(no subject)
Author: claudia_lexan
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 3,324
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Thank you to my beta Mago186.
Notes: Au, univerise. The title opf this story is from the Blue October song - Hate Me. Very short first part as livejournal wouldn't let me post this chapter in one go.
Disclaimer: These are not characters of my own creation
Summary: what if Dean was the little brother. Sam still went away to college but he left his little brother with his dad figuring, foolishly, that he could trust his old man to take care of him.
Hate Me - Part One
Hate Me - Part Two
Hate Me - Part Three
“Talking is what we are doing. Why are you so damn late Sam? You could have walked away from he receptionist at any time.”
“It would have been rude,” Sam said even though those words didn’t sound like the truth to his own ears.
“Being late for our meeting isn’t rude?” Dean calmly asked.
“It’s not the same thing Dean,” Sam explained.
“No it’s not. The receptionist is nothing more than a stranger. You’ll forget the conversation you had with her in a week. You’ll forget what she looked like in a couple of days. I’m family. You don’t forget family,” Dean said.
“I’m sorry. I’m here now we can go back inside, find a table, and talk.” Sam suggested.
Dean wanted to say that sorry wasn’t enough but he couldn’t find the words. He knew that any biting sarcastic remark he wanted to make couldn’t happen. This was a conversation that needed to happen, but it wasn’t going to be inside a bar. “So talk.”
“About what? I don’t even know were to begin,” Sam replied.
“Ask me anything you want,” Dean suggested.
“How long were you hunting alone before you came for me?” Sam asked.
“Three months.” Dean easily replied. Three months was the amount of time that he knew their dad had been missing. Before that he had hunted alone for two months with only the odd phone call from their dad.
“I didn’t ask how long dad had been missing I already knew that. How long have you been alone?” Sam asked.
“It’s not important. Tell me why you couldn’t speak to family for six years.” Dean asked, neatly changing the subject to what was a sore point for both of them.
“It was easier,” Sam replied. He could have given Dean a long explanation as to why he had gone six years without contacting his family, but what was the point? Explanation were not going to change what he had done
“Easier for who?” Dean demanded.
“Dad told me to never come back. I was so damn angry with him when I left and phoning home wouldn’t have helped. Dad and I exchanged some nasty words that neither of us could ever take back. I didn’t want to make that phone call and have a repeat of that conversation.”
“You took the easy way out. You couldn’t swallow your pride and make one damn phone call?” Dean asked.
“It just wasn’t that easy Dean. You have to understand that Dad and I just couldn’t make up with one phone call,” Sam said. He wanted Dean to understand that not contacting family was a hard thing for him to do.
“Did you forget that I had a cell phone? What excuse do you have for ignoring me for six years? I had nothing to do with the argument you had with dad,” Dean said as he felt around his jacket pocket for a half used pack of cigarettes. Once he found them he let out a sigh of relief. He needed a cigarette to release the tension building up in him.
“You would have given the phone to dad,” Sam replied. He knew that those words sounded petty, but they still had a ring of truth to them. Dean had never disobeyed their dad.
“A text would have been just as good as a phone call, but even that was too much for you. The argument you had with dad wasn’t an argument you had with me. I didn’t tell you to leave and never come back.”
“I’m sorry.” Sam said repeating the two words that now seemed to be a popular theme when talking to Dean.
“I’ve already told you that I’ve forgiven you for leaving. I could just never understand why I wasn’t important enough to you anymore,” Dean remarked as he took a cigarette from the half empty pack, held it to his lips, and lit it. Taking a long drag from his cigarette he said, “Tell me about college.”
Taking the cigarette from Dean, Sam asked. “When did you start smoking?”
“A few years ago. What have you been doing with your day?” Dean asked delaying the inevitable question he knew Sam wanted to ask. He wanted to continue the normalish conversation he was having with Sam.
“I've been looking at online GED courses. I figured that while we look for dad you could study for a GED. Once we have found dad and you’ve got that GED you could go to college,” Sam said.
Quelling his desire to hit Sam, he said in a voice that could have melted steel, “While doing this research did you for one minute think about what I wanted?”
“Dean, it’s for the best. You can’t be a hunter for the rest for your life. You need something to build the rest of your life upon,” Sam said.
“A hunter is who I am. It’s not just a job; it’s a way for life for me. Getting a GED and going to college is what you want for me. I get that you hate being a hunter because God knows you’ve dropped enough hints over the last two months. I’m not going to change who I am just because we are hunting together,” Dean said.
“How long do you think that enthusiasm for the hunt will last?” Sam asked.
Shaking his head in disappointment, Dean replied. “It’s not enthusiasm. Any enthusiasm I had for being a hunter died an agonising death when I had to kill a fellow hunter because a werewolf had bitten him. I stayed with him up until the full moon and when he began to change, I shot him. I watched the light in his eyes die out. I watched a man in the prime of his life die and despite that, I knew a hunter is what I want to be. I knew there was nothing else I could be.”
“How old were you when this happened?” Sam asked gently.
“15,” Dean replied.
“Where was dad when this was happening?” Sam asked, mentally cursing their dad for allowing Dean to kill a man. That sort of thing weighed heavily upon a person’s mind. It changed a person.
“He was on another hunt,” Dean said.
“He let you hunt alone?” Sam said surprised that their dad had given Dean such responsibility at just 15. He could remember pleading with his dad to go on a hunt at that age and being refused.
“Yeah,” Dean replied dropping to one word answers when he realized just how close Sam was to asking that question.
“It’s just not something dad would do. He was always so adamant about us not doing any solo hunts until we were at least 17,” Sam said.
“Things change,” Dean muttered as he took another cigarette out of the half empty pack. Holding the cigarette between his fingers he pierced Sam with a look that reduced many grown men to tears. “Maybe you just don’t know dad.”
“I know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t let you go on a solo hunt at 15,” Sam snapped.
“Tell me something about dad.” Dean asked silently questioning Sam’s belief that he still knew their father.
“He used to rock you to sleep as a baby,” Sam said.
“Tell me something a little more recent. Tell me what happened the day dad came back home from a hunt drunk. Tell me what he did,” Dean demanded as he let the unlit cigarette drop to the ground.
“I can’t remember. I can’t remember seeing dad drunk,” Sam admitted and with those words he came to a heart stopping realization. Their dad had done something to Dean while drunk. With a voice that he was sure that was far steadier than it had any right to be he asked, “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing,” Dean said quickly, unable to look Sam in the eye for the fear that Sam would see that one word for the lie it was.
“Dean, don’t do this. Don’t close up on me. Just please be honest with me,” Sam pleaded.
“You don’t want me to be honest with you.”
“Dean, you don’t have to tell me anything of importance, just talk to me. I need to know if dad was … abusive,” Sam said. He needed to know if his mistake of leaving Dean with their dad was more of a disaster than he already thought. To achieve this, it didn’t matter if asked Dean to tell him one thing, but then asked for another.
“Define abusive,” Dean asked. He knew that he was treating Sam’s questions as little more than a joke, but he couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t open up about a part of his life that had been nothing but a misery.
“For one damn second tell me the truth. Don’t continue to treat this as a joke,” Sam said his voice taking on a hard edge.
Dean couldn’t help but flinch at the tone of Sam’s voice. It was the same tone that their dad would use just before he lost his temper. Out of a long ingrained habit, he backed away from Sam.
Noticing Dean’s sudden unease with him, he was instantly concerned. “Dean what’s wrong?” Sam asked careful to maintain his distance from Dean. From the way his brother was standing, there was a strong possibility he could bolt.
“Dad always talks to me using that tone of voice after he’s had a few drinks. I could never say more than a few words without it being used. I could just ask dad what he wanted for dinner and he’d tell me to fuck off. He used to swear at me, using words that could have peeled paint. He’d tell me things that fucking hurt, but he’d never remember in the morning when he was sober. Dad would ask me what he had done while drunk and I’d lie. I knew that if I told him the truth it would get thrown back at me when he was drunk again,” Dean admitted.
Cursing their dad and mentally thinking of the many ways he could kill him Sam asked, “What else has he done?”
“We had fun together sometimes and that made up for the rest of it,” Dean said.
“What did he do?” Sam asked keeping his tone of voice at a deliberately calm level. He didn’t want to agitate Dean in any way.
“We need to go to Wisconsin. There have been some suspicious drownings at Lake Manitoc. Despite the lake being dragged, they haven’t found any bodies. I think we should go and investigate,” Dean suggested.
“Dean the job can wait. We need to have this conversation. I need to know if he abused you,” Sam said.
“We went to a fair together. It was to deal with the sprit of a psychotic clown. This clown was straight out of a Stephen king novel. The damn thing was so casual about killing people. He talked about it like it was an everyday hobby. Once we dealt with the clown, we went to this fair like any other father and son would. We had fun together,” Dean said his eyes sparkling with one of the only good memories of their dad.
“Sounds okay,” Sam admitted because he knew that what Dean had said was just beginning. He knew that the worst was yet to come.
“He changed Sam. He became more obsessed with the hunt after the fairground. He used to tell me about mom, but the tone of voice he used made my skin crawl. I would sometimes catch him looking at me out of the corner of my eye. He would look at me in a way no father should,” Dean said.
“Did he,” Sam stopped speaking because there was no way he could make the words “sexual abuse” seem less severe than they were. He could only be blunt and he felt guilty for knowing what his bluntness would do to Dean. “Touch you?”
“Did he fuck me? Did he rip away any innocence I had left? Did he leave me feeling like I can never be clean? Did he do things to me that have left me broken? Did he destroy what little trust I had in people?” Dean asked, a flood of long held, painful secrets spilling out of his mouth. He had no intention of saying so much to Sam, but once he had started speaking he couldn’t stop.
“Did he do any of those things?” Sam asked, silently begging for those questions to be the product of Dean’s angry mind.
“Would it really matter if I told you he had? Do you seriously think you could change anything?” Dean asked.
“I could help. You could talk to me and I could go kill our dad,” Sam replied, saying the last few words as a joke to lighten the mood.
Getting the Impala’s keys out of his back pocket, he briefly thought of agreeing with Sam’s joke to kill their dad. It would be something that made him feel better for all of a few seconds. Despite all that their dad had done to him, he would defend the man with his last breath. Sighing a little more loudly than normal he said, “I don’t need help. What happened can’t be changed. I’ve moved on with my life Sam.”
“Dean, we need to talk. You can’t keep all of this bottled up.”
“Talking doesn’t help. It never has. We really need to get to the hunt in Wisconsin,” Dean said as he got into the Impala, effectively ending what had been a very difficult conversation.
“Dean,” Sam began to say as he got into car. He wanted to ask so many questions. He wanted to reassure Dean. In the end he settled for just a few simple words. “LakeManitoc-let’s go find out what’s causing those deaths.”
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 3,324
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Thank you to my beta Mago186.
Notes: Au, univerise. The title opf this story is from the Blue October song - Hate Me. Very short first part as livejournal wouldn't let me post this chapter in one go.
Disclaimer: These are not characters of my own creation
Summary: what if Dean was the little brother. Sam still went away to college but he left his little brother with his dad figuring, foolishly, that he could trust his old man to take care of him.
Hate Me - Part One
Hate Me - Part Two
Hate Me - Part Three
“Talking is what we are doing. Why are you so damn late Sam? You could have walked away from he receptionist at any time.”
“It would have been rude,” Sam said even though those words didn’t sound like the truth to his own ears.
“Being late for our meeting isn’t rude?” Dean calmly asked.
“It’s not the same thing Dean,” Sam explained.
“No it’s not. The receptionist is nothing more than a stranger. You’ll forget the conversation you had with her in a week. You’ll forget what she looked like in a couple of days. I’m family. You don’t forget family,” Dean said.
“I’m sorry. I’m here now we can go back inside, find a table, and talk.” Sam suggested.
Dean wanted to say that sorry wasn’t enough but he couldn’t find the words. He knew that any biting sarcastic remark he wanted to make couldn’t happen. This was a conversation that needed to happen, but it wasn’t going to be inside a bar. “So talk.”
“About what? I don’t even know were to begin,” Sam replied.
“Ask me anything you want,” Dean suggested.
“How long were you hunting alone before you came for me?” Sam asked.
“Three months.” Dean easily replied. Three months was the amount of time that he knew their dad had been missing. Before that he had hunted alone for two months with only the odd phone call from their dad.
“I didn’t ask how long dad had been missing I already knew that. How long have you been alone?” Sam asked.
“It’s not important. Tell me why you couldn’t speak to family for six years.” Dean asked, neatly changing the subject to what was a sore point for both of them.
“It was easier,” Sam replied. He could have given Dean a long explanation as to why he had gone six years without contacting his family, but what was the point? Explanation were not going to change what he had done
“Easier for who?” Dean demanded.
“Dad told me to never come back. I was so damn angry with him when I left and phoning home wouldn’t have helped. Dad and I exchanged some nasty words that neither of us could ever take back. I didn’t want to make that phone call and have a repeat of that conversation.”
“You took the easy way out. You couldn’t swallow your pride and make one damn phone call?” Dean asked.
“It just wasn’t that easy Dean. You have to understand that Dad and I just couldn’t make up with one phone call,” Sam said. He wanted Dean to understand that not contacting family was a hard thing for him to do.
“Did you forget that I had a cell phone? What excuse do you have for ignoring me for six years? I had nothing to do with the argument you had with dad,” Dean said as he felt around his jacket pocket for a half used pack of cigarettes. Once he found them he let out a sigh of relief. He needed a cigarette to release the tension building up in him.
“You would have given the phone to dad,” Sam replied. He knew that those words sounded petty, but they still had a ring of truth to them. Dean had never disobeyed their dad.
“A text would have been just as good as a phone call, but even that was too much for you. The argument you had with dad wasn’t an argument you had with me. I didn’t tell you to leave and never come back.”
“I’m sorry.” Sam said repeating the two words that now seemed to be a popular theme when talking to Dean.
“I’ve already told you that I’ve forgiven you for leaving. I could just never understand why I wasn’t important enough to you anymore,” Dean remarked as he took a cigarette from the half empty pack, held it to his lips, and lit it. Taking a long drag from his cigarette he said, “Tell me about college.”
Taking the cigarette from Dean, Sam asked. “When did you start smoking?”
“A few years ago. What have you been doing with your day?” Dean asked delaying the inevitable question he knew Sam wanted to ask. He wanted to continue the normalish conversation he was having with Sam.
“I've been looking at online GED courses. I figured that while we look for dad you could study for a GED. Once we have found dad and you’ve got that GED you could go to college,” Sam said.
Quelling his desire to hit Sam, he said in a voice that could have melted steel, “While doing this research did you for one minute think about what I wanted?”
“Dean, it’s for the best. You can’t be a hunter for the rest for your life. You need something to build the rest of your life upon,” Sam said.
“A hunter is who I am. It’s not just a job; it’s a way for life for me. Getting a GED and going to college is what you want for me. I get that you hate being a hunter because God knows you’ve dropped enough hints over the last two months. I’m not going to change who I am just because we are hunting together,” Dean said.
“How long do you think that enthusiasm for the hunt will last?” Sam asked.
Shaking his head in disappointment, Dean replied. “It’s not enthusiasm. Any enthusiasm I had for being a hunter died an agonising death when I had to kill a fellow hunter because a werewolf had bitten him. I stayed with him up until the full moon and when he began to change, I shot him. I watched the light in his eyes die out. I watched a man in the prime of his life die and despite that, I knew a hunter is what I want to be. I knew there was nothing else I could be.”
“How old were you when this happened?” Sam asked gently.
“15,” Dean replied.
“Where was dad when this was happening?” Sam asked, mentally cursing their dad for allowing Dean to kill a man. That sort of thing weighed heavily upon a person’s mind. It changed a person.
“He was on another hunt,” Dean said.
“He let you hunt alone?” Sam said surprised that their dad had given Dean such responsibility at just 15. He could remember pleading with his dad to go on a hunt at that age and being refused.
“Yeah,” Dean replied dropping to one word answers when he realized just how close Sam was to asking that question.
“It’s just not something dad would do. He was always so adamant about us not doing any solo hunts until we were at least 17,” Sam said.
“Things change,” Dean muttered as he took another cigarette out of the half empty pack. Holding the cigarette between his fingers he pierced Sam with a look that reduced many grown men to tears. “Maybe you just don’t know dad.”
“I know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t let you go on a solo hunt at 15,” Sam snapped.
“Tell me something about dad.” Dean asked silently questioning Sam’s belief that he still knew their father.
“He used to rock you to sleep as a baby,” Sam said.
“Tell me something a little more recent. Tell me what happened the day dad came back home from a hunt drunk. Tell me what he did,” Dean demanded as he let the unlit cigarette drop to the ground.
“I can’t remember. I can’t remember seeing dad drunk,” Sam admitted and with those words he came to a heart stopping realization. Their dad had done something to Dean while drunk. With a voice that he was sure that was far steadier than it had any right to be he asked, “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing,” Dean said quickly, unable to look Sam in the eye for the fear that Sam would see that one word for the lie it was.
“Dean, don’t do this. Don’t close up on me. Just please be honest with me,” Sam pleaded.
“You don’t want me to be honest with you.”
“Dean, you don’t have to tell me anything of importance, just talk to me. I need to know if dad was … abusive,” Sam said. He needed to know if his mistake of leaving Dean with their dad was more of a disaster than he already thought. To achieve this, it didn’t matter if asked Dean to tell him one thing, but then asked for another.
“Define abusive,” Dean asked. He knew that he was treating Sam’s questions as little more than a joke, but he couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t open up about a part of his life that had been nothing but a misery.
“For one damn second tell me the truth. Don’t continue to treat this as a joke,” Sam said his voice taking on a hard edge.
Dean couldn’t help but flinch at the tone of Sam’s voice. It was the same tone that their dad would use just before he lost his temper. Out of a long ingrained habit, he backed away from Sam.
Noticing Dean’s sudden unease with him, he was instantly concerned. “Dean what’s wrong?” Sam asked careful to maintain his distance from Dean. From the way his brother was standing, there was a strong possibility he could bolt.
“Dad always talks to me using that tone of voice after he’s had a few drinks. I could never say more than a few words without it being used. I could just ask dad what he wanted for dinner and he’d tell me to fuck off. He used to swear at me, using words that could have peeled paint. He’d tell me things that fucking hurt, but he’d never remember in the morning when he was sober. Dad would ask me what he had done while drunk and I’d lie. I knew that if I told him the truth it would get thrown back at me when he was drunk again,” Dean admitted.
Cursing their dad and mentally thinking of the many ways he could kill him Sam asked, “What else has he done?”
“We had fun together sometimes and that made up for the rest of it,” Dean said.
“What did he do?” Sam asked keeping his tone of voice at a deliberately calm level. He didn’t want to agitate Dean in any way.
“We need to go to Wisconsin. There have been some suspicious drownings at Lake Manitoc. Despite the lake being dragged, they haven’t found any bodies. I think we should go and investigate,” Dean suggested.
“Dean the job can wait. We need to have this conversation. I need to know if he abused you,” Sam said.
“We went to a fair together. It was to deal with the sprit of a psychotic clown. This clown was straight out of a Stephen king novel. The damn thing was so casual about killing people. He talked about it like it was an everyday hobby. Once we dealt with the clown, we went to this fair like any other father and son would. We had fun together,” Dean said his eyes sparkling with one of the only good memories of their dad.
“Sounds okay,” Sam admitted because he knew that what Dean had said was just beginning. He knew that the worst was yet to come.
“He changed Sam. He became more obsessed with the hunt after the fairground. He used to tell me about mom, but the tone of voice he used made my skin crawl. I would sometimes catch him looking at me out of the corner of my eye. He would look at me in a way no father should,” Dean said.
“Did he,” Sam stopped speaking because there was no way he could make the words “sexual abuse” seem less severe than they were. He could only be blunt and he felt guilty for knowing what his bluntness would do to Dean. “Touch you?”
“Did he fuck me? Did he rip away any innocence I had left? Did he leave me feeling like I can never be clean? Did he do things to me that have left me broken? Did he destroy what little trust I had in people?” Dean asked, a flood of long held, painful secrets spilling out of his mouth. He had no intention of saying so much to Sam, but once he had started speaking he couldn’t stop.
“Did he do any of those things?” Sam asked, silently begging for those questions to be the product of Dean’s angry mind.
“Would it really matter if I told you he had? Do you seriously think you could change anything?” Dean asked.
“I could help. You could talk to me and I could go kill our dad,” Sam replied, saying the last few words as a joke to lighten the mood.
Getting the Impala’s keys out of his back pocket, he briefly thought of agreeing with Sam’s joke to kill their dad. It would be something that made him feel better for all of a few seconds. Despite all that their dad had done to him, he would defend the man with his last breath. Sighing a little more loudly than normal he said, “I don’t need help. What happened can’t be changed. I’ve moved on with my life Sam.”
“Dean, we need to talk. You can’t keep all of this bottled up.”
“Talking doesn’t help. It never has. We really need to get to the hunt in Wisconsin,” Dean said as he got into the Impala, effectively ending what had been a very difficult conversation.
“Dean,” Sam began to say as he got into car. He wanted to ask so many questions. He wanted to reassure Dean. In the end he settled for just a few simple words. “LakeManitoc-let’s go find out what’s causing those deaths.”