Deep Dark Secrets

Summary: There are some things Sam can't tell anyone, not even Dean. Inspired by PostSecret.

A/N: I was introduced to PostSecret late last year. The minute I started reading the secrets I knew I had to use the concept in a Supernatural fic. This is the result. I hope you enjoy.

A/N: This is for everyone who told me they missed my fics while I was on a little "hellatus". Your encouragement has meant a lot to me. It's great to be writing again.


ONE

Things You Never Say

It seemed like the perfect solution.

I came across it by accident when I was doing research on a baffling case involving a sleepwalking serial killer.

I was googling "secret societies" and with one click on the wrong link I ended up on the website, The Secret Place.

The first posting jumped out at me.

"I cannot tell my husband his brother is the real father of our youngest son."

The second one floored me.

"I pulled the plug on my Mom's life support because I wanted to be rid of the old witch once and for all."

By the third one, I was speechless: "When my big brother came back from Iraq without both legs, I finally got the justice I'd been praying for since the night he raped me."

One hour later I was completely engrossed. All these people who had kept their secrets deep inside for so long that they had to let them out and found the best means of relief was to tell a bunch of total strangers.

The site's founder said thousands of unsigned postcards came from all over the world. I guess people can find some sense of relief in a means of exposure that affords the protection of anonymity.

Reading through the site gave me a strange sense of comfort.

I wasn't alone.

Across the world there were thousands of people like me, with secrets so dark and so deep, they could never utter them to another human being.

No one in the world would ever be as close to me or mean as much to me as my big brother. But there were things I'd done and felt that I couldn't even tell Dean.

So stalking that site became a kind of therapeutic indulgence. I wanted to know what people were ashamed of, what they were hiding and what they'd rather die than expose. But mostly, I think I just wanted to know if anyone was a bad as me.

I'd wait until Dean had gone out drinking or hustling, or when he was deep in sleep, and then I'd go to The Secret Place. I'd comfort myself with the thought that I wasn't the only one who had experienced things I couldn't bring myself to speak about.

And then it happened; a hunt that hit too close to home.

A family with two sons; the youngest possessed by a demon and the oldest refusing to accept that his little brother was anything but good. The mother in stubborn denial even in the face of overwhelming evidence. The father, fast losing his grip as he struggled to differentiate between black and white amidst the conscience-numbing shades of gray.

When Dean and I found ourselves in the middle of a deadly family confrontation, things got very bad, very quickly.

The demon boy stood with a lit torch threatening to set the house on fire. Then the mother shot the father as he was attempting to stab their youngest with a silver sword. Demon boy ran for the basement screaming he would blow us all to hell. Big brother ran to the father trying and failing to stop the bleeding. The mother ran after her youngest, begging him for mercy.

And smelling death with every sense within me, I grabbed my brother and ran from the house, panic propelling me to top speed. We barely made it to the road before the house blew sky high and the force of the explosion flung us to the ground.

The drive back to the motel passed in the gut-wrenching silence. When Dean pulled into the parking lot he waited, impatiently, for me to get out.

"I'll see you later," he said brusquely when I didn't move fast enough.

I didn't want him to leave me alone, after what we'd been through tonight. Even if we didn't say a word to each other I wanted him close by. I needed my big brother near me, reassuring me that he didn't resent me for costing him everything.

To be hurriedly deposited in a barely lit motel parking lot so he could find fleeting solace in the arms of a stranger or at the bottom of a bottle was cutting me deep. I wanted to grab his hand from the steering wheel and beg him not to leave.

I needed my big brother who had saved my life as an infant and saved my sanity when I lost Jess. After contending with blood and fire, demons and death I wanted my big brother to tell me that everything would be alright.

And although I couldn't bring myself to actually say any of this to Dean, as I watched the Impala pull out of the parking lot, I felt rejected, abandoned and alone.

Storming to the room and slamming the door didn't make me feel any better; but booting up my computer did. A few clicks and I was at The Secret Place, but my eyes were so clouded with tears, I couldn't even see the screen. Tonight, reading other people's shame and fear of disgrace just wasn't enough. Tonight I needed to share the things I'd kept buried deep inside.

Before I could reconsider, I created a new document and began to type.

A month before I left for Stanford, Dad and I were on the trail of a particularly nasty werewolf. The wolf had Dad cornered in a cave and when I got to him, I aimed my gun but waited several moments before firing. Dad tore into me for freezing under pressure. But I didn't freeze, I hesitated. I thought about what it would be like if he was gone and I was finally free to live my own life. That same night, I decided to go to Stanford. I had to get away before I did something I'd regret for the rest of my life.


There's a recurring dream I have when I fall asleep hurting and frightened after a gruelling hunt. I find myself at a crossroads with a beautiful demon who wants to make a deal. I can get Jess back, alive and well. I can have what I've always dreamed off; happiness, safety, success. All I have to do is promise to give up hunting and never have any form of contact with Dean ever again. And sometimes, in my dreams, I say yes.


In the months after Dean came back from hell, when I saw him broken and haunted from his time down there; I wished with all my soul, that we could go back to Cold Oak and this time around, he would just let me die.


Just before Dean got to me at the convent, right after I broke the last seal, Ruby whispered in my ear and told me she was pregnant. I knew she was carrying my child my when I held her so Dean could kill her. My union with Ruby had already brought on the end of the world. I didn't want to know what other hellish nightmare we had created.


I don't think I typed for more than fifteen minutes, but it may as well have been a lifetime because by the time I finished, I was exhausted. I looked away from the screen and used both hands wipe away the steady stream of tears that had been trickling down my face. I breathed slowly and deeply, trying to calm the rapid fire of my heart.

I'm not sure what I would have done next but I was stopped in my tracks by the shrill buzzing of my ring tone. A strange mixture of relief and anticipation surged through my veins when the caller ID revealed it was Dean.

"Hey," I said, ensuring my voice betrayed none of my anxiety.

A heavy, hesitant silence hung on the line for several moments before Dean replied.

"So," he also seemed to be making a great effort to sound casual. "I was thinking we could go get something to eat."

Sighing silently, I closed my eyes; grateful beyond measure for Dean's big brother intuition or whatever the hell it was that always clued him in when I needed him most.

"How about a stiff drink first," I offered.

"Sounds like a plan. I'm five minutes away."

I hung up the phone and glanced briefly at my laptop screen.

There would be no postcards to The Secret Place from me.

Anonymous our not, my secrets were not going to be shared with strangers.

No matter how much I needed catharsis, these thoughts should never have seen the light of day.

I shut down the computer without saving the document; and foolishly, I thought that was the end of the matter.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

TO BE CONTINUED