Okay, first off, let me say a massive thank you to all of you who read and reviewed the last chapter, your support means so much to me!
I know it's been ages since I've updated this but I've been super busy, especially with other fics on here, and with college, so I apologise for that. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
Thank you for reading!
Men Don't Cry, They Bleed
Chapter Four: When Dark Secrets Come To Light
Sam stood and watched his brother. After a long and uncomfortable moment which had seemed to last forever, Dean had finally torn his eyes away from his Sam's face. The frown of concern faded slightly as he looked back to the young girl in his arms, replaced by a warm and affectionate smile. There was no denying the love there that Sam saw in his brother's eyes towards his daughter, and he wished to god that the two of them were able to spend more time together, he really did. But that didn't change anything. Dean couldn't be there. He just couldn't.
"Look," Sam sighed, reluctant. "I should get her to bed." he said, gesturing to Leah.
Dean frowned a little, suspicious, but who was he to argue? It wasn't his kid, he didn't know what time they put her to bed. But, in the back of his mind, he knew it was more a case of Sam wanted him gone than he needed to put his daughter to bed. He was going to leave it, not say a word about anything else until Sam returned, but it was as he reached out for Leah that Dean noticed his forearm. It was burned in several places, as though it had been pressed on with burning metal.
"What happened there?" he asked, nonchalant, but there was a note of accusation in his tone.
Sam looked up at him, confused, and followed his eyes down to the spot on his arm. "Oh," Sam immediately pulled Leah from him, just so he was no longer showing his arm, and shook his head. "It's nothing."
Dean frowned and grabbed a firm hold of his arm to take a better look. "Sam, that is not nothing." A swarm of thoughts hit him all at once. What if something had found him there? What if he had been attacked by something? Had he needed to take care of a hunt himself? Why hadn't he called? Dean was sure he would have called. Or, would he? With the behaviour he had seen in him that day, he wasn't too sure. He wanted to think that it had been an accident, but he could see with the way it was positioned, with the undeniable accuracy of it, there was no way it had gotten there by accident. And then an even more sickening thought hit him. "Did you do this?" he asked, tentative. It wasn't something he ever wanted to think about.
Sam shook his head slowly, forceably pulling back his arm from Dean's grasp. "No." he replied bluntly. "I didn't."
"No?" Dean repeated, skeptical. He didn't buy it. Something was going on there. He couldn't understand what could really be so bad that his own brother wouldn't trust him with it. "Then what—" But Dean stopped, and it all seemed to hit him at once. He looked down at his arm, no longer able to see the marks, and then to his split lip. Dean still didn't buy the, quite frankly, pathetic excuse Sam had given him that morning. Something was wrong in that house. No matter what Sam said, he could read him like a book. The look in his eyes didn't lie. "She did this?" Sam looked down, almost in shame, and that confirmed everything. Sam couldn't lie to him. He never had been able to. "Jesus, Sam, what the hell did you do to piss her off enough for her to do that?" And then something else hit him, even harder than the first time, like a punch right to the face. "Did you do something?" he asked, apprehensive. "I mean, she didn't just...did she?"
Sam sighed, his eyes fixed to the floor at their feet. He couldn't even face him. "Dean," he sighed, shaking his head. He didn't know what to say.
"Sam, what the hell is going on?" he urged, pleading for an explanation. "Is she hurting you? I mean," Dean paused and pulled a hand through his hair. "Jesus, Sammy."
Dean knew that his brother could kill absolutely anything that stood in front of him. He had the ability to slaughter anything that crossed him. And Dean had seen him use that ability. He had saved both their asses with it. But whether he would always choose to use it was another question. His brother had a heart, he had a soul, and he had morals. No matter what the circumstances, Sam wouldn't beat a women. Dean knew that. No matter what she had done to him, he just wouldn't let himself go there. He wouldn't fight back against someone half his size and weight. He just wouldn't. He wouldn't hit someone that he loved. Or, he thought he loved.
But that was Sam, not him.
Dean had zero problem taking down anyone or anything that so much as thought about laying a hand to his brother. He just didn't care. Not when it came to Sam. Man or woman, demon or ghost, werewolf or vampire—he would take them all out, no question and no hesitation. It was black and white, someone either hurt Sam or they didn't, there was no justification, ever. And, to anyone who did hurt his brother, well, that was pretty black and white, too. They harmed Sam, they paid for it. No excuses, no explanations and no exceptions.
"Sammy," Dean looked at him, finally finding his eyes. "What the hell is she doing to you?"
Sam shrugged, defeated. "It doesn't matter." he muttered.
Dean looked positively horrified at the thought. "How the hell can you say that it doesn't matter?" His voice rose a little at the words, and Sam grimaced at the sound.
Dean didn't understand, but, to him, it didn't matter anymore. At least, not the physical side of it. Because, it wasn't even that she was violent, truthfully, that wasn't the worst part of it. Sam could take a beating better than most people, hell, he had taken the worst beatings imaginable while he had been on the road with Dean all those years. He'd been beaten, tortured, burned, bruised, stabbed, shot—everything. But with her, things were different. The one thing that got him more than anything else was the control. She needed to be in control, she craved it. She needed to manipulate him, she had to make him believe that she was the one who called the shots. And she had. Over time, Sam had come to accept that as the norm.
His eyes fell to the floor, he didn't know what to say to him. "I need to put Leah to bed." he mumbled, quickly exiting the room and leaving his brother there to watch after them.
Dean didn't know what to do. A part of him wanted to follow his brother straight up those stairs and demand some answers from him, but he was probably right in his thinking, they couldn't have a conversation like the one they had coming with Leah in the room. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. He dropped down to sit on the couch with his head in his hands, giving a long sigh. Whatever he had been expecting, however bad he could've imagined it to be, he would never have thought of this. Ever. Out of all the things in the world that could have gone wrong there he never could have pictured that. It wasn't fair.
Sam had been through enough. He had dealt with enough evil in his life, he had taken enough beatings, he had seen enough pain. He didn't need this. He didn't deserve this. Dean just couldn't wrap his head around it. He couldn't understand why Sam was still there. He didn't get why he hadn't took Leah and walked away. Why hadn't he called the cops? Why hadn't he done something? But, one thing more than all that was bothering him. Why hadn't Sam called him? They were brothers, they were supposed to call each other when things got rough, they were always supposed to be there for each other, to have each other's backs. And it killed him to think that he hadn't been around to help him.
The sound of Sam's footsteps descending the stairs pulled Dean back into reality, and he pushed himself to stand, waiting. His steps were hesitant, to the degree that his brother picked up on it. He clearly wasn't ready for the conversation he knew he had coming when he reached the bottom. But the face he found waiting in the living room wasn't one he had expected. In truth, he had been prepared to see Dean standing with his arms folded, or hands on his hips, an impatient frown, accusing stare, something. But it was the opposite. His hands hung loosely at is sides, his face was soft, reassuring, his eyes pleading with him to let him in.
"Sammy," Dean spoke softly. "Please, man...talk to me."
Sam gave a short sigh, defeated. There was no point in lying. Dean wouldn't leave until he knew the truth, and it was either going to come from him or his brother would make all the assumptions himself. Maybe the faster he got it all out, the faster he would leave. Maybe he would let it go. "You know what," Sam begun, his voice quiet, tired. "At the start, it didn't even seem that bad. Maybe I thought she was just a little protective...I don't know anymore." He gave a lame shrug and shook his head as he thought about it. There was no point trying to justify anything she had done to his brother, Dean had made up his mind about her the second he had discovered what she had done. Nothing was going to change that now.
"What did she do?" Dean asked, voice strained as he fought to keep calm. Sam could see him making an attempt to hear him out, not to jump to any conclusions, but that was easier said than done.
"Started small, I guess." Sam said. Dean noticed that he didn't sound upset, or hurt, or anything. His brother sounded numb. "She used to get pissed if I'd go out somewhere, or if I'd be home late from work. She'd go crazy if I so much as talked to another woman, I mean, she'd tell me she'd hit them if she ever saw them near the house, no matter who they were. In a way, she kinda pushed the friends I had away from me. I barely see them now." A look of realisation washed over his face as he really thought about what he was saying. "I didn't even notice how far it'd gotten."
"Sammy," Dean sighed, his voice thick with emotion. He opened and closed his mouth but no words came out. He didn't know what to say.
"It's fine, Dean." Sam muttered. He could see him struggling for an answer, and that was fine, he didn't have to say anything. He knew what he must sound like to his brother.
"No, Sam, it's not fine." he snapped, and then he lowered his voice. He couldn't get angry, he couldn't. "You made sure she's not, you know...possessed...right? Nothing like that?"
Sam scoffed, bitter. "I wish this were as simple as demons." he grumbled.
Dean closed his eyes for a moment, thinking through his next comment. He knew his brother wasn't going to like it, but it had to be said. "Sammy," he said softly. "You've gotta leave her, man."
"No." He shook his head. "I can't."
"Sam, buddy, think of Leah," he urged, pleading to get through to him. "If you don't get out for yourself then get your daughter the hell away from her."
"Dean," Sam sighed. His brother didn't understand. He didn't get that it wasn't that simple. He looked up and found his eyes, and that was when Dean saw how truly hurt he was. "If I take Leah, she's gonna tell everyone that I hit her."
"What?" Dean looked horrified, speechless, outraged. "She can't do that."
"She told me. I mean, look at me, Dean, who are they gonna believe?" Dean looked away for a moment. "Me or her?"
"Sammy," Dean pulled a hand down his face, trying to gather his thoughts. "I know you, alright? You're not capable of something like that. She can't."
"You don't get it, Dean." Sam shook his head. "It doesn't matter. If she goes through with it, if she tells the cops I hit her, I'll end up in jail. I'll never see Leah again. I can't risk it."
Dean sighed. "Then what, huh?" he pressed. "Because you can't go on like this."
Sam sighed heavily, shaking his head. He dropped down to sit on the couch, defeated. "Moving here, it was supposed to be a fresh start for us." He looked down at his hands, refusing to face his brother. "But nothing changed."
"Nothing changed?" Dean repeated, eyebrows raised. "Sam, how long has this been going on?"
Sam shrugged. "Since before Leah was born, I don't know. It stopped a little while she was pregnant, and I thought, you know, things were going to be different, so we got married, she had the baby and then..." he trailed off.
He didn't have to finish for Dean to work out the end of his sentence. "Man, why didn't you tell me?" he pleaded with him for answers. "Why didn't you call me?"
"There was nothing you could do." Sam muttered. "Besides, what would I even say? 'Hey, Dean, how are you doing, by the way I'm being hit around by a chick half my size.'" He spoke sarcastically, as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world.
"Yes." Dean snapped, frustrated. "You call me and you tell me that you're being abused by a friggin' psychopath."
That statement hit Sam like a slap to the face. He had never thought of it like that. He had never associated that word with his marriage before. Abuse. It didn't feel real. But, hearing it from Dean, it made him think. Was it really abuse? Domestic abuse. That was something that only happened to women, small and fragile women who couldn't defend themselves against their aggressive husbands. Wasn't it? Or was domestic abuse really about power? Because she sure as hell had power over him. She held more power over him than anyone else ever had. And he hadn't ever questioned it. He had never thought of it as being abuse. But now, with the word coming from his brother, things seemed to make a lot more sense.
In a way it had put his situation into perspective for him. He was bringing up his child in a house of violence, abuse and fear. But what could he really do? How was he supposed to leave? He couldn't. He had been over it a million times in his own head, he was trapped there. He didn't know what to do.
"Leah needs a Mom." he said quietly. "I can't do it on my own, Dean."
"Sammy—" Dean went to argue, but Sam wouldn't have it.
"We grew up without a Mom, you know how hard it was. I mean, I wish to god that I'd known her, but by the time I was six months old she was gone." He shook his head regretfully. "I can't do the same thing to Leah. It isn't fair."
The mention of their mother made Dean tense, the fact that Sam had never known her wasn't something he ever liked to think about. "Sam, this is different." he told him simply, but his brother didn't look convinced. "Listen to me, Chloe is nothing like our Mom. Our Mom loved you, Sam. Believe me on that. Can you really say the same about Chloe?" Sam looked down, because he didn't know. He really didn't know. "Leah having one good parent is way better than her having two parents in the kind of screwed up marriage that you and Chloe have. Trust me."
Dean could see it in his brother's face. He was so mentally ground to her, she had beaten him to the point he was in complete submission to everything she said. He had accepted her beatings and abuse and manipulation as the norm. He didn't know what her reasoning behind it was, sometimes it could be the smallest thing. It no longer mattered. And when it wasn't physical, it was emotional. There was no longer a light at the end of the tunnel for him. As far as he were concerned, he was trapped there.
"Sammy, whatever this is, whatever's happening here, you need to get yourself out, before it goes too far, alright?" Slowly, he moved to crouch down in front of him, looking up at him seriously. "Please, Sam. I'm your brother, and I'm begging you here, leave her." Sam looked down and found his eyes, shining with emotion. "Think of your daughter. She needs you, she needs her dad, a responsible parent. Not someone who's gonna give her a black eye when she's having a bad day." Those words struck him, and Dean could see the horror in his face at the thought. "Does she hurt the kid?" he added as an after thought. He hadn't even thought about that. If the word yes passed his lips, that was it, Dean was out the door to find her. He would rip her apart with his bare hands. Hell, he felt as though he could do that anyway. He didn't know what the hell he would do to her when he did see her, he didn't like to think about how dark he could go.
"No," Sam shook his head. "Not yet. But you're right, she'll turn." He knew, she was getting worse around Leah. He had seen that earlier when he had gotten home. She no longer tried to hide the fighting from her, she would happily hit Sam in front of their daughter. How was he supposed to know where she'd draw the line? Or if she would draw the line at all? He couldn't take the chance. "I know she'll turn." he whispered. "I'm not going to let her hurt my daughter. I can't."
Dean shook his head. "And I'm not gonna let her hurt my brother, okay?" Sam nodded slowly. "Don't worry about it, Sammy. I'm here now, we're gonna fix this. You've got my word."
But Sam didn't have a chance to reply to him before they heard the sound of the front door being opened.
And that's when Dean's face went dark.
Ahhhh, hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm already half way through the next one (which I think will be the last), and I have a very strong feeling that a few of you are going to hate me for it ;-)
The next update should probably be between next weekend and the first half of the week, fingers crossed. Thank you so much for reading, and don't forget to review! :-)