A/N:
Hey pals! This is going to be probably another short chapter, but I think you've come to expect that by now, haha. We will be taking a peek into Dean's dark past, and this chapter will be a bit disturbing so if you don't feel comfortable with that, skip ahead. Also thank you to the ever awesome LyricReilly for the review! :)
Chapter 10:
August 1999
"Goodnight, baby" Dean's mother, Mary, said sweetly before laying a sweet kiss upon his forehead.
"I don't wanna go to sleep, mommy" an obviously over tired Dean whined.
"Come on, sweetheart. You have a big day tomorrow. Me and daddy are going to take you to the beach, remember?"
"And Sammy too?"
"Of course, honey."
"Wanna say night night to daddy" Dean said, pouting.
"Daddy is at work, baby. I promise when you wake up he'll be home, and you can smother him with all the hugs and kisses you wish" Mary smiled, stroking his hair gently.
"Okay mommy."
"I love you, baby. Mommy will see you in the morning."
"Okay mommy. Love you" Dean mumbled sleepily, closing his eyes.
Mary smiled to herself, turning Dean's night light on before laying a kiss into Dean's hair, standing up making sure to leave his door open a crack before she headed to bed herself. John, Sam and Dean's dad was due home at midnight. It was only 8, but Mary wanted to be well rested for their family day the next day.
Dean shot up after hearing a loud scream. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked around his room.
"Mommy?" he called out. He heard a smash, the sound of something shattering, trying to call for his mom again.
"Mommy?!"
Mary always showed up when he called her, but all he could hear is crying and the occaisonal grunt of pain.
Dean got out of his bed, taking his favorite teddy bear with him. He tiptoed down the hall, opening his parent's bedroom door.
"Mommy?" he said quietly.
"Dean! Baby! Go get Sammy and get out of the house!" She said frantically.
"Mommy your bleeding!" He said, shocked. There was blood coming from her nose, and three bright red patches of red decorating her white nightgown. She was laying on the bed, holding one of the bleeding wounds on her stomach. Standing above her was a large, scary looking man dressed all in black. He was holding one of his mommy's kitchen knives in his hand.
"You hurt my mommy!" Dean yelled, running toward the man, punching his legs.
"Dean no!" Mary yelled out.
"Get off of me you stupid little shit!" The man yelled, kicking Dean in the stomach, sending him sliding across the room.
"DEAN!" Mary yelled, now crying hysterically.
Dean started crying, holding on to his stomach. The man walked over to Dean, grabbing him by the collar of his cowboy pajamas, pulling him up. Dean whimpered, trying in all his might to wiggle free.
"Wanna see mommy?" The man asked, staring manically at Dean.
Dean nodded frantically, sobbing. The man picked Dean up, throwing him on the bed with his bloodied mother.
"Mommy!" he cried, crawling over to her. He wrapped his little arms around her neck, crying.
"It's okay mommy, I'll save you! Just like Batman!" Dean was going through a superhero phase, he was convinced the majority of the time that he was Batman, often "saving the day" by bringing his crying baby brother his soother, or picking something up off the floor that his parents dropped.
"Sorry kid, nobody is saving mommy tonight" the scary man said, his voice gruff.
"NO!" he screamed as the knife plunged into his mother's stomach a fourth time. Only the man didn't stop there, he continued plunging the knife in and out of his mother's stomach, until her nightgown was completely stained red, her body still.
The scary man smiled down at Dean, who was shaking his Mary's arm.
"Bath time, little man!" He exclaimed a little too enthusiastically.
"Don't touch my mommy!" Dean yelled, his face covered in his mom's blood, his tears and his snot. He sat and watched as the man picked Mary up, bringing her into the ensuite bathroom, setting her in the bathtub before putting the plug in. Dean saw him take the knife, and cut some random spots on his mother's body, which turned out to be her wrists, her carotid artery, and her femoral artery with the intentions of bleeding her out.
He returned the the bedroom, pulling a roll of tape out of the bag he brought with him, binding Dean's hands and feet, picking him up and placing him in the bathtub along with Mary. The man smiled to himself, looking at a inconsolable Dean.
"I want my mommy!" He cried
"Mommy is dead, little man. And this was fun but I got to go. But I'll be back for you" the man taunted, before leaving Dean to sit in the tub with his dead mother, her blood slowly starting to fill the tub.
oOo
John pulled his '67 Chevy Impala into the driveway of the home he shared with his family. It had been a long day, but he was excited to snuggle into bed next to his wife. They had been promising Dean all week that they would take him to the beach, and he knew Dean was over the moon. He smiled thinking about Dean running into their room in the morning, waking them up by jumping on the bed, asking them if it was time to go yet.
He killed the engine and headed to the house, kicking his boots off as he stepped in, closing the door quietly. He furrowed his brow as he heard the loud shrill of Sam's cries. It wasn't unlike Sam to wake up in the middle of the night for a cuddle or a bottle, but normally he would hear Mary's soft voice singing to him to calm him down. He walked up the stairs, taking note of Dean's open door, and the light on in his own bedroom.
"strange" he thought to himself, walking into Sam's room. Sam was flailing is arms around, crying. John leaned over the crib, picking him up.
"What's wrong, buddy?" John said softly. "It's okay, daddy's here"
He rocked baby Sam back to sleep, carefully placing him back in his crib.
He sighed to himself, peaking into Dean's room after leaving Sam's.
He felt his heart stop when Dean wasn't in his bed, but rationalized with himself, telling himself that Dean probably just had a nightmare and went to crawl into bed with his wife.
He padded down the hall to his room, opening the door.
"Hey, Mary? I'm home, baby" He said, his breath catching in his throat when he took in the scene before him. He felt panic bubble in his chest as he stared at the blood soaked sheets of his bed, taking note of Dean's favorite teddy bear discarded in the corner.
"Oh, God! Mary! Dean!" He called out frantically.
"Daddy! Daddy!" He heard Dean's little voice call out from the bathroom. He quickly ran to the bathroom, opening the door with force. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
"Dean! Mary!" He yelled, rushing over to the bathtub. Mary's skin was white, her lips forming a blue tinge to them. On the opposite side of the bathtub was Dean, who's face was puffy and swollen from his non stop crying. John checked Mary's pulse though he knew it was useless. He turned his attention to Dean, who was waist deep in his mother's blood. John pulled him out, fighting the urge to vomit. He noticed Dean's hands and feet were bound, and he let out a cry.
"Oh, Dean" he sobbed, holding Dean close.
"Daddy, mommy won't wake up!" Dean said, hiccuping.
John just cried harder, reaching onto the counter, grabbing a pair of scissors, cutting the tape that bound Dean, before standing up on wobbly legs, taking Dean away from the bathroom.
"No! Daddy, we have to get mommy!" Dean protested.
"Mommy is gone, Dean" John said, tears streaming down his cheeks. He went into Sam's room, taking him from the crib, holding Dean in one arm and Sam in the other. When he brought them downstairs, he called 911 and took them to wait outside. "I want mommy" Dean sobbed. He didn't know that was the last time he would ever see his mother. He was only 4 at the time.
oOo
The following years after his mother's brutal murder were rough. The murderer was never found, and while John tried his hardest to keep it together for the sake of his boys, his mental state was slowly deteriorating.
Dean on the other hand suffered from terrible night terrors. He was so young when it happened, but he could remember it vividly. It was such an extreme act of violence, something straight out of a horror movie. By the time he was 8, he simply chose to shut the memory out. John was only home 2 or 3 times out of the week, and he had the roll of making sure his brother was okay. Dean used to be a sweet, caring young boy. He loved everything and everyone. He was full of wonder and curiosity but these days he was just a shell of his former self. He found himself feeling hatred for his father. He constantly got in trouble in school. He always felt angry. The only person he never lost his temper with was Sam. Sam was innocent and pure and as far as Dean was concerned, Sam was his. His responsibility. He wished he could be Sam's dad instead of John.
Dean was 9 when he got into his first fight. It was at the playground. John had been absent for 3 days and he decided to take a 5 year old Sam to the park to have some fun. He sat on the grass and watched as Sam happily ran around, eagerly sliding down the slide and climbing on anything he could get his hands on. Dean wished he felt the urge to play. He was only 9. He should be running around with Sam, playing with the other kids his age who were running around playing tag. But truth be told, he didn't have an desire. He felt disgusted at the kids his age. He leaned back on his hands, watching Sam like a hawk when a kid, probably around 10, approached him.
"Hi, my name is Tyler. Want to play tag with us?" He asked Dean.
"No." Dean said simply.
"Are you sure? You look lonely"
"I don't want friends" He replied impassively.
Before the boy could reply, another boy ran up to them. He looked a little older, probably around 12, and if Dean had to guess, he would say he was Tyler's older brother.
"He doesn't wanna play" Tyler told his brother.
"Why? Are you scared?" the older boy mocked.
Dean ignored him, not bothering to look at him, still watching Sam.
"You're weird" the older boy continued.
"Go away" Dean said simply.
"No. Make me. You chicken."
Something in Dean snapped as he rose to his feet and shoved the other boy, who shoved Dean back. Dean lost all rational thinking after than and tackled the other boy to the ground, throwing uncoordinated punches at the boy's face.
"Hey, get off of him you bully!" Tyler yelled, trying to pull Dean off. When Dean didn't budge, he felt a stronger pair of hands pull him off, and onto his feet.
"Get the hell off my son you monster!" A woman yelled, pulling her son up and into her arms.
"Sammy, let's go!" Dean yelled to his brother, who ran over to him.
"But I was having fun, Dean!" Sam whined.
"Where is your mother, young man! I would like to have a word with her!" the other boys mother demanded at Dean.
Dean just shrugged and took Sam's hand.
"My mother is dead." He said simply, starting to walk off with Sam.
As they were walking home, a small smile played on his lips. He felt a release he hadn't felt in years. It made him feel powerful. It made him feel good.
oOo
After that first fight, Dean made it his mission to start a fight whenever he had the chance. It got so bad that he ended up getting expelled from his elementary school. When the school had contacted John and failed to get a hold of him, they had called in a social worker.
Dean knew enough about social workers to know that it wasn't good. If they knew about John they would take him and Sam away. They might be separated into different homes.
That is when he found out how easy it was to manipulate the people around him. When the social worker came by he managed to convince her that his dad was simply out of town for the day, and was due to come home that night. He fed her some lies about how big of a help his dad has been in his healing from his mother's death, and told her that he only got into fights because the other kids made fun of him for not having a mom. He even made a point to force himself to cry, telling her that he would be lost without his dad and brother. She took sympathy on him, and left him to take care of Sam.
oOo
Dean was 13 when he discovered his sexuality. More importantly, he was 13 when he discovered the arousal that inflicting pain on others caused. It was the day he lost his virginity. For a 13 year old, he was already popular with the girls. He knew from watching movies that you had to be nice to a girl to get them to like you. There was a 15 year old girl in his neighborhood, Rachael, who he wanted to "date". He didn't know much about relationships, but he knew he liked kissing her and he knew he didn't want any other boy to kiss her. They had been seeing eachother for a couple of months, always meeting up to makeout in the woods or the local park or wherever they could.
Then one day that changed. She told Dean she wanted to try to have sex. Dean, being a hormonal teenaged boy had no objections, but when they tried to get intimate, nothing happened. Dean couldn't get hard. She was a virgin also, so she warned Dean not to hurt her. Dean had seen porn before, and when he couldn't get hard from her touches, he tried to finger her. He went a little too rough and she cried out in pain, and when that happened, Dean's cock gave an interesting twitch. He repeated the motion and he felt himself getting hard. It wasn't long before he finally threw his virginity away, not caring that he was going too fast for the virginal girl. He found himself lost in the pleasure, and when she told him to pull out before he came, he did, and when he saw the blood on his cock from her broken hymen he came hard.
It was that moment when he knew he liked to inflict pain. It was nice. It made him feel sooo good. He liked to watch people bleed. He assumed his sick obsession with blood had to do with this mother's bloody death but he couldn't bring himself to care. It made him feel good and that's all that mattered.
oOo
When Sam was 12 and Dean was 16, Sam had tried convincing Dean to see a therapist. Dean had confided in Sam telling him he didn't feel anything. He just didn't give a shit about anything or anybody. A few months previous, him and Sam were walking to a diner to get some food when a drunk person stepped in front of a bus, killing him instantly, and since Sam and Dean were standing on the curb, waiting to cross the street, his blood had splattered all over them. He could hear Sam screaming along with the other passer-bys the witnessed the accident. But Dean, he just stood there. He looked down at his now blood speckled hands and simply wiped them on his pants. Sam hand clung on to him, crying his eyes out, and Dean just stood there. Not hugging Sam back. Not backing away from the curb. Not freaking out. He just stood there, an emotionless expression gracing his face. It was then when he knew he didn't feel what normal people should be feeling. The accident had fascinated him. He found himself wondering what the other man's remains looked like. He knew it was sick, but he didn't feel sick by thinking it.
After much begging Dean decided to try his luck with a therapist. After a long, pointless conversation, she told him his behavior was not typical. She told him that it raised a lot of red flags and that he might benefit from being placed into a home for mentally troubled youth.
When he returned home that day, he felt annoyed. Who did that bitch think she was? There was no way he was going to be sent to a home. He needed to watch out for Sammy.
Later that day he and Sam headed to the library. While Sam was off reading some books, Dean had searched the internet on how to act normal. If he felt this way inside, he couldn't let it show. He needed to put up a front. And that is when his charming persona was born. He got a bunch of helpful tips online on how to act, and act he did. From that day on nobody questioned his personality or demeanor. The only person who could see through it was Sam, who chose not to say anything.
oOo
The day he turned 18, John had come home drunk off his ass. He came in and started yelling at Sam about something, and Dean felt an urge to go into the kitchen, grab a knife, and stab his father to death. He knew he couldn't stay there anymore. He went upstairs and packed himself a bag of belongings, sauntering off to Sam's room to do the same. He snuck into his father's room and dug into John's alcohol money stash. There was 456 dollars in there, and Dean pocketed it.
When John stumbled upstairs and passed out, Dean threw a bag to Sam, picking up the Impala's keys.
"Get your coat on, we're getting out of here." Dead said impassively.
Sam knew better than to question him, so he just grabbed his jacket and nodded.
"Where are we going?" He asked.
"Away. Far away" Dean replied, jotting a quick note down for his dad, leaving it on the dinner table.
"Let's go"
When John woke up he stumbled downstairs and into the kitchen to grab a beer. He eyed the note on the table, reading it before crumpling it up and whipping it against the wall.
Dad.
We're leaving. And we're not coming back.
Sam doesn't deserve your shit. Don't come looking for us.
I'll take care of him.
If you look for us, I'll tell the cops how you raised us and you can sit in jail for child endagerment and neglect.
Bye.
Dean and Sam.
oOo
A/N:
Ok so that was just a little peek into Dean's terrible past. It could have been better written but hey.
Anyway, reviews make for a happy writer so don't be shy!
:)