This is something really, really different for me to write. Bit of a back story—as part of my college course I have been studying domestic violence. Something that caught my eye throughout my research was that a lot of the time, especially within the media, it is mostly women who are portrayed as the victims whereas, in reality, men can often be the ones to fall victim to abuse at the hands of their partner.

Now, I understand that this fanfiction is something that would never, ever, happen. It's waaaaaay AU from the show, but I wrote it as part of a way to raise awareness to the fact that men can also suffer as victims of abuse, not just women.

I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!

Men Don't Cry, They Bleed

Chapter One: Lie To Hide The Truth

Something was wrong with Sam.

Dean had known that from the very moment he had first seen him that morning.

At the moment Dean's green eyes found his younger brother's tall frame, heading through the glass doors at the front of the diner, he just knew. Something wasn't right. There was something about the way he walked—the way his shoulders were slumped and how he looked down at the ground as though he had forgotten how to hold up his head—that just wasn't like him. His actions, appearing desolate and dejected, sent Dean's brain straight into overdrive. He knew right there that something had to be bothering him, something was weighing his shoulders to the ground beneath him, and now that something was nagging at the back of Dean's head.

The one thing that Dean had never been capable of doing was ignoring when his brother could be upset. If he so much as suspected that something was wrong he had to find out, he needed to get to the bottom of it or he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else in his life. Usually it was nothing, just a bad day or a rough night's sleep, but sometimes it turned out to be something more, and those were the times that Sam needed his brother the most.

The way that Sam dropped down heavily into the booth opposite Dean only confirmed his suspicions, the way he slouched down and refused to so much as look at anyone else in the busy room, as though all of his self-esteem had just vanished, it only clinched the older Winchester's concerns.

Maybe if Sam had sat down with even a smile—if he didn't look as though the world was burning around him, if there was even a trace of a smile at his lips—maybe Dean would have let the voice in the back of his mind be silenced. Maybe the concern would have been overshadowed.

Truthfully, he had expected Sam to sit down with an excited grin on his face and for him to go into some quickly worded speech about everything he had missed since his last visit. He had expected to hear stories of how his only niece was doing, about how Sam and his wife bickered about organic groceries, about how normal his life was, but that clearly wasn't the case.

The second Dean laid eyes on his brother's features, he knew that something had to be going on. There were dark circles set beneath his eyes, he looked a wreck, like he hadn't slept in a month, probably longer. There wasn't any life left in his eyes, the sparkle that had once been there was faded to a dull and hopeless colour, nothing like they used to be. He looked completely exhausted, utterly wiped out. And, honestly, it worried Dean to see his brother in such an unexpected state.

"What happened to your face?" Dean asked, the first words he spoke to his brother, because it was one of the first things that had caught his eye.

Sam looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, appearing clueless. "What?" he frowned, confused.

"Your face," he repeated bluntly, narrowing his eyes a little. "What happened to it?" He spoke slowly, as if Sam was having trouble understanding him. But he still seemed lost, not following what his brother was getting at. "Dude, you've got a friggin' split lip."

"Oh." Sam nodded in realisation, and Dean could almost hear him cursing himself in his head. "Yeah, that.. I, uh, I went out to a bar with some of the guys from work, got a little wasted," he cracked half a smile, not too convincing. "You know.."

Dean seriously frowned, because that really wasn't like his brother, and he wasn't sure he wanted to believe him. But, he took the explanation, deciding not to press the matter further, and nodded, giving a small chuckle. "You always were a lousy drunk." he commented sardonically, before he took a small drink of the coffee in front of him. "Where's the kid?"

Although he hadn't mentioned it in their, admittedly very brief, phone call, Dean had expected Sam to show up with his daughter, just so that he could see her. It had been a long time since Dean had seen any of them, in fact, now that he thought about her, it was a long time since Sam had so much as sent him a picture of her.

At just six months old, Sam's daughter, Leah, hadn't spent much time with Dean. Sure, he had shown up for the birth and hung around for a while after, but his line of work called, and there were always monsters that needed to be hunted down. Sam understood that and, to an extent, so did his wife. She hadn't said a word to Dean about him not being around, she didn't seem to mind.

It wasn't that Dean disliked her, he didn't, it was just that he didn't really know her that well. When Sam had finally made the decision to leave the life once and for all Dean had been fully supportive of that. The next thing he knew Sam was telling him he was in a serious relationship with a girl he had met in a café somewhere. Soon enough they were engaged, she was pregnant and they were married, living the life he had always yearned. That didn't mean Dean knew her, but, as far as he was concerned, if Sam was happy then so was he.

"Oh, she's, uh, she's not feeling too great," Sam answered, and Dean didn't miss how he refused to look him in the face as he spoke. "Figured I'd leave her to sleep, you know?"

Dean nodded, not sure that he was convinced by Sam's stories. It wasn't like him to fumble at his words the way he was doing there, to appear as though he was searching for an explanation to Dean's every question. He never seemed so unsure of himself.

"Huh, sure." he nodded in acceptance. "So, how you doing? How's the missus?"

It had been over four months, at least, since Dean had last been in that town, and he was only then realising how little contact he and his brother had been in lately. Being busy with hunting, taking job after job in the tireless effort to rid the world of evil, getting the time to call Sam at the end of the day to check in was difficult. He knew that making regular visits to him would only attract the attention of certain supernatural creatures that really didn't need to know where Sam and his family were, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. But still, it felt like a lifetime since the two of them had been in a real conversation with each other.

"We're fine, Dean." Sam told him bluntly, almost an automatic response. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

The tone took Dean a little by surprise. It was almost like Sam didn't want him there, like he was frustrated even being there to speak to him. He was on edge, tense, as though he was hiding something, and everything that came out of his mouth now—every word and every slight move he made—all made Dean more anxious. Something was going on, that much he knew, but he played it cool, never letting on. He had learned from experience that it never served well to actually come out and accuse Sam of anything, because if he didn't want Dean to find out he would simply deny it and move on, giving him nothing.

"I was just passing through town, heading up towards Ohio to look for a case," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Thought maybe I'd stop in and see my kid brother, maybe even the niece and sister-in-law, I mean, is that such a crime now?" He took another drink of his coffee and frowned at him across the table. "Why are you being so weird?"

"I'm not being weird." Sam countered, he even looked a little offended at the suggestion.

Dean scoffed, because just the fact that Sam didn't come back with a sarcastic remark to him was strange. "You're being weird." he confirmed. "And, don't take this the wrong way but, dude," he paused and looked him over slowly. "You look awful."

He wasn't saying it to be cruel, he wasn't saying it to be funny—his voice was serious—he said it because he was getting worried by his younger sibling's behaviour. Everything was off about him, even the way he spoke, the personality had gone from his tone, it was almost as though something had vanished from inside him. He was different, in a way that Dean couldn't quite put his finger on. But it was bothering him.

Sam simply huffed a humorless laugh and nodded. "Gee, thanks." he muttered.

But Dean wasn't letting it go. He sat forwards in his seat and rested his forearms on the table in front of him as he leaned in a little and lowered his voice to a more serious level, as if to let Sam know he now meant business. "Seriously, Sammy, what's going on with you?" he pressed. "Hm?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing—it's nothing." A small sigh escaped him, because Dean's green eyes weren't letting up from their intimate search of his features, like he was scanning him for answers. "I just, you know, with Leah being sick lately I haven't gotten much sleep, that's all. It's not a big deal, don't worry about it."

But, of course, Dean was going to worry about it, because that was what he did. He worried about his brother.

Before he could even think up something else to say, before he could try and get a real answer out of him, the sound of Sam's phone bleeping distracted them both. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his jacket and frowned as his eyes scanned the text there.

"Listen, I need to go," he said simply, he didn't even wait to give an explanation as to where he was going. He didn't appear to have the time.

Dean was now even more curious, something had suddenly got him on guard. "That the wife?" He allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips. "Man, someone's whipped."

Sam opened his mouth, and Dean swore he could see him brewing a comment to throw back at him, but instead he opted for a weak roll of his eyes and a tight smile. "Whatever." he muttered. "How long are you here for?"

Dean shrugged, he really was getting the impression that his brother didn't want him in town. "Couple days maybe."

"Right." Sam nodded. "Well, maybe I'll see you around." he said as he turned and walked towards the doors at the front of the diner.

"Yeah," Dean narrowed his eyes a little as he watched him walk away. "Maybe.."

Something was wrong there, really wrong. He considered the options. He could have been telling the truth when he said his daughter was sick, but anything more than a cold—anything serious enough to have Sam in that state—he would have been straight on the phone to tell him. He thought maybe it could have been money problems, but he was sure that Sam's wife had a pretty decent job, she had money behind her, no question. There was nothing else he could think of that could be weighing him down like that.

But he knew, deep down, he knew it was something. He knew that his brother had been sitting there and lying to his face. He wasn't fine, he wasn't just tired, something was going on, something was happening to him, something that was out of his control.

He didn't care how—he was going to discover what was going on with his brother, he couldn't allow him to walk out of that town until he knew what it was—he needed to find out.