Febuwhump Day Nineteen: Black Eye (alternate prompt). Sam tries to keep his abuse hidden from Dean.

Title: Behind Closed Doors

Sam wanted to believe that she hadn't meant to, not really. He was bigger and stronger than her, so it didn't matter if sometimes she got fussy and slapped him around or pinched him. If he were to do it to her, that would be morally reprehensible, but Rhea was a kindhearted person. All the marks she left were impermanent and eventually faded. If anything, he had let her think it was okay by going along with it and never communicating to her it was wrong.

He pretended to himself that it never scared him. After all, what kind of coward would he be if a 120 pound girl intimidated him? But whenever he saw her with a glass plate in her hand, he wanted to duck before it could be flung at his head. The last time it happened, it shattered on his face and a shard cut through his cheekbone so that when Dean asked, he had to tell him that he had slipped and fallen into one of their vases. Dean would never have thought that Sam was letting this happen and the weak lie was not questioned. At the very least, he had that to be grateful for.

"Sam!" a shrill voice sounded from downstairs. A stone dropped in Sam's stomach at the outrage in her voice.

"Yeah," he tried to sound cool as he hopped down the stairs.

She stood with her hands on her hips and glowered at him. "You unplugged my phone."

"It was charged," he ran an anxious hand through his hair.

"You have to ask me before you do stuff like this."

"I didn't think it would bother you."

She stepped closer and pushed him, causing him to nearly trip on the bottom step of the stairs.

"Rhea," he always thought that saying her voice in just the right tone, serious, but empathetic, would bring her back to reality and make her realize she was overreacting, but her glare didn't falter.

"Why are you like this?" she grabbed his arm with both hands and twisted the tan skin, pulling it in two different directions and burning him. He held back a grimace.

"Come on," he said gently, "I'm sorry, okay?"

She seemed to grow irritated with her lack of ability to evoke a response and dropped his arm. She was shorter than him so that she had to reach up to slap him, but even with her petite stature, it still stung like an electric shock. His cheek tingled and he could still feel the imprint of her hand on his face, but he remained steadfast and refused to engage. He wondered if he gave her the reaction she was looking for, she would move on, but he was too proud to do anything more than cringe.

"You're not sorry!" she shoved him and he fell onto the staircase and the steps dug into his back. She perched on top of his stomach and stared at him with fire in her eyes.

"Rhea, you've gotta calm down," the pressure of her weight on his stomach aggravated the bruises there.

She balled her hands into fists and pounded on his chest over and over, punching him as hard as she was capable. He could ask her to stop, but the second he did and she ignored that plea, he would have to admit there was something seriously wrong with their relationship.

"Ugh!" she grunted. He could see she was wearing herself out and she finally stopped and sat there, staring at him until the light of fury in her eyes went out and humanity crept back into them. He smiled gently, ready for her to apologize like she always did after one of their spats, but before he could speak, she raised her first once more and struck him in the face. The shock finally got Sam to release a pained squeak and she grinned with satisfaction as she stood from him.

He waited until she left to pick himself up and carefully touch the forming bruise. She hadn't hit him in the face before, which had made the situation more liveable. He didn't like to lie to his brother and he was lousy at it, considering Dean raised him and could easily recognize all of his tells.

He used the rail to hoist himself up and walked back upstairs to use the spare bathroom to minimize the chance of running into Rhea again.

He stood in front of the sink, momentarily keeping his gaze pointed at the floor, not wanting to see what she had done, but he forced himself to look. His eye was already beginning to swell and turn a shade darker than the rest of his skin. He sighed and lifted his shirt to examine the new bruises there. Huge splotches of blue and black covered his chest with veins spider webbing from them. He counted it as a win since the skin hadn't broken and he didn't have to worry about infection. A couple of punches was nothing compared to the things he had gone through in the past. "Rhea," he grumbled. He was supposed to see Dean today and his nosy brother was bound to inquire about his newly colored eye.

Sometimes he wondered if it was worth it. Others would call it abusive and advise Sam to leave her, but when she wasn't abruptly filled with rage, they got along well. And the times she became violent only lasted a few minutes. It was manageable.

For now, all he could do was avoid irritating Rhea further and attempt to cobble together a lie Dean might believe.

Sam flexed his hands while he waited on the front lawn for Dean to swing by. He heard the engine growl of the Impala before it turned down the street. Dean pulled up beside him and Sam stooped to climb in. "Hey."

"Heya," Dean looked curiously at the black eye and Sam was painfully aware of how much it stood out. He would have preferred if Rhea hit him a hundred more times in the stomach to her hitting him once in the face. "What happened there?"

"Oh, it's dumb. I was trying to fix a shelf and it kinda fell in my face," he laughed, but when he saw the way Dean still looked dubious, it came out forced.

"Okay," Dean apparently decided to let it go and his aura grew lighthearted again, "How's the girlfriend anyways?" he grinned and moved to playfully tap Sam's chest with the back of his hand. Sam instinctively shied away and when the touch collided with his torso, he took in a sharp breath of air through his teeth. "Sam?" Dean frowned at Sam with a look of confused concern on his face.

"Sorry," Sam muttered and straightened himself.

"What the Hell? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just- uh," he searched for a lie, "I fell down at work," the lie may account for the admission of pain, but he couldn't cover up the way he reacted to Dean simply moving towards him.

"You cut your face on glass, you hit your eye on a shelf, you fell down at work. What's going on?"

"I guess I'm clumsy," Sam smiled sheepishly.

"Let me see it."

"See what?"

"You know what," Dean gestured to his chest, "How bad is it?"

Sam didn't move for a moment, but when he could think of no way to worm out of the situation, he decided to plow forward. There was still a chance Dean might not realize it was Rhea. He could say it was someone else, someone at work hurting him, but that was flimsy at best. Sam carefully undid the buttons of his shirt until he reached bottom and spread open the fabric. Dean's eyes widened when he took in the palette of blues, purples, and blacks.

Dean stared at him, stunned. "Who did this?"

Sam covered himself again and began to button his flannel once again. "I don't want you to get upset."

The shock from seeing the bruises was beginning to wear off and Dean launched into a feverish fury. "Who did this to you?" he demanded.

Sam acquiesced, "Rhea gets mad sometimes."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed as he digested the information. "She beats you?"

Sam coughed, choking on a mix of a scoff and nervous laugh. "No, of course not. It was an accident."

"She used you as a punching bag on accident?" Dean was visibly shaking, rage vibrating his hands and heaving his chest.

He knew Dean would react poorly and it was somewhat validating. It was tiring keeping this to himself when he occasionally wanted someone to vent to. "It's not a big deal. You've seen her, she's tiny."

"Actually it's a big fuckin' deal. Do you think I won't kill her 'cause she's a woman? Because I will."

"Alright, alright. Calm down. I told you it's fine."

Dean rubbed his face. "You've lost it. How could you let this happen?"

Sam was hurt by the words. It was exactly as he expected: Dean was disgusted by his display of weakness. Next his brother would order him to get out of the car and not speak to him for three months. "I can put up with it."

"But why?"

Sam wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. "What else am I gonna do?"

"What does that mean?"

"Look, Dean, it's not easy to find someone. You do realize I'm kind of…"

"Kind of what?"

"I'm kind of messed up. I can't afford to be picky and it's not like it's totally unwarranted. I do stuff that bothers her and she tells me and we move on. I mean, I get it."

It clicked in Dean's head. "You think you deserve it?"

Sam shrugged, not daring to speak and take the chance of his voice cracking.

"When did you start thinking this stuff? You're not unlovable, Sam," Dean wasn't rattling with rage anymore. He studied him with sorrowful eyes and guilt washed over Sam.

"You think I'm better than I am," Sam said. Dean saw him through rose colored glasses, the little brother he raised that filled him with pride, but it was what love made him see. In reality, Sam was broken. He never learned how to be a normal person or how to fit in with society. Rhea was only with him because she took pity.

"No. You're a good person. You always have been. You put everyone else before yourself. You never stop trying, even when the world is beating you down. There's no reason to think that you won't find anyone else."

Sam fought back tears. "I don't know."

"Well, I do. Please don't do this, Sammy."

There was a small flicker of belief that Dean was right. It wasn't right for Rhea to do this to him and he only clung to her out of desperation. He hated himself, but he trusted Dean and if he promised Sam wouldn't be alone, it might be true. "I really do love her."

"Love's not enough," Dean let the words settle, "Is she in there right now?"

"No, she went out."

"Get your things."

Sam fidgeted as he considered the request and then slowly reached for the door handle, then paused to look back at Dean, "Thank you."

It was the rescue he had been denying himself. All the lies he told himself were brushed away and beneath the denial, he knew that he needed to put a stop to it, but couldn't do it by himself. Dean was always the one to knock some sense into him and he needed his big brother now as bad as he ever had. At least he wouldn't be alone.