My First Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me
Sam ignored every call of his name. He didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to see his face. There was nothing he wanted to talk about right now. When was Dean going to get that through his thick skull? Sam was here temporarily. He had no intentions of over staying his welcome here.
He made it as far as the stairs before Dean forcefully turned him and dug his fingers into the brunette's shoulders.
Enough was enough. Sam was going to listen to him whether he liked to or not. Whether he wanted to say anything, he had no choice. Dean was going to beat it out of the guy if he had to. This was ridiculous.
They were brothers, not enemies.
Sam glared harshly at his brother, not appreciating Dean's fingertips forming bruises on his shoulders. He tried to pry away, but Dean held him in place. When Sam attempted to kick his shin, Dean dodged and slammed him up against the wall.
The younger man released a groan of pain, instantly reaching for the blonde's wrists to pull Dean's hands off him.
"Sam, would you stop struggling and being a bitch for two minutes so we can talk, please?"
He felt odd that Dean was asking him nicely, considering the position they were currently in.
Sam only glared harder in response, his breaths coming out faster. He stopped trying to get out of the grip, though—much to Dean's happiness.
When he was sure that Sam wasn't going to make a run for it, he loosened his grip, let go and directed Sam to the sofa. The larger man took a seat, his eyes mistrustful. Dean fell on to the sofa, releasing a pent-up sigh.
"I know you have questions, Sam—things you want to ask me about that night."
Sam's eyes widened, in intrigue and apprehension. For the first time in a long time, he finally felt like he was going to get what he wanted—a reason for Dean leaving all those years ago.
This was his chance, and he would not let Dean stop there.
Dean dragged a hand down his face. "As cliché as it sounds right now, it wasn't your fault. I want you to know that. I left for me. Not because of you or Dad. I had to get out of there, Sam. You have to understand that!" He felt on edge just thinking about that day.
What the hell did Dean mean by that? They were all fine a few days before he left them! Everything was great. They'd go to the theater. They'd watch funny videos online together. They'd even do their homework—Sam helping Dean on a few things that he got stuck on. It should have been the other way around, but Sam had more of a knack for the academic side, while Dean was better at sports and such other things.
It didn't make any sense.
Everything had been perfect. Dean was perfect.
They were perfect.