Honestly don't know where this story is going, but going to be planning a kick ass ending. Hopefully..any suggestions/thoughts?
P.s. THANK YOU to; LeighAnnWallace for the idea of Pastor Jim not knowing about the beatings.
Dean marched back into the house, feeling like he had gone 10 rounds with a brick. He looked up to Pastor Jim and had always trusted him with the truth. But Dean had yet to tell Jim about the multiple beatings Dean and Sam would get. All of them, if not, most, had been inflicted when John was drunk.
Dean grimaced, remembering the beatings he went through from Sam. The pain that his father inflicted was unlike any other he'd felt before. His father, without a doubt, never took it easy on Dean. Dean was a big boy and could handle his own.
Dean shook his head, erasing the memory temporarily. He had to be strong for Sam.
He wouldn't tell Jim. He couldn't. He knew Jim would be furious with him, and also question Dean's hesitation to tell him. In all truth, Dean adored his father. He wanted to be like his father. He followed him around when he was little, trying to follow in his father's footsteps. But the beatings were one thing Dean needed to put away in his head. He knew it was the drink, always the drink. Or at least he told himself.
He looked at Sam, who was sleeping at peace. He watched the steady upward and downward motions of his little brothers chest. That's what I live for. That's what I fight for. That's what I have to protect from dad, Dean thought.
He decided he would let Sam sleep, seeing as he was badly beaten, bruised and still, not much, but a few drops of blood escaping Sam's ears. His heart broke at his brother's beaten and broken body. He sighed, trying to stop the light tears threatening to strangle down his face.
He should've been there for Sam, should've protected him. He knew it, and had failed his little Sammy.
He sighed again, pulling off his father's leather jacket. He hung it on the back of the recliner next to the couch that Sam lay on. He took the remote to the television, turning it on. He turned the volume down to where he could barely make out the sound, but he knew Sam needed rest.
He sat himself on the recliner after pulling it closer to the couch, ensuring to keep his brother in his view. He stretched his legs out on the recliner foot rest, untensing and trying to relax. He stared blankly at the television, not paying attention to anything that was being broadcasted.
After five boring minutes, Dean unlatched his eyes to look at his brother. He had never seen Sammy so still. Usually, Sam was tossing and turning every which way. Dean worried that Sam was too still, but quickly pushed the though away. He's breathing and he's safe, Dean thought.
As he look at his brother's sleeping body next to him, Dean started to doze off into a light nap. About 10 minutes later, Dean had finally, for once in a very long time, settled into a deep sleep.
Dean woke groggily to the sound of a door slamming. And before he could register anything else in the room, he was being pulled off the recliner by his white shirt and dragged and slammed against the wall. He was let go, sliding down to the floor, his head having been hit on the wall pretty well.
He looked up, his vision blurry from the slumber he had come to from. He forced his eyes shut and opened them. He saw his father's face contorted with rage and anger, probably the worst he'd ever seen his dad's face.
"You were supposed to protect Sammy!" his father bellowed at him. He then knew that Jim had been forced to tell John. He was angry, but then quickly let it go, knowing Jim had to.
"Dad, I-" he started, but his father had grabbed him again and slammed him against the wall once again, this time holding his son to the wall. He groaned in pain as his head had been smacked against the wall, yet again.
"Don't lie to me, boy!" He screamed in Dean's face. Dean had never seen his father so mad. He didn't even bother keep his voice down as to keep Sammy from waking.
Dean glanced at Sammy. He had slightly started to stur in his sleep and was coming to. Dean sent out a quick prayer that Sam would stay in his sleep. But before he could finish his thoughts, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach as his father punched him.
He let out a light groan, trying to keep it quiet while his father threw him to the ground. But it was too late. Sam had woken, but still was confused.
"You disobeyed my orders, boy! That comes with punishment!" His dad said, standing over Dean's body, yelling in Dean's face. Dean could smell the Miller Light on his breathe. The booze, the liquor. It sickened him.
His father backhanded Dean five times before letting Dean rest.
Despite the pain in Dean's head, he turned his head weakly toward his sibling. Sam stood wide-eyed as John smacked his brother.
Dean was about to tell Sammy to go to his room. But before he could, his father was kicking him with his steel-toed boots in the abdomen. Dean couldn't help letting out a scream as he felt the sickening pain writhing inside as he was almost sure that he had broken ribs.
John paid no attention to the smaller boy, staring at what was happening.
"You just wait, boy. You just wait. One day." His father bellowed once again. His father moved away from Dean's writhing and kicking body and he was trying to subside the pain. He marched toward Sam. Sam was shaking while looking at his father. All he could do was stare.
John placed a soft hand on Sam's shoulder. He looked at Sam with blurred eyes. " 'k, Sammy?" he managed to slur. Sam just stared up at his father disbelievingly, but nodded.
"Good." he said, barely audible. He stumbled past Dean into his room, scowling at his oldest son, disappointed.
He then slammed his bedroom door shut so hard than Sam winced at the pain that had suddenly flashed quickly through his head.
Sam then looked down at his brother's shuddering figure. He could hear groans and whimpering coming from him. Sam had never seen Dean cry. Only at their mother's funeral had he seen Dean cry.
Sam wanted to move, but his legs would not carry him. He was numb. Stilled.
"Dean..?" Sam asked lightly, hoping for a response.
His brother's figure stopped shuddering as he heard his little brother saying his name. He needed to be strong. For Sammy.
He turned to Sam, still in pain, but managed "Heya, Sammy." he said, breathing hard.
"Good to see ya awake, huh?" Dean said. He wanted to make sure his brother knew that it would be alright by the humor. But Sam still stood, scared and stilled.
Never had he seen his brother cry like this. Never had he seen his father raise a finger to Dean. It numbed and shocked Sam.
All he could do was let the tears pour down his face.