. His name is Mitchell," he said. Gosh, was Sam feeling nervous? More like a bomb being strapped to his chest! Mitchell nodded.
"We're gonna be working on a project," Mitchell added in. John nodded slowly.
"How important is it?" he asked. Mitchell almost blew a breath of shock.
"Do all Winchesters ask that?" he whispered into Sam's ear. Sam sighed. He didn't respond, but what he was thinking . . . only because we have better shit to do. School projects aren't our thing, I guess. "Very, Mr. Winchester. We could fail if we don't get it done soon," Mitchell emphasized dramatically. John nodded at him. Sam knew that he was being sarcastic so he just pulled Mitchell along to follow him to his bedroom, which thank God that he didn't share with Dean. Doesn't mean that his big brother hadn't been in there at all, though.
"Sam, your room is as bare as a baby's ass," Mitchell commented. Sam smacked his friend behind the head. "Ow!"
"Dumbass! You've lied twice! To my brother and to my dad! They will kill you!" Sam yelled quietly. He paced around his small room. "I can't believe you! Why would you come here?"
"To protect you!"
"I can't be protected! I am fine!" Mitchell scoffed a bit at that.
"Oh really . . ." Mitchell gulped slightly as his voice grew quiet all of a sudden. He pointed to Sam's bed. "Then explain to me why there's a big ass blood stain on your bed, Sam?" Sam gulped, turning around to glance at his bed. He walked over and threw the dark blue covers back over the sheets.
"My home life doesn't concern you, Mitchell," Sam uttered out. Mitchell drew out a breath of frustration.
"I am your friend, Sam. It does concern me!" Mitchell walked up to him. "Friends don't like seeing other friends get hurt, and almost every day I see a new scar or bruise that you poorly try to hide from me!"
Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was grateful for having a friend like Mitchell who cared for him, but this was just a bad idea to bring him here, to see and witness all of the evidence of his beatings. A knock was heard on his door. Without even stepping to answer, it busted open and in walked in Dean, not giving a damn that Sam had a guest.
"Yeah, Dean?" he asked. Dean just stood in the middle of Sam's room and looked around.
"I don't see anything resembling you guys working on a project. So if you're just gonna pussyfoot around, I suggest that it's time for me to take your little boyfriend home." Sam stared wide eyed at his brother.
"No, no, we were just gonna start!" Sam dropped his book bag on the floor and started taking out random shit, textbooks, notebooks, rulers, etc. He gave a quick look to Mitchell telling him to do the same.
"Good," Dean said, a small grin appearing on his face. He took a seat across the room on Sam's beanbag chair. "Feel free to ignore me as I make sure that you're getting your work done since this project is very important." Sam swallowed the large lump that was forming in his throat. He was sweating, he could feel it. It was getting hot and he wasn't sure it was because of the temperature of the room.
"Y-Yeah, yeah. Sure, stay," Sam stuttered. Mitchell stared between the two brothers. He was caught in his lie and if he didn't act on it now, he didn't know what was going to happen.
Sam's mind was going blank. He didn't know what lie he could come up with and even if he did, Dean would see right through him.
After thirty minutes of sitting there and neither one of them has done anything remotely relating to any sort of project, Dean stood up and walked out of the room. After a short while, he came back with their dad.
"Sam's boyfriend, whatever your name is, you're going home," Dean said. He bent down and picked up whatever shit was on the floor and shoved it in Mitchell's bag. He stood back up and threw the bag into the other room. He gave the blond boy a smile and quietly said, "You obviously lied about a project. Sam's got more important things to do; I don't think he needs to get freaky-deeky with you."
Mitchell couldn't say anything as he was being pulled from the room by John Winchester who was going to take him home.
Sam stared wide eyed and speechless as Dean shut his bedroom door and locked it. He sighed.
"Oh you've done it now, little brother," Dean gritted as he walked towards Sam and grabbed a handful of his curly locks. Sam winced in pain.
"D-Dean!" Dean pulled at Sam's hair and with his strength, threw the fourteen-year-old on his disheveled bed. Sam had no time to move as his brother quickly toppled him and had his hands tied by an old, raggedy belt. "Dean!" Sam yelled. Dean chuckled softly.
"You know better than to tell a lie, Sammy." Dean was working on removing Sam's sweatshirt. He managed to pull it over his head. He smiled as he glanced over his little brother's fine body, which was covered with painful scars and bruises. Some old, and some new. Dean took out a long chain that was hooked in his belt loop.
"Wh-What are you gonna do with that?" Sam asked shakily. He struggled against his brother but he just couldn't move under his weight and him being strained. Dean only lightly swung the chain around with the flick of his wrist.
"Shut the hell up, Sammy," Dean whispered. He cupped both ends of the chain and brought it down to place it against Sam's neck. Sam flinched as the cold metal touched his skin. Dean wrapped the chain lightly around Sam's neck and chuckled again before he pulled on it, making Sam jump from surprise and let out a shrill scream of pain.
"Ah!" Sam coughed as Dean continued to strangle him with the chain. "S-Stop!"
Dean, still enjoying this, pulled on the chain a little harder, smiling as he heard the sounds of Sam struggling to gasp for air. Tears were running down Sam's cheeks and that's when Dean finally let go of the chain. Sam gasped deeply and coughed as his lungs and throat burned. He glanced up at his brother as he watched him dig in his pocket for something.
Dean reached in his leather coat pocket for something and he smiled when he felt it. He took out a sharp, metal needle. Dean brought the needle down against Sam's chest, but before doing it, he wiped his hand against the sweaty skin. Dean chastised his little brother. "Sammy, why are you so sweaty?" he asked. Sam breathed in heavily, making his chest rise.
"You make me nervous . . . and scared . . ." he uttered out, breathless. Dean grinned.
"Good." Dean brought the needle down again and pressed it in and started to drag it along Sam's skin. Sam cringed and let out a low groan as pain filled him.
"D-Dean!" he droned out. "Please stop!" he screamed. Dean was dragging the needle up and down Sam's chest and he didn't know if Dean was doodling or writing something. Dean then took out his phone, not before wiping his bloody hands on Sam's hoodie, and then took a picture of Sam's chest. Dean turned the phone and lowered it over Sam's face so he could see. "'YOU'RE MINE, SAMMY,'" Sam repeated as he read the writing off the picture that was supposedly on his now bloody and skinned chest. Another tear fell from his hazel eyes.
"Dean . . . I-I think I got that message long ago," he whispered dryly. Dean snickered at him.
"Really? Did it now? Oh, you little bitch," he said. Dean finally got off of his brother, but he didn't plan on removing the binds just yet. He left the room to go fetch himself another beer.
Sam lay there on his bed once again, bleeding madly. He allowed himself to tear up like he always has ever since Dean became this way. It was no use in reaching out to make Dean come to his senses. Even their dad can't do anything to stop it. Sam looked at his bedroom door that was slightly open when Dean had left the room. He caught a glimpse of his dad and that's when John Winchester looked right back at his youngest son.
"Dad!" Sam called desperately. "Dad!" he struggled once again but the binds wouldn't let up. He looked back into the door crack to see his father's face.
John looked back at his son and couldn't help but regret ignoring him, again. He took his beer and walked slowly back to his room.
"Dad!" Sam cried. Sam hiccupped from the pain and his crying. "Dad!" he whimpered. "Dean! Let me go!" Sam kicked at nothing as he tried to get off the bed. Without even noticing, he felt a sharp sting across his stomach. He opened his teary eyes to stare up at Dean who had a whip in his hand.
"Hm, I guess that wasn't hard enough," Dean mumbled. Dean pulled back the whip and let it crack. Sam let out a painful scream as his back arched in pain. Sam cried loudly as he continued to get whipped.
"Dean!" he tried to reason with him. "Please stop! Please stop, Dean!" Dean paused in his beating and stared Sam straight in the eye.
"You killed my mother," he said, before giving Sam another slash, hot and hard as the sun's rays.
I hope you guys enjoyed this new chapter of "Distant Soldier!" Please review, favorite, and follow! Feel free to review and tell me if you have any other ideas of "Distant Dean."