A/N: Written for the LiveJournal community, abused_sammy, prompt fest. Prompt: Dean locks a claustrophobic!Sam in a closet, knowing how it scares Sam, but too angry to care. (Reason up to author...)
Dean was seeing red. It was a wonder that he didn't have steam coming out of his ears, like he used to see in old cartoons. He sat against the closet door, holding Sam inside.
"Dean! Please! I said I was sorry!" Sam screamed from inside.
"No, Sammy, you broke the tail light of my baby." Dean spoke, leveling his voice as best as he could. It didn't help that Sam was pounding against the door.
"Let me out! Let me out! LET ME OUT! Please!" The screaming turned to sobs as he continued his bombardment of the door. But, even at sixteen, Sam's strength wasn't enough to move the door and Dean. He began to fail wildly, kicking out and shouting at the tops of his lungs. The dark, miniscule room was closing in on him fast, and there was no out. He stopped screaming when he realized he wasn't really able to breathe.
"Please, De, I'll do anything. Just let me go." He stopped moving, trying to listen for a response.
"Sam, if you can't borrow my car without breaking something, or asking to borrow it in the first place, then this is what you get." He sounded a bit more like himself now, not quite as angry, but his words still spoke of his frustration. Sam backed himself against the door trying to get as close to Dean as possible. Although he was the reason Sam was trapped in the first place, he needed to be close. It calmed him.
"Dean, I'll help you fix it. I promise-"
"Damn straight you're gonna help me fix it."
"I need to get out of here, Dean. I can't breathe." True to his word, the hyperventilation continued.
"Yes you can, Sammy." A click at the doorknob. Dean locked him in. "And you're gonna stay in there until I get back."
"Don't leave me here!" He begged, tears freely rolling down his flushed cheeks.
"I'm going to get dinner, and then I'll let you out." The voice got farther away, and Sam heard the front door open.
"NO! Dean!" Sam stood and through himself against the door, which, much to his dismay, did not budge. "No!" The door closed, and Dean was gone. That's when the real panic set in.
Sam sunk back to the floor, running out of hope. Dean left him, and their dad just left for a hunt this morning. There was no one to let him out, or talk him through it. He was alone, facing the darkness.
He wasn't always claustrophobic. In fact, it used to be fun to slip into the closet in the middle of the night with Dean. They'd whisper stories to one another, mostly recycled from their father's and Bobby's hunting tales, and eat whatever snacks Dean could snatch from a convenience store or gas station without anyone seeing. It was their little secret. Until, of course, he got locked in a trunk by a poltergeist. He was twelve, and he and Dean were hunting with their father. Sam got separated.
It had been one of the worst experiences of his life, and suddenly, the closet became a frightening place. The midnight meetings stopped, and Dean never spoke of it to Sam. He had tried his best in the past to help Sam avoid tight spaces, but now, he was so angry that he used it against him. It was a metaphorical hit below the belt. And now Sam was curled up in the closet, struggling to catch his breath, trying to think of something other than how badly he needed to get out.
When Dean returned, all was silent. He didn't hear any kicking or screaming, heavy breathing, or cries or whimpers. All was frighteningly quiet.
"Sammy?" He called, setting the bag of food on the table. No response came. Thus, Dean edged over to the closet door quietly, gun in hand.
He unlocked the door, and turned the nob slowly. When he finally brought himself to open the damn thing, the sight he faced frightened him. Sam was in the corner, curled inward, eyes wide with fright.
"Oh my god, Sam." Dean mumbled, dropping himself and his gun to the ground, and crawling forward to his brother.
"You left me here." The boy spoke, eyes never leaving the corner opposite him.
"I know, Sam, and I'll never do it again. I'm so sorry." Dean choked back a sob of his own, guilty for all the terror he inflicted.
Sam's expression turned into a frown, thus causing Dean to pull him tightly up into his lap and against his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around his abnormally large younger brother, hoping to convey what he couldn't say.
"I'm not mad anymore, Sammy. It's okay." He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to Sam's shoulder.
A/N: I have already been asked by several users on LJ to write out the scene where Sam is trapped in the trunk, so that's soon to come! I'll upload it as chapter 2, so if you're interested in that, I'd put this story on alert!
And as always, reviews are highly encouraged!