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He’d need a new Ace soon. And so would his Dad. Between each kick that John planted on his ribcage Dean wondered when he stopped being his dad’s Ace. When he started to be his dad’s burden. To be nothing but a freak, a fuck-up, a worthless piece of crap.
The next blow landed a little too close to his diaphragm, successfully knocking the air out of him.
“What’s wrong Pretty boy? Can’t take a fucking hit? You really are just a piece of eye candy aren’t you?” Dean knew his father was drunk, he knew he wasn’t processing what he was saying or doing, but that didn’t make the words sting any less. It didn’t mean that he wouldn’t carve these things into his skin later and not remember doing it. It didn’t mean that the beatings didn’t happen. But it meant he would still keep quiet. It meant that Dean Winchester would never blame his father, it meant he’d always be loyal. And maybe because that’s what it took to keep Sammy safe, but, maybe, it was because he felt as if maybe his only purpose in life was to be the personal punching bag of John. Maybe then he wasn’t as worthless as he thought. It was nights he stood between his dad and his brother that he felt best. He felt like he had a purpose, and in that moment, in that moment alone he wasn’t worthless. But then again, the words of his father said otherwise. And maybe more than he would ever admit, those words got to him.
Fingers snapped in his face and pulled him out of his mind.
“You with me boy?” Dean didn’t respond. Half because of instinct and half because of his rebellious streak, both he learned from his father. The officer sat back in his chair. Dean wanted to slap the smug look off his face. Just because he got caught with a girl in the impala. And it was total bullshit. That fucking girl, got away fine, and he was stuck in a stupid police interrogation room for a reason he didn’t even know.
“You mute kid?”
“No, but I know my fucking rights.”
“You’re not in trouble.”
“Then why am I here? When that girl ain’t!”
“Now, now, calm down son.” The detective said. He was an older man, one that was probably good at calming things, whatever it was, it worked and Dean sat stubbornly back in his chair.
“Now, you’re here because we saw some specious bruising when, we uh, saw you earlier.”
“When you saw me fucking that girl?”
“Yeah,” He cleared his throat, “So now that you’re talking a little more, mind telling me where you got those bruises?”
“I get in a lotta fights.”
“Yeah, see I checked on that, and there’s no record, by any school, of any fights.”
“They don’t know everything”
“No, they don’t always know everything, and I reckon that’s why all those teachers keep asking about the bruises too.”
“I don’t have to say anything without a lawyer, I told you, and I know my rights.”
“Maybe Sam will be more talkative.”
“Don’t you fuckin touch my brother! You got no right so leave ‘em alone!”
“You care about him don’t you?”
“Of course I do he’s my brother!”
“Where’s your dad?” Dean was reluctant to answer.
“I can just ask your brother, Dean.”
“No, no he’s just working.”
“So why didn’t you want to answer?”
“People, they uh, make assumptions you know?” The detective sat forward, getting a better look at the young boy before him, whom looked utterly defeated. This boy couldn’t be more than 15 or 16, but he had dark rings around his eyes, his skin was pale and sickly, making the green of his eyes and his freckles pop. His face was sunken in, and skinny, In fact, if it wasn’t for all the muscle, he’d look like a skeleton.
“Look man, just don’t, don’t mess with Sammy, he’s too young for all of this,”
“Listen, Dean, we’re going to have to talk to him,” Dean opened his mouth to argue, but the detective quickly finished his sentence, “but, we’ll do it in a way that he won’t know what we’re asking, and then maybe, somethings can get shifted around and you can see him. Maybe.” Dean nodded his head and the detective left the room.
“Hey Paul, how did it go with the kid?” Another officer asked him.
“It was alright.”
“You think it’s true?”
“That he was abused? Yeah.”
“Shame”
“Yeah.”
“Whata ‘bout his brother?”
“No, the older one is really over-protective of the younger, and while the older is defensive and harsh it seems like the younger one is just inquisitive, and doesn’t have as strong as a distrust for authority.”
“You going to go in soon?”
“Yeah, I’m on my way now.”
“Good luck.” And with that he walked into interrogation room 2.
“Hello Sam.”
“Hello sir, may I ask why I’m here?”
“Getting right to the point I see.”
“I have the right to know whether I’ve been arrested, why, and a right to a lawyer. And if I haven’t been arrested, you can’t hold me.” The detective was appalled. These kids were a lot more mature than other kids their age.
“You interested in law?”
“Yes sir, I wanna be a lawyer.”
“Well, then you know I can’t legally hold you, but maybe you’d able to answer a few questions.”
“Why?”
“It’s going to help your brother.” The boy’s eyes went wide and he eagerly nodded his head.
“Great, so can I ask about your father?” Again Sam nodded, anything to help his brother. The detective continued.
“Where is he?” Sam hesitated, he knew that this usually lead to other things, and Dean always told him not to talk about their family. But this was to help Dean, so he answered:
“He works.”
“What does your dad do?”
“He…. Is a mechanic.”
“Hm, okay, well let’s talk about Dean. Has he gone to the hospital for anything weird?”
“Well not too long ago, he passed out, it was really scary.”
“Do you know why?”
“Nope.”
“No?”
“Dad told me not to talk about, and Dean got mad when I asked.”
“What about your dad, does he get mad a lot?”
“Not at me, but at Dean yeah.”
“Is that so? How often does that happen?”
“Every time he’s home. But he’s not bad or anything, the air just always seems a little tense around them.” Sam wondered what the hell they’d gotten themselves into, “Dean always insists I go out or go to his room, if he have one, whenever Dean sees that dad is back. I hate it that Dean always gets more time with John then I do.”
“Is there a lot of injuries in your family Sam?”
“What do you mean?”
“Does it seem like people are hurt a lot, you, or Dean, or even your dad?”
“Sometimes Dean gets in fights, and he gets a lot of bruises, but not too often.”
“Tell me about the bruises.”
“Well I honestly thought that Dean was a better fighter, because sometimes I see him with a black eye, or one time he had handprints around his neck.”
“Alright, well thank you Sam. And if you’d like to see your brother, follow me.” Sam jumped up, he needed to know what was happening, what Dean had done, or what he was taking the blame for. Dean would explain, right? He was lead into an identical room, but with his brother in it. He looked exhausted and defeated. But as soon as he saw Sam walked in, he jumped to his feet and wrapped his brother up in a hug.
“Hey Dean.”
“Hey Sammy,” he sounded broken down.
“Dean what’s going on?” Dean buried his head in Sam’s head. It gave him a sense of safety, a sense that everything would be alright.
“Everything’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” He said it half for his own benefit, and half to reassure himself. He knew he was lying to himself, but if you repeat a lie long enough, it becomes truth, right? Right?
……………………………………………..
Why wasn’t Dean telling him what was going on? His family wasn’t normal, b-but it wasn’t police not normal.
“Dean I’m scared.” Dean let out a heavy sigh.
“Then let’s get out of here yeah?” Sam slumped in relief.
………………………………………………
The boys escaped the police station mere minutes before the detective and social worker walked in. How they did it? No one knows for certain, it seemed impossible. But that was the life Dean had to live, one of impossibilities and uncertainties.