/I am so sorry for taking a billion years with this but school was a priority unfortunately. But now that's over I can do more writing. Yay. Hope you like it. The feels.../
Dean cleared his throat, catching Sam's attention. "I uh…" His brain couldn't produce any reasonable explanation or any explanation at all. Dean stared at him patiently waiting for an answer as Sam's mouth opened and close like a fish. Dean put his head in his hand, leaning against the table. "H-How much do you know?..." Sam leant back trying to avoid his answer and trying to find out how the hell he got home.
His older brother seemed pretty surprised by this retort. "What I know?" Dean scoffed, Sam watched him close his sketch pad and pushed his things to the side leaning forward. "I remember you were acting funny all night. Went you for one your 'soul walks'. You came back like two hours later. And when you did come back, you ignored mum straight out, ran up to your room and locked the damn door so I couldn't give you a piece of my mind for treating mum like that!"
Dean's voice got louder and harsher as he went on, raising for the chair leaning closer to Sam. Who was currently feeling his stomach drop with each tough word left Dean's mouth. He flinched with every movement Dean made, regretting this strategy. Sam was pulled out of his thoughts as Dean continued, voice booming throughout the room as harsh green eyes glued to Sam's face.
"What is wrong with you, man? The screaming! The godforsaken crying! Hiding things from us! And now you've gone and hurt mom! Do you not even remember what you did? Are you even listening to me?!" Dean shouted, waving his arms to emphasise his points. Sam bit his lip, nodding slightly as he started blinking back any wetness in his eyes as his brother towered over him from this position. "You come bloody storming in here at God knows what time, acting like someone killed your puppy! Mom comes to ask you what's wrong and you freaking shove you aside! Ignoring every word she says! How dare you!"
Dean grabs the front of Sam's shirt making him look his brother in the eye. What scared Sam the most was when Dean's voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. "You lay a hand on mom like that again. And that door of yours won't keep me from you." Sam's cheeks were now wet as he stared into the green flames in his brother's eyes. He didn't dare say a word in response, as he tried to recover from Dean's speech.
After a moment of staring at each other, Dean calmed down slightly and loosened his grip on the fabric standing up straight. He didn't break the gaze with Sam until he gathered up his things from the table. When he spoke next, his voice was calm and low. "I'm going to my room to paint before I hit something. You will be thinking of a way to make it up to mom. And fast." With that he turned and left Sam alone, still frozen to his chair.
He pulled his legs to his chest and hugged them, letting his tears make his jeans damp as he played Dean's words over and over in his head. Sam's heart was beating so hard and fast he thought he was going to have a heart attack. What the hell happened? This blank memory in his mind was frustrating him and scaring him more than anything. He could hardly breath through his damp jeans and his shaking body. He had no idea what could have possessed him to do that to his own mother. He's never hit anyone before, other than playfully with Dean, let alone shove his own mother. What scared him the most is the blank space where that nightmare of a memory should be. Sam gripped his hair in blind frustration.
What the hell was he supposed to do!...