Well, this is a response for P.L.Wynter's challenge: What if Dean and Sam had Max's childhood. I'll risk it and post this before I know where I'm going with the story.
Disclaimer: I don't own any character's or situations related to the TV show Supernatural.
That said... On to the story.
Dean ran down a narrow hallway, glancing around the doors he passed. He stopped when the hallway split in three different directions. He stood in the middle of the room, the hallways now went ahead of him, to his right, to his left, and back the way he had come. Panting slightly, he took a couple of deep breaths and began looking around. He felt the frustration inside him grow, Sam needed him and after taking a day to get there, he managed to get lost in the building.
Suddenly a door opened, and a police officer came out, dragging a man. The man's clothes were disheveled, as was his hair. He kept struggling to get free and kept yelling something that Dean couldn't make out. His words were slurred. He was obviously drunk.
Dean stared at the scene for a moment, lost in memories of his childhood, of his father when he got home after stopping by the regular bar. Dean closed his eyes and exhaled slowly through his mouth. He looked up to see the officer and the drunk guy were getting away and ran to catch them.
"Excuse me!" Dean said as he approached the two men. Both of them turned around to look at him.
"Officer, " Dean continued. "I'm looking for my brother. Sam Winchester. He was brought in yesterday."
The officer seemed to think for a moment. Dean interrupted his thoughts. The man the officer had been dragging eyed Dean up and down, before speaking.
"Hey, boy, nice suit." He said smiling, exposing his yellowing teeth. "Have a dollar for the less fortunate?" He added. Dean looked at him with disgust. He hated drunks. He didn't get how anyone could drink to the point of not being able to walk straight, make a full out of himself . . . hurt the ones he should protect. Dean turned to the officer again.
"He's in the visitation room. They told me to follow this corridor, but I got lost." Dean spoke fast, and looked at the man impatiently. The officer pointed to turn left from the corridor he had been following. Dean didn't stop to say thanks, he began running again until he made it to the door the officer had said. He knocked and waited for a few seconds before another officer, this one much older than the one on the hallway, opened the door and let him in.
Once inside, the officer made him leave his suit jacket, and walk through a metal detector. He read him the visitation rules quickly, which Dean didn't pay attention too because, he could see his brother sitting at a table inside the room. He was almost bouncing where he stood as the officer finished reading the rules and let him in.
They were in a big, white room, filled with blue tables and fold out chairs. Sam sat at one of the tables in the far corner of the room. When he heard someone approaching him he lifted his head and his face lit up when he saw Dean. Sam smiled.
Dean smiled back at him but, as he got close, his smile faded. Sam looked awful. There were dark circles under his eyes that seemed to have dark circles under their eyes. He looked too pale, but maybe it was just an optical illusion caused by the bright orange suit his brother was wearing. He also looked skinnier than he had just two days ago. Dean wondered in anger if they had fed him yet.
Noticing Dean's evaluating gaze, Sam spoke before his brother had a chance to comment on it.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I look like crap." Sam said. Dean stopped his inspection to look at his brothers face And nodded with a little smile.
"You look good though, nice suit." Sam added. "College life is good for you." He smiled. Even in the situation he was in, he was really happy for his brother.
Dean looked down, somewhat ashamed by his clothes, he didn't have time to stop by his place to change when Sam called him, it didn't even cross his mind. Dean sat down and stared at his brother for an awkward moment. He had never talked to his brother in circumstances like this. He decided to get straight to the point.
"So, " Dean finally said, with a long sigh. "What happened?" Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat at his brother's question. He looked away from his brother's gaze, turning right, and that's when Dean first noticed the deep purple bruise on the side of his neck.
"What happened?" He asked again, but this time referring to the bruise. Sam turned back to his brother and saw him staring at his neck. He absent mindedly covered the bruise with his left hand.
"I ... " Sam cleared his throat and tried again. "I took my bus after you left me at the station. It was a long drive. Dad wasn't there to pick my up. I took a cab home and he was there..." Sam trailed of, like he was thinking what to say.
"Drunk." It wasn't a question. Dean stared at Sam, glaring, but the glare wasn't directed at his brother.
"Yeah." Sam continued, looking down at his hands over the table. A sad expression on his face. "It was just like before. As if he had never stopped. Like the last 4 years never happened." Sam sighed.
"It's OK, Sammy." Dean said. Sam looked up at him and nodded. "What happened next?" Dean asked. And Sam continued.
"He was sitting in the living room, there was a quarter of a bottle of vodka sitting at the table... " Sam stopped for a moment, Dean was about to say something but then Sam resumed his story. "He just stared at me when I got into the house, and asked where I was, I guess he didn't remember I went to see you. I really didn't want to deal with it, so I just went to my room." Sam looked up to see his brother's reaction. Dean nodded his understanding, he knew how the rest of the story would go.
"I got to my room and locked the door. I was about to begin unpacking when he started pounding on the door." Sam paused again, and Dean knew it had to be bad if his brother had this much trouble talking about it. This wasn't the first time either of them saw their father drunk, they were used to it. "He was really angry about something, he yelled for me to open the door but... " Sam thought for a moment. "I was scared." He said, looking ashamed. "I'm almost 18 fucking years old, but he just raises his voice a little and suddenly I'm eight again." Sam scoffed in a bitter manner.
"What happened next?" Dean asked, his face a mixture of emotions Sam couldn't make out. It was like Dean asked the question, but didn't want to hear the answer.
Sam sighed and looked up to the ceiling. The bright lights on the lamps were diffused by semi transparent white screens, giving the room a hospital-like white glow. Sam leaned back on his chair, his hands behind his head.
The events from the last night played on the inside of his closed eyelids like a homemade movie.
Want to know what happened? Read the next chapter XD.