Supernatural: House of Cards 5/?
Title: House of Cards
Author: Ada
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Spoilers: AU where anything's game.
Characters: Sam/Jess, Dean, John, and more
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Supernatural' or Dean or Sam... too bad.
Note: My Marty Guenther is modeled after 'Mr. Guenther' who co-owned the garage with John and was shown in the episode 'Home'. This story was partially inspired by the cut scene with the longer conversation between the boys and Mr. Guenther.
Summary: AU. John had been declared mentally incompetent by the state, his boys split up and raised by two different families. Now, 20 years later, John sends Dean to his naive little brother, to tell him that the demon is coming for him.
One misstep and everything they'd built could collapse like a house of cards.
Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four
House of Cards
Chapter 5
Sam was halfway through his second cup of coffee and had finished his bagel when he heard a knock at his door. He glanced at it in confusion; he hadn’t buzzed anyone up. Irritated that apparently someone had held the door for somebody else, he rubbed his still-aching head and walked over to the door.
“Jess! You expecting anybody?” he called towards the bathroom where Jess was brushing her teeth.
“Dave said he might stop over,” Jess called back after rinsing her mouth.
Sam pulled the door open and stared in confusion at the stranger on his doorstep. The man in front of him was wearing worn jeans, a T-shirt and a flannel. His blonde hair was clipped into a neat crew cut with a long top that was styled up with a little gel. The really strange thing about him was the way his green eyes were looking at Sam, as if he hadn’t seen him in years; as if he was hungrily trying to take in every aspect of him.
“Um… hello,” Sam said. The guy stared at Sam for another moment, and then snapped out of his daze and rubbed the back of his head nervously.
“Hi Sam,” he said quietly, looking up at Sam hopefully.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Sam questioned.
“You uh… you probably don’t remember me but…” Dean stuttered, trying to find the right words to tell Sam who he was.
“Who is it?” a girl’s voice called from the other room. Sam didn’t respond, looking expectantly at Dean to continue instead. He was just opening his mouth to continue when a leggy blonde walked up behind Sam and gave Dean the same confused look his brother was shooting him.
“I uh… my name’s Dean, and I’m your older brother,” Dean admitted in a rush, watching as Sam and Jess’ jaws dropped open.
Jess recovered before Sam did, pushing Sam backwards so she could invite Dean in and introduce herself. He nodded in thanks but his eyes never strayed from Sam. His brother was tall, taller than he was, with the same build as their father. He looked so much like John, except for the longish brown hair that was currently sticking out at all angles.
Dean wanted nothing more than to pull Sam into a big bear hug, but he refrained for Sam’s sake. The younger brother seemed to be in shock and he didn’t want to do anything to push him into a corner. He settled for a hand on his brother’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze and communicating a look filled with longing for the life they lost the night they were taken away from John, for the fact that they didn’t even recognize each other. Sam seemed to unfreeze at the touch, and nodded slightly, leading Dean to the living room and sitting on the couch.
“So um…” Sam began, cutting off and shaking his head. “I don’t even know what to ask,” he sighed. Whatever he expected when he opened the door, it had certainly not been to see his long estranged brother standing on the other side. He didn’t even know how to react.
“You should be asking for my identification,” Dean smiled. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Sam. He kept trying to wrap his head around how his short little brother had somehow morphed into this man in the time they had been apart. “I could be pretending for all you know,” he added. He reached into his wallet and pulled out his license, tossing it to Sam to look at.
Sam read over his name ‘Dean Winchester Guenther.’ “So you kept ‘Winchester’ too,” Sam said, just because he didn’t know what else to say. It was shocking to say the least, to have Dean show up out of the blue, no phone call, no letter, just a stranger at the door. And they had just been talking about him yesterday, could that have really been just a coincidence? Even though he knew he had a brother he never really expected Dean to initiate any contact. If he hadn’t yet, why would he? Sam didn’t need a brother, didn’t want one, he was happy with his life the way it was.
“Yeah, it was a struggle for me to accept ‘Guenther,’ much less give up ‘Winchester’,” Dean responded, unaware of the thoughts running through Sam’s head.
“So… what brings you here?” Jess asked, knowing that Sam was thinking it but not wanting to say it. Judging by the look on his face anything he said might come out with a negative tone to it anyway.
“I figured twenty years was a long enough time to leave you to your life, Sam, I wanted to see what you’d made of it,” he shrugged, taking the I.D. back and slipping it in his wallet. “But judging by what I’m seeing here,” he smiled good-naturedly at Jess, “you’ve done pretty well for yourself.” His eyes were drawn to the family photos scattered around, the images of happy faces; images that did not include him.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Sam responded, staring at Dean and trying to equate him with the boy in the scant memories he had of his earlier years, memories of warmth and love and safety.
Of course Dean was doing the same thing, searching for little Sammy in the man before him. “I’m uh… I’m in my last year of pre-law at Stanford,” he added, thinking he should give Dean something.
“Wow, Stanford, good for you Sammy,” Dean smiled with real warmth.
“What do you do, Dean?” Jess asked. On one hand she felt she should leave the brothers alone, but she couldn’t imagine either of them running this conversation, she felt they needed help.
“I’m a detective in Lawrence,” he said.
“You flew out here?” Sam asked in surprise. “Why?”
“I don’t do planes, dude, I drove. And I came here to see you.” Dean was becoming frustrated. This wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t come here after twenty years to make small talk with his brother as if he was a stranger on a bus.
“Sammy…” he began with hesitation. But he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say the truth could he? That he had half hoped that Sam would have been unhappy, would have seen Dean and needed him. That he wanted a reception other than the indifference he was sensing from Sam, the idea that he was interrupting Sam’s life somehow, an unwanted interruption. “Look, I…” He stopped as Sam suddenly winced and brought his hands up to his head. “Sammy?” he asked with concern, leaning forward.
“It’s okay,” Jess reassured him, putting her hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Sam honey, come on, let’s get you to the bedroom.” Sam allowed himself to be led away, and Dean could only watch.
--------------------------------
Dean was looking at the photo of Sam on the day of his adoption by the Jacobs when Jess walked into the room. She looked worried and tired, and cast an apologetic glance in Dean’s direction. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He gets migraines,” Jess explained, sitting opposite Dean on the couch.
“Well I mean does he have any treatment for them?” Dean demanded.
“He takes pain meds, there’s not really much else the doctors can do.”
“Nothing else they can do? He’s in so much pain he has to leave the room and there’s nothing else they can do?” Dean hissed, keeping his voice low in deference to Sam.
“I know it looks bad, but really, you get used to seeing it after a while.”
Dean opened his mouth to say something he might regret, but stopped, putting a hand to his face and closing his eyes. He stood and turned away from Jessica. “God, what the hell am I doing here?” he asked.
“Dean…”
“He doesn’t want me here…” he whispered. “I don’t know… I don’t know why I thought he would. He doesn’t remember, he doesn’t remember Mom dying, and those years with Dad, he doesn’t remember the foster home and the hearing and the move… He doesn’t remember me,” he whispered the last part painfully, tears stinging his eyes. Dean was never one for emotional outbursts, especially in front of other people. But with women he was always more at ease, and something about standing there talking to Jess, Sam’s girlfriend just made it easier for him to say what he needed to say.
Jess came up behind him and uncomfortably putting her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “Just give Sam a chance,” she said quietly. “He’s just in shock, you know, you coming here was a real surprise,” she explained.
“It’s just I’ve… I’ve thought about him everyday, you know,” he sighed. “I just…” He ran the conversation with his father through his mind again, reminding himself of why he was there, why he couldn’t give up and leave, why he had to stay with Sam.
“It’s back. It’s back, I know it.”
“What… what does it want?”
“Your brother. You have to find Sammy, Dean. You have to protect him.”
He shook off Jessica’s hand and reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card from the stack his mother had ordered him when he got his promotion. “Here Jess, can you have Sam call me when he’s feeling better? I really do need to talk to him,” he said, handing the card to her.
“Sure. I’m really sorry about this, Dean,” she said.
“Nothing to be sorry for, Jessica. Have a good day, take care of that brother of mine, okay?” he smiled.
“I always do,” she responded.
They said goodbye and she showed him out, the door closing firmly behind him.
--------------------------------------
Dean had been staring at a cup of cold coffee for over an hour when his cell phone rang. He fumbled for it, expecting it to be his mom checking up on him, so the hesitant voice on the other end caught him by surprise.
“Hi… Dean? It’s Sam. If you still wanted to talk, you could come over now,” he said without giving Dean a chance to speak. He sounded apologetic, and slightly in pain. Dean wondered if the migraine had really gone away.
“Yeah okay, see you soon.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Dean closed his cell phone and headed back to the Impala, steeling himself for what was bound to be an incredibly awkward conversation.
---------------------------------------
Jess and Sam were ready for him this time. He buzzed up to the apartment, and found lunch set-up in the kitchen. He didn’t say much as he ate, just answered the questions that were mostly asked by Jess, and tried not to stare at Sam too intently. When they had finished, Jess suggested they go into the living room while she cleaned up, and Dean finally saw his opening. He had to make Sam understand what it was like twenty years ago, the things that happened. He needed Sam to know what that time had been like, what it felt like to know that he had so little control and that every decision he made was the wrong one. Sam might be happy in the life that he had, but Dean wanted him to know just how much that had cost everyone else; just how much that had cost Dean.
They had settled onto the couch, when Dean finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “Do you remember the foster home we went to after they took us from Dad?” Dean asked carefully.
“No,” Sam responded, genuinely curious about what Dean was to recount. He had scant memories about that time, and couldn’t really make sense of what he did remember.
“The Child Services people took us from Dad on a Monday morning. Dad had all of our stuff packed; they showed just before we were supposed to leave town… man if we’d only left the night before…” Dean sighed. “The suits took us down to their office or whatever, and then brought us to the foster home we were supposed to stay in until they’d evaluated Dad and decided what to do with us.
“It seemed like a nice place. But there were a lot of kids there,” Dean began. Pausing for a moment as if trying to recall something he hadn’t thought about in a very long time. “About three were under school age, including you, and then there were the other three, I was the youngest of that group. A couple of days after we were placed there, I came back from school and I couldn’t find you,” Dean closed his eyes for a moment, lost in a memory of panic and fear. “The three little kids, they weren’t in the bedrooms or anywhere. I panicked you know, it was my job to keep you safe and I had screwed up. The foster parents were out in the backyard smoking or drinking or something, and I was on my way out to confront them when I heard your voice. It was coming from behind the wall.
“There was some sort of storage area - an attic or something - behind the wall in the upstairs hallway. There was a door and a lock that they hid behind a bookshelf. I opened it, and got you and the other two out. All three of you kids were crying and screaming. And you clung to me like I was your lifeline, you know?
“After I got you calmed down, I got you to tell me that they did that on every school day, locked up the little kids while the older ones were at school. They threatened all of you to not say anything, and usually got you out before we came home. But they forgot that day… I was so angry, Sammy. I went up to them and I started yelling and attacking them. I wasn’t exactly up to their level, being seven and all, and so they beat on me pretty easily. And then you tried to help and they hit you in the face. All I could think about was how Dad told me to protect you, to keep you safe, and so I took off with you, ran away.
“And then I made the biggest mistake of my life,” he sighed, putting his head in his hands.
“What?” Sam asked, leaning towards him.
“There was this huge bruise on your cheek, and you kept telling me that your jaw hurt really badly. I was afraid it was broken, so I took you to the hospital. And the ER doctor that night was Dan Jacobs,” he said quietly.
“My dad?” Sam said in surprise.
“I never should have brought you there,” Dean said. “The bone was just bruised; I could’ve taken care of you myself, I should’ve taken care of you myself… I could have gone to the Guenthers, they would have helped in an instant. But no, I went to that damn ER, and he saw you, and he took you away from me,” Dean said angrily, voicing his own guilt over how things had gone for the first time.
The admission was followed by silence as Sam stared at his brother; the tight jaw and the stiffened muscles.
“Dean…” Sam sighed after the silence stretched for too long. “I guess… I don’t know… I don’t know what to say. I mean, I’ve had a good life,” he said. “I love my parents, and I… I’ve liked my upbringing and my life.”
“So what you’re saying is that the biggest mistake of my life was the best thing to ever happen to you?” Dean asked with a long sigh. He didn’t know what he expected, what he thought Sam would say to that story. He didn’t even really know why had told Sam at all. “That’s okay,” he breathed quietly. He could tell he was making Sam uncomfortable, and he hadn’t meant to, the last thing he needed was for Sam to feel awkward around him. He needed Sam to trust him; to believe him, because soon Dean would be the only person who could help Sam. “Not like we can change it, right?” he offered.
“I guess not,” Sam said quietly. “But what happened to the foster parents?”
“They got arrested,” Dean said with a wry smile. “Once we came forward the other kids spoke up. I don’t know if they ever went to prison, but they definitely lost the right to be foster parents.”
Dean paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, trying to figure out what to say to Sam. “Look, Sam. I didn’t tell you about this so you could feel bad for me or something, I just wanted you to know how things went down. I mean you’re lucky you don’t remember any of it, because that isn’t exactly my favorite time period to look back on. I was supposed to take care of you, protect you, and then I lost you; biggest failure of my life.
“And now… I just want to get to know you again, you know? I know you’re not the same kid you were back then, but we’re still brothers, and that means something, doesn’t it?” Dean asked hopefully.
“I… I guess it does,” Sam said slowly. Dean’s eyes were glassy and Sam felt that he couldn’t deny him anything he wanted. After all, three years old or not, he had been the one who left, the one who went away from Dean. In his head he heard two little boys laughing and for a moment caught a glimpse of a blonde seven-year old boy who said he would protect him forever.
“So… what’re you doing tonight?” Sam asked with a smile.
Author: Ada
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Spoilers: AU where anything's game.
Characters: Sam/Jess, Dean, John, and more
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Supernatural' or Dean or Sam... too bad.
Note: My Marty Guenther is modeled after 'Mr. Guenther' who co-owned the garage with John and was shown in the episode 'Home'. This story was partially inspired by the cut scene with the longer conversation between the boys and Mr. Guenther.
Summary: AU. John had been declared mentally incompetent by the state, his boys split up and raised by two different families. Now, 20 years later, John sends Dean to his naive little brother, to tell him that the demon is coming for him.
One misstep and everything they'd built could collapse like a house of cards.
Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four
House of Cards
Chapter 5
Sam was halfway through his second cup of coffee and had finished his bagel when he heard a knock at his door. He glanced at it in confusion; he hadn’t buzzed anyone up. Irritated that apparently someone had held the door for somebody else, he rubbed his still-aching head and walked over to the door.
“Jess! You expecting anybody?” he called towards the bathroom where Jess was brushing her teeth.
“Dave said he might stop over,” Jess called back after rinsing her mouth.
Sam pulled the door open and stared in confusion at the stranger on his doorstep. The man in front of him was wearing worn jeans, a T-shirt and a flannel. His blonde hair was clipped into a neat crew cut with a long top that was styled up with a little gel. The really strange thing about him was the way his green eyes were looking at Sam, as if he hadn’t seen him in years; as if he was hungrily trying to take in every aspect of him.
“Um… hello,” Sam said. The guy stared at Sam for another moment, and then snapped out of his daze and rubbed the back of his head nervously.
“Hi Sam,” he said quietly, looking up at Sam hopefully.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Sam questioned.
“You uh… you probably don’t remember me but…” Dean stuttered, trying to find the right words to tell Sam who he was.
“Who is it?” a girl’s voice called from the other room. Sam didn’t respond, looking expectantly at Dean to continue instead. He was just opening his mouth to continue when a leggy blonde walked up behind Sam and gave Dean the same confused look his brother was shooting him.
“I uh… my name’s Dean, and I’m your older brother,” Dean admitted in a rush, watching as Sam and Jess’ jaws dropped open.
Jess recovered before Sam did, pushing Sam backwards so she could invite Dean in and introduce herself. He nodded in thanks but his eyes never strayed from Sam. His brother was tall, taller than he was, with the same build as their father. He looked so much like John, except for the longish brown hair that was currently sticking out at all angles.
Dean wanted nothing more than to pull Sam into a big bear hug, but he refrained for Sam’s sake. The younger brother seemed to be in shock and he didn’t want to do anything to push him into a corner. He settled for a hand on his brother’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze and communicating a look filled with longing for the life they lost the night they were taken away from John, for the fact that they didn’t even recognize each other. Sam seemed to unfreeze at the touch, and nodded slightly, leading Dean to the living room and sitting on the couch.
“So um…” Sam began, cutting off and shaking his head. “I don’t even know what to ask,” he sighed. Whatever he expected when he opened the door, it had certainly not been to see his long estranged brother standing on the other side. He didn’t even know how to react.
“You should be asking for my identification,” Dean smiled. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Sam. He kept trying to wrap his head around how his short little brother had somehow morphed into this man in the time they had been apart. “I could be pretending for all you know,” he added. He reached into his wallet and pulled out his license, tossing it to Sam to look at.
Sam read over his name ‘Dean Winchester Guenther.’ “So you kept ‘Winchester’ too,” Sam said, just because he didn’t know what else to say. It was shocking to say the least, to have Dean show up out of the blue, no phone call, no letter, just a stranger at the door. And they had just been talking about him yesterday, could that have really been just a coincidence? Even though he knew he had a brother he never really expected Dean to initiate any contact. If he hadn’t yet, why would he? Sam didn’t need a brother, didn’t want one, he was happy with his life the way it was.
“Yeah, it was a struggle for me to accept ‘Guenther,’ much less give up ‘Winchester’,” Dean responded, unaware of the thoughts running through Sam’s head.
“So… what brings you here?” Jess asked, knowing that Sam was thinking it but not wanting to say it. Judging by the look on his face anything he said might come out with a negative tone to it anyway.
“I figured twenty years was a long enough time to leave you to your life, Sam, I wanted to see what you’d made of it,” he shrugged, taking the I.D. back and slipping it in his wallet. “But judging by what I’m seeing here,” he smiled good-naturedly at Jess, “you’ve done pretty well for yourself.” His eyes were drawn to the family photos scattered around, the images of happy faces; images that did not include him.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Sam responded, staring at Dean and trying to equate him with the boy in the scant memories he had of his earlier years, memories of warmth and love and safety.
Of course Dean was doing the same thing, searching for little Sammy in the man before him. “I’m uh… I’m in my last year of pre-law at Stanford,” he added, thinking he should give Dean something.
“Wow, Stanford, good for you Sammy,” Dean smiled with real warmth.
“What do you do, Dean?” Jess asked. On one hand she felt she should leave the brothers alone, but she couldn’t imagine either of them running this conversation, she felt they needed help.
“I’m a detective in Lawrence,” he said.
“You flew out here?” Sam asked in surprise. “Why?”
“I don’t do planes, dude, I drove. And I came here to see you.” Dean was becoming frustrated. This wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t come here after twenty years to make small talk with his brother as if he was a stranger on a bus.
“Sammy…” he began with hesitation. But he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say the truth could he? That he had half hoped that Sam would have been unhappy, would have seen Dean and needed him. That he wanted a reception other than the indifference he was sensing from Sam, the idea that he was interrupting Sam’s life somehow, an unwanted interruption. “Look, I…” He stopped as Sam suddenly winced and brought his hands up to his head. “Sammy?” he asked with concern, leaning forward.
“It’s okay,” Jess reassured him, putting her hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Sam honey, come on, let’s get you to the bedroom.” Sam allowed himself to be led away, and Dean could only watch.
--------------------------------
Dean was looking at the photo of Sam on the day of his adoption by the Jacobs when Jess walked into the room. She looked worried and tired, and cast an apologetic glance in Dean’s direction. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He gets migraines,” Jess explained, sitting opposite Dean on the couch.
“Well I mean does he have any treatment for them?” Dean demanded.
“He takes pain meds, there’s not really much else the doctors can do.”
“Nothing else they can do? He’s in so much pain he has to leave the room and there’s nothing else they can do?” Dean hissed, keeping his voice low in deference to Sam.
“I know it looks bad, but really, you get used to seeing it after a while.”
Dean opened his mouth to say something he might regret, but stopped, putting a hand to his face and closing his eyes. He stood and turned away from Jessica. “God, what the hell am I doing here?” he asked.
“Dean…”
“He doesn’t want me here…” he whispered. “I don’t know… I don’t know why I thought he would. He doesn’t remember, he doesn’t remember Mom dying, and those years with Dad, he doesn’t remember the foster home and the hearing and the move… He doesn’t remember me,” he whispered the last part painfully, tears stinging his eyes. Dean was never one for emotional outbursts, especially in front of other people. But with women he was always more at ease, and something about standing there talking to Jess, Sam’s girlfriend just made it easier for him to say what he needed to say.
Jess came up behind him and uncomfortably putting her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “Just give Sam a chance,” she said quietly. “He’s just in shock, you know, you coming here was a real surprise,” she explained.
“It’s just I’ve… I’ve thought about him everyday, you know,” he sighed. “I just…” He ran the conversation with his father through his mind again, reminding himself of why he was there, why he couldn’t give up and leave, why he had to stay with Sam.
“It’s back. It’s back, I know it.”
“What… what does it want?”
“Your brother. You have to find Sammy, Dean. You have to protect him.”
He shook off Jessica’s hand and reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card from the stack his mother had ordered him when he got his promotion. “Here Jess, can you have Sam call me when he’s feeling better? I really do need to talk to him,” he said, handing the card to her.
“Sure. I’m really sorry about this, Dean,” she said.
“Nothing to be sorry for, Jessica. Have a good day, take care of that brother of mine, okay?” he smiled.
“I always do,” she responded.
They said goodbye and she showed him out, the door closing firmly behind him.
--------------------------------------
Dean had been staring at a cup of cold coffee for over an hour when his cell phone rang. He fumbled for it, expecting it to be his mom checking up on him, so the hesitant voice on the other end caught him by surprise.
“Hi… Dean? It’s Sam. If you still wanted to talk, you could come over now,” he said without giving Dean a chance to speak. He sounded apologetic, and slightly in pain. Dean wondered if the migraine had really gone away.
“Yeah okay, see you soon.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Dean closed his cell phone and headed back to the Impala, steeling himself for what was bound to be an incredibly awkward conversation.
---------------------------------------
Jess and Sam were ready for him this time. He buzzed up to the apartment, and found lunch set-up in the kitchen. He didn’t say much as he ate, just answered the questions that were mostly asked by Jess, and tried not to stare at Sam too intently. When they had finished, Jess suggested they go into the living room while she cleaned up, and Dean finally saw his opening. He had to make Sam understand what it was like twenty years ago, the things that happened. He needed Sam to know what that time had been like, what it felt like to know that he had so little control and that every decision he made was the wrong one. Sam might be happy in the life that he had, but Dean wanted him to know just how much that had cost everyone else; just how much that had cost Dean.
They had settled onto the couch, when Dean finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “Do you remember the foster home we went to after they took us from Dad?” Dean asked carefully.
“No,” Sam responded, genuinely curious about what Dean was to recount. He had scant memories about that time, and couldn’t really make sense of what he did remember.
“The Child Services people took us from Dad on a Monday morning. Dad had all of our stuff packed; they showed just before we were supposed to leave town… man if we’d only left the night before…” Dean sighed. “The suits took us down to their office or whatever, and then brought us to the foster home we were supposed to stay in until they’d evaluated Dad and decided what to do with us.
“It seemed like a nice place. But there were a lot of kids there,” Dean began. Pausing for a moment as if trying to recall something he hadn’t thought about in a very long time. “About three were under school age, including you, and then there were the other three, I was the youngest of that group. A couple of days after we were placed there, I came back from school and I couldn’t find you,” Dean closed his eyes for a moment, lost in a memory of panic and fear. “The three little kids, they weren’t in the bedrooms or anywhere. I panicked you know, it was my job to keep you safe and I had screwed up. The foster parents were out in the backyard smoking or drinking or something, and I was on my way out to confront them when I heard your voice. It was coming from behind the wall.
“There was some sort of storage area - an attic or something - behind the wall in the upstairs hallway. There was a door and a lock that they hid behind a bookshelf. I opened it, and got you and the other two out. All three of you kids were crying and screaming. And you clung to me like I was your lifeline, you know?
“After I got you calmed down, I got you to tell me that they did that on every school day, locked up the little kids while the older ones were at school. They threatened all of you to not say anything, and usually got you out before we came home. But they forgot that day… I was so angry, Sammy. I went up to them and I started yelling and attacking them. I wasn’t exactly up to their level, being seven and all, and so they beat on me pretty easily. And then you tried to help and they hit you in the face. All I could think about was how Dad told me to protect you, to keep you safe, and so I took off with you, ran away.
“And then I made the biggest mistake of my life,” he sighed, putting his head in his hands.
“What?” Sam asked, leaning towards him.
“There was this huge bruise on your cheek, and you kept telling me that your jaw hurt really badly. I was afraid it was broken, so I took you to the hospital. And the ER doctor that night was Dan Jacobs,” he said quietly.
“My dad?” Sam said in surprise.
“I never should have brought you there,” Dean said. “The bone was just bruised; I could’ve taken care of you myself, I should’ve taken care of you myself… I could have gone to the Guenthers, they would have helped in an instant. But no, I went to that damn ER, and he saw you, and he took you away from me,” Dean said angrily, voicing his own guilt over how things had gone for the first time.
The admission was followed by silence as Sam stared at his brother; the tight jaw and the stiffened muscles.
“Dean…” Sam sighed after the silence stretched for too long. “I guess… I don’t know… I don’t know what to say. I mean, I’ve had a good life,” he said. “I love my parents, and I… I’ve liked my upbringing and my life.”
“So what you’re saying is that the biggest mistake of my life was the best thing to ever happen to you?” Dean asked with a long sigh. He didn’t know what he expected, what he thought Sam would say to that story. He didn’t even really know why had told Sam at all. “That’s okay,” he breathed quietly. He could tell he was making Sam uncomfortable, and he hadn’t meant to, the last thing he needed was for Sam to feel awkward around him. He needed Sam to trust him; to believe him, because soon Dean would be the only person who could help Sam. “Not like we can change it, right?” he offered.
“I guess not,” Sam said quietly. “But what happened to the foster parents?”
“They got arrested,” Dean said with a wry smile. “Once we came forward the other kids spoke up. I don’t know if they ever went to prison, but they definitely lost the right to be foster parents.”
Dean paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, trying to figure out what to say to Sam. “Look, Sam. I didn’t tell you about this so you could feel bad for me or something, I just wanted you to know how things went down. I mean you’re lucky you don’t remember any of it, because that isn’t exactly my favorite time period to look back on. I was supposed to take care of you, protect you, and then I lost you; biggest failure of my life.
“And now… I just want to get to know you again, you know? I know you’re not the same kid you were back then, but we’re still brothers, and that means something, doesn’t it?” Dean asked hopefully.
“I… I guess it does,” Sam said slowly. Dean’s eyes were glassy and Sam felt that he couldn’t deny him anything he wanted. After all, three years old or not, he had been the one who left, the one who went away from Dean. In his head he heard two little boys laughing and for a moment caught a glimpse of a blonde seven-year old boy who said he would protect him forever.
“So… what’re you doing tonight?” Sam asked with a smile.