Chapter 11

Sorry for taking so long to update. I like staying up late to write the chapters, but I had a track meet the other day and let me tell ya: those things can take the life outta ya. Also forgive all my mistakes because I'm tired. Since then, I've been wicked tired. But not tonight! So here's this chapter :) Enjoy!

The last time I trusted you I was nearly beaten to death by drunken dad. Nearly beaten to death. Beaten to death, beaten to death. Dad tried to kill me.

Sam vaguely recalled that night, but Dean remembered it perfectly. Sam was 17 and him, 21; he reminisced that he had to go to Bobby's to pick something up and how Sam was terrified that their dad would return from his daily trip to the bar…drunk and dangerous.

~+SPN+~

"Dean, no you can't leave me alone. Dad might-"

"Dad will not come back, I promise. He usually gone for days in his drunken condition; I promise you he won't come back and he will not hurt you, alright?"

"But Dean-"

"No buts kid. You gotta trust me on this okay? Do you trust me?"

Sam hesitated for a moment before sighing in resignation. "Yeah, I do."

"Good. I'll be back tomorrow morning." Dean grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He looked back at Sam and sighed.

"He's not going to come back, Sammy. You'll be alright."

"It's Sam…and I know," Sam smiled.

"Trust me."

"I do."

Dean smirked and in seconds, Sam could hear the loud roar of the Impala grow quieter and quieter with distance. He was all alone now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It might have been about five in the morning; Sam was sleeping peacefully and so far, John hadn't returned. Maybe Dean was right. Suddenly, through Sam light slumber, he heard the door lock click open; at first he thought it was Dean, but when the door was kicked open, he flinched. This was not Dean. His heart raced as he sat up. Dad was back…early.

"D-Dad, what are you doing here," Sam said, trying to sound braver than he felt.

John turned around and glared at his son with ice cold eyes.

"D'n talk t' me tha' way, boy," John slurred, getting closer to Sam's bed.

Sam sat up straighter and cowered back into the headboard.

"Look a' you. You're a pa'hetic wimp. Why can' you be mo' like your bro'her?"

"Why the hell do you always compare me to Dean? Why can't you just accept me for me? I want to be normal; I don't want to be a freak like you!"

"Wha' did you jus' call me?"

"A freak," Sam growled, getting out of bed and getting into his father's face. He could smell the beer emanating from his father's hot breath on his face, but he didn't care. He hated how he was always compared to his older brother. The golden child.

While lost in his thought, he didn't notice the huge fist coming at him at a vast speed. Without warning, his dad's fist connected with his cheek and causing Sam to stumble back into the wall. He cradled his throbbing cheek as he looked at his dad in shock. Before he could do anything, another fist came hurling at him. Quickly, he dodged it, but he completely missed the boot that came up and struck him in the chin. He grunted as he fell to the ground; he barely had time to compose himself before the same boot came towards him again, kicking him in the chest and abdomen. He couldn't catch his breath; his dad was going to kill him.

"D-Dad, please! Y-you're h-hurting me! Pl-please!"

"Stop cryin'! You're 17 years ol'. Suck it up an' be a man!"

The kicking finally stopped and Sam prayed that it was all over. But he was wrong. His father flipped him onto his back and pinned him down. Without delay, John began punching him in the face; Sam could taste the blood in his mouth, and his vision was tunneling rapidly. He weakly attempted to push his dad off, but his limbs were becoming heavier and heavier by the second.

"Pathetic, weak, useless!"

"D-Dad," Sam croaked. "Plea-please!"

"Shut up!" John wrung his hands tightly around Sam's neck and squeezed.

"Da-" Sam gasped loudly, bringing his shaky hands up to his throat and feebly trying to scratch off the hands that were restricting his breathing, more or less stopping him from breathing. Darkness was beginning to take over him and his chest was starting to ache more than the rest if his abused body. If his dad kept this up, he was going to die soon.

"D-" his eyes soon began to flutter close, his breathing becoming slow and shallow. All of a sudden, before his world went completely black, he heard the door bust open and a faint voice shout "dad" and then his name. The hands were instantly pried off his sore neck and, now, he could somewhat breathe again. He heard someone call his name from far away but before he could find out who the voice belonged to, he fell into oblivion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean had pulled into the motel as he finished stuffing his face with the breakfast burrito he picked up on the way back. He threw the trash into the backseat and wiped his hands on his pants; he was beat and he couldn't wait to go back inside and sleep for two weeks. He stepped out of the car and sighed, but as soon as he heard faint screaming coming from, none other than, their motel room, all thoughts of sleep and relaxation disappeared. The screaming sounded like it was coming from Sam and the only reason his brother would be screaming would be because…

"Shit!" Dean muttered as he bolted to the door and dug in his pockets for the room key. That's when he realized he left it in the car…which was thirty feet away from him. He didn't have time for that. Instead, he started kicking at the door and on the third strike, the wooden door splintered and it swung open violently. As soon as he stepped inside, he was utterly shocked with the sight that was presented to him. He saw a severely bloodied and bruised Sam thrashing around on the floor, underneath his father who had his hands wrapped firmly around his younger brother's throat.

"Dad, get the hell off him!" Dean yelled running over and shoving his dad of Sam.

John grunted and stumbled away from the two. Without another sound, he ran out of the motel room. Dean watched his dad leave in disgust; he never should have left Sammy alone. Speaking of his brother, he turned to face the kid and nearly had a heart attack when he took in Sam's condition.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, kneeling down next to his brother. "Oh god, Sammy, I'm so sorry." His hands hovered shakily over his brother's face, but he was terrified that if he touched him, he'd cause more damage.

"Sam?" He choked out.

The kid looked devastating…heartbreaking; Sam's face was black and purple with puffy bruises, his eyes practically swollen shut. Blood trickled out of his open mouth and, possibly, broken nose. Dark bruises shaped like his father's hands were already starting to develop on Sam's swollen neck.

"Dammit, Sammy, wake up!" The sound of his brother's breathing made him sick; it was too gradual, too shallow. "Fuck, Dad! What the hell did you do?" He pulled out his cell and hastily dialed 911; his brother's injuries weren't supernatural related so he figured it would be safe.

In about ten minutes, which was a complete blur, the paramedics came and wheeled, the almost unresponsive, Sam away. Dean felt so guilty; he would have killed himself if it weren't for Sam. He promised his brother that their dad wouldn't come home, he told Sam to trust him, and he did but look where that got him. He was going to live with this guilt for the rest of his life. He was never going to forget what pain he caused his little brother.

~+SPN+~

"Okay Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam said pulling away from his brother and frowning in confusion.

"You- you don't remember?"

"Remember what, Dean?"

Dean hesitated for a moment, not sure if he wanted to continue and tell Sam about everything that had happened; about everything he had said. It seemed that, thankfully, Sam remembered Jess dying and their hunts, but not the fight or the crash or the coma.

"Well, first off, what do you remember?"

"Not much…I think when we went to that really shitty restaurant and you got food poisoning."

"Sam that was- that was over three weeks ago. Are you sure that's all you remember?" Dean laughed nervously.

Sam shrugged and nodded as he yawned loudly.

Well I guess it's better than losing eight years.

"So you don't remember how you got here or why?"

"Come on Dean, stop with the twenty questions and just tell me already."

"Are you sure you-"

"Yeah Dean, obviously I do. You said it yourself, I lost over three weeks!"

"Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a twist."

Sam rolled his eyes but remained silent. During the next fifteen minutes and thirty-two seconds, Dean explained everything that had happened; from start to finish. Well, mostly everything; he left out the part about both arguing situations, because Sam really didn't need to know about that just yet. Maybe not at all.

"Holy shit," Sam said after his older brother finished.

"Yeah. Holy shit indeed, kid," Dean smirked as he pat Sam's knee. Then he watched his brother's face suddenly turn from surprised to upset.

"What's wrong Sam?"

"I- did I say anything? I feel like I might have said something…you know, insensitive, because that was the old me and I was kind of a bitch back then."

Dean gulped nervously. Should he tell him? Was it really that important? Maybe he should just wait; yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Dean smiled forcefully, trying to relieve the tension in the room.

"What do you mean 'was'? You still are."

Sam looked at Dean with a serious expression and Dean sobered up.

"No…you- you didn't. You were just your usual stubborn little self."

"You're not holding back on me, are you?" Sam questioned suspiciously, sensing that Dean wasn't telling him the whole story.

'Trust me, Sammy I'm not, okay? You do trust me, right?"

Sam frowned. "Of course I do. Why would you think otherwise?"

"Never mind, just forget it."

Sam's eyebrows raised, but he decided to brush it off for the moment. Something was up with Dean, but he was too tired to be persistent.

"Well anyways, you should get some sleep, man. You look like shit."

"I could say the same for you, little bro; have you looked in the mirror lately?"

Sam scoffed as he rolled his eyes while slumping back into the pillows and yawning. Dean looked at his brother silently and awkwardly, thinking of something to say.

"You feel okay? Any pain or nausea, headaches?"

"Nah, I'm good. Just a little tired, but you should get something to eat; I can hear your stomach growling from a mile away."

"I'm not that-"

Sam glared at him.

"Yeah you're right. I'm starved. You'll be okay for a couple minutes?"

"Yes, Dean, I'll be fine," Sam chuckled. "You don't have to worry alright?"

"Okay, okay, just checkin'. I'll be right back."

Sam smiled faintly and nodded as he watched his brother leave the room. When Dean returned, though, with bunch of granola bars and jello cups, he stopped short in the doorway. He found his brother slumped in the pillows, staring off into space and a frown on his face like he was in deep thought. As Dean moved closer, he saw how pale his brother's face was and how his brown eyes glazed over. His breathing was rapid and hoarse. Something wasn't right

"Sam?" He said, standing right next to his unresponsive brother. "Sammy?" Dean's heart beat brutally against his chest as different thoughts flashed through his mind. What if something suddenly went wrong with his brain? What if he was having some sort of stroke or something?

"Sam!" He shouted fearfully, shaking his brother's shoulder harshly.

Immediately he got a response, Sam jerking out of his trace and flinching away from Dean.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy, dude. It's just me."

"Oh…sorry."

"Are you okay? You looked like you were in la-la-land for a moment there."

Sam took a shaky breath and looked down sheepishly at his trembling hands. Dean noticed this and his forehead creased. He sat down and placed his own hands on his brother's and squeezed them.

"What's wrong, Sam?"

"Nothing, I was just- I was just thinking."

"No shit Sherlock, that's pretty obvious. But what about?"

"I don't know I just- I keep getting clips of…stuff. They're playing in my head."

"Visions, maybe?"

"No…my head isn't hurting; it's more like…memories I guess?" Sam said looking up into Dean's eyes.

"Do you remember any of them?"

Sam sighed inwardly and looked away towards the window. "Not a lot…just parts."

"Like…"

"Like pain…and f-fire. There was also shouting…from you. You were yelling at me?"

Dean swallowed uneasily. Sam was getting closer to the truth.

"I think I also remember…you know what, never mind."

"What Sam?"

"It's stupid."

"No, I wanna know."

"I think I remember saying something but...I don't know, could you just tell me? I know you know, don't lie."

"Sam it's-"

"Please."

Dean huffed. Well, I warned you Sammy.

"You- you brought up that night when dad tried to…you know, kill you. You blamed me and said you made a mistake trusting me."

"Dammit," Sam cursed. "Dean, you know I really don't blame you; it wasn't your fault."

"No it was my fault, Sammy and ever since you said that to me, I realized how badly I screwed up that night."

"Dean just stop, just-"

"Shut up, I'm tryin' to apologize here," Dean growled.

Sam pursed his lips as he heaved a sigh. "Fine."

"I never should have left you alone when I knew what dad could be capable of…drunk or sober. I assumed he would've stayed out and you'd be safe; I told you to trust me and you did. I almost got you killed, Sammy. Then and now."

Sam stared at Dean sadly before speaking. "Look Dean I'm not gonna blame you for what happened years ago. It was my fault as much as it was yours. I intimidated dad, whose worse when he's drunk, and maybe if I didn't bother him, maybe if I'd just left the motel room," Sam took a deep breath and shook his head. "Anyways, the point is, stop beating yourself over it. I'm telling you, that I don't blame you."

Dean smirked as he patted Sam shoulder. "Okay, if you say so. That was the one time I was gonna apologize, but…whatever."

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes. Of course his brother would say that.

"And Sam?"

"Yeah."

"If you ever scare the shit out of me like that again, I'll kill you. Understand?"

"Okay, whatever you say…jerk."

Dean grinned. Sam was coming back to his usual self. In no time at all, they'd be back on the road together, hunting as many sons of bitches that they could. He loved his brother and hated it when something bad happened to him. Of course he would never tell Sam that, but Sam probably already knew that anyways. Now Sam was alive and back to his normal pain-in-the-ass self and Dean couldn't ask for more. "Bitch."

Sam smiled before it was broken by the large yawn Sam released. His eyelids started to dip and his body relaxed into the pillows.

"Get some sleep buddy, alright?" But Dean wasn't sure Sam even heard him, because the kid was already out like a light, his soft snores filling the room.

"Haha, typical Sammy," Dean laughed as he instinctively brushed Sam's bangs back before sitting back in the chair and closing his eyes. Time to catch up on some much needed rest.

Should I end here or make an epilogue? Your choice! If no epilogue is wanted by a large amount of reviewers I just wanna say thanks for reading, favoriting, and alerting my story. Also thanks for all the wonderful reviews you've given me. Hopefully I can think of another Supernatural fanfiction to start writing and if I do, you know where to look! Thanks :)

Don't forget: no epilogue or yes epilogue :) And reviews lol