Here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it. Yes, I'm evil and I love cliffhangers (writing them, not reading them, funnily enough).
Thanks for all the reviews!
The room was pitch black, the only source of light from the door that was illuminated very dimly behind him.
Okay...there's nothing here.
A portion of the room suddenly lit up and Dean felt his heart drop as he recognized the scene.
John and Sam, squaring off for that last fight that would tear their small family apart. Standing toe to toe, glaring up at each other's faces.
He was standing in the background, watching.
Their dad delivered his stupid ultimatum, yelling, "You step out that door, don't you ever come back!"
Sam hesitated, glanced at memory-Dean, who was expressionless.
Real-Dean wasn't sure if it was because it was Sam's memory or if he had just been too distracted during the real fight, but the pain, the heartbreak on Sam's face seemed so visible now.
Finally, memory-Sam turned and walked into the dark.
Six year old Sam, still in Dean's arms, his face buried in Dean's shoulder, gave a soft whimpering sob that had Dean's insides twisting painfully.
Clearly he had underestimated the pain leaving brought to Sam.
He must have known I had his back though...right?
A nasty voice in the back of Dean's mind just had to speak up at that.
How would he? You didn't say anything. Look at his face. Does that look like someone who knows he is loved and wanted?
The lit up portion went dark for a moment, then another section suddenly lit up.
Dean didn't recognize this memory.
Hmm. Must not have been there.
It bothered him to think that in the times Dean had been working, at school, or hunting, Sam could have been suffering.
Memory-Sam, probably 12 years old, was standing before their father, looking worried and embarrassed.
Dean's brow furrowed, his sharp eyes, adept at reading his baby brother, caught the dark fear in memory-Sam's gaze that he was trying so hard not to show on his face.
"You couldn't have possibly acted any worse during this hunt, Samuel! Crap, you almost got Dean killed! Didn't you listen to a single thing I taught you? Dean taught you? You stupid-" and the yelling just went on and on.
Dean frowned. John could be harsh, but this was ridiculous.
Memories of this hunt flashed across Dean's mind. Yeah, he had gotten hurt, but it hadn't been Sam's fault at all. Just chance. It happened.
Did Dad always talk to Sam like this when I wasn't there?
That's when their dad raised his arm and backhanded Sam across the face, hard.
Dean froze, his whole body going stiff, jaw dropping in shock.
No...
The light switched to another portion and John was yelling at Sam once more, but for something else. Sam was probably nine this time. John lashed out again, hitting him even harder than he had in the other memory, actually physically knocking Sam to the ground.
The memories started to flash faster now, all of John hitting Sam over and over, screaming at Sam, arguing with Sam, ignoring Sam, berating Sam. The hitting was hard and violent.
Dean couldn't believe what he was seeing.
How could I have missed this? Oh gosh.
Sam...
Perhaps the worst part was the acceptance on Sam's face.
He isn't fighting. Why isn't he fighting?
That wasn't like the Sam Dean knew at all.
Please dad. Tell me you didn't.
Finally, Dean couldn't take anymore.
The memories seemed to be never-ending, the room flashing over and over with scene after scene of horrible abuse.
A tear fell, tracing its way down his cheek.
How could I have let this happen?
Twisting around, he grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open, slamming it shut behind him. He leaned against it, breathing hard, setting Sam down.
Six year old Sam sank to the floor, tears streaking down his face.
Oh Sammy.
I'm so sorry.