“So Dean, how long are you staying in town for?” A sly smile crossed a young boy's face as he looked to the young Dean Winchester who stood before him.
“Oh I don’t know,” The young hunter responded, “Maybe a week or two, my dad’s work doesn't keep us in one place for too long.”
The nameless boy's eyes quite obviously dashed down to stare at Dean's lips, making it quite obvious what was on his mind, “Well I think a week or two is plenty of time to get to know a person don’t you think?” His eyes shifted back up to meet Deans.
A small chuckle fell from the Winchesters lips, Being as tall as he was, Dean moved his arm up to rest on the wall above the boy's head, “Ya know, I think I really gotta agree with you on that one.”
The two leaned in closer to each other, intent on locking lips. These are normal teenage things especially for Dean Winchester. Finding attractive people his age, sharing a couple kisses to starve away boredom between hunts and boring classes was just something the young Winchester did. The amount of people Dean has dated cannot be counted on both hands combined, that's just how he was. It was a secret to no one.
One secret he did happen to keep was the fact that his attraction was not limited to women. This secret was kept secret for good reason.
“Dean!” Before the teenage boys were able to do what they set out to do a loud, gruff voice echoed through the hotel parking lot. The reason why Dean kept the whole kissing boys thing a secret may have just found out that well guarded secret.
It wasn’t guarded well enough, “Hey uh, sorry but I gotta go,” Before waiting to hear a response from the boy, Dean rushed off, back to the hotel room his father stood in the open door way of. As his eldest son approached, John turned and took a seat on one of the available beds.
“Hey I didn’t know you were back Dad,” His father didn’t respond, “Uh Sammy’s still at the library if you’re wondering,”
His father still did not respond. John Winchester said nothing to his son before him. He just sat. Sat on the bed of that shitty hotel room. He didn’t need to use his words to communicate what he felt at the moment though. The look on his face, his silence, and the heavy tension that hung in the air was telling enough. His son was going to kiss another boy and he sure as hell was not happy about it.
Dean couldn’t tell whether that expression painting John's face was just pissed or if it was disappointed as well. Dean concealed his fear as well as his father concealed his anger. The emotions seemed to collide in the worst way possible despite the silence that was practically deafening.
How long did the two sit there? How long did Dean have to hold back his fear? Out of everything the boy had seen, from werewolves to vampires, to ghosts and shapeshifters, this was the most terrifying thing. His father before him, aware of his secret and yet he didn’t say a thing. John Winchester just sat there in utter silence.
With a click the door opened. Sammy was back, “Hey Dad, hey Dean.” The boy shut the door before freezing in his tracks, “Is something wrong?”
John stood up, rushing past his two sons and walking out the door, The Chevy Impala roared to life and the sound of its engine slowly faded into the distance.
“Dean?” Sam asked with innocence, “What happ-”
“It’s nothing Sammy!” Sam's older brother interrupted, “It’s fine, doesn't matter.”
“What the FUCK is wrong with you! I raised you to be a good son and this is how you repay me?” An angry fathers voice boomed throughout the confines of another hotel room, the Winchesters were miles away from the town Dean had been spotted with that boy. It had been months, the boy and town were long gone.
“I’m sorry I’ll clean it up, it was just an accident-”
“Accident my fucking ass Dean! You can’t even hold a fucking plate right! How the fuck are you even still alive right now?!” It had been like this since the incident. Every little mistake, no matter how small, would result in a scene similar to this. Dean would get his head yelled off for everything he did. His fathers anger showed no restraint.
Sammy would stay quiet and out of the way during these times, He knew better than to get in the way. Sam was no idiot. He knew it had to do with that day where John stormed off, saying nothing. Everytime He would so much as even mention it to Dean the older brother seemed to shut down, change the subject, do anything to steer matters away from the truth. So, Sammy stayed in the dark, for months he’s stayed in the dark, watching from afar.
“Now clean up the mess you fucking made! You fucking disgrace!” John finished his screaming and left the room, slamming the door so hard the boys feared it might just fall off the hinges like the door of the last hotel they stayed in.
Dean's mouth quivered and eyebrows met in a tight knot. Restraining tears, he picked up the broken shards of the plate scattered on the ground.
“Here let me help,” Sam made his way over to his brother.
“No! I made this mess so I’ll clean it up, Just go back to whatever you were doing Sam,” Dean started to pick up the shards faster, keeping his face to the ground and away from his little brother.
“But I just want to help-”
“I said no Sammy! I can do this mysel- ahh shit!” Dean interrupted himself as a shard of the plate cut through his skin, he wasn’t paying attention to which shards he picked up, resulting in the nasty cut no evident on his hand.
“Just go away Sammy! Just leave me the fuck alone! I just need to clean this shit up!” Dean's voice cracked and liquid droplets could be seen as they started to fall to the ground. He was crying.
“Sorry, I’ll go,” Sam grabbed his bag and left the room. He didn’t know where he was going but Dean needed to be alone. He was pushing Sam away and Sam didn’t push back. He respected his older brother but sometimes that respect stopped him from helping his older brother when he really needed it.
The eldest Winchester son cried as he threw away the remains of the dropped plate. He cried as he cleaned and bandaged his wound, he cried as he curled up in that shitty hotel bed and he didn’t stop crying until he was unconscious.
This hunt had to do with a werewolf. Three young men around Dean's age had all died, their hearts ripped out. John says that the werewolf had to be a teen. All the victims were in the same club at the local highschool. Dean had to figure out who the werewolf was by joining the club.
The details aren’t important, they never were. The important thing was that Dean wanted to act on that secret again. He couldn't though. Never again. He had to keep that part of him tucked away, to never be seen again. He was doing a good job on it too. Not acting on that secret. That was, until he met Jason.
It all happened so fast, they were in that club together, they both liked each other, and what happened happened. This is okay right? Just a way to find out who the werewolf is right? Nothing too serious, nothing too bad. This should all be fine. Right?
“Come on Dean,” Jason's eyes shone a bright yellow and his fangs seemed to decorate his face in a hideous way, “Aren’t you gonna shoot me? Stop me from killing Todd?” The boy named Todd lay on the ground in front of the teen werewolf, in order for Jason to even get the chance to kill him he would have to move to pick him up or lean down. It gave Dean plenty of time to pull the trigger and land a silver bullet in Jason's heart. Nothing was stopping him so why wasn’t he pulling the trigger? Why did he just stand there like a fucking idiot?
The way these situations usually pan out is that. “Oh it happened in the blink of an eye, there was nothing I could do to stop it,” but it didn’t happen in the blink of an eye and Dean could have done everything to stop it but he hesitated and soon, Todd was no longer lying unconscious on the ground. Now he was lying dead on the ground.
Dean failed to save him because his own emotions got in the way.
A gunshot pierced the air and soon Jason joined Todd. Both are now lifeless, but Dean didn’t pull the trigger, someone else did.
“What the fuck was that?!” That angry voice Dean had grown so used to screamed out, John winchester stomped over to his son, “You had every chance to shoot and yet you didn’t fucking take it? What the fuck is up with you Dean!?”
“I’m sorry I just-”
“Sorry? Try telling the kid you’re fucking sorry! Oh wait you can’t,” John looked to Todds body sparlwed beneath him, “He’s fucking dead! And it’s. Because. Of. You.”
John didn’t stop talking, “The werewolf didn't kill him. You fucking did. His blood is on your hands son! And you’re gonna have to fucking deal with it!”
John walked away but he still didn’t shut the fuck up. He was talking to himself, loudly, knowing his son could hear him, “Maybe if my son wasn’t a fucking faggot he’d still be alive.”
Dean didn’t move. He didn’t move when he heard the impala leave, he didn’t move when he heard a rat scutter past him in the abandoned factory the whole scene had just taken place in. Dean did not move from his spot.
Todd was in the club too. He was the captain. It was a wrestling club. Dean was rusty after so many years of not doing it but he was still good. Jason pointed that out when he first joined. Jason and Todd were always so supportive. The club and how nice everyone was made it so much easier to focus on wrestling and being a teenager but so much harder to focus on everything else. The hunt. His father. His secret.
Todd was a friend. Jason was so much more than that. They’re both dead now. Dean had caused this. It was his fault. Dean knew the reason why. The reason why Todd is dead, the reason why his father left him there, the reason why his father is always so angry, the reason why he’s such a failure, the reason why Sammy’s so confused. Dean knew the reason why.
The bunker was quiet today. No case seemed to pop up on Sam and Deans radar and so the two lazed about, hanging around the bunker.
Dean yawned as he put together his dinner. Lazily slapping peanut butter and jam onto bread and of course, cutting off the crust.
He poured himself a glass of milk to go with the sticky peanut butter of the PB and J and walked out to the main room where Sam sat, staring blankly at his laptop.
“Hey! Earth to Sammy!” Dean shouted as he took a seat across from Sam, “Whatcha thinking about there buddy? Looking at porn or something on that laptop?”
“What? No! Come on Dean!” Sam rolled his eyes and shut his laptop, ignoring his brother's chuckles at his reaction.
“So,” Dean took a bite of his food, “No case or anything?”
“Nope, and don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s gross dude.”
“You cannot stop me from eating and talking,” Dean smiled to show off his chewed up food inside his mouth, “I do what I want.”
“Jesus fucking christ dude, what are you a twelve year old?”
Dean laughed before swallowing the previously displayed bite of sandwich and drinking from the glass of milk he had, “No but seriously dude,” he said with a now empty mouth, “What has you spacing out?”
“I was just thinking,” Sam starts, “When we were kids there was this weird time where Dad screamed his head off at you every chance he got. Like you’d drop a plate and he’d lose his mind! What was that all about?”
Dean's mouth went dry. It was now this Winchesters turn to space out.
“Uh Dean?” Sam looked concerned with his brothers reaction but not surprised, “If you don’t wanna talk about it it’s fine-”
“No no, It’s okay,” The elder interrupted, “I just haven’t thought about that in a while is all.”
After a few moments of silence Sam spoke again, “So, you wanna tell me what happened? Or?”
Dean sighed before speaking again, “Dad saw me with-,” He swallowed hard. He shouldn’t be afraid to admit this. Sam was his family. Family could trust each other. He has nothing to fear, “The reason why Dad was so angry at me was because he saw me with a boy.”
“A boy?” Sam asked, “Like he saw you kissing a boy? That's why he acted like that?”
Dean's silence gave Sam the confirmation he needed.
“That’s so fucking stupid holy shit,” Sam let out a deep breath and dragged his hands down his face, “I knew Dad was a succbag sometimes but all of that because he saw you with a boy? That’s insane!”
“I’m surprised you don’t agree with him,” Dean finally spoke again.
“What?!” Sam looked offended by his brother’s words, “Why the hell would I agree with him? Thats a dumb fucking thing to agree with.”
Dean didn’t make eye contact with his younger brother, instead he stared at the sandwich with one bite taken out of it. No words fell past his lips.
“Dean, look at me,” Dean slowly looked up to meet Sam's gaze, “I’m never gonna hate you for who you’re attracted to, no one should, especially not Dad.”
Dean brought his elbows up to the table, resting his face in his hands. Still not saying a word.
“Dean, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you, it’s okay,” Sam stood up and circled the table to sit next to his brother, hand resting on his back, “It’s okay, Dad’s not here anymore, it’s okay.”
Those words of comfort were something the older Winchester brother needed to hear a long, long, time ago. Those words of comfort, that gesture of caring, just the sign that his family loved him for who he was. This was something he needed so, so, long ago. Better late than never they say.
Dean cried that night. He cried in a similar way to all those years ago when that broken plate had cut his hand. However, this crying was different. It wasn’t full of the usual shame and self hatred. It was the tears of a broken man pulling himself back together. He found acceptance in his family, something he never dared to even imagine possible.
He also never finished that sandwich. Lost his appetite.