Run Away With Me: Destiel

Chapter One

He was afraid in that moment. Afraid to look up and see John's burning eyes, afraid to face the shame that was sure to come. He didn't want it to be like this. It was supposed to be different.

"Dean."

The voice was cold and angry and deep. He knew it was his fathers before he even looked up.

"Dean, look at me", John growled. Dean was more afraid then he'd ever been in his life.

"Dean!", John had shouted, his voice full of anger. Don't make me look, he thought to himself. He stared at the ground for a few more seconds.

Then Dean looked up into the eyes of the monster.

He didn't remember much. He remembered pain as Johns fist connected with his face. He remembered Sammy yelling at him to stop. He remembered John calling him a "wannabe faggot" as Sam pulled their father away. He remembered falling to the ground, and he remembered seeing the blood starting to form a pool beneath him.

Then he remembered Sam cleaning his wounds while John screamed curse words at Dean.

You fucking faggot!

How dare you!

If anyone finds out my son likes dick, it's gonna be a lot worse for you, I can assure that!

Dean remembered his head spinning. He remembered his breath coming out in fast little puffs, his hands shaking. He remembered Sam telling him to calm down.

He remembered the feeling of needing to get out.

So he did.

John yelled at him to "get the fuck out of his house".

So he did.

He packed his bags and grabbed his wallet and his phone and jumped in the car and left.

Sam screamed at him to stay.

But he didn't.
___________________________________

Dean didn't get far.

When the house had faded into the darkness, he pulled over. His hands were shaking too hard and his vision was blurry from the tears spilling out of his eyes.

Dean let out a wail, a twisted sound full of pain and turmoil. All these years, John had been telling him not to cry. To grow up; be a man. When his mother died. When he fell off his bike and broke his ankle. When he got accepted to his dream college, and John said he had to stay and take care of Sammy, because he was too busy spending all of their money to get drunk at bars and disappear for days.

Dean didn't care anymore. He was done with his father. He was done repressing his feelings. He was done.

And so he cried. He let it all out, screaming and punching and kicking at nothing. He screamed until his voice was hoarse, he punched the steering wheel until his knuckles bled, and he kicked until his legs were covered in bruises.

Dean leaned back against the leather seat and sighed. His throat was sore, and his eyes burned with tears. He ran a hand through his hair.

What the fuck was he doing?

Did he just run away? Did he just leave Sam? Did he just come out of the closet?