Chapter 17: These Things We Know

AN1: Hey guys! Sorry this one is late, but it literally was written a sentence at a time. Any chance I got, (which wasn't many), I was writing this. I felt so much worse with each passing day, but here it is! This one is from little Dean's point of view, just FYI. I hope you guys all enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to R&R!

-GNS-

When it happens it doesn't happen gradually, like a slow breath of air, no, it happens instantly. I barely have enough time to understand what is happening before he was gone and Sam was back. One moment he is standing there, promising me to forgive himself for the things I'm sure I've already forgiven him for, and the next Sammy is standing in front of me.

He seems a lot smaller now.

Neither of us speak for a while, we just stand there, watching each other with curious eyes, as if we were studying a stranger. Dad doesn't make a sound, either. He just calmly and quietly remains in the shadows, letting us learn each other again.

When the silence is broken, I'm the one who breaks it, lips turned up into a smile and fingers finding purchase on the small boy's shoulders.

"Old isn't a good look on you, short stuff," I tease, linking an arm around him and pulling him in close. He fits again.

"Ha, not on you either, jerk."

I ruffle his hair with my free hand as he laughs.

Dad is smiling too, in a sad sort of way. I try not to wonder why.

"What was he like?" Sam asks, and I'm almost startled by how he doesn't say I. He doesn't take ownership of himself but instead seems to understand how different the two of them are. I wonder what I told him, and if I am me, or a man I wouldn't recognize if I looked in the mirror.

I don't know how to answer him, eyes wide and curious. So I don't. Dad answers instead, and I don't have to.

"You were a good man, son. A great man. One day you'll grow to be him," or break to be him goes unsaid.

Slight anger flares up inside of me, and I fight to push it down. Some man, some stranger that he knew for only a couple of days makes him so proud. And Dad wants Sam to become that shattered mess as if broken souls were something to be proud of.

Sam nods, head low and eyes downcast. I'm sure now that he knows more than he's letting on.

"What about me, Sammy, what was I like?" I'm hoping to change the subject somehow, trying to get the ball rolling away from the subject that is making him so subdued, and onto something else.

"You were you." He says, shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head to the side, "just kinda older and more like Dad."

The words settle uneasily on my stomach. Sure I wanted to be like Dad, just not when Sam said it like that.

-GNS-

Later, Dad had left us with some dinner, greasy burgers and even greasier fries, as he went out to God knows where. He's probably drinking.

I turned to Sam who was picking at his food with disdain. I flopped down on the bed across from him, sticking my socked feet into his face to get his attention.

"Hey!" Sam exclaimed, pulling away "stop it, you stink!"

I waggled my toes in front of him one more time before tucking my legs back against my chest.

"Hey Sam?" I asked, serious now.

"Yeah Dean?"

"What did you mean before, about me being like Dad?"

Sam goes quiet, suddenly. Almost as if the life was sucked out of the room.

"I don't know..." Sam trails off, turning his head away to avoid my eyes.

"Hey, c'mon," I say, "you meant something by it. Just, what?"

"You were you, I guess." Sam explains, "Still playing the big brother and all of that. But you were older, and harder somehow. You were unhappy about a lot of things, but instead of doing anything about them you just accepted them. Just, kind of tired like, ya know?" He's looking up at me now, fingers picking at a loose thread in his socks, looking all young and innocent and so much not like him.

"Yeah, I know," I breathe, slumping my shoulders.

I'm expecting the subject to drop and for Sam to go back to whatever it was he was doing to avoid speaking before, when his quiet voice speaks up.

"How bad was he?" The words are so soft I have to strain my ears to hear them, but still they seem to echo through the room. "How bad was I?"

"Sam—" I start, but he cuts me off.

"I know that I wasn't, I know that it's bad, okay? Just not how bad. I just don't think I can take it if Dad says one more word about how great of a man he was when I know…" Sam's rambling trails of into silence as he drops his head. His hair falls into his eyes then, so I can't meet them with my own. "Please," He whispers, "I just need to know how bad."

"Okay," I sigh, resting my hands on my thighs as we sit criss-cross facing each other. "You were, he was, kind of like a puzzle after you put it together, and then you start tearing it apart. The pieces holding onto their neighbors for dear life as they get forced away from each other. All of them turned into a giant mess where they once fit so perfectly together."

"He was sad, even when he acted like he wasn't. I could see it in his eyes every time he smiled, because something was missing there. They weren't as bright as they are now, his eyes, your eyes. He hated himself. I can imagine that when he looks in the mirror he sees a monster there. He hated himself and he couldn't understand why everyone else just didn't. Whenever he would reveal something about his past, the future, he would always act as if he were expecting to be hit or shunned away or anything. He wasn't whole."

Sam nods, knowingly. I start to wonder how much he does know about his future and what might happen, what won't happen if I have anything to say about it. I don't have to wonder long.

"He had a journal. One that he kept tucked in the corner of his bag, I- I hid it underneath the mattress so that I could read it at night." Sam tells me, pulling his knees up to his chest and holding on tightly. His eyes peak out from underneath his mess of hair. "It wasn't... good things that he wrote about."

"I can imagine."

"Terrible, terrible things dating back to-" Sam stops himself.

"Back to when you first left, right? Back to college?" I ask.

"Yeah, to Stanford." He replies, eyes hidden again. He thinks I'm mad at him. I'm not, I'm really, really not, but I don't say anything, just let him continue. "I couldn't read all of it, Dean. Some of the things he wrote about, some of the things he described in there... compared to them my dreams are like cotton candy and rainbows. I couldn't read it all, it was terrible. Dean, that's gonna happen to me and then I'm gonna end up like him and I'll be broken."

"No." The word falls out of my mouth so fast it even surprises me, and Sam is looking at me with those eyes. "No." It comes out firmer that time, "you're not gonna end up like that. I'm not gonna let that happen to you."

"But Dean-" Sam tries, "what if that's what you said the first time?"

"It's not." I insist. Because it can't be. If I had made that promise to Sam before, I would have kept it. I know I wouldn't have let my little brother become that.

"Dean." Sam says, voice calm and low, and how the hell did that happen? Why was Sam the calm one in all of this? "I don't think you even remembered this at all. How could you stop it if you didn't even remember it happened?"

"I'll remember, I swear this time I'll remember. I have to."

-GNS-

AN2: There it is! I hope you all liked this chapter! There are a few more things I need to tie up, as you can see, so more chapters to come! YAY! Once again I'd like to give a special thanks to all of the wonderful people who commented on the last chapter including: Sara.B, sunshine102897, two very emotional Guests, Sari Dark, Eruthiawen Luin, and GingerTyPerior. I really love hearing from you guys!