Author Note: Thank you for the reviews, this chapter hopefully will be longer than the first. I also should warn you that this chapter in particular has a depressed Sam, and if cutting, or suicidal thoughts disturb you, don't read.
Roots
Chapter 2: Lydia Mask
Sam's POV
I look out the window at the mountain autumn scenery. If it was blurred, I could have sworn that the forests were ablaze. I continue to build my suspicions about Dean, but still going over the same word: why. Why would he hide whatever it was from his baby brother? Why was he having such an uncharacteristic reaction to the victims being raped? Maybe he was on drugs. He drinks anyways. A new girlfriend? Please, Dean and girlfriend can't go in the same sentence without ex being involved. Was he ga-
I couldn't even finish the mental sentence. I would scare me. A lot. As in a heck of a lot more than clowns. (Yes, I realize I'm twenty-six and terrified of clowns.)
The Impala pulled over by a well-kept stone house. I walk up to the door and raise my hand to knock, but Dean swats it away. I give him a confused and ticked look, but all he does is whisper, "I'm asking the questions."
I scoff, but allow him to knock. I could have sworn I faintly heard him mumble something like, "Find out."
I shake my head, and push the thought to the back of my mind. The door opens, and a sexy blonde stands before us wearing worn out jeans and a red and blue, neon floral patterned shirt. We flash our badges, and Dean asks, "Lydia Mask?"
She nods and says, "Please, come in."
She opens the door and sits on the chair in the small living room. Dean and I sit on the couch, and Dean begins to ask the normal questions, "Mrs. Mask-"
"Lydia," she interrupts.
He nods, "Lydia, we're here to ask you about the day at Deer Springs."
She scoffs and says, "Yeah, and you'll laugh at me like everyone else did."
I shake my head, "We'll believe you, regardless of what you say."
Dean gives me a 'shut up or you'll regret it' look, and continues, "It is important that you tell us."
Lydia sighs and begins, "I was hiking. I used to hike every Saturday by Deer Springs until that day. I had just filled my water bottle, and while I was walking, I saw the spring, and went down to sit by it. I had always sat and thought by the spring, sometimes for hours.
"I heard a crinkling sound and turned to see my husband that died several years before standing by one or the oaks. I knew something was wrong, so I ran, but he caught up. He…" she was obviously on the verge of tears, so I handed her some tissues.
She took them and picked up the story, "Thank you. Anyways, he raped me, and after he was done, I ran."
Dean looked calm and collected, but my mind was spinning on end. She had been raped, but not killed. Why? Why her?
The water!
I quickly asked, "Did you drink the water?"
Dean kicked me, but I saw the color drain from his face. I am going to see what problem is later, but now I knew that he knew what we were up against.
She nodded.
"What the heck?" I ask once we're driving back to the motel.
Dean doesn't respond but keeps his emerald eyes glued to the road. "Dean!" I shout.
He looks at me and says, "What?"
"You know what. I can't ask questions and when I do, you face goes white."
He swallows, "I just…hated that I didn't think about it being the water." I can tell that he's lying through his teeth. He knew it was the water, didn't want me to know about it. I just couldn't understand why he would lie to me. I feel the heat growing in my cheeks, and can see the sheen in my eyes reflected through the window. The tears mocked me, threatening to spill over, and show Dean what a chick his brother is. So what if I'm gay. So what if I get emotional. I can stand pain. It was hardly a year ago when I finally stopped cutting. If Dean ever found out I wouldn't be able to live with it. He would tell me that Winchesters don't hurt or feel. That pain is something I shouldn't bring to myself, monsters would happily do it for me.
If he ever found out I was gay, he wouldn't wait a second to abandon me. I couldn't bare that thought, and the first wave of tears flowed down my cheeks. I glanced at Dean through the corner of my eye and saw that he was focused on the road. I looked out the window and felt relief that we were at the motel. The car hadn't even stopped running when I hopped out of it and opened the door as quickly as possible. As soon the door was unlocked, I made a dash for the bathroom, and slammed the door behind me, praying that Dean thought I had the runs, or something.
I slid to the floor and curled up into a ball. I gushed tears, hugged my knees to my chest. The marble floor was ice cold and it cooled the heat in my cheeks.
Freak. Loser. Chick. Unworthy. Disgusting. Fragile. Broken. So many words Dean could use to describe me raced through my mind, helping the next dam of tears break. Shudders rake my body.
"Sammy, are you okay?" I heard Dean's voice through the door, and the knob turned. I shot my foot out to keep it closed. I had done this several times before. "I'm fine," I say in a perfectly normal voice, "just cramps."
I heard him walk away, and took down the voice act. I began to shudder again, and once I was cried out, I sat up. I pulled one leg up to my chin and stuck the other out. I took in the bathroom and slightly gasped. It was huge! Marble floors, and marble outline and guide around the tub. The tub itself was humongous and black with one big shower head coming from the ceiling. It was controlled by a panel on the wall. The toilet and sink were spotless porcelain, and the walls were blended colors of fire.
I shakily stood. I guess I would take a shower. It would get the puffiness out of my eyes, and would help me relax. I stripped hastily, and stepped into the tub, pulling the curtain with me. I looked at the panel and pushed the screen.
The screen flooded with settings. First, music. I really didn't want to listen to my normal songs, so I made a quick playlist of rock music. Next, scents. It had several different ones, like vanilla, peaches, and mountain air. I knew which one I wanted when my hazel eyes landed on it, pumpkin spice. Dean had a cologne scent called pumpkin spice when we were little. Well, I was nine and he was fourteen. It always reminded me of home and had found a scent collection at Bath and Body Workshop that smelled exactly like it. (I was with Jess at the time. I'm not that gay.) Happy was an understatement.
There was a setting for the water style and heat. I went for ninety-eight degrees and a normal shower setting. I clicked "Start Program", and the tub filled completely through the bottom and the shower kicked on. The extra water flowed through an opening about five inches below the top of the tub. I sunk down into the water, and let the sweet smell of pumpkin spice fill my nostrils.
The steam dazed me, and the hot water from the shower head mutilated my bare chest. Through the crack between the wall and curtain, I could see Dean's razor on the sink. I pushed the thought away. That Sam was still living and breathing inside me but was no longer in control of me.
I no longer lived for pain.
But what do I live for now? I ask myself. I knew the answer. Dean, all I lived for was Dean. He saved me from death once. At that time I didn't care about life though. He hadn't done me a favor. I didn't want to live, but once I realized that he was willing to die for me, I found a new reason to live. Dean.
After that, I stopped cutting. I never stopped having breakdowns. I have one every week or two, and their becoming more and more frequent. I sigh and begin to cry again, the salty taste entering my mouth. I duck my head under the pulsing water, beads of water running down my hair, nose, chin, and long eyelashes, escaping my broken body and dripping back to their home. I envy the water. The little, gleaming drops go everywhere. They witness the best things: weddings, births, life. But they also see the bad; the things I see. Things that most people throw up at the sight of, or only see the PG version of in movies.
I run a scared hand through my now sopping wet hair. My bangs soon fell back over my eyes, covering my biggest flaw. The hazel orbs always give away my feelings. They darken with lust, brighten with eagerness, blue with sadness, green with happiness, and brown with power. But the worst, when I used to cut myself, the overwhelming emotions of hurt and despair, my eyes would turn purple. I still think that the blue mixed with demon red from Yellow Eyes' blood. Just comes to show myself how much more I'm screwed up.
I see a pump sticking out of the wall and look at the panel. After I had started the shower it gave three options: shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. I push shampoo and a check mark appears beside it. I look back at the silver pump and notice the sensor under it. When I put my hand under it, a generous amount of shampoo pours out. I slather the shampoo into my long hair.
Girls always loved my hair. They would always talk about how it gives them something to pull, whereas most other guys' hair is far too short. Of course, Dean always said it made me look even more like a girl.
I stick my head back under the water and let the steaming water rinse my hair. I sigh deeply, and close my eyes. Why do all my thoughts always lead back to Dean? The one person that is never impressed. As much as he would hate to admit it, he acts a lot like Dad. I mean, Dean always tried to impress the guy, and yet, I think he still feels like he failed Dad. It's just another cycle.
I sigh, yet again, and set the panel to conditioner, letting it slide into my hand. I never use conditioner. It was always just extra baggage, and Dean and I split our shampoo, so there was never a real reason to get it. I dunk my head under the water again, and thread my fingers through the silky ribbons. Once I was certain the conditioner was out, I lean back against the tub.
I try to think about the case, but still wonder back to why Dean was hiding whatever it is. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks again. No, and you dare start again! I command myself, but the funny thing about feelings is they take their own route. Dean knew from the beginning that this was a case, but he still tried to make me doubt it. Not letting me ask the questions, because he knew which ones to ask and not ask. I begin to shake my head, shaking and shaking until the tears mix with the flying water droplets soaring off my brown hair.
Once I was so dizzy I thought I would faint, I stop. That still doesn't prevent the shudders from raking my body.
"You're pathetic!" Dean says. "You're not a Winchester! A real Winchester doesn't cut, or have mental breakdowns! You disgust me, Sam. Get out of my sight."
"But Dean, you're my big brother! Please don't leave me! Please!" I beg, tears streaming down my cheeks.
I push the thought away, but it lingers. If he ever found out about those things, he would walk away, and I would die on the inside. I'd become a shell. That is until a demon gets me. Another horrific shudder passes through me.
End of chapter 2
Author Note: I tried to make up for the super short first chapter. I'm not sure how many of you like a broken Sam, but I think it builds to his character. Anyways, chapter 3 is being written.
