SPN fic: So Long Lonesome
Title: So Long, Lonesome
Summary: Things were never the same after their mother died. [AU]
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, mentions of John [no slash]
Rating: NC-17, just to be safe
Warnings: child abuse, language
Author's Note: I know it's been done many times before, but this is my take on it : ] Title taken from the song by Explosions in the Sky.
Hush now, don't you cry.
Wipe away the teardrop from your eye.
You're lying safe in bed,
It was all a bad dream spinning in your head.
-Queensryche
Dean stood hunched over the sink, his hands tightly gripping the sides for support as he tried to catch his breath. Each inhale brought a sharp pain to his chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. He reached down and turned on the faucet, the simple movement causing the muscles in his shoulder and to protest painfully.
“Fuck,” he groaned under his breath as he felt his eyes begin to fill with tears that he refused to let fall. He cupped his hands in the sink, filling them with water before splashing it over his face to rinse off the dried blood that had left trails along the sides of his face. He couldn’t let Sammy see him looking like the bloodied mess his father had yet again turned him into.
“Don’t leave me in the dark, Dean,” Sam whispered back, taking his hands from his ears and clinging onto Dean’s shirt as he tried to leave. He was doing his best to be brave the way his big brother was, but he was failing miserably. Each night that their father called Dean from their room the familiar feeling of complete terror always washed over him. He hated seeing Dean hurt.
“You’re safer in here.” Dean replied like he always did, gently unwrapping Sam’s fingers from his shirt and placing them back over his ears. “Try not to listen, okay?”
Sam did his best to block out the noise, but the screams and the thuds always seemed to float through the walls and into his head, making the darkness of the room even more unbearable.
Dean took the towel that was hanging on the wall and lightly patted his face dry before letting the cloth drop from his hands into a crumpled heap on the grimy tile, not having enough energy to hang it back up.
He tenderly removed his once white T-shirt and placed it under the running water. Sometimes if he rinsed the blood out before it dried completely it didn’t stain as bad.
“Don’t cry, Sammy. It’s not so bad, see?” Dean said as pointed to his swollen lip. “It makes me look tough.” He did his best smile and act as if everything was okay. He needed to seem fearless for his little brother. If he made Sammy think that things weren’t so bad then maybe his little brother wouldn’t have to live with the constant terror that he lived with on a daily basis. For now, anyway.
“I didn’t mean to make him mad,” Sam mumbled through his tears. “I just wanted-”
“Hey,” Dean began, stopping Sam mid-sentence as he gently lifted his chin so he could look his little brother in the eye. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” Dean wiped away Sam’s tears with his thumb. “Always remember that, okay?”
He looked in the mirror, lightly tracing his fingers over the outline of each bruise and cut on his abdomen.
He let his fingers drift up to his right eye that was completely swollen shut and had turned an ugly mix of dark blues and purples. His father normally made sure to keep his blows where people wouldn’t easily notice the marks that were always left behind, but this time he had been careless, or maybe he just didn’t give a fuck anymore, and punched him square in the eye. Now he had to think of a believable excuse to tell his teachers at school.
Letting out a deep sigh, he shook his head slightly. Just another night, he thought to himself. He turned out the light and slowly made his way down the hallway, limping into the small bedroom that he shared with his brother. Dean softly closed the door behind him, masking the room in complete darkness again.
“Dean...” came Sam’s small voice.
“I’m alright, Sammy,” Dean said just as softly. “Go back to sleep.” He carefully slid his jeans off and made his way over to his unmade bed, lying down softly on the sheets. He could hear Sam crying softly in the background.
“Hey Sam?” Dean called into the darkness.
He sniffed and cleared his throat quietly before answering. “Yeah?”
“You know that road trip I keep telling you about? Well I’ve been saving up for it. We’re gonna pack up one day and get out of here... never look back.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah Sam, I promise.”
-END
Summary: Things were never the same after their mother died. [AU]
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, mentions of John [no slash]
Rating: NC-17, just to be safe
Warnings: child abuse, language
Author's Note: I know it's been done many times before, but this is my take on it : ] Title taken from the song by Explosions in the Sky.
Hush now, don't you cry.
Wipe away the teardrop from your eye.
You're lying safe in bed,
It was all a bad dream spinning in your head.
-Queensryche
Dean stood hunched over the sink, his hands tightly gripping the sides for support as he tried to catch his breath. Each inhale brought a sharp pain to his chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. He reached down and turned on the faucet, the simple movement causing the muscles in his shoulder and to protest painfully.
“Fuck,” he groaned under his breath as he felt his eyes begin to fill with tears that he refused to let fall. He cupped his hands in the sink, filling them with water before splashing it over his face to rinse off the dried blood that had left trails along the sides of his face. He couldn’t let Sammy see him looking like the bloodied mess his father had yet again turned him into.
“Don’t leave me in the dark, Dean,” Sam whispered back, taking his hands from his ears and clinging onto Dean’s shirt as he tried to leave. He was doing his best to be brave the way his big brother was, but he was failing miserably. Each night that their father called Dean from their room the familiar feeling of complete terror always washed over him. He hated seeing Dean hurt.
“You’re safer in here.” Dean replied like he always did, gently unwrapping Sam’s fingers from his shirt and placing them back over his ears. “Try not to listen, okay?”
Sam did his best to block out the noise, but the screams and the thuds always seemed to float through the walls and into his head, making the darkness of the room even more unbearable.
Dean took the towel that was hanging on the wall and lightly patted his face dry before letting the cloth drop from his hands into a crumpled heap on the grimy tile, not having enough energy to hang it back up.
He tenderly removed his once white T-shirt and placed it under the running water. Sometimes if he rinsed the blood out before it dried completely it didn’t stain as bad.
“Don’t cry, Sammy. It’s not so bad, see?” Dean said as pointed to his swollen lip. “It makes me look tough.” He did his best smile and act as if everything was okay. He needed to seem fearless for his little brother. If he made Sammy think that things weren’t so bad then maybe his little brother wouldn’t have to live with the constant terror that he lived with on a daily basis. For now, anyway.
“I didn’t mean to make him mad,” Sam mumbled through his tears. “I just wanted-”
“Hey,” Dean began, stopping Sam mid-sentence as he gently lifted his chin so he could look his little brother in the eye. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” Dean wiped away Sam’s tears with his thumb. “Always remember that, okay?”
He looked in the mirror, lightly tracing his fingers over the outline of each bruise and cut on his abdomen.
He let his fingers drift up to his right eye that was completely swollen shut and had turned an ugly mix of dark blues and purples. His father normally made sure to keep his blows where people wouldn’t easily notice the marks that were always left behind, but this time he had been careless, or maybe he just didn’t give a fuck anymore, and punched him square in the eye. Now he had to think of a believable excuse to tell his teachers at school.
Letting out a deep sigh, he shook his head slightly. Just another night, he thought to himself. He turned out the light and slowly made his way down the hallway, limping into the small bedroom that he shared with his brother. Dean softly closed the door behind him, masking the room in complete darkness again.
“Dean...” came Sam’s small voice.
“I’m alright, Sammy,” Dean said just as softly. “Go back to sleep.” He carefully slid his jeans off and made his way over to his unmade bed, lying down softly on the sheets. He could hear Sam crying softly in the background.
“Hey Sam?” Dean called into the darkness.
He sniffed and cleared his throat quietly before answering. “Yeah?”
“You know that road trip I keep telling you about? Well I’ve been saving up for it. We’re gonna pack up one day and get out of here... never look back.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah Sam, I promise.”
-END