Sam and Dean

Sam only found out when Dean passed out after a hunt in which things got a lot more out of control than they'd thought.

When Dean went unconscious, his wounds had soaked his shirt in blood, which was already drenched in sweat and dirt, as well as his pants. Sam moved Dean into the tub, dropping his body right in as gently as he could. He got rid of Dean's clothes and filled the tub, beginning to clean Dean with a washcloth.

For the first time, Sam really looked at the scars on Dean's back.

And he realized Dean lied about every single one of them.

When he was a little boy, he believed Dean; he'd had time to look at the marks. And of course he believed Dean, he was six and his big brother was the world to him. He never knew what they were supposed to look like anyway.

Sam knew all of the scars on Dean, same way Dean knew all of the scars on Sam, mainly because they were the ones to see it happen and/or patch it up.

So when Sam actually got a good look at what Dean told him was a scratch from a werewolf, for the first time in over twenty years he called bullshit. Sam's eyebrows furrowed as his eyes moved to another scar, what was supposed to have been from a Wendigo.

And there, right below his shoulder blade, was the faintest impression of a belt buckle.

Sam felt sick. He ran his eyes over Dean's back, seeing lies written there, carved into his skin. When he pulled Dean to have his back against the tub, he saw the lines covering his stomach, his chest. He could point out which ones were from monsters, hell, he could even say the dates it happened and describe in detail the scene. But there were a lot more. A lot more he took Dean's word for.

After he cleaned Dean and dressed him, laying him in his bed, Sam went to get a drink, tears falling. He'd had a lot of time to think, in fact, he probably knew the truth all these years, but he never paid much attention to it, not because he didn't want to think that, but because he trusted Dean. But now that he put some more thought into them, he realized that lot more things made sense than it did back then.

Dad hit Dean. Multiple times, with belts, his hands, and other objects Sam didn't want to think about. He also didn't want to think about how hard the lashes were for them to leave marks on Dean's skin to this day. No wonder Dean was always so fiercely loyal to Dad.

Yeah, Dean always obeyed him and when he told Sam about the Shtriga almost claiming him the one time Dean disobeyed, he figured that was the reason Dean always followed Dad's orders. But he was stupid to think it was just that.

Dean, his big brother, strong and stoic, turned into a passive, well trained dog in front of Dad. Dean was afraid of him. Sam remembered those night Dad would be in a drunken rage and Dean would hurry Sam into their bedroom and make him lock the door, only to be opened for him, before going out to face Dad.

He remembered how he would hear slaps, but he thought it was things falling. He remembered how Dean would come back in, Dad knocked out on the couch and hold Sam while he cried into Dean's shirt, asking why Dad was always so mad. And Dean would always say it was because of the demon that killed Mom.

And 'Not to worry Sammy, I'll take care of you'. And he would tuck Sam into bed. And when he asked for Dean to stay with him, his big brother would say he just had to use the bathroom and he'd be right back. And after Dean would ease into the bed slowly, which Sam always assumed was because Dean didn't want to wake him even though he never fell asleep, and hug Sam carefully.

Sam cried all over again, hating the fact that Dean got open injuries from Dad and he never said a word and let Sam think everything was okay. How stupid was he to think a simple Shtriga was the cause of all this. Nothing but fear could have caused the undying loyalty Dean had.

When Sam finally calmed down, he stood up; going to check on Dean, then everything hit him like a train. He remembered that time he ran away on Dean's watch.

He never once thought of how Dad would blame Dean. When he got back, Dean looked ragged and half dead, which Sam assumed was from wondering where he was. He was covered in scars and Sam had blamed himself, saying he was sorry when he hugged Dean and he remembered how tense his brother had gotten and asked him why he would say that.

Sam had said it was because he wasn't there to help him on the hunt and Dean had fallen prey to the monster. Dean went with what Sam said and told him it was fine, it wasn't his fault. Dean never let Sam blame himself for anything. Sam had no idea what Dean went through those two weeks.

Tears poured down his face and he sobbed loudly, his voice echoing in the silent bunker. He wondered why, why didn't Dad hit him too? And then Sam knew.

Dean.

Dean never let Dad lay a finger on him. Sam knew Dean would protect him at all costs; it's what he's been told since Sam was born. No matter how drunk Dad got, Dean always pushed Sam somewhere away from Dad and took all the blows for him.

Dean never let a single lash land on Sam.

He never let Sam know either. He knew his little brother would blame himself. Dean protected him no matter what, and that included keeping him safe from his own father. Sam remembered when he left for Stanford, how he didn't even give Dean a proper goodbye, how broken his brother had looked when he found out from his Dad's shouting match that Sam was leaving; he didn't even get to tell him to his face.

Dean sheltered him from Dad's abusive nature so well Sam only realized it now. Dean raised him and made sure he had the best childhood he could possibly have, being a hunter's son. He gave up his own childhood, he destroyed it for him, and all Sam had done was walk out on him.

Sam cried out and dropped to his knees, dropping his glass, screaming and he cried into the wooden floor, twisting in pain.

Whether Dean woke up from that, or just happened to become unconscious at that point, Sam didn't know. But he felt Dean's grip on him, tugging him up and shaking him, trying to figure out what was wrong.

"Dean… Dean I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please…" Sam sobbed, his heart shattering at how ungrateful he'd been, and how Dean never once blamed him, while most people would feel even the slightest resentment, despite it being unjust and them knowing it.

"Sammy, what? What did you do?" Dean's rough voice was on the verge of panic, trying to figure out if Sam had sold his soul or something.

"I… I know Dean. I saw the, the scars, I know what Dad did, I'm sorry, I've been an awful brother, I'm so, so, sorry." Sam's broken voice came out wheezing as his nose became stuffy from all the crying he did and was doing and he struggled to get some air, sobs wracking his throat.

"Oh Sammy…" Sam felt himself being crushed into Dean's chest and he cried out, unable to deal with the guilt. He gasped his brother's name, begging for forgiveness, cursing himself, cursing Dean for never telling him.

"Why?" he choked out, his voice thick shaking. "Why didn't you let Dad hit me too? Why?!" Sam yelled.

Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders, staring at him. "Are you nuts? You think I'd let him touch you? Sammy, you're my little brother and the only thing that's allowed to hit you is me."

"But you were abused Dean," Sam gasped. "And I didn't even know. I walked out on you. How could you even treat me so good? How could you still love me?"

"C'mere." Sam was grabbed in another tight hug and Dean whispered fiercely into his ear.

"Don't you ever, ever! think that for even a moment I will stop loving you. You didn't know because I didn't want you to, and I still don't. I knew you'd blame yourself Sammy, because you're my stupid, annoying, pain in the neck little brother and I would rather die than see that happen.

"I was happy when you left for Stanford. Sad, I admit it, but what got me through you leaving is knowing that you didn't know or blame yourself for what Dad did, else you'd have never left. And that's what I wanted. I wanted you to live without hating yourself. Course I couldn't protect you from everything else in the world but I wanted to.

"Now you listen. This is not your fault. Dad was an obsessed, drunken bastard. And I am your older brother, next person to take care of you if he couldn't do it, and that's exactly what I did."

"Why didn't you leave?" Sam sniffed out, pressing his eyes into Dean's shirt to soak up the still flowing tears.

"Sammy…"

"Tell me Dean! Why?"

Dean sighed. "I was afraid if I left that would take out his anger on you because I wasn't there to stop him. And because I didn't want to leave you, Sam. Given the choice, I would stay with you forever and protect you from all the bad things in the world; it had to be you to walk away from me, Sammy."

"Dean… I'm sorry…" Sam whispered, his voice small.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. No matter what Sammy, you're my little brother and I will always love you. Don't you ever blame yourself for this. Now get up, this ground's hard as shit."

Sam felt a laugh bubble up from his throat and he let Dean carry him into the nearest bedroom, which was Dean's, saying there was no way he was lugging Sam's Sasquatch ass all the way to his room. Sam felt happy at hearing Dean able to sound so normal.

His brother set him down in his bed and Sam didn't complain when Dean took off his shoes and pulled up the blanket, tucking him in like he was a little boy.

"I love you, Dean," Sam said, not being able the last time he'd ever told Dean that; it often went unspoken.

"I love you too Sammy." Dean made sure the blanket covered Sam properly, kissed him on the forehead and walked outside, turning off the lights as he left and Sam cuddled down, allowing himself to slip into the routine they'd had when they were little.

Dean would give him his dinner, they'd watch some TV and Dean would always extend Sam's bedtime before tucking him in and kissing his forehead. While Sam drifted off, Dean put away the empty bottle of alcohol and cleaned up the smashed glass that lay on the floor, checking on Sam one last time before going to sleep in his brother's bed.