The Name's Dean

Sam's hazardous shooting

Dean's stomach growled harshly and he eventually went back to the motel. He saw no Impala and smiled gratefully. "I think I stuffed Twinkies in here." He muttered to himself, searching through his suitcase. "Diane." He'd been so hungry, Dean hadn't realized Sam was back. He turned around, a fake smile plastered on once again. "Where's dad?" He asked immediately. Sam narrowed his eyes. "Dad went to a bar. He dropped me off here. I figured you were hungry?" Sam suggested. Dean bit his lip. He was hungry, but maybe Sam would try to talk to him. Dean didn't think he'd be able to handle the prying. He would easily crack. "Yeah, I was just looking for a Twinkie." He laughed, a stupid, girly sound that rung in Dean's ears. Sam winced too. "Lets start walking." Sam smiled. Dean returned the gesture. Sam opened the door for Dean and they walked out of the motel quickly, both starving. "So, Diane..." Sam tried hard to talk. "Look, Sam, I know you think something is wrong. But nothing is. I'm just a hot /girl/ with a big, dumb brother." He stressed the word, trying not to think about it. Sam stopped walking. "Diane, tell me what's wrong. Please. We've never kept anything from each other. Don't shut me out." Sam begged. Dean sighed heavily. "I can't tell you." Tears stung his eyes. Stupid girly emotions. Stupid body. Stupid everything. Why couldn't he have been born right? He should've been born a boy. Why? Why was everything against him in this area? So many questions moved into Dean's mind and he fought not to cry. Sam wouldn't look at him. "Why not?" His voice was tight, anger and sadness ringing his tone. "Because you'll hate me. And dad will know. And he'll hate me. He'll hurt me, Sammy." Dean couldn't do it anymore. He let the tears fall silently. Sam looked back at him and gripped his shoulder hard. "I won't let him. Please, just tell me what's wrong, Diane. I won't hurt you and I won't tell dad." Sam's voice was firm and gentle at the same time. Dean looked him in the eye. "You have to promise not to tell dad. And not to judge me." He whispered. Dean couldn't bring himself to be any louder. He spoke carefully. "Alright. Sam, look, I don't know any other way to put this. All I can say is, I'm not a girl. I am a boy. I don't feel feminine and I hate my boobs with a passion. Please, don't tell dad. Please, Sam." Dean was borderline begging. Sam was shocked. He'd never realized his sister- sibling- wanted something else. Sam had always assumed Diane was a straight, girly female. PHe cleared his throat. "Diane, I wo-" Dean cut him off. "My name is /not/ Diane. It's Dean." Sam took a deep breath. "Alright. Dean, I will not tell dad." Dean was amazed. "You...you'll use my name? And pronouns?" He asked. "Why wouldn't I?" Sam smiled and his grip on Dean's shoulder loosened. "I just didn't expect it to go like this." Sam laughed. "I didn't expect this at all. Anyway, why do you dress so feminine if you hate it?" Dean gave him an eye roll. "Dude, I can't have dad getting suspicious." Sam nodded. "Yeah, I guess I didn't think of that. So, what are you going to tell him? Were you ever even planning on on it?" Dean shrugged. "Honestly, I planned on... Leaving. I would still contact you. But I wanted to leave dad. He isn't a good father. I've thought about it lately and he just isn't dad material. He hits us, Sam. Has any good parent hit their kid? No. He leaves for weeks on end. Sometimes, when you and him are gone, I think about grabbing a knife and just..." Dean cried harder. "Dean! Don't say things like that!" He grabbed Dean's wrists as they tried to cover his face. "Please don't say that. I know he's a terrible father, but you can't hurt yourself. Think of the moment you'll walk around town without a shirt, Dean. Do you honestly want to have scars all across your body when that happens? When you finally get the body you've been dreaming of?" Sam's face was streaked with tears and Dean guessed his didn't look any better. "I know. It's just so hard, Sam." Dean hugged Sam tightly. Sam wrapped his own arms around Dean and held him close. "I love you, Sammy." Dean whimpered, burrowing deeper into Sam's chest. "I love you too, Dean. I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me." Sam smiled as Dean pulled back. "Thank you for accepting me! Sam, I don't know what I would've done if you'd reacted differently." Dean said, wiping his eyes. "No matter what. We're brothers." Sam punched Dean's shoulder and he beamed. /brothers/ They continued walking before Sam spoke up again. "Why didn't you come with us on the hunt? I thought you'd always wanted to go on one." Dean laughed softly. "I didn't want to talk to you guys. I was sick and tired of hiding myself. I hate being feminine with a passion. But I can't let dad come to his own conclusions." Sam nodded and they went out for Burger King.

"Pass me a ketchup packet." John said gruffly. Sam handed his father the packet gingerly. A new anxious, tense air was between all of them. Dean kept his head low and his bites small. He didn't want to eat. He didn't want to be awake. He wanted to sleep, to be stuck in the place where no one could hurt him. "Diane, why didn't you come hunting?" John turned to him. Dean shot a worried glance at Sam and Sam looked the same way. "I'm on my period, dad. I'm not hunting with cramps." He thought quickly. It was a good excuse and John waved it
off. "Okay, good to know. Well, it was a pretty safe hunt, except for Sam's hazardous shooting. When was the last time you practiced a fucking gun?" He demanded. "Sorry, dad." John was sliding his belt from its loops now. "That's not what I asked, boy." He warned. John took yet another swig of his fifth beer bottle. "A while ago." Sam squeaked. He knew what was coming. "How long ago?" John shouted. "I don't know!" Sam shrank in his seat. "You have to know, Sammy. You should keep track of yourself. You should also fucking practice with your damn gun instead of being a little bitch, like your sister, Diane!" John's belt was now a whip, slashing angry red marks into Sam's back that would sting to sleep on. Dean looked on in horror for only a second. He couldn't stomach the abuse his brother was getting. "Stop. Stop. Stop." He whispered. He put his hands over his ears, trying his hardest to block out the sound of leather cracking across his brother. "This isn't right. This isn't what a father should do. Why do you have to do this?" Dean was up now, standing tall and shouting louder than his father. "This isn't right! Stop hurting us! This is not a father should be like. You have no-" Dean was cut off as John slapped the whip across his cheek. "You little bitch!" He shouted nastily. "I didn't raise you like this! Respect your damn elders! Diane Winchester, you do not raise your voice to me!" John yelled. He got up and left in the Impala. Neither of the boys said anything for a long time. Eventually, they crawled together, leaning against one another as they bawled. Their bodies wracked with sobs and shivered uncontrollably. Sam was the first one up. He offered a hand to Dean, who took it gratefully, wiping at his tears.