Dean reluctantly cracked open his eyes to the bright sunlight that shone through the open window of the motel room, brightening the dull setting to an almost painful level as it pulled him from his sleep. He blinked a few times in some attempt to let his eyes adjust to the sudden change of light, and let out a deep, tired sigh. It had been a long, long night - for both him and Jamie.
He looked down to see her still sound asleep, relaxed into his side like it was the safest place that she could think to be. His arm was rested around her shoulders as though he could protect her from the entire world with it. One of her hands still held the front of his t-shirt in a loose grasp as if, even in her sleep, she was afraid to let him go, or maybe it was because she just didn't want to be alone anymore. He gently ran a hand through her hair and pushed it from her face, shaking his head slowly. He didn't want to wake her up, she looked so much more peaceful when she slept, like she hadn't lived a life of fear and pain and hurt, but he knew that wasn't the case. He still couldn't process what she had told him, it was like he knew it to be true, it made sense, but he was afraid to accept it. He didn't want to believe it, he didn't want it to be real, he wanted to take it all away and hide her from it. But he knew that he couldn't. And he had to stand up and face it, the same way that she already did every day of her life.
"Jay?" Her face never moved from where it was buried in his chest as he spoke. "Jamie?" he tried again, giving her the smallest of shakes on her shoulder. "Wake up, sis."
Her eyes opened slowly, almost hesitantly, as she moved to look up at him, frowning a little like she was still slightly disoriented from sleep. "Hey." she mumbled. He could see from the initial confusion on her face, she wasn't used to waking up with someone there, and something about that upset him. He could take a good guess that the last time she had woken up with another person so close to her would have been when she still lived with them.
Dean just smiled. "Hey." he replied, his voice soft.
She pushed herself up from him and sat forward, giving a small smile, more to herself than to him. "Don't look at me like that, Dean." she muttered, pulling a hand down her face, not even looking at him.
Dean frowned, staring at the back of her head curiously. "Like what?" he asked.
"Like that," she glanced back over her shoulder to him. "Like I'm some kind of hopeless, pathetic victim. I'm not."
She didn't sound angry, she just sounded tired. "I know you're not." he said flatly, it honestly bothered him that she would think he would think of her like that. "I never for a second thought that you were."
Jamie sighed and leaned back to the couch, looking up at him seriously. "Look, I know that things were said last night, and I know that there's no taking them back, I do," she paused, shaking her head. "But -"
"We need to go and see Sam." he cut her off before she had a chance to finish.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "We what?" she pressed, not sure that she'd heard him right.
If it weren't for the completely serious frown on his face she would have thought that he was joking. Dean had told her himself, Sam was at college. And she knew what that meant, John would never have willingly allowed one of his sons to go off to college, which meant he and Sam probably weren't on speaking terms. And Dean, it was hard to imagine him and Sam not talking, not being as close as they had been when she had left, but there was something in his eyes when he had told her, she wasn't too sure about whether or not they were still in contact at all. And if that were the case, why would he want to go and see him?
"Sam." he clarified. "We need to go and see him."
"Why?" Dean just looked at her, like it should have been the most obvious thing in the world to understand, but he didn't want to answer her. And then she realised. "Dean, no."
"Jamie," he sighed. "He's got a right to know."
"A right to know?" she repeated incredulously. "Dean, it's bad enough that you know. And how great do you feel right now? Hm?"
Dean shook his head, frowning. "I feel sick to my freaking stomach, Jamie." he said, his tone turning defensive. "How the hell do you think I feel?"
"Exactly." she said bluntly, making Dean frown. "And you wanna make him feel the same way? What's the point? He shouldn't be dragged down with that, it's not fair."
"I'll tell you what's not fair," Dean retorted. "Leaving him there thinking that you walked out on us. Letting him think that it's all somehow his fault, that you left because of him. Or leaving him to believe that you're dead, that something awful happened to you all those years ago and that's the only reason that you didn't call." Jamie blinked, a little taken aback with how hard his tone was becoming, no longer sure on whether he was talking about Sam or himself. "He needs to know, Jay. He's gotta know why you left us."
"Dean," she shook her head slowly. "You said he's at college, right? Leave him alone."
"He needs to know, Jamie." he stated again, this time a little more forcefully. "Besides, it's August, don't these college kids get the summer off? It's Sam, it's not like he's gonna be doing anything but next semester's work anyway."
Jamie huffed a small, humorless laugh. "Whatever." she muttered, clearly done trying to argue with him. It never took much persuasion for her to cave on an argument with him, because he just didn't back down until he had his way.
"Anyway," Dean went on brightly as she stood up and headed towards the bathroom. "I'm sure he'll wanna see you, know you're alive."
"Yeah," she scoffed, pausing in the doorway and turning to him. "He'll be about as ecstatic as you were to see the girl who ditched your asses, the one who, what was it, left you thinking I was dead, or that it was your own faults I bailed, or that something awful had happened.." she trailed off, listing the things that he had said just moments ago.
"Hey, come on," Dean's voice softened, becoming more understanding with her. He realised how tentative she was to see Sam, especially after the way that they'd left it. She hadn't spoken to him in four years, and he could tell without asking that she missed him. They both did. "That doesn't matter anymore, he'll understand."
"Yeah," she gave a short, unconvinced nod, forcing a smile. "I'm gonna take a shower." she added simply.
Dean nodded, also pushing himself to his feet. "Alright, well you do that and I'll go pick up some breakfast, how about that?"
"Sure." she muttered, not looking too concerned about anything that he was going to do at that point.
Dean sighed as he watched her pull the door closed behind herself, followed by the sound of the lock clicking on the other side. He shook his head slowly, pulling a hand down his face. He was starting to see how much she really did want to distance herself from people, how much she seemed to avoid continuing conversations longer than necessary, and that bothered him. He wanted her to talk to him, maybe to help him fully understand what she had been through, maybe it would help her to talk about it, to get all of the horrors she had locked away for years out. He didn't know, and she wouldn't let him in.
In truth, a part of why he wanted to suddenly go and see Sam was because he knew he would be better at getting through to her in a situation like this. Sam had always been the one who understood people better, the one who could make people talk, he was good with listening to people and holding back his own emotions from everything. If Jamie was to go into detail about what their Dad had done to her, Dean knew that he would struggle to hold his anger back long enough to hear her out. He had felt like ripping something apart the previous night when she had told him what he had done.
But more than that, he wanted Sam to know what had happened. For a long time Dean had blamed himself, and he knew Sam had done the same. He had spent four years wondering where she was, thinking every day that passed by she could be dead, she could be hurt or in trouble, and there had been no answers. It was hard not knowing what had happened, and somehow, it was harder now that he did know. Yet he still thought that Sam should know that she was at least alive, and maybe he could stop blaming himself or silence the constant curiosity that plagued him to know where she was.
He inwardly groaned as his phone rang from his jacket, not in the mood to speak to anybody at that point, and stilled at the sight of the name that flashed up on the screen; Dad.
Dean stared down at it, unsure of what to do. There was a part of him that wanted to answer it, tell him that he knew everything and demand an explanation as to why he had put his sister through years of hell, but he couldn't. He couldn't stand to hear his voice, to hear him so casually talk to him as though nothing had ever happened, like he wasn't the monster that Dean now knew him to be. He couldn't understand how someone who had done the things that he had could so effortlessly go through life without a care, without seeming to give a second thought to where his daughter was, to the effect he'd had on her. If Dean was to talk to him at that point there was a good chance he would erupt, either that or he'd throw up. And then he did something that he had never done before; he dropped the phone back to the table and walked out of the room, not looking back as it started to ring again.
He had seen true evil in the world, he saw it almost every day in his job, and knew that it was out there in the dark, but he had never thought that there was the same evil lurking in the darkness of their many different motel rooms every night for years, a persistent evil that kept on hurting his own sister. It was enough to make anybody sick.
Later That Day
It had gotten to almost nine at night by the time Dean pulled up the car outside of Stanford. He gave a deep, steady breath, starting to think that maybe he should have called ahead, but then it wasn't likely that Sam would have bothered to answer the phone even if he had. It wasn't as though he and his brother had left it on the same terms as he and their Dad, but there was still that conflict between them, the disagreements and frustrations. He turned off the Impala's engine and glanced to Jamie, shaking his head. She had fallen asleep little over an hour ago, never once mentioning Sam the entire drive.
They had talked about hunts they had taken in the past, they'd discussed the weather, music, tv shows or movies they'd seen, there hadn't been one mention of anything even close to family. Neither had brought up their childhood, Sam, their Mom or Dad, nothing. Dean had a feeling that she just couldn't face to talk about it, especially knowing the conversation that was to come when they arrived at Sam's place.
He didn't know what he was supposed to say. He was about to tell his brother that their sister had spent years being abused by their own father, the man who Sam was already so bitter towards. How was anyone supposed to tell another person something like that? How was he supposed to show up at his door with the sister Sam probably assumed dead and give news like that. But he needed to know. And dean needed to tell him. For a moment, he contemplated leaving Jamie to sleep in the car while he went and told Sam, to give him a chance to get out the anger Dean knew would come before he faced his sister. But that wasn't fair, on either of them. The second Dean mentioned her name Sam would want to see her for himself, he wouldn't wait for an explanation, Dean knew that. There was no way around it.
"Jamie?" He reached out and shook her knee lightly. "Jamie, wake up."
She stirred at his voice, slowly sitting up and rubbing a hand over her eyes, waking herself up. "What?" she muttered, apparently still only half conscious.
"We're here." Dean said simply, his voice calm and steady, not giving away any emotion. He looked down at her, there was an uncomfortable look on her face, like she really didn't want to go through with it. He could understand, it wasnt' going to be an easy conversation to have, even if it was Sam. "It's gonna be fine, Jamie." he reassured her softly. "I promise."
"Yeah," she muttered. "Course."
Jamie climbed out of the car first and looked up at the blocks of apartments ahead of them, she didn't even want to ask how Dean knew where Sam lived. "Come on." Dean said from behind her, resting a hand to the back of her shoulder and leading her forwards.
She felt sick, she didn't want to do this. She didn't want to face him, not after so long. And she didn't want him to know.
Sam pulled open the door to his apartment, expecting nothing more than of his friends inviting him to a party he wouldn't go to, the sight before him almost knocking the air right out of him. He stared, wide-eyed, at the two people that stood on his doorstep, at a complete loss for words. The face he had seen first was Dean's, which offered up a small smile that had nothing but awkwardness in it. The other, which despite the time and obvious changes he recognised immediately, hit him like a punch in the nose, it belonged to his sister. There was something wrong and Sam knew it, otherwise they wouldn't be there. He looked to Dean's left where Jamie stood, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her, unable to even look at him.
"Jamie," It came out as nothing more than a shocked whisper. "What -" He stopped and looked back to Dean, silently demanding an answer.
"Hey, Sam." he said simply. "You gonna invite us in?"
Sam opened and closed his mouth, obviously at a loss as to what to do, and saw no other option but to step aside and allow them inside. Dean went first, Jamie right behind him, neither looking up again as they headed into the living room, closely followed by Sam.
"Well?" Sam pressed impatiently, looking between them as they came to a stop and turned to him. "What the hell is going on?"
Dean shook his head, he could see that Sam was still angry. He wasn't sure if that was built up rage that he still held towards their Dad for what he had said the night he had left, or towards Jamie for leaving before that, but he had a good idea. He understood it, and he knew that she did, but Sam didn't know the truth. At least, not yet.
Dean took a seat on the couch, the same as Jamie, and looked straight up at his brother. "We need to talk, Sam." he said simply, his voice giving away nothing.
"About what?" Sam countered. "About why she walked out on her family?" he snapped, he was upset and angry, not thinking about what he was saying before he said it. The last thing that he could ever expect was to see her face again, after all, she had made them think that she was dead.
"Sam -" Dean went to stop him but he was already too riled up to listen to any reason.
"No, Dean." he cut him off, looking down at her. "Where the hell were you, Jamie? We thought you were dead!" Jamie looked down, unable to look at him any longer, struggling for an answer.
"Sam." Dean pushed, his voice uncharacteristically serious, in a way Sam didn't remember ever hearing before, he knew that it must be important. "Chill out, alright? You need to sit down."
"No," Sam retorted, his voice harsh. "I wanna know what happened. I wanna know why she ditched us, why she walked out on her family -"
"Sam," Dean all but shouted over him, his forehead rested against one of his hands. "Stop it."
"She bailed on us, Dean. Who the hell just walks out on their family like that?" he snapped, and with that comment Dean knew that his brother really wasn't thinking about what he was saying.
It touched a nerve, and Dean pushed himself up to face his brother. "Oh, I'm sorry, what did you do when you turned eighteen, Sam?" he retorted. "Remind me."
Sam seemed to step down a little, his eyes falling to the ground in front of him for a second as his anger faltered. "At least you knew where I was." he muttered, his voice remaining dark.
"Yeah, yeah," Dean scoffed. "I really appreciate all the phone calls. I mean, it's nice to know that you care so much."
Sam looked down for a moment, his eyes no longer on Dean as he shook his head, somewhat remorsefully. "Dean -"
But Dean held up a hand to silence him before he could get anything else out. That wasn't what they were there to talk about. "Just, sit down, alright? And listen to me." he instructed, his tone sharp. "We need to talk."
Sam slowly lowered himself down, frowning in confusion, his eyes still on Jamie. "About what?" he asked, more calmly this time.
"About Dad." Dean replied.
Sam's face changed at his short answer. The curiously deepened, becoming somewhat accusing, as though he already knew that it wasn't going to be good. He frowned a little, like it had been the last thing he'd expected Dean to say. "Dad?" he pressed.
Dean looked down to her for a moment, but her eyes were fixed nowhere but the floor. "Jamie didn't leave because of us, Sam." he said, his voice quieter than it had been. He looked up at him and let out a small sigh. "She left because of Dad."
Sam glanced from Dean to her. He noticed her eyes were looking anywhere but them, and that she looked completely void; numb and emotionless. "What are you talking about?" Sam pushed, his voice growing softer.
"He, uh," Dean paused, thinking over what was the best way to disclose something so awful. But there wasn't really a way to make it easier. "He hurt her, Sam. He hit her. And, uh, he," he stopped, shaking his head slowly. "He raped her." The last statement came out as barely a whisper, but Sam heard it.
Hazel eyes stared at him, wide in shock. He said nothing for a moment, attempting to get his thoughts straight in his head. "What?"
He couldn't believe that. He didn't want to. He didn't want to think about something like that happening to someone who had once been so close to him. For a second he thought to deny it, accuse Dean of lying, or at least being mistaken. He thought that maybe she could've been lying, but he knew different. She wasn't like that, she never had been. It all made sense.
"First time she was nine," Dean went on, watching Sam warily as though anxious of how he was going to react to what he was being told. "And it went on until she left."
"No," Sam shook his head, because that couldn't be true. "Jamie?" he whispered to her, his eyes practically pleading with her to tell him different. That was his twin sister, he couldn't take it.
Jamie didn't look at him, she just sighed and then pushed herself to her feet. For a moment Sam was sure she was going for the door, but on instinct he rose to his feet and grabbed a hold around the bottom of her arm, just above her wrist, to stop her. She turned around sharply, as if in shock, her free hand clenched in a tight fist like she was ready to attack, but she lowered it slightly. However, Sam didn't back off, he held her arm still, not tight enough to hurt her but firm enough that she couldn't run. He looked down at her, waiting for her to say something, waiting for her to tell him something different, that Dean was wrong, but she didn't. Her eyes finally met his, the green ones that he hadn't seen in years. They were hard, she let no emotion flow from them; she remained completely blank.
"Jamie," Sam's voice cracked, his eyes shining with grief. "Tell me he didn't." She forced herself to continue to look at him, he could see it in her eyes, the sadness, the pain, the grief; it confirmed everything that she couldn't bring herself to say. "Oh god," He felt sick. "Jamie, I'm sorry." His voice broke over the words. "I'm sorry."
She let her arm slip from his loose grasp and took a step back from him, shaking her head and managing a weak smile. "Doesn't matter." she mumbled. "But just know, I'm sorry for leaving." Sam frowned. "I mean, I never wanted to leave you, but I couldn't stay there. I just couldn't take it anymore."
Sam stepped forwards and pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her as though he hadn't seen her in a lifetime, longer than four years. He squeezed his eyes closed and pushed back the emotion, he couldn't afford to face it there. There was a burning anger, a need for revenge, a pain in knowing what had happened to her that he never thought could go away.
As soon as he had managed to compose himself, just a little, he pulled back enough to look at Dean, his hands still rested on his sister's shoulders. "Where is he?" he asked, his voice dark and low.
Dean simply shrugged. "He's on a hunt." he replied. "I didn't ask him where. I haven't spoken to him since I -" he stopped, nodding to Jamie. "You know."
Sam nodded, he didn't know what he could say. He didn't want to think about it any more than he had to, didn't want to think about him. How was anyone supposed to deal with the fact that their own father had spent years abusing their sister in the same motel room that they had lived in. How was he supposed to deal with the fact that he had never noticed? That it had gone on for all those years and neither he or Dean had worked it out or lifted a finger to stop it. It was too much to deal with, and he didn't know what to do. There wasn't a lot that he could do, but he wanted to be with her. With both of them. He knew that the three of them needed to stick together, because no matter how hard he knew Dean was trying, they couldn't avoid him forever. Eventually, they were going to have to face him again. And Sam wanted to be there for that. He wanted to be there for his sister, the way that he hadn't been able to be since she had left them.