Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4292634.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Jody_Mills/Bobby_Singer, John_Winchester/
      Mary_Winchester, Lucifer/Michael_(Supernatural), Castiel/Meg_Masters
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester, Castiel, John_Winchester, Bobby_Singer,
      Jody_Mills, Mary_Winchester, Jo_Harvelle, Ellen_Harvelle, Adam_Milligan,
      Nick_(Supernatural), Michael_(Supernatural), Meg_Masters, Michael_(John
      Winchester), Missouri_Moseley, Charlie_Bradbury, Jessica_Moore
  Additional Tags:
      Doctor_AU, Older_Dean, Human_AU, Doctor_Dean, Virgin!Sam, top!dean,
      Bottom!Sam, Emotional/Psychological_Abuse, Sexual_Abuse, Father/Son
      Incest, Unrelated_Winchesters, Self-Harm, slight_PTSD, Sleep_Deprivation,
      Eating_Disorders
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-07-07 Updated: 2016-01-02 Chapters: 12/? Words: 23789
****** The Winchester family ******
by Meghanthemoose
Summary
     I was reading some fanfics about Sam being still tortured by Lucifer
     and I got in a Hurt!Sam kind of mood so I thought about an AU where
     Sam is living in an abusive household and eventually there is a
     psychical that he needs to take for school and that is where he meets
     the charming and young, Doctor Dean Smith ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
     I thought of making this a Sastiel fic but then I was like nah. Sam
     is about 16 in this fic, and Dean is about 27.
***** Chapter 1 *****
It was an early Saturday morning in the middle of December in Lawrence, Kansas.
It wasn't exactly snowing but a dew had settled over the grass and there was
wind blowing so harshly; Sam's windows seemed to be moving like they were about
to blow inwards. Sam Winchester pulled the thin blankets over his shoulders but
he groaned as the blanket was pulled off his feet. He was way to tall for his
twin sized bed and this blanket was meant for a five year old. He let out a
shiver as goosebumps showed up on his arms and his neck and basically his
entire body. One of Sam's eyes cracked open and glanced over at the alarm clock
on his bedside table; the time read "5:49" in bright green numbers.
"Fuck!" Sam gasped, and jumped out of bed. Sam had a very strict schedule
enforced by his father; John. Sam was suppose to be up by 5:00 AM each morning
so he could start breakfast for when his father would wake up at 6:00. Sam
threw on a white t-shirt and a pair of cotton pajama pants to cover his boxers.
Sam's coordination was always bad in the mornings but now it was worst because
of the mix of panic and his lanky limbs.
He slid into the kitchen and rushed over to pull down bowls, start up the oven,
and start up the coffee brewer. Sam reached in the fridge and pulled out eggs
and bacon, along with milk and a bottle of whiskey. Sam's dad liked his coffee
spiked with something to get him through the day. Sam hastily threw together a
batter for pancakes while simultaneously flipping eggs on the stove. At exactly
6:00, Sam heard his dad's alarm clock go off from down the hall and his heart
skipped a beat. He pulled the pot from the coffee machine and poured in a
coffee cup, adding a dash of whiskey and then taking a swig from the bottle
himself. He was going to need a lot more than a shot of whiskey to get him
through this morning.
Heavy footsteps made their way down the hall and with each stomp, Sam found
himself flinching. Sam liked to act strong when he wasn't faced with the fact
of his dad's soon to come anger. Most parents wouldn't be mad if their child
wasn't done with breakfast by the time they woke up; hell most parents would be
grateful for their kids to be doing anything at this ungodly hour. Of course
that is what most normal parents would be like but, John wasn't normal.
"Mornin Sammy." John said, while plopping himself down at the table. Sam nodded
and set the coffee cup down, then went back to the pancakes. John noticed
immediately, because by this time in the morning, he'd already be digging into
Sam's pancakes.
"Sam, what time did you wake up this morning?" John muttered, lifting his cup
to take a small sip. Sam's body tensed and what meant to be confident came out
as a shaking, tremble of a voice.
"5:49, sir." Sam whispered while putting a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and
pancakes in front of his father.
"Hm." John grunted while picking up his fork and knife and cutting into a
pancake.
"So while I'm out working all night to support this family, and want to wake up
to a nice cooked meal; you can't even handle that!?" John shouted, slamming his
hand on the table making his coffee cup spill over the edge. Sam stood in front
of his father, his head down and his hands held together behind his back.
"These pancakes are undercooked, and the bacon is fucking raw. Don't even get
me started on the eggs." John said, pushing the plate off the table, where it
hit the ground with a smash. Sam quickly got to his knees and begun picking up
the plate pieces. Sam's eyes stayed so focused on the ground he didn't even see
his father's boot come down and slam onto the top of his hand. Sam let out a
scream of pain to which John replied,
"Shut the fuck up Sam! You're so fucking annoying." John twisted his heel side
to side on the top of Sam's hand and Sam bit his bottom lip so hard, he drew
blood. Sam could feel bones shattering in his hand. His eyes welled up with
tears but he wiped them away with his free hand.
"God you're such a fucking pussy." John scoffed, removing his boot and tucking
it back under the table. John pushed his feet from under the table and turned
his chair around to face Sam. He adjusted his legs open and without even having
to say anything, Sam knew. Sam moved over to his father and sat up on his knees
between John's legs. John ran his hand through Sam's hair, tucking some of it
behind Sam's ear with gentleness that almost made Sam forget the pain in his
hand. All Sam wanted was to please his father, he just wanted his dad to
someday say "That's enough son. I'm sorry for everything. Let's be a family
again," but Sam could never in a million years see that happening. Maybe if
Sam's mom got better somehow, that could be a possibility but that was to-good-
to-be-true thinking as well.
~~
Sam got out the door at around seven. His father had went to work about ten
minutes prior but Sam couldn't leave at that time because he had to clean
himself up. He also had to wait for the swelling under his eyes to go down,
after his lovely father shot a load into his eyes.
Sam lived in a apartment complex in the heart of Lawrence. It was a four story
building, and a short walk to school, the farmers market, and the library. His
across the hall neighbors were the Singers, Bobby and his wife Jody. There kid
was in college last Sam heard. They're nice people but they are very noisy and
they are suspicious of John; they see right through his act and Sam's too so
Sam isn't allowed to talk to them. Down the hall lies Ellen Harvelle and her
daughter Jo. Jo is Sam's age but she is a grade below him because they seem to
move around a lot. Ellen seems to dislike John but she is really nice to Sam,
always letting him know that if he needs someone, she is there and stuff.
Lastly, up the stairs on the fourth floor is the Miligan couple and their son
Adam. Adam is a senior, kind of a jock but is the height of an average teenage
girl. Adam's one father is Nick and he's in his late forties to early fifties
with pale blonde hair and an obsession of studying religion. Nick's husband is
named Michael and he's a lot younger than Nick; early thirties, maybe with jet
black hair. There is other people in the building but those are the only ones
Sam bothers to remember the names of.
Sam grumbles his way down the hall and out the door, giving a small wave to
Miss. Moseley; the landlord and owner of the building. Miss. Moseley was nice
but she always seem to know what you're thinking of doing, or what you're
thinking in general. Honestly it kind of freaks Sam out. Sam lets out a breath
when he walks outside and it's cold enough for Sam to see it. Sam flips up the
hood on his thin coat, and begins to run. Sam has no reason to run, school
starts at 7:35 and it takes like five minutes to get to school by foot but he
just has an urge to run. The urge is probably caused by the thought of just
running from home; the thought of just running past his school, past the crappy
library, just running past everything till he is somewhere completely
different. Somewhere new. Sam wants to think that if he runs far enough, he can
leave all his memories in the dust. His school is in sight now, and he finds
himself turning on the same old road to the school. Sam wants to run but there
is nothing to run too; he's stuck in the same place he'll be for the rest of
his life. Or the place he'll be when he buys a car and gets the hell out of
dodge.
~~
First period Sam has Mrs. Anderson for English, which is pretty amazing. Mrs.
Anderson in of herself is awful but Sam loves the books they read. Books are
his safe place, no matter what he is reading. Mrs. Anderson is really old and
has that weird, wrinkly neck skin that resembles a rooster and most of the
assholes at Sam's school have come up with the ingenious nickname of
"cockthroat." Sam thinks it's the most ridiculous name but he won't deny he
chuckled when he first heard it.
"Hey Sam." Jo says happily with a wave as she walks by. The corner of Sam's
mouth turn up in what is suppose to be a smile, and he waves back. Jo is with
all her friends. Jo is in the group that isn't popular but isn't so unpopular
they get called names by the bigger cliques at the school but even saying that,
no one besides Jo says hi to Sam. In fact they pull Jo away and look back with
disgusted glances as they walk away. It used to bother Sam, but the key word is
used to.
Sam isn't exactly sure why everyone in the school is disgusted and or scared of
him. Sure he has long hair that covers his eyes, arms that just about go down
to his knees, legs that are foot more off the ground than normal people, and
bruises everywhere but that doesn't mean they should be scared. Actually now
that Sam thinks about it, he would be scared too.
"Sam Winchester, please come to the principal's office. Sam Winchester to the
principal's office." Was echoed through the hallways of the school. Sam
muttered 'fuck' as kids begun to turn and stare at him like he had just
committed murder.
'EVERYONE GOES DOWN TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE HERE AND THERE GUYS! IT ISN'T A
BIG DEAL!' Sam wanted to scream but he held his tongue.
As he made his way down the hall, he spotted Jo and she gave a wink with a
small smile. Sam liked having someone on his side.
When he got to the principal's office he was greeted with a wave of heat that
made Sam want to take his coat off. It was like someone decided it was just to
cold out and cranked up the heat so high that radiator would explode. The
principal's office had a large main room with a single corridor that led to the
big man's room. The floors were an ugly purple carpet that has probably been
there since they started the school, and the walls were a faded oak brown. Sam
vaguely knew the woman that sat at the front desk, typing away on the computer.
It was Mrs. something.
"Hello?" Sam said so quietly, he was shocked that the woman heard him.
"Hi sweetie," said the lady with dark brown, curly hair and purple framed
glasses. The woman's tone was suspiciously sweet, which kind of made Sam think
he was about to get tragic news. Oh no. Was it his dad? Was he in jail? Was he
hurt? Was he dead?
Sam clenched his hands around the loose jeans he was wearing. Had someone
turned his dad in? Had someone from the building finally spoke up about what
the hear from across the hall at night? Sam was pretty sure he was visibly
shaking now. The woman didn't notice because she simply pulled out a couple of
papers and smiled sympathetically.
"Sorry about calling you down Sam but it would be the easiest way to find you
since it's still before classes." She rambled, "Anyway, it has come to our
attention you have yet to have a check-up which is required for all students."
"Oh," Sam sighed. He couldn't tell if he was happy or not.
"We thought about calling your dad," The woman started, but Sam cut her off.
"Nonono! It's okay! I'll set everything up, no need to call my dad. He's really
busy!" Sam topped it off with a nervous laugh. 'Great job jackass.' Snarled
Sam's subconscious, ' That wasn't obvious at all!'
"Um okay!" The woman said awkwardly, handing the papers over. "Please have it
back to us ASAP!"
"I will!" Sam said as he went towards the door. "Thanks Mrs.." Shit. Sam
couldn't remember.
"Amelia," she filled in with a lighthearted giggle.
"Thanks Mrs. Amelia." Sam muttered, his face red as the door closed behind him.
Sam looked down at the papers in his hands, and frowned.
'What the fuck are you going to do?" Asked his subconscious.
Sam sighed and shrugged.
"I don't know. I'm more worried what dad is going to do." Sam answered aloud.
At that moment he kind of got why people found him weird; he talks to himself
way to much.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Sorry about the shorter chapter! I finished writing this late at
     night and I'm actually kind of sick at the moment with a bruise
     ribcage and serious back and shoulder issues so I apologize! I hope
     you like the chapter and I promise the next one will be longer!
     Thanks for all the comments too! They really make me happy so please
     leave more c:
Most kids hang out with their friends during lunch because it's the only time
in the school day that they can talk without a teacher leaning down your back.
Sam preferred to spend his lunches in the school library.
Sam didn't have a lunch today; in fact he never did. The librarian, Mr. Walker,
used to ask about his eating habits but after getting a few verbal grunts from
Sam; he gave up. John liked to keep Sam on a very strict diet. John liked to
keep his boy in an easy to control state and if Sam started getting buff,
things would get harder. Especially considering how tall Sam is. It doesn't
bother Sam about not eating a lot, the only thing that bothers him is how his
ribs poke out because it hurts to sleep sometimes.
Sam took a set at one of the library's computers, and begun to work.
'Okay, let's try to find a clinic outside of Lawrence.' Sam's subconscious
said. There was no particular reason for Sam wanting to see a doctor outside of
Lawrence. Maybe being out of the city would be more assuring that we wouldn't
get caught. The clinic would have to be somewhere close enough for a bus ride
or two and Sam would have to come up with a convincing lie to tell his father.
The thought of lying to his father always made Sam sweat but Sam knew his dad
wouldn't let him go to the doctors and risk them seeing the bruises.
After a couple minutes of searching, Sam found a urgent care clinic in Olathe,
Kansas; not too far.
"Hey Sam!" A chipper voice from behind him, jolted Sam out of his research. Sam
spun around on his chair, and smiled slightly.
"Hi Jo. What are you doing down here?" Sam replied, clicking CTRL P on his
computer. Jo turned her head to watch the papers come out of the printer but
didn't pry. Sam loved Jo for that. Jo was always so sweet to him, and no matter
what other kids would say and no matter if other kids tried to "warn" her about
Sam; she never listened. Jo liked to figure things out for herself and make her
judgements by the person she gets to know, not the one she hears about.
"I have to finish my tech project for Mr. Wesson. What are you doing?"
"I always eat lunch down here."
Jo rolls her eyes but it's friendly.
"I know that but, what are you doing?" She grumbles, lifting her finger up to
point at the computer screen.
"Oh. Well..." Sam laughs, twirling back around on his chair to pick up the
papers, fresh of the printer. He shoves the papers from Mrs. Amelia into Jo's
outstretched palms.
"Your dad still hasn't turn that in? Wasn't that due like two weeks into the
begin of the school year? And why are you looking up clinics in different
cities? There is one down the street!" Jo exclaimed. Sam looked down at his
swollen hand that was turning an odd shade of purple. Jo followed his gaze. Sam
had a feeling Jo knew what had happened, she only lived down the hall so once
or twice she must of heard the screaming. Jo sighed and put a hand on Sam's
shoulder. It spread Sam with a certain warmth to feel kindness in a pure form.
Jo didn't push, she simply patted his shoulder.
"How can I help?" She said. Sam's head snapped up and tilted to the side.
"Um, d-do you want too? Are you sure?" He muttered. Sam didn't need an answer
in words because the look on Jo's face pretty much said it all. Jo was so
stubborn and Sam loved it.
~~
After an hour of planning Jo and Sam had come up with a bulletproof plan of
what they were going to do. It might be a little more complicated then
necessarily needed but Jo's mom and Mr. Singer have all the materials needed.
Jo had called her mom and told them about it and Ms. Haravelle reluctantly
agreed. The step by step plan is like this:
"Step One: Sam goes over to Jo's house on Friday, telling his dad that they
have to finish a project
Step Two: Have Bobby and Jody host a poker game and invite Nick, Michael, Ms.
Moseley, Ellen, and John
Step Three: Sam sneaks out, and takes Ellen's truck up to Olathe
Step Four: Put a bunch of pillows to make it look like Sam is asleep by the
time John gets back
Step Five: Sam has to be home before breakfast the next morning
Step Six: Make sure John doesn't find out."
The plan should seems decent enough to work. John usually can't get in his
poker zone without drinking and after a long day at work John will probably
just go right to sleep without Sam home to torture. If John is loosing in
poker, he drinks. If John is winning in poker, he drinks. He'll be hammered by
the time he gets home, whether he wins or not.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jo said softly. They had been planning this
and talking it over since lunch to the end of the school day, so it was around
3:15. The library was dark except for a single light that shone down on Jo and
Sam at the table. Mr. Walker trusted Sam enough to let him lock up the library
when they were done, that was probably because Sam had no friends to cause
havoc with.
Hesitantly, Sam nodded since he didn't trust his voice. His mind knew he had to
do this, but the aching throb in his hand made him want to drop everything and
just send in a fake medical report like they have always done. Sam questioned
why he felt the need to see a doctor this time. Was it because of his hand? Was
it because the last time he had seen a doctor was when he still wet the bed? Or
was it the small pit in his stomach, that urged him to get away for a while,
was growing bigger and bigger?
Sam was so lost in thought that he was only brought back to consciousness by
the warmth of Jo's hand on top of his. Her fingers made their way to the meat
of his hand and grasped them lightly. Sam could feel himself shaking but he
hoped Jo couldn't. Sam looked over to her and her eyebrows were scrunched but
she had a sympathetic smile spread on her face. Sam felt his cheeks flush.
Contact was always spotty for him. One of two things would happen when another
touches him, one; he would flinch away and apologize profusely and two; he
would blush profusely and sit like an idiot, unsure of what to do.
Jo made the first move. She leaned in so close that her face was shadowed by
Sam's head. She pressed her lips against Sam's, lightly dragging her teeth
against his bottom lip. Sam, like the dingus he is, sat completely unaware of
what to do. His father had kissed him before but never like this, they were
usually rushed and harsh but Jo's were kind and gentle. In what seemed to be
seconds the kiss was over and Jo tucked herself back to her seat. She was
embarrassed to. Even in the single light, Sam could see her cheeks red and he
could tell her breathing was slightly ajar.
"I'll see you Friday." Jo rushed, while kicking out from her chair and
gathering up her things. She was gone as fast as she came in.
Sam just sat at the library table for a little; thinking. That was his first
real kiss and it was with Jo. A nice girl with pretty blonde hair, yet, he
didn't feel anything. Sure he felt the hormones in his body reacting but it was
more in the way they do with his father; he can't control it. Sam sighs and
rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. He was thinking to much. Sam knew
one thing for sure, that no matter what he thought and no matter what he felt,
Jo deserves better.
Jo deserves someone to protect her, stand up for her, and Sam can't even do
that for himself.
She just has a crush. She'll possibly cry a little when Sam turns her down but
life will continue on for her.
Sam wasn't worth people's time. He especially wasn't worth their heartbreak.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     Sorry about how long it took me to get this chapter done, I've been
     busy af. pls forgive.
Chapter Notes
     This chapter deals with self-harm, so if you are triggered by that
     please take caution.
Sam's week went by faster than he had expected. His mornings were rough since
he spent them trying to do every single thing that his dad answered without
hesitation. He hoped his dad didn't find that suspicious. God he hoped that his
dad wouldn't find out. Sam wasn't one for believing but if there was a God, he
would get on all fours and like the man's feet if that what it would take.
Sam did all his schoolwork, he finished three books, and received more
"fatherly love" then he'd like to think about, all in the course of four days.
Friday morning, Sam woke up at four and cooked one of the biggest breakfast
meals in the history of breakfast meals. Eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, omelet,
apple slices, etc. He made way more then physically possible for his dad to eat
but he was so nervous that he just kept cooking.
"Woah, what's this about?" Sam had been so invested he didn't even hear his
father coming out of his room. Sam coughed out a laugh. John's footsteps got
closer and his large arms wrapped around Sam's skinny little waist. Sam bit the
inside of his cheek and continued dicing his onion. John seemed very displeased
by the lack of attention, so his hands slid down to Sam's boney thighs. John
clamped his hands around Sam's thighs so hard, Sam could feel them bruising
underneath his calloused fingers.
Sam closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the blade's hilt. Sometimes John
will give up if he doesn't get the reaction he wants, other times he'll get
angry. Sam has been good the entire week, so Sam prays that John is to excited
about his poker game to become enraged.
But then Sam is reminded of why he doesn't pray to an man in the sky with a
long beard; because his prayers are never answered.
John thrust his hips forward and Sam lets out a cry when his body is pressed
harshly into the counter.
“You’ve been all over me all week.” John growled, his hands.
“I’m tired dad..” Sam whined, in a flash John picked up the knife whilst one
arm shot across Sam’s chest, pulling the smaller males body into his.
“You don’t know tired.” John scoffed, holding the tip of the blade up to Sam’s
neck. “I haven’t even fucked that little virgin ass, so where do you get off?”
The blade dug into the side of Sam’s neck, right under the boy’s chin. Sam felt
warm blood being to trickle down his throat and begin to pool in the hallow of
his collarbone.
Tears dotted the corners of his eyes, and his lower lip was trembling. It was
true. Sam had received oral from his father, hand-jobs, and vice-versa but his
father had never actually taken his virginity. Sam supposed he should be
faithful for that. Sam dreaded the day when his father would decide he didn’t
want to hold back anymore.
“What the fuck has gotten into you? You’re my little slut one day and the next
you rather cut vegetables.” John lets the knife drop and it falls only inches
from Sam’s big toe.
“Do you want me for fuck you bareback? Huh?” John grabs the back of Sam’s shirt
and slams his against the countertop. More tears fall that John can’t see.
“N-No sir.” Sam managed to tremble out. His head was pounding against his
skull, and his body was being electrified with John’s fat fingers, groping
around his body. It hurt. Everything hurt. Sam felt the weight leave, but he
stayed down in till he heard the door slam.
Sam held pinned his hands to his chest and slid down to the kitchen floor. The
knife was sitting between Sam’s spread knees. His boney fingers reached out and
picked up the blade. In a swift motion, Sam dragged the blade against his the
flesh on his wrist. The blade stung almost like icy but the blood that oozed
out after was warm. For a brief second, Sam felt release. For a second it was
almost like everything was calm; it was ecstasy.
Sam hadn’t even relized how many times he had done it before he felt the warm
blood, pooling, and stretching to his back feet. Sam stayed still, stuck in a
personal Purgatory.
~~
The first bell rang just as Sam got inside the door to his highschool. Sam
couldn’t muster up enough energy to care. He had lost a lot of blood that
morning. An ace bandage, wrapped tightly around his neck, going down to the end
of his ribs. If anyone asked he could make the of a football incident or
something. But the only person who would care enough to ask would know the
truth, so why come up with anything?
The thought of ditching school came to mind but Sam knew how Jo’s mind worked.
The second he didn’t show up to class, Jo would start panicking, thinking Sam’s
dad had found out and she’d probably call the police.
Point being, if Sam didn’t show his face, it’d be catastrophic.
Sam tugged down his grey, long sleeved t-shirt, but the term ‘long’ is said
lightly when you’re six feet. His fresh cuts burned slightly when the fabric
touched them. Wearing a long sleeved shirt hurt but it was the only way to hide
what he had done without being suspicious.
Sam couldn’t help but feel ashamed. He felt like a teenage girl, that only hurt
herself so she could post pictures online. People had it worst than him and
they still tugged on but here he was, tearing into his own flesh. John didn’t
have to abuse him if he would to it to himself.
How would his mother react? Well she wouldn’t even if Sam bore his scars right
in front of her. Okay, Sam can even admit that was a really depressing thought.
Sam was elsewhere so he didn’t even see the door to Mrs. Anderson’s ( Mrs.
Cockthroat’s) in till he slammed into it.
“Ow” Sam groaned, tipping his head up and holding his nose. He could feel a
nosebleed coming on.
“You’re late Mr. Winchester,” said a rusty voice from in front of Sam’s body.
"Yeah. Sorry. Sorry." Sam muttered, walking past the woman with his nose still
stuck up in the air.
Sam could hear the collective gasps and it wasn't because Sam's injuries, it
was because Sam Winchester actually showed up late! Call the newspapers! The
whispers were the most annoying thing Sam had ever heard. He took his seat at
the back of the room and tried to disintegrate into the floor. Sam could feel
Jo's eyes from across the room, and they were probably trying to stare right
through his bandages.
Sam looks over to the clock, it's 8:15. Six hours and fifteen minutes to go.
~~
That finale bell was like angels singing hymns. It was absolutely glorious. The
more Sam thought about the morning prior, the more he looked at the cuts on his
wrist, and the more he thought about the pain of his hand, stale but there and
the pain of the knife cut on his neck; the more he wanted to go to the doctor.
A chance to get away. A chance to have hands on him that were kind and caring,
and only there to make sure the pain goes away, not to inflict it.
Jo insisted that they walk home together and Sam happily obliged. They had yet
to talk about her sudden kiss the other day, and Sam didn't mind. He didn't
wanna ruin the nice, normal, apple-pie life moment. He felt like a regular
teenager, walking home with his friend, about to do a project for school, even
though the real reason was to get away from an abusive father long enough to go
to a damn doctor's appointment. Other than that; normal teenagers.
Jo felt around for Sam's fingers and squeezed them the same way she did the
other day in the library. The gesture and thought made Sam blush. He wasn't
sure if he should grab her hand back, but if he didn't would she pull away? He
didn't want her to pull away. The warmth from her hand to his was comforting.
It made his mind settle from all the negative thoughts going through his head.
He grabbed back.
Oh shit she smiled. It was a really cute smile. Oh god. What was he going to
do? Does she think he likes her now? Shit shit shit.
"Look Jo..about the other day." Sam started but Jo shook her head.
"I know you Sam. I know you're probably thinking, and I know you're probably
confused and that's okay. I know what I want but you don't. That's okay. Don't
figure it out now. Take you're time. Okay?" Jo's words were intent and filled
with meaning but Sam could tell that she was a little disappointed. Sam
suddenly hated himself.
'You're such an ass,' announced his sub-conscious.
'No shit Sherlock.' Sam replied internally.
"Okay..." Sam choked. Everything she had done for him and he couldn't even give
her what she wanted to hear. Fuck emotions.
~~
"Listen to me Sam. If we are going to do this, I have two rules." Jo's mother,
Ellen, barked.
Jo's mother tried to sound stern but Sam could hear the worry in her voice. It
wasn't for her sake or her daughter's either, it was for Sam. Was Sam a bad
person for that making him feel good? Sam nodded and Ellen continued.
"Rule number one, don't crash my truck. Rule number two, if you're dad finds
out what we are doing, I will tell him the truth. I will tell him where you
went. Understand?" Sam nodded again, Ellen wasn't satisfied but before she
could say Jo came out into the living room, in her hands were poster board,
gluesticks, colored paper, and a whole bunch of different arts & crafts stuff.
"We aren't actually doing a project Jo. You know that right?" Sam asked, he let
out a chuckle, because she looked ridiculous trying to hold all that stuff in
her short arms.
"Maybe not you genius boy, but I still do have a project for Mr. Wesson to
finish."
Sam’s mouth slightly turned up at the corners, as he shook his head.
“I’ll help you with it. When I get back I mean.” Sam said, rubbing the back of
head with his hand.
Jo nodded her agreement, she was smiling. It was good for Sam to see her smile.
“Alright Sam, you better get going.” Ellen interrupted Sam and Jo’s moment, by
shoving her car keys into Sam’s hand. The swelling in Sam’s left hand had gone
down greatly but it still hurt to clutch anything, even holding things hurt.
Plus there was a nasty purplish-brownish bruise.
“Here Sam,” Jo chirped in, getting up from her place on the couch, “take my
phone. Check in when you get there and stuff.”
Sam looked down at the black Iphone placed in the palm of your hand.
“I can’t take this!” Sam exclaimed, this was his first time holding a phone
outside of a landline. This time both Ellen and Jo laughed together.
“It’s no big deal Sam. Just take it.” Jo said warmly, she really did have a
cute smile. Sam was talking about her smile again. For some reason it just was
strangely familiar.
“Sam your dad could be home any minute, you should get going.” Ellen said,
placing her hand on Sam’s boney shoulder. Ellen flinched when she felt the bone
of Sam’s shoulder, she always knew the kid was skinny but she didn’t realize it
was that bad. His pants always sagged on his hips and you could see his ribs
from underneath his skin. It was painful to watch. Ellen was surprised that the
kid could hold himself up.
“Alright guys, I’ll see you later.” Sam said with a weary smile and a weak
wave.
Out in the hallway, Sam threw the keys up in the air and caught them, repeating
the actions all the way down to the parking lot.
‘Don’t let him find out.’ Sam’s sub-conscious pleaded, ‘But if he does, don’t
have him take it out on them.’
~~
Sam had only driven once. He was honestly surprised that Ellen was so willing
to let him take her car. He suggested getting a rental but Ellen said it’d be
easier if he just took hers. Sam was very very very against taking her car
because he was 93% sure that he would crash.
Yet here he was in front of a clinic in Olathe, and no scratches on the car but
a little later then he assumed to be there because he drove like twenty miles
per hour.
Sam tried to shake the aching nerves that made his legs weak. What if something
went wrong? Maybe he should just go back. What if the doctor started asking
questions? He’d be screwed!
‘Sam you’re being crazy,’ said his sub-conscious. ‘You’ll be fine. You need to
get checked up once and a while just to be safe.’
Sam took a huge breath in, and walked inside the clinic.
~~
The waiting room was huge.
The entire room itself was in the shape of a circle with chairs lining the
walls, tables in the center, fish tank in the back and a coffee machine near
the door. The walls were a nice yellow color, and not that usual vomit yellow
you see at most doctor’s offices.
There was a beautiful blonde lady sitting behind the front desk, in pink scrubs
and manicured nails. She didn’t even question why he was there alone.
‘She must get a lot of young kids in here. It’s confidential, and free so a
bunch of kid’s probably come for injury in things they weren’t suppose to be
doing.’ Sam’s sub-conscious pointed out.
Besides Sam in the waiting room there was a woman with a baby. The woman
herself looked about twenty and the baby looked like a newborn. There was also
an old man with a fedora, sitting in the corner with a cane. He kinda freaked
Sam out.
“Mr. Winchester?” Called the blonde, Sam tugged down his sleeves. “The Doctor
will see you now. Please go down the hall to room thirteen.”
Sam let out something that was supposed to be a ‘Thank you’ and headed down the
hall.
The setting had changed from the waiting room. The floor was the same pure
white as the walls but just tiled, and the doors were a dark brown with a place
to put all the folders on the door, and on those folder holders were stickers
that said the room number.
Sam found thirteen and headed inside. On the table was a hospital gown, folded
neatly, with a pamphlet about STD’s next to that. Sam groaned. He can’t believe
he was doing this.
In a motion, Sam pulled his shirt over his head. For a second he contemplated
taking the bandages off but decided against it. This was only a physical.
Sam’s face was bright red by the time he got the gown on. There was no back!
Why was that a thing!? He thinks that you’re supposed to take your underwear
off but that was not happening. Sam rather have the doctor see his ratty boxers
then his ass.
Sam took the phone Jo had given him and sat up on the exam table. He sent her
quick text because by now she probably called the swat team. The message read,
‘I made it to the clinic, without a scratch on the car. I’m waiting for the
Doctor now.’
The door to Sam’s exam room creaked open, and in stepped Sam’s doctor, and holy
shit. Sam almost dropped the phone.
Sam’s Doctor was tall, taller than Sam by a few inches. The man had dusty
blonde hair, and a magnificent jawline, with toned, hallowed cheeks; not
sickly, hallow cheeks like Sam. The Doctor’s upper body was muscular, and his
legs were bowled out. He was wearing a white lab coat with jeans and tight
black t-shirt that showed all his muscles and his face was slightly pale but
dotted with freckles under his thick, black framed glasses. This guy was
gorgeous.
“Hello Mr. Winchester, I’m going to be your doctor today. My name is Dean
Smith.” His smile was so blindly, Sam almost had to turn away. Instead he
stared opened mouthed at the god before him.
This was going to be a long appointment.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Ok another sad fate for Sammy ;-; I am a awful person
‘Okay, Sam? Get it together! So he’s attractive, big deal! Just act normally.
He’s just a human, he’s just a human, he’s just a human.’ One part of Sam’s
mind said in a soothing hum.
‘ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING!? HE IS SPECTACULAR! JAW-DROPPING GOD FROM A
DIFFERENT FUCKING WORLD!” The other part screamed. Both parts were right. Both
rights had reason because damn, the man’s beauty was impossible to put into
words.
“You are Mr. Winchester, correct? The boy coming in for a physical?” Dr. Smith
said; his voice was smooth and made Sam shudder.
“Y-Yes, s-sir!” Sam stumbled, he sounded like a jackass, but Mr. Smith just
smiled.
“Nervous?” He chuckled, scribbling a few notes on his clipboard and looked up
at Sam through his glasses.
“You don’t have to be so formal Sam. If it will make you more comfortable, you
can call me Dean,” Dr. Smith said. He outstretched his hand and Sam took it.
His grip was firm but still made Sam feel a little better, and made Dr. Smith
seem more like a human.
“I-I don’t mean to be rude, but can we please start this? I need to get home.”
Sam could even hear the fear in his voice, which meant the Doctor probably
could as well. Sam was not making a good impression. The Doctor looked as if he
wanted to say more but just nodded and motioned to the scale in the corner of
the room.
“I’ll start with your height.”
The scale was cold underneath Sam’s bare feet. He was still nervous and it
didn’t help that Dr. Sexy was back there starring at him. Sam could feel the
man’s eyes burning through his flimsy gown. Sam’s face was flushed, so to
compensate he close his eyes and took a deep breath.
Sam took a moment to imagine what his dad was doing right now, probably sliding
an ace card up his sleeve, and probably a shot away from stumbling home.
Dr. Smith pulled the bar thingy over Sam’s head and placed it on top of Sam’s
mop of hair.
“An even 5’9,” the doctor muttered, but more to himself than Sam. More
scribbles on his clipboard. Ugh Sam hated this.
“Now I am going to measure your weight, ok? Are you doing ok?” Dr. Smith asked,
and the concern in his voice confused Sam to all hell. Were all Doctors this
invested? All the Doctors that Sam had seen on TV and stuff, were just there to
bore you with medical talk you won’t understand.
“Yeah…” Sam said, this was the part he was dreading.
Sam knew he was underweight. Not by a little either. He can usually hide it by
wearing baggy clothes, but not here.
Sam could see Dr. Smith’s facial expression changed almost immediately. It was
a mix between confusion, concern, and disgust.
Well Sam’s self-confidence just dropped off the face of the Earth. This
beautiful man, found him disgusting. Wonderful.
“That bad, huh?” Sam whispered, it hurt to even say.
“Oh! No!” Mr. Smith rushed; Sam could tell he felt bad. So this guy was perfect
and kind. Like Sam has pointed out in the past, fuck emotions. Also fuck this
guy because he was amazing.
“How much do I actually weigh?” Sam said, because he was sickly curious. It had
to be low. Lower than he might have expected.
“96 pounds and five ounces,” Mr. Smith’s voice was hoarse, like he wanted to
cry.
Sam seemed to have that affect on people lately. Sam said something among an
“Oh,” and just stood awkwardly waiting for the questions to come.
“Let’s sit you back down and get your blood pressure, then I’ll just ask you
some follow up questions.”
When Mr. Smith saw the look on Sam’s face he quickly followed up with,
“Standard questions. Um, you know, required,” Mr. Smith showed his clipboard to
Sam, pointing at the form that Sam would have to give back to the school, “for
the um, physical.”
Mr. Smith sounded as awkward as Sam usually did, which made Sam smile.
Sam stepped off the scale and crawled on top of the exam bed. He pulled up his
legs and sat criss-cross, tucking his gown so that his boxers were covered. Sam
had to be classy.
“Okay, let’s just start off simple.” Mr. Smith said, taking a seat on the stool
in front of Sam. When Dr. Smith was like this, he was almost the same height
has Sam.
“How many meals do you eat a day?”
Oh god. It begins.
“Um…three,” Sam says under his breath.
‘Please don’t ask,’ pleaded Sam’s sub-conscious.
“What do the three meals consist of?”
‘Fuck.’
“Well for breakfast, my dad gives me a cup of oatmeal, for lunch my dad gives
me half of his sandwich that he packs for work and three apple slices, and for
dinner I get a cup of chicken noodle soup..” Sam laughed shakily. Dr. Smith sat
motionless for a moment, then started to write something down.
‘Oh god, oh god, oh god; this is bad. This was such a bad idea, oh god. Why did
you do this!?’ Screamed Sam’s sub-conscious, so loud that it was making his
head hurt. Sam felt as if he couldn’t breathe. This had been such a bad idea.
Sam clutched his ribs, they were throbbing intensely. Tears dotted Sam’s eyes.
He wiped them with the inside of his gown.
“Sam?” Dr. Smith asked, but Sam ignored his concern.
“Can we please continue?” Sam gasped out, it hurt to talk. Tears fell down
Sam’s cheeks. The pain was getting worst.
“Sam I need you lay down for me,” Dr. Smith said sternly; it wasn’t a
suggestion.
Sam found no reason to hold back the noises of pain as he lay down.
Dr. Smith grabbed the end of Sam’s hospital gown and pull it up faster than Sam
could even comprehend or make any movements to stop the action.
“WH-WHAT THE HELL!?” Sam shouted, he tried to sound angry even though he had an
unmanly voice crack during that sentence. Sam’s felt his face heat up. He was
being stripped by a hot doctor while he was on the exam table. It sounded like
the start to a porno.
“Sam how did you get this bruise?” Dr. Smith said quietly.
Small shudders in Sam’s gown made Sam realize that the doctor was shaking, out
of…anger?
No wait why would it be anger? Well that was more reasonable than fear or
because the doctor was crying.
Sam didn’t even know what to say, he hadn’t had time to come up with something
for the bruises because he honestly didn’t know they were that bad, he didn’t
even know he had them!
“Must have been football or something…” Sam begun,
“No. You don’t look like one to be playing football.” Dr. Smith barked, and
honestly it kinda made Sam scare. The tone was so familiar to what he would
hear with his dad when he asked if anyone saw the bruises.
“It’s no big deal,” Sam implored, but a whimper came right after. He just
wanted to go home, his boxers were exposed to a hot doctor who kept prying
about his life.
“Sam I need to know what happened. This bruise does not look good.” Dr. Smith
let the fabric drop down, and grabbed Sam’s wrist, pulling his hand up.
“And your hand, it looks broken!” He exclaimed.
Why did this dude sound so worried!? Sam couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He
wasn’t anything special, so why would this beautiful man care so much?
Sam’s body violently tensed when Dr. Smith’s fingers traced the fresh cuts on
his wrist. Shit, he’d completely forgotten about that.
“How would you have gotten these?” Dr. Smith said, his hand barely touching
Sam’s wrist as if he was afraid to much pressure would break it.
Ha.
“I have to go.” Sam blurted out, rushing to pile up his clothes.
“Sam…” Dr. Smith started but Sam was already opening the door.
“I’m sorry…” Sam whispered, letting the door close behind him as he ran down
the hall.
~~
Sam should have known better. He knew that shit would go wrong. He should know
better than to hope for a normal check-up when all his life is just filled with
fucking unbelievable bad luck.
“Well you might have brought the bad luck upon yourself.” Sam said aloud.
He was in Ellen’s truck, back in his baggy jeans and loose t-shirt; the phone
that Jo gave him tucked right in his pocket.
Sam turned up the radio and some AC/DC song blared in his ears, but no matter
how much Sam hummed along to the words or thought about the last chapter of his
book, he couldn’t get the doctor out of his head. He was beautiful, yes, but
even though the sudden grip on Sam scared the wits out of him; the man’s
fingers, his hands, were so gentle and soft.
‘OKAY EW.’ Sam’s sub-conscious gagged as Sam cringed his agreement. ‘YOU SOUND
LIKE A TEENAGE GIRL!’
Sam watched in silence as the sun fell behind the clouds. He was going to be
pulling it close.
Sam drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and he wasn’t sure if it was
because of nerves or the fact he was just bored.
Probably the first option.
Sasm practically jumped out of his skin when the phone in his pocket started
vibrating. Sam did his best to fish the phone out of his pocket while still
keeping his eyes on the road.
“Hello?”
“Sam!?” A frantic voice from the other end yelled.
“Hey Jo, sorry about not texting you during the appointment.” Sam replied but
Jo just kept on,
“It’s okay but Sam you need to get home now!” Jo was doing her best to kept
quiet, she was trying to whisper but Sam could tell she wanted to scream. Sam
felt his heartbeat so fast that it made his bruise hurt.
“Why!? What happened!?”
Oh god. Sam could hear his father slurred shouting in the background. Sam
pressed the gas pedal with his foot and zoomed past a couple of mini-vans.
“I’m coming back now, please get him to go home, this isn’t your place to
fight.” Sam commanded in a way that even surprised him.
“Sam…” Jo sniffed,
“Jo, please, just get him to go home. I’m sorry for this.” Sam said, and hung
up the phone.
Sam clenched his jaw, chewing at the inside of his cheek. He reached across and
grabbed his wrist, digging his finger nails into one of his cuts, reopening it.
“Dammit,” Sam muttered, this time just letting his self cry.
~~
Sam left Ellen’s keys and Jo’s phone outside their door. They’d find them
eventually.
He would have gone in but he didn’t have the courage to knock.
He left a little note saying thank you, then trudged back to his apartment.
Why was his life like this? What had he done to deserve this?
Sam found himself thinking about grabbing Ellen’s keys and just running. Just
falling off the face of the planet but he couldn’t leave all the people who
helped to deal with his father’s aftermath. He had to go home.
John was sitting in the dining room when Sam walked in the door. The smell of
alcohol was heavy in the air and John was twirling something in his hand that
Sam couldn’t see.
“Where have you been?” John grumbled, taking a shot of what Sam could only
assume was vodka.
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, he was shaking, and hovering by the door.
“That doesn’t answer my question!” John yelled, slamming his palm down the
table. The object in John’s other hand was now visible. It was a butcher knife,
probably the same one he used to make the cut Sam earlier today.
“You’re such an ungrateful little shit you know that?” John growled, jabbing
the knife into the table, “I give you a roof over your head, food, water,
clothes, yet you still feel the need to defile me.”
“It’s not like that! I just-“ Sam said in a sputter of words but John cut him
off.
“You’re obviously going to need to be taught a lesson Sammy.” John said darkly,
in a way that made Sam shudder to his core. Sam reached blindly around for the
doorknob but John grabbed him by the hair and threw him to the ground.
Sam let out a broken gasp. He landed on the bruised hip.
Sam tried his best to stop his crying but it didn’t work. John kneeled down in
front of Sam’s body, and used his hair as a rope to pull Sam’s head up. John
held the blade at Sam’s ace bandages and cut them off.
“We could of avoided this Sam, but now, you’re going to be my little bitch.”
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     Yo yo yo sorry for the time it took to update but anyways have this
     shitty chapter
     And if any of you guys have a video editing/making app that is rly
     good could you please let me know? I'd love you forever
Sam liked to think about the times before his mother died to get away from
reality.
When his mother was around it was vibrant colors, smiles, and apple pies but
that was all taken in an instant.
The real John was taken in an instant too. The John that Sam wasn’t afraid of,
the John that never would have laid a hand on his child, the John that only
drank on special occasions; the John that Sam wasn’t scared of loosing. The
real John was replaced with a monster.
Mary was buried, but the real John was buried with her.
Mary was dead, but the real John was dead as well.
~~
Sam had become good friends with Pain.
Pain was always there, lurking.
Pain was at school, it was at home. Sam couldn’t run from Pain, so he
befriended it. Sometimes Pain liked to whisper things in Sam’s ear.
‘You’re a freak,’ it’d say.
‘You should be dead not your mother.’
‘How can one person be so useless?’
‘Why don’t you kill yourself? No one would miss you.’
Sam couldn’t ignore Pain, nor could he dispose of Pain, so he just lived with
Pain. Of course some days are harder than others.
Pain came to visit that night, and it came with a fury.
Sam blacked out after the first few punches, but his father wouldn’t let him
rest that easy. He woke his son by shoving his head in a bucket of ice water,
just pushing the limits far enough to that point before death.
John punched, kicked, smacked, burned, smashed, and cut. It was more physical
abuse than sexual but John did make Sam suck his fucking cock, even though his
mouth was full of blood, spit and snot from all the crying. Sam was more
disgusted with himself than his father.
At what Sam could only assume was the middle of the night, there was a knock at
their door. John dropped the lighter he was holding, and took a swig of whiskey
before opening the door. Four members of the police busted in the door, three
pinning his father to the ground and the fourth, running over to his side. The
policewoman tried to say something but Sam couldn’t hear, his hearing was
muffled by the blood rushing to his ears, the sound of his head pounding, the
sound of police sirens outside. The policewoman begun to sit Sam up, but with
Sam’s last breath of consciousness, he cried out with pain. Everything truly
and bitterly hurt.
By this time, everyone in the building had joined to the third floor. Jo was
there, crying into her mother’s chest. Bobby was holding Jody, his face
unreadable. Nick and Michael stood, disgusted while trying to keep Adam back.
Ms. Moseley was downstairs in the lobby, talking to a police officer. Everyone
else was background noise. The policewoman let Sam lay on the ground, she was
afraid that the simplest movement would damage the boy more than he already
was. She was pretty sure he wasn’t dead, at least she hoped not.
~~
Sam woke up abruptly, sweating and shaking. He had to grind his teeth together
to hold back screams, because his back felt like rocks. He was being weighed
down by his own body. His own body was out to destroy him.
He had been in the hospital for two days now, and had gotten around an hour of
sleep, maybe.
Sam was being treated for a sprained wrist, a broken ankle, a concussion, a few
broken ribs, and a (shocker) broken hand. The smaller injuries included a black
eye, bruises on pretty much all imaginable surface of his skin, cuts that
needed to be disinfected every four hours, and third degree burns on his chin,
fingers, thighs, toes, and back. It hurt for Sam to sit. It hurt even more to
lie down.
In his short time at the hospital, he has gotten visits from the police, Jo,
Ellen, Bobby, Jody, Nick and even more police members. Reporters have tried to
get into his room but the doctors never let them in but Sam can still hear them
outside when he tries to read or watch TV.
Overall Sam has chosen not to think about what happened the other night for
fear of his sanity, but it’s hard to forget something when it’s plastered all
around you. The hospital was the biggest reminder of what happened, and Sam
couldn’t wait to leave it in the dust. But with that thought also came the
thought of, where the hell would he go after he was released? Would he be put
in foster care? Or would they make him stay in the school district in till
graduation then send him off on his own? Sam sighed and with his bandaged
fingers, flipped open a magazine.
For some reason the hospital’s stock basically just included band magazines and
fashion magazines but Sam didn’t mind. He might be a boy but that doesn’t mean
he couldn’t appreciate a nice sweater set.
“Sam?” Charlie called, peeking her head inside of Sam’s door.
Charlie had been Sam’s nurse for the past two days, and Sam loved her. They
always had things to talk about when they were together since Charlie was a
nerd like Sam was, and she was the only person who didn’t treat Sam with so
much sympathy that it made him sick.
“Yeah?” Sam was surprised at how dry his voice sounded, like without meaning he
made it sound like as if he was somewhere else.
“Well other than my awesome new collector edition Lord of the Rings book set,
there is someone here to see you!” Charlie chirped. Sam loved her enthusiasm,
it made him feel less like a corpse.
“You have to bring them in sometime and who is here?” Sam asked, he was curious
since Jo had school and the police said they were done with questioning.
“A police member,” Charlie said and when she saw the look on Sam’s face she
quickly continued, “but not for the reasons you think!”
Over Charlie’s shoulder stood a petite blonde woman, with blue (?) eyes.
“This is a kind of special police officer Sam,” Charlie said and made no effort
to try and conceal her checking the girl out.
“I was the one who talked to you that, um, night.” The blonde took over,
rubbing the back of her neck with her hand.
She must think if she brought up that night that Sam would have a mental
breakdown. Sam had vague remembrance of the woman but that night was all
blurry. The more important question was what the hell did she want?
‘Stop thinking like an asshole,” Sam’s sub-conscious booed.
“Um do you mind?” said the woman gently, subtly ushering Charlie out the door.
“Oh yeah, duh.” Charlie giggled, walking out of the room with a wink in Sam’s
direction.
Sam stared mindlessly at the woman; he wasn’t going to start the conversation
since she came to him. He felt bad for thinking things like ‘Please go away’
since she was a benefactor in his rescue but still, he just wanted to sit
alone.
“It’s nice that you have a private room,” the woman said, taking a hesitant
step closer.
Sam felt like an ass.
“Yeah…” Sam mumbled.
“I know you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,” the woman began, “and
it’s not for any details or anything like that. I honestly just wanted to know
how you were doing.” Now that surprised Sam. “I thought you were dead that
night, I mean I carried you out of that house and you were limp!” Her voice was
tight, like she was starting to cry. Dear God Sam hoped she didn’t cry.
“It’s okay.” Sam said, “I should be thanking you. It makes me feel good that
you cared enough to check back in.” Sam actually meant that.
He gave her a small smile and the woman’s face melted. She walked over and
hugged Sam so tight that he feared for the sake of his ribs.
Sam felt his face heat up just because of the fact that the woman’s boobs were
in his face as well.
“I’m Jessica Moore, and I’m so glad you’re okay! I was so worried that night!”
She gushed, taking a seat on Sam’s bed.
Sam held up a smile but he really did want her to leave. It was a terrible
thing to say but he just needed to be alone. She was sweet and Sam feared that
he would taint her just by speaking.
~~
Jessica stayed for about an hour after she showed up.
Sam sucked it up and just gave short answers to her questions, and smiled a
lot.
The smiles weren’t always real but Jessica seemed to buy it.
“I have to get back to work.” Jessica whined in a way that made Sam think she
was a teenager instead of a working adult.
“Bye Sam,” she smiled and begun walking towards the door.
“Wait!” Sam called. There was one thing he had to ask.
“Hm?”
“Who called the police that night?” Sam said.
“I’m not sure if I can tell you that…” Jessica replied, twirling a piece of
hair around her finger and staring at the white tiled floor.
“Please,” Sam begged, using his best puppy dog eyes.
Jessica bit her lower lip and sighed.
“Fine, but you can’t tell!” Jessica warned; Sam nodded his agreement. “It was a
young man by the name Dean Smith.”
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Summary
     I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK. I DON'T HAVE ANY HUGE EXCUSES
     BESIDES I'VE BEEN BUSY AS SHIT. ILY PLEASE DON'T HATE ME
Sam probably sat like a idiot, staring at the wall in plain shock for like an
hour.
The only thing he kept thinking about was, why the hell did that doctor bother?
Why the hell did the doctor know where he lived!? WHY THE HELL DID A HOT AND
SMART DOCTOR CARE ABOUT A CLUMSY SIXTEEN YEAR OLD!?
Sam was pretty sure he was driving himself crazy, so he just figured he'd get
answers himself. That would be somewhat difficult because Sam wasn’t even sure
if the doctors would allow him to use a phone. Sam thought about waiting till
late at night, when less doctors and nurses would be around but then Sam had
serious doubts the guy would answer. He only knew the doctor’s business number,
so he’d have to call during business hours.
“Hey kiddo,” Charlie’s voice from the door knocked Sam out of his trance, “what
did your girlfriend want?”
If this had been any other person, Sam would of considered it prying, but
Charlie was just a naturally born investigator. Charlie had been the first to
ask about his father, and even though Sam still felt reluctant to give gory
details, it was nice to hear someone ask. That might sound crazy but he didn’t
want people to coddle him.
Later that day, he heard Charlie getting scolded by either a police officer or
a doctor. She wasn’t supposed to ask again, but she did anyway.
Sam rolled his eyes.
“Bite me,” He said playfully, a smile at his lips.
Charlie laughed, and went to the corner of Sam’s bed. Charlie had salmon pink
scrubs like all the other nurses, but she had a small Daenerys Targaryen
figurine tucked in her right pocket, and a Bilbo Baggins sew into her left
sleeve. Charlie was original, and she didn’t care what other people thought
about her. Sam admired that.
“Come on Sam. What did she want?” Charlie’s voice was laced with concern.
The past couple of days she’d seen cops come and go, fought off reporters, and
watched Sam withdrawal more and more from his memories. She was scared that if
they pushed the boy too much, he’d never talk about what happened again and
it’d begin to slowly eat away at him. He was too young to be destroyed by
emotional baggage.
“She just wanted to check on me.” Sam said simply, Charlie gave him a doubtful
look.
“Really Charlie, that’s all she wanted. We just ended up talking normally for a
while.”
Charlie nodded, and fought with herself if she should try prying. Sam shifted
in his bed, one part because it still hurt to sit, the other part because he
wanted to ask Charlie for a phone, but was terrified too.
"Charlie, I know this is going to be a lot to ask but can I use your phone?"
Sam asked quietly, picking at the bandages on his finger.
"We aren't suppose to let patients use the phones without-" Charlie stopped
herself from saying the next words.
'Without parent's consent.'
Sam tried to clench his fist but couldn't. That made him even madder. He
couldn't even do the simplest things, he was fucking useless. Now he wouldn't
even be able to make a phone call because his mom was dead and his dad was a
scumbag.
"My dad is locked up, but I'm still controlled by the bastard." Sam growled
through his teeth. For a second the kid raised his head and looked around
frantically, as if he was expecting that his father heard what he had said.
Charlie felt like she'd just been punched in the stomach.
Sam's dad was in a jail cell about two counties away, awaiting his trail, but
Sam was still helplessly respectful to the man. After years of what he went
through, he must have learned to bite his tongue because that was easier than
what would happen to him if he didn't.
Charlie groaned way longer than necessary, as she reached in her pocket and
pulled out her phone. As Sam would expect, it still showed Charlie's nerd pride
with a Doctor Who case. Sam gave a small but appreciative smile but also eyed
the door, Charlie didn't like it but she got the hint. Sam felt guilty about
kicking her out but he really would rather to have the conversation in private.
"You get five minutes!" Charlie shouted, letting the door slam behind her.
Sam had the number of the clinic memorized, since he punched it in the phone
than hung up like six times. This time, there could be no second guessing.
"Olathe health clinic, how may I assist you?" It was the same chipper voice
that had greeted Sam when he walked in the door.
"Hi, may I speak to Dr. Smith please?" Sam sounded surprisingly calm even
though in his head he was screaming, 'Please be at work today!'
"Yes, one moment please." The line went silent but a few seconds later the same
husky voice Sam knew came on the line.
"Hello?"
All the confidence Sam had while talking to the lady, evaporated. Sam didn't
have to see the man to be nervous.
"Um, hi- uh this is Sam Winchester and I just wanted, um," The teen found
himself red at the cheeks.
"Mr. Winchester?" Sam heard the rustling as if the doctor was sitting up. The
man sounded confused but Sam swore he could hear relief in his voice.
"Uh, yea." Sam replied.
"Is this about your appointment the other day?" Sam cringed at the memory.
"No, but thanks for bringing it up." He snapped, a little ruder than intended.
Thankfully, Dr. Smith just laughed.
"May I ask what this call is about?" For a second Sam felt himself grow upset,
was he really that unimportant that the man just forgot about calling the
police!?
'Of course you are doofus.' Sam's subconscious shoved in. Sam couldn't help but
agree.Dr. Smith was just a nice guy who wanted to make sure a kid wasn't doing
something he shouldn't be; that was all.
"I just wanted to know why..." Sam needed answers, he didn't want small talk.
The doctor kept silent, and for a second Sam thought he'd ask what Sam was
talking about.
"This isn't a conversation to have over the phone."
Now that was definitely unexpected.
"Um, what? Why?"
"I'm coming to see you." Dr. Smith declared, hanging up the phone before Sam
got a word in.
Sam held the phone up to his ear for about twenty seconds after the call ended
before Charlie came in the room and requested her phone back.
"Why do you look as if you've seen a ghost?" Charlie observed.
Sam stayed silent, metaphorically shitting himself. The hot, smart doctor who
also happened to save his life was coming to visit, for no other reason than to
explain himself. Was this real or was Sam having a medicine induced dream?
"Can you pinch me?" Sam asked. Charlie gave him a weird look that literately
screamed, 'What the fuck?'
Sam shrugged his shoulders and pinched himself as best as he could with his
bandaged fingers.
Nope, not dreaming.
Metaphorically screaming? Nope. Really screaming.
~
Sam sat straight up in his bed, doing his best to smooth down his hair. The
bandage on his head made that difficult.
He had called Dr. Smith ten minutes ago, and he was starting to get nervous.
The hospital he was at was in Olathe, so why wasn't he there? Sam remembered
seeing the hospital behind the clinic, so it wasn't far at all.
'What if he got in a car crash? Would that be my fault!?' Sam felt himself
panicking.
'Yes it probably would.' Said another part of Sam's sub-conscious. Sam should
really pick out a name for both sides of his sub-conscious. The worrisome slash
nice side would be named Gabriel, and the asshole slash bullying side would be
Lucifer.
How creative.
"Sam?" Charlie's voice alerted him to the present. "You have a visitor."
Even thought Sam was nervous yet kinda excited, he was not as excited as
Charlie obviously was. She may be lesbian but she wasn't stupid. She knows a
pretty face when she sees one.
But Sam feared that Charlie was getting the wrong idea. Which she most
certainly was.
Charlie stepped aside and let Dr. Smith step in the room. She close the door
behind him, smiling widely and stupidly.
Dr. Smith sat down in one of the chairs, but also ended up scooting it closer
to Sam's bed. He stayed silent, trying to accept all Sam's injuries. Sun shone
in through the window and hit the man's face directly, like out of a fucking
Disney movie. He was gorgeous, but looked so sad.
Sam really did have that affect.
"I'm sorry," Sam was the first to break the silence. "I made you come out of
your way even though I ran out on you at our appointment."
"It's alright Sam," Dr. Smith said, but looked at Sam as if it was alright to
call him that. Sam nodded.
"I'm sorry if I scared you." Dr. Smith chuckled, lacing his fingers together
and staring down at them. Sam's guilt had been piling up about this man, but
him looking so uneasy, was the worst feeling.
"You didn't. I was scared of my dad..." Sam replied. The doctor looked up
slightly from behind his glasses and Sam had to hold back a gasp. He was such a
stunning man.
"I shouldn't of called the police without your permission, but looking at you
now, I should of called sooner." Dr. Smith said. He was genuinely upset. He
genuinely blamed himself for the state that Sam found himself in now.
"How did you get my address?" Sam wanted to comfort the guy but he wasn't quite
that skilled at stuff like that.
"It was on your form for the school. After seeing your weight I knew something
wasn't right, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but when you left..."
Dr. Smith trailed off, like he needed to say more but the words couldn't make
their way out.
"You shouldn't feel guilty." Sam reassured, he kind of wanted to put his hand
over the doctor's but that'd be super weird. "I may of gotten some injuries but
it would of been a lot worst if you hadn't of called at all."
Dr. Smith picked up his head at those words, and gave a small smile. The way
the man's eyes crinkled at the sides, made Sam's heart jump for reasons that
were beyond him. It was probably just the fact the man was attractive.
Once that was out of the way, Sam and Dr. Smith didn't talk much. They had
small chats, but nothing more.
Yet Dr. Smith didn't leave. He didn't show any signs of wanting to leave,
either. Although Sam didn't show it, he was smiling.
~
There was a small knock at the door before Charlie poked her head in.
"Visiting hours are over, sir." She said apologetically, Dr. Smith nodded, and
pushed up from his seat.
"I'll visit you tomorrow, okay?" Dr. Smith said, and though it was suppose to
be a question, it sounded more like a fact.
"What, no! Dr. Smith, you don't have to do that." Sam muttered, dropping his
eyes to his lap. He wouldn't say it but, he kinda wanted him to come back. His
company was appreciated.
"I told you, it's Dean." He insisted, another one of his soft smiles on his
face. "I'm not doing it because I have to Sam."
Sam looked up into the man's eyes and gave a shy smile. Dean leaned in and
ruffled Sam's hair, and from behind his lab coat, pulled out a book that must
of been tucked in his belt since he got there.
"I've been in the hospital before, and they don't have the greatest things to
read." Dean said, putting the book on Sam's bedside table. "I'll see you
tomorrow."
And like that, he was gone.
Sam stared at the door, than reached over and pulled the book onto his lap. It
was a soft-cover copy of the book, Game of Thrones. Sam smiled.
Charlie was going to enjoy that, possibly a little more than Sam would.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Dean kept his promise of showing up the next day after his first visit, but he
also went past that. He showed up the next day and the next, and the next.
Each day he would bring something new for Sam to read. They were usually
fantasy, like Ender's Game, and Sam was hooked. Sam himself insisted that Dean
return the books once Sam had finished reading them and Dean said he would but
Sam doubted it. Sam suggested that when he gets out and gets a job, he could
pay Dean back but Dean refused to hear it.
Talking like that with Dean made Sam bring up the question of, what would he do
when he got out? Sam had been avoiding the subject for a while now.
He wouldn't have to pay of medical bills, so that wouldn't burden him but he
was still only sixteen. He still had school, and he still barely knew how to
drive. Sam had thought about leaving this shitty town so many times, so the
thought wasn't new to him but now that it was right at his doorstep, he was
scared to leave. He could very well move in with his grandparents on his
mother's side but they hated John, and they never seemed to fond of Sam either.
Jo was an option, and so was Bobby, but Sam wouldn't lay a burden like that on
their shoulders. He barely had the courage to face any of them after they saw
what happened.
Thanks to the stupid press, the entire town knew of Sam's gory details with his
father, and Sam would never live that down. Not in a town like Lawrence.
Sam knew that Jo wouldn't say a word about what happened to anyone at school,
but Adam definitely would. Adam found it impossible to keep gossip to himself
and even if he wasn't bad mouthing Sam with the information, it'd still be
around and Sam would be mortified.
Not to mention all the people who wouldn't give him a hard time but who would
say things like, 'Oh my uncle touched my leg once, I felt soooo violated! I
know what you're going through!!"
Sam set his book on the tray that laid in front of him, and poked at the food.
The food wasn't half as bad as he had expected but he didn't feel to hungry.
Well that excuse was wearing down; he never felt hungry. He pushed the tray to
the side and slid down in his bed, pulling the covers over his nose. The pain
had gotten some-what more bearable when laying down and sitting up but the
burns, bruises, cuts and of course, the nightmares, kept him from a peaceful
night sleep.
The doctor had permitted Sam to walk on his own now, so Sam could use the
bathroom without Charlie having to stand outside the door or use a bedpan.
The thought of the bedpan made Sam shudder.
Sam reached over and grabbed his crutches, placing his bare feet on the ground.
His doctors and nurses all felt sorry for him so they allowed him to do things
some other patients couldn't, like wear sweatpants and a t-shirt instead of
those stupid gowns. Charlie had to help him dress though because of his stupid
hand.
Sam really wished that his father wouldn't of gone for his ankle. The sound of
the bone snapping still gave him shivers and the feeling of throwing up.
He clicked-clucked his way to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Sam
would be forever grateful for the fact of having a private room. He placed the
crutches against the wall and hopped to the sink, taking in a long look at
himself.
Sam hadn't seen himself since before the accident. He'd seen slight reflections
of silverware and glasses of water but he didn't like watching for long.
Watching for to long made him just think about how pathetic he was.
His hair had grown longer, or maybe it just looked that way because of how
messy it was. It was knotted and curled awkwardly, which was strange because he
had a shower like a day ago. Then again the restless nights wouldn't help his
locks.
Only one of Sam's eyes was bruised but the other one still looked bruised
because of the purple bags under it. His lips were chapped, he had the
lingering taste of iron, and his eyes just looked hallow. He couldn't believe
Dean saw him like this, and didn't run away screaming. He couldn't believe
anyone didn't.
Sam took deep breaths, his hands clenching around the sides of the sink so
hard, his knuckles begun to turn white. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand
seeing himself. He couldn't stand his life. He couldn't stand his father. He
couldn't stand it. Everything was so wrong and so fucked. He is a kid. He isn't
suppose to know what semen taste like. He isn't suppose to know what it feels
like to have your father carve into you like a pig. He isn't suppose to hate
what he sees in the mirror.
He especially isn't suppose to blame himself for his father being in jail.
He isn't suppose to miss the man who made his life hell.
He isn't suppose to.
Sam didn't even realize he was crying, he never seemed to now a days. His tears
just came when they wanted, and Sam wouldn't even know unless someone told him.
It's as if he became numb to the emotion of crying. Maybe it was because he
knew his tears were worthless, he knew they wouldn't change a thing.
Sam lifted his shirt and wiped his eyes, exposing his stomach. He was about to
put his shirt down, but he caught himself staring at himself. When did he get
that skinny?
His ribs stuck out, clearly visible through his tan skin, and the disgusting
yellow and brown bruises made the sight worst. Sam felt bile rising in his
throat.
He dropped to his knees and without even time to flinch, he begun vomiting. It
was a clear, liquid since he hadn't eaten but it made his throat feel as if it
was on fire. The revolting taste and pain made him throw up some more, this
time with spits of red.
Was he dying or something?
Sam's eyes begun to droop shut, his forehead pressing against the cold toilet
seat for some form of relief of the heat in his body.
In the moments before his eyes fell he couldn't stop himself from thinking
about how better it'd be if he just never woke up.
~~
Sam remembered the months before his mom died, better than any other time in
his life.
All and all, the Winchesters weren't rich. John was a mechanic and Mary
sometimes took her pies to the farmer's market, and even selling everyone
didn't mean they could blow off to Disneyland.
But the months following the news about Mary's cancer, and her lifespan, John
and Sam worked their asses off. John took extra shifts, Sam miscellaneous jobs
and whenever Mary was feeling up to it, Sam and her would bake.
Sam would take whatever they made to the farmer's market and not leave until
every goodie was gone.
Eventually, about two months later, and with Mary having only three months
left, they saved enough for a trip. They obviously let Mary pick even though
she cried about how they did all the work and they should pick.
Mary picked simple despite John's wishes, to a cabin in Colorado, tucked away
in the woods. The choice didn't surprise Sam one bit.
That trip Sam would always remember as his finale good memory with his family
and it wasn't extravagant. They roasted marshmallows, told stupid ghost
stories, barbecued, fished, the whole nine yards. Mary could only do the calmer
nature trails and when she needed a break, Sam and John would hike up a
mountain and back.
Sam saw his mother and father more in love than he thought possible. It was
great, and relaxing but Sam couldn't shake the looming feeling of something
heavy in the air. When they got home, Sam came to see that the trip was Death's
last favor.
Mary died, three weeks later.
~~
Sam woke up gasping, his throat felt like a desert, and for a second he found
everything dark. Fear rose up in his chest and he couldn't help the shaky
breaths that came out.
"Ssh Sam, you're okay." Came a woman's tender voice.
"Mom?" Sam rasped, light flooded into the room, and over him stood Charlie. Her
brow was furrowed, in concern but it soon switched to something among the lines
of sympathy. Sam wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
"Here, drink." Charlie said, helping Sam sit up straight. Sam took a few greedy
gulps of water and in seconds it was gone.
"Sorry for the trouble." Sam whispered, staring down at his empty glass.
"Sam you're in the hospital, you're allowed to be trouble." Charlie sighed
over-dramatically.
The corners of Sam's mouth turned up slightly. The door of Sam's door busted
open, and Dean stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling in an
unsteady pace.
Sam sat wide eyed and confused, as Dean made his way to Sam's side, pulling up
a chair. Charlie shrugged her shoulders as if she had nothing to do with it,
but her smirk said otherwise.
"I'll leave you in his hands Sam." Charlie giggled, ever-so-subtly. The door
shut and left the two in silence.
"Are you alright?" Dean rushed, using the back of his hand to check Sam's
forehead.
"Yeah? How did you know to come?" Sam was so honestly confused, he didn't even
have time to blush.
Dean took his hand away, and used his index finger to scratch his cheek. He
laughed, and dare Sam say it, he looked flustered.
"Um, I asked Charlie to, call me up if there was any problems."
It was Sam's turn to be flustered.
"O-Oh." Sam stuttered, tucking his head to his chest, cupping his hands
together. He tried to ignore his heart thumping.
Dean shuffled in his chair and sighed, pushing up his glasses so he could rub
the bridge of his nose. Sam felt guilt setting in. He pulled this guy away from
doing doctor stuff because he had a break down.
"I'm leaving to California in a couple of days." Dean confessed, Sam's head
jerked up to meet his eyes which were focused completely on Sam.
"What? Why? I thought you lived here?" Sam squeaked, but Dean shook his head.
Standing up from his chair, he begun to pace around the room, as if looking for
the right words.
"I came down here from California just to visit but I ended up getting caught
up in helping the clinic out. This is my hometown too, Sam."
Sam closed his eyes. He could picture Dean out on the sandy beaches of
California, not in the cramp state of Kansas, especially not Lawrence. Sam
should of known he came from somewhere else, no one that beautiful lived in
Kansas. If someone did than Lions would be talking and monkeys would be flying.
Sam couldn't explain for the life of his why his throat was closing up and his
eyes were watering, maybe he'd grown more fond of the man than he'd like to
admit. The thought of Dean not coming to see him everyday and being out of
Sam's life completely was just an awful feeling. He didn't want that. It was
selfish and a stupid request but he didn't want that.
"Sam...?" Dean's voice sounded brittle and tight, Sam dared to let himself
think that Dean might miss him too.
'Nope, you're completely wrong. He just feels guilty but as soon as you let him
go, he'll never turn back. Why would he?" Lucifer said so innocently that it
sounded like a complement.
"Oh, yeah sorry!" Sam exclaimed, forcing a big smile on his face. "Sorry that I
kept you so long. Thank you for all the books, make sure you give me your
address so I can send your money back!" Sam pressed his joke, and that smile.
Dean's eyes lowered, but suddenly he gripped the bed sheets and shot his head
up, his young face filled with the look of pure genius.
"What if you come with me!?" Dean yelled happily.
'What?' Lucifer frowned.
'What." Gabriel asked.
"What!?" Sam followed.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Summary
     I thought of making this a lot more difficult of Sam to decide on
     what to do but than I was like "Nah I want them to bang."
     AND I AM NOT A DOCTOR GUYS OKAY. I AM NOT TRAINED IN ANY MEDICAL
     FIELDS SO I AM SORRY IF MY MEDICAL REASONS OR EXPLANATIONS DON'T MAKE
     SENSE
"I mean it!" Dean practically screeched, his face light up with a child like
excitement.
Sam could literately not comprehend why Dean had this thought in his head. He
had to be fucking with him. This was all one terrible joke.
"Please...please don't joke with me." Sam's voice was delicately laced with
disappointment, Dean frowned and poked Sam's cheek.
"Hey, I'm serious! A kid like you deserves a fresh start." Dean assured, now
tugging at Sam's cheek. Sam pushed Dean's hand away lightly with the side of
his hand. Sam can't be really thinking about this, it was insane in every shape
and form.
First problem, he doubted the child services or whatever would let him run away
with some man, who was barely out of being a teenager himself. Second problem,
even if child services had no problem, there is no way in hell his dad would
let him be in the care of Dean. Sam wished he didn't have to be controlled by
his father anymore but it'd be that way until Sam turned eighteen.
Thinking of his father, Sam let out an involuntary shudder.
'Stop it Sam,' Gabriel coddled. 'He can't hurt you anymore; you can say and do
what you want.'
Sam desperately wished for that to be true. Lucifer sat in his dark corner,
sneering, like always. Lucifer hated the idea of leaving anywhere out of his
comfort zone, so that definitely included leaving the state.
Lucifer tried his best to spat out about how stupid going would be and how he
shouldn’t leave Kansas because Dean would eventually throw him out but that was
all being glossed over by Gabriel’s words of encouragement and Dean’s expectant
face.
“C-Can I think about it?” Sam asked softly, Dean’s face fell slightly but he
recovered quickly and nodded.
“Let me know soon, okay?” Dean replied patiently, and Sam made a noise
something among the lines of “Mhm.”
Dean didn’t stay after that, he claimed he had to work but he probably just
wanted to get away from Sam. This was kind of ironic considering that if Sam
said yes; Dean would see the kid every day.
Sam can’t be actually considering moving to California. His father would never
let him, not in a million years. But if he was given the option, would he dare
to say yes?
That was the question Sam had to ask himself, but the questions he was asking
himself were;
'What if he gets tired of me?'
'What if he asked me to leave? Where would I go then?'
'Would he be able to put up with me?'
Sam sighed and pulled down the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He'd almost forgotten
about his cuts, maybe it was because of all the other terrible fucking injuries
he had found himself with, but he'd almost forgotten. Looking at them now, he
could remember the release from his problems that it gave him. He remembered
the icy burn that gave him a sense of control. Sam wanted something to do that
again, but the hospital wouldn't be that stupid.
He traced his finger over the lines, flinching slightly from time to time. He
was surprised he wasn't in a psych ward, because Sam could of sworn he read
that people who self-harmed were transferred there.
The thought almost made Sam laugh. Just because someone self-harms, doesn't
make them crazy.
It didn't make him crazy..
Sam tossed up his hood and settled down into his bed. He was still achy but he
was pretty sure that all his bruises were healing. Burns take a lot longer but
they didn't hurt as bad, and Charlie only had to change the bandages and
ointment them every two days or so.
He probably would have to stay a couple more days, thanks to that fiasco with
throwing up blood after being so disgusted with himself.
Okay that wasn't true, there was some lame medical reason why he threw up blood
but his idea was better.
'I throw up every time I look at you,' Lucifer pipes in.
"Gee thanks Satan." Sam says aloud, before settling down for another shot at
some sleep.
~~
Sam woke up about an hour after going to sleep, to find Charlie at his side,
her feet kicked up on his bed, reading a book. It was his copy of Game of
Thrones, which by the way was ah-mazing. Dean had given it to him about three
or four days ago and he was almost done with it.
"Shouldn't you be saving people?" Sam said with a just-waking-up sass, rubbing
his eyes.
"I'm on a lunch break." Charlie countered, completely absorbed in her book.
Sam smiled, but he knew that was bullshit. His doctor probably made her stay
here in case of another breakdown.
"Hey Charlie.." started hesitantly, did he want to know the answer? "When do
you think they'll let me out of here?"
Charlie peeked her eyes up from the book,
"Honestly, I don't think your release date changed. We checked you over after
your experience in the bathroom but we didn't find anything wrong besides what
we already knew." She said, but Sam was pretty sure she never stopped reading.
"Then, what happened? Why did I throw up blood?"
Charlie sighed, and Sam automatically regretted asking. Bad question. He had
such a way of making people annoyed, didn't he? The same thing would probably
happen with Dean, and Sam would be put out on the streets.
Was he overreacting? Probably.
Did he care? Not really.
"Since your ribs are so swollen, they were putting pressure on your internal
organs. Sometimes people just throw up, you just happened to throw up blood.
It's not that uncommon." Charlie said with a certain distaste. It was funny,
Charlie was a nurse and seemed to love Game of Thrones but the thought of blood
made her uncomfortable.
Sam was impressed that she literately got a job, where blood is everywhere,
just to spite her discomfort.
"So, there is no need for me to stay extra days." Sam grumbled, Charlie nodded
her apologizes. Sam didn't want to leave.
Sure he hated the bright lights, the IV jabbed into his arm all day, the irony
smell of blood, and the memories being here brought but Charlie was nice, so
were all the doctors. Despite the white walls, and eerie silence that came when
he was alone, the people working there made the place feel warm. This place had
become Sam's security blanket. He didn't want to exactly leave, but he also
wanted to go home, even if he didn't know where that was anymore.
Charlie sensed his sadness and although she didn't like it, she knew Sam liked
to be alone when he was upset. Charlie set the book on his dinner tray, and
patted his head. The movement was so familiar, Sam felt himself blush. He was
thinking of Dean.
He really needed to think about his options here.
He had two choices. Move in with a super hot doctor who offered, or turn him
down for fear of the inevitable.
It wouldn't be terrible to have a place to stay even if it was just for a short
time. By the time Dean would kick him out, he might already have a job and be
able to stand on his own.
'Or you'd still be a broke bastard, living alone, at sixteen, on the streets of
California.' Lucifer barked, he didn't want to leave. Sam understood that and
for once he appreciate Lucifer's words, because he needed to consider that
option with all the others.
'Don't say that! Dean asked you to come with him, he obviously like you. He
wouldn't throw you out.' Gabriel pushed, and as much as Sam wouldn't like to
think that hot doctor cares about him, he can't exactly say no. Sam might not
be the most important person in Dean's life but he has to care about him a
little, that goes beyond guilt. Guilt for not calling the police on a
suspicion, wouldn't go that far. Right?
'It wouldn't,' Gabriel assured, and Lucifer couldn't even come up with an
argument. Sam felt his chest well up, Dean cared, at least a little, and Sam
couldn't help but cry.
~~
Sam was let out of the hospital three days later, on a Saturday. Throughout
that time Dean didn't come in person but he texted Charlie for updates, Sam
assumed it was because he needed to pack. Dean was leaving for the airport that
night, and Sam had yet to give him a answer.
Sam had his answer though.
"Here you go kid," Bobby huffed with a smile, handing Sam a vanilla envelope
filled with papers. Jody stood at her husband's side, smiling widely, and
pulling Sam into a group hug. Sam loved the warmth the two of them gave.
"Bobby, this means more to me then you will ever know." Sam said sincerely, he
meant it, he meant it so much.
Bobby put his hand on Sam's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze, before
allowing the boy to move on to the rest of the people in the room.
Two days ago, Jo came to Sam's room, and said she was going to bring the
building for a quote, "Sam's last day in a creepy hospital" party. Sam thought
it might be rude but Charlie thought it was an awesome idea and suddenly the
two of them became best friends.
Jo, Ellen, Bobby, Jody, Nick, Michael, Adam, Missouri, and even Mr. Walker
showed up. A few of Jo's friends came but they were more there because they
didn't wanna look like assholes but Sam appreciated it. Adam tried to flirt
with Jo the entire time but she was plastered at either Charlie's or Sam's
side.
Sam made his way to Jo, where she was standing with her mother and Charlie. Sam
practically lunged into her arms, and felt the urge to cry. She'd done all this
for him, and yet he couldn't even return her feelings.
'Who knows? Maybe she's already forgotten about that.' Lucifer said, Sam
ignored him.
Sam's long limbs wrapped around Jo's tiny body and held her tight. He did
appreciate her, and in his own way, he loved her.
"Thank you," Sam whispered, "I love you." Just loud enough for her to hear. Sam
pulled back and by the look in her eyes, she hadn't forgotten. Sam worried he'd
made a mistake by telling her that, but she smiled. She understood what he
meant.
Sam moved to Ellen, hugging her just as tight, and then to Charlie. Charlie was
sobbing, and wiping her nose on her under shirt. Sam felt his heart break but
grow all at the same time.
"I'm really going to miss you." Charlie sobbed into his shoulder, "Because of
you, I have to BUY a copy of Game of Thrones!"
Sam laughed softly, and Charlie did along with him.
"Hey, Sam?" Jo said, tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie. She held out a small
box, covered by a dragon wrapping paper; most likely Charlie's request.
"What's in it?" Sam replied like a doof.
"Open it dingus." Jo laughed, rolling her eyes. Sam felt himself blush.
Sam carefully removed the wrapping paper, because the paper was actually kind
of beautiful. He tore of a corner and stuck it in his pocket, just as a small
memento. Inside the paper was a box that held a Iphone four. Sam opened his
mouth to protest but Jo stopped him.
"Please take it. It's my old phone, pre-payed plan for like twenty bucks, it's
fine. I want you to be able to keep in touch." Jo coughed to try and hide the
crack of emotion in her voice but Sam caught it. A couple tears begun to form
in Sam's eyes, this was more then anyone could ask for.
Jo hugged him first, then Charlie, then Ellen, and on and on, until everyone
was in a big group hug.
All the pressure hurt his ribs but Sam honestly didn't bring himself to care.
~~
Bobby offered to drive Sam to Olathe's clinic but Sam refused, he needed some
fresh air and exercise. Charlie said that was bullshit because he was really
underweight but eh, what are you gonna do.
Sam gripped his new phone tightly, he'd never owned one before. John knew that
he had no friends and Sam didn't have any clubs to go to after school, so there
was no need. When Sam needed a phone for whatever reason, he'd use the landline
whilst his dad breathed down his back. The only items that Sam had with him now
where, the jeans that sagged on him, the hoodie that almost showed all his
collarbone, some brown-ish sandals, a phone, and a brown fabric bag that held
all his books, with the acceptation of one fashion magazine.
Walking up to the clinic in the day made the entire thing seem larger. Or maybe
his anxiety was going to make everything twenty feet bigger until his brain
exploded. Before Sam could step in the door, Dean rushed out, almost knocking
Sam over.
"Oh sorr- Sam!?" Dean perked up at the realization of Sam's face, which gave
Sam that odd tingling, warmth.
"Yeah...I figure I owe you an answer." Sam said quietly, crossing his legs at
the ankles. He held out the vanilla envelope watching expectantly as Dean read.
Sam could see the exact moment Dean read the words he needed to see.
A smile fired across his face, wider than Sam had ever seen on him before. He
let the envelope flop to the ground, and picked Sam up by the waist, hugging
him tightly.
Sam's face was red and a few people were staring but he was happy, especially
since Dean was so happy. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and gave back
all the pressure that Dean was giving. He hoped it transferred. He wanted Dean
to know how he felt about this too.
"I'm so happy you're coming," Dean exclaimed, but it was muffled since his face
was pressed against Sam's stomach. Sam gave a light smile.
"Me too."
Sam meant it.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Summary
     Sorry about the time between updates, I have been really busy and I
     just started high school. I really love writing this story so if you
     keep reading, I'll keep writing c:
Dean begged Sam to let him go in the apartment to get Sam's stuff, but Sam
refused. He couldn't leave the state before going back in there, it just didn't
feel right. Going into the apartment was going to be hard. Getting past Jo, who
for some reason was like the building's bodyguard now, was going to be harder.
"Jo please." Sam sighed, he'd been arguing about going into the apartment for
ten minutes. Dean promised to pick him up in half an hour, and then it was off
to the airport. Jo stood, silent, in front of Sam's door, preventing him from
even getting close. Bright yellow caution tape sat ripped and drooping down to
the floor, which reminded Sam of a network crime show. If that was the case,
that meant Sam was the wide-eyed victim with a attitude towards the people
trying to do their jobs.
Sam made jokes when he was nervous.
They weren't good ones, but they were jokes.
"No." Jo said flatly, just like the other sixty times Sam had asked her to
move.
Jo was stubborn, but Sam understood her reasoning for not wanting him in the
apartment. Sam wasn't even sure if he was prepared to go in himself, since the
thought of going in made his stomach twist and his burns sting. Jo stood up
straight with her arms crossed and her foot tapping impatiently against the
ground, the look that she was giving Sam made him feel like he was in the
wrong.
"I don't want to go back in either, Jo." Sam said, it was time to trust his
reasoning skills. "But I can't leave the state without going in there one last
time."
Jo face softened, but she didn't let up.
"Why would you want to go back!? Your dad was a monster! You owe him no
loyalty!" She spat, and Sam could hear the disgust and the hurt and the
sympathy. Jo hates what happened to Sam, she'd even go as far to blame herself.
"I didn't just live there with my dad." Sam replied quietly, Jo's words fell
from mid-sentence. She sighed in defeated and stepped away from the door, she
knew what it was like to want a memory of someone you lost. That's why she
always carried around that pigstick of a blade in her left boot.
Sam remembered the first time a teacher tried to take it. Jo started sobbing,
instead of threats which played the teachers and principle. It was complete and
utter genius.
Sam's hands shook as he pulled the key from his pocket and he missed the
keyhole the first two tries. What laid beyond that door was memories Sam would
do anything to forget. The door opened with a "click" and Sam prodded the door
till it swung fully open.
Flashes of his dad standing over him. Flashes of his head being slammed against
the floor. Flashes of a large hunting knife across his belly. Flashes.
Jo rested a hand on his shoulder, and gave him a assuring nod. A small but
appreciated gesture that gave Sam enough courage to step inside.
The faint smell of burning flesh, blood and alcohol filled his nostrils, but he
shook them away. These memories can't control him, not right now. The police
obviously did their best to clean up the blood but the red tinge still stayed
stained on the puke-ish yellow floor.
Jo practically shoved Sam forward towards the hallway, and for a second he
wondered why she knew where his room was, but then he internally rolled his
eyes at himself.
'All the apartments are the same layout, dumbass.' Lucifer badgered, sitting on
Sam's desk when he came in.
'Yep, thaaanks.' Sam replied sarcastically, not even wasting energy to give a
bitch-face.
Sam's room was a good size but practically bare. He had a single bookshelf, but
with only a handful of books. In his closet there were exactly, two hoodies,
and a beat down black trench coat. Sam's dresser wasn't any better because it
contained, one pair of shorts, three pairs of jeans, five t-shirts, a pair of
pajama pants, two pairs of socks, and six pairs of boxers.
Sam didn't have much but he was thankful that he had a wider selection of
boxers.
He shoved all his clothes into a army style backpack. Sam usually owned a
single pair of converse but at the hospital they gave him a pretty sturdy pair
of flat, slip on sneakers. The kind without laces. Jo observed Sam's movements
without a word, as if she was waiting for him to break.
The rest of the things that Sam packed from his room was some notebooks, a
couple of his favorite books, and a necklace with a golden bull looking pendent
on it.
Jo eyed the necklace with her eyebrows asking questions. Sam gave a small smile
and tucked the necklace in his back pocket with his "new" phone.
"My mom got it for me in Colorado, from some witch or something." The thought
of his mom coming home, her smile stretching from ear to ear, holding a little
trinket was enough to make Sam's chest well up. Sam never believed in the
witchcraft stuff but his mom was heavily into it, along with horoscopes and all
that noise. His mom said the necklace was for protection.
Sam guessed the witch wasn't a good witch. She probably got a failed her OWL's.
Sam tossed the backpack on and walked into the hallway. He stood still, facing
his father's door which was right across from his. He had to do it.
"Sam.." Jo warned but Sam ignored it, he walked in.
Images of his dad's hands, of his mouth, his words, his fists, his everything.
Sam felt his knees buckle, but he didn't fall completely, he held himself up by
leaning on a wall. Sam felt Jo's hand on his lower back, and in response, he
felt his cheeks warm.
"Sorry," Sam whispered, forcing himself upright. He knew there was no point in
apologizing, because Jo understood but, he felt like such a loser.
"Don't apologize," Jo said, not even bothering to hide the bitterness from her
voice.
Sam had never really been in his dad's room much, and his dad preferred it that
way. If John wanted Sam, then John would just come to Sam's room and Sam never
dared to disobey his dad, so when John said stay out, Sam did.
The room was normal, a king sized bed, with white blankets. A dresser across
from the bed with a mirror, and a small bathroom with a toilet and sink on the
left. Jo was completely baffled, as if she was suspecting pentagrams and dead
animal corpses. Sam did find somethings he wouldn't expect though.
Posted to the mirror, stuck in between the crack of where the mirror and wood
meets, were pictures. Pictures of John and Mary before Sam, and pictures like
Sam at his first play and as a baby.
In the middle of the mirror, was a picture of Mary's vacation in Colorado. Sam
was sandwiched between his mother and father, his arm around his mom's waist
and his dad's arm on Sam's shoulders. They were poising in front of some
mountain, the picture taken by an overly-dressed-for-hiking, surban mom. That
was back when Sam was comfortable being that close to his dad.
The picture made a lump form in Sam's throat. With a shaking hand, Sam pulled
the picture from it's place and set it delicately in his back pocket. He also
took the photo of his parents at their wedding.
Sam could feel Jo's eyes on him, and how much she disproved at taking anything
with John on it, but Sam wouldn't leave it behind. He pulled out his dad's
dresser, but he didn't have the heart to go through all of his dad's clothes.
They all smelled of whiskey, and Sam never wanted to step near whiskey again.
Sam felt whiskey drop over his fingertips before his dad took a lighter to
them.
"Sam?" Jo's hand on his shoulder, snapped him out of his thoughts. Sam's entire
body was trembling. "Let's go," Jo said with a scowl, practically shoving Sam
out the door.
As Sam made his way towards the door, it hit him that, this was going to be the
last time he saw this ugly floor. The last time he would listen to Michael and
Nick giggle on the floor up. The last time he'd walk out the lobby and see Ms.
Moseley playing with tarot cards while watching Soap Operas. The last time that
he'd watch Adam helplessly flirt with Jo.
The last time he'd see Jo.
Sam spun around faster than he could even register, his arms flying around Jo
and squeezing her hard enough to cut off her breathing. His head laid on Jo's
shoulder. He knew he had to leave, and he knew he wanted too, but Sam cares
about Jo, a lot more then he might admit.
"Sam?" Jo laughed, but an awkward, confused laugh.
"I'll miss you," Sam breathed, his hands slipping around Jo's waist. As much as
Sam's face was warm, Jo's was worst. He felt the heat against his temple.
"I'll miss you too. Promise to text me, and send pictures! I've never been
outside of Kansas, so I'm kind of jealous." Jo rushed, her breath was shaking,
but Sam was strangely calm. Considering he blushed the first time a girl hugged
him, and blushed even worst when Jo kissed him.
Sam cupped Jo's face in his thin hands, squishing Jo's lips into a almost oval
shape. His lips collided with Jo's, but he didn't necessarily know how to do
the french kissing thing, so he just lingered.
The door to the apartment swung open, and Sam dropped Jo's face like he was
doing something wrong. In the doorway Dean stood, wearing some cargo shorts, a
polo t-shirt, boat shoes and sunglasses that tinted away the beautiful color of
Dean's eyes. This is when Sam decided to blush.
"Uh hey, uh Dean. T-this is Jo and ah, Jo this is Dean!" Sam backed away from
Jo, slowly scooting towards the door.
"Hi." Dean said blankly, almost as if he was annoyed.
"Hi." Jo said back, basically the same way.
'Awkward.' Gabriel whispered, to Sam. Sam nodded a silent agreement.
"Come on Sam, we're going to miss our flight." Dean informed, reaching inside
the apartment to grab Sam's forearm.
"A-Alright. I'll call you when we land, okay Jo?" Sam fidgeted next Dean, he
was almost worried that Jo was mad at him. Instead Jo rushed to hug him, and
Sam noticed the way Dean's fingers tightened.
"You better," Jo whispered, her teeth lightly nipping at the fleshy bottom of
Sam's hear.
Sam let out an unmanly yelp, and he felt a small throb on the skin underneath
Dean's thumb.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Summary
     Sorry about the time between these chapters, but I started highschool
     and I've been so deathly tired.
Dean was in a lot better mood when they got in the car and started towards the
airport. They had to drive into Kansas city since that was the closet
international airport. Dean rented a silver Ford Fusion, and Dean didn't even
have to use the trunk considering Sam only had a bag and he only had three.
Sam asked a lot of questions, the actions at the apartment far from his head
when he was about to leave the state for the first time. Dean answered all the
questions happily, and in great detail. Dean could feel the excitement
radiating off of Sam, in fact Sam kept taking pictures. Dean had picked up a
camera with instant print film from some store at the mall and Sam
automatically feel in love with it. He took pictures of the highway, the
interior of the car, just of everything. Dean saw Sam take a couple of
snapshots of himself, but he didn't say anything, because he really didn't
mind.
Sam wasn't trying to be creepy but Dean looked really cool when he was driving.
His eyes were focused on the road and his large hands gripped around the
steering wheel.
Wait, what was Sam thinking? He couldn't get weird on Dean now, they would be
living together.
The younger male found his leg bouncing up and down, but more in a show of
excitement. Sam never really had much time to travel, but he read a lot about
different states and countries. Sam was unhealthy obsessed with visiting
different places, but the world was simply to big and he was simply to poor.
Sam had never been on a plane before but he figured it couldn't be to bad. Plus
if someday he wanted to travel, he'd have to get used to it.
His dad claimed that it would "save" money to drive to Colorado instead of
taking a plane, but Sam really doubted that by the end of their trip. With how
much they spent in gas, they could of bought a plane.
If Sam had to live out of a backpack to travel the world, he'd do it, without
hesitation.
The airport pulled into sight and Sam's cheeks were pulled into a huge smile.
He watched in complete awe as airplanes came to and from; it was amazing how
small those monsters could look from far away. Dean tried to keep his eyes on
the road but the look on Sam's face was undoubtedly, wonderful. Sam looked like
a normal teenage, maybe even like a child, but the sharp edge of of Sam's chin,
the hallow in his throat, and the dark bags under his eyes, snapped Dean back
into the cruel reality.
Dean's hand reached out and his fingers made their way into Sam's brown tuff of
hair. It was getting longer, so long it was curling at the ends. Sam's face
went a soft red, and Dean smiled, they didn't say anything but Dean's hand
lingered near Sam for the rest of the ride.
~~
The airport smelled surprisingly fresh, since Sam was kinda expecting it to be
like a bus stop but filled with pre-air travel sweat.
Over Sam's head, sunlight shone in through the glass roof, people strode from
the stores to their terminals, and Sam pulled out his camera. It was probably
really creepy for Sam to take pictures of people in the airport but it was a
artistic in a way. People didn't know they were being photographed, so
everything was natural.
That's how art should be captured.
Sam plopped the photos that appeared into his backback. He had a pretty nice
pile going that he should actually consider investing in some more film.
Dean hand reached out to touch Sam's shoulder.
"I'm going to grab our tickets," Dean said, Sam noticed just how many people
steps slowed at the sight of Dean. He really was beautiful, and with the sun
shinning down against the male's sunglasses, he could faintly see the color of
the eyes Sam loved just so.
"I'll go explore the stores," Sam could feel a grin on his face but it must of
looked goofy, considering he felt strangely happy. Before Sam got to fair, Dean
grabbed his wrist.
"Here," He started, pulling out a wad of cash from his back pocket. "Don't
spend it all, California has some awesome markets that you'd probably enjoy."
Sam didn't have time to protest because Dean walked away, leaving Sam standing
like a idiot with a clip of cash.
There had to be at least a hundred dollars.
Sam had never even held that much money. Let alone be able to call it his own.
Sam held the money in his hands as if he was holding a precious jewel. For some
reason he must of thought that if he were to drop it, the money would smash.
Obviously Sam headed towards the bookstore first, and was surprisingly pleased
with how large it was. The store went up two floors and each wall was lined
with books. Sam could definitely blow all the money there.
He traced his fingers against the spines of the books as he walked deeper into
the store. The design of the store was completely different from the modernness
of the airport. The walls were a light oak color, with dim lighting, and the
place was eerily quiet but it kinda soothed Sam jumbled nerves. Sam took notice
of the combined scent of coffee and that distinguishing book smell.
Sam eventually settled in the teen section, his eyes wondering to it's
selection of fantasy/adventure novels. Sam had read just about every classic
literature piece there was, so he figured reading things that were actually
meant for his age, wouldn't be to terrible.
After five minutes, Sam decided on two books to buy.
Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas, and Love & Misadventure by Lang Leav. The
second one was a poetry book more or less, but Sam fell in love after just
reading one poem.
Sam placed his bag of books in his backpack, and tucked the rest of his money
in one of the pockets that zipped up.
He kind of wondered if he should buy a gift for Dean, but then again, it was
Dean's money so would it really be a gift? But it's more the thought that
counts, right? Might as well get something.
Browsing through the store, it made Sam realize that he really didn't know a
lot about Dean.
Sure in the hospital they talked but most of the time, Dean just listened to
Sam talk when Sam felt up to it. Other times they just sat in silence, and
read. Based on what Sam had saw, Dean liked mystery novels and horror, so that
was a place to start.
"Sam!" Dean called, jogging towards the scrawny kid, waving tickets in the air.
Sam met him half way, so they both were standing in the archway of the
bookstore. Dean smiled, and handed over one of the tickets, and just holding
the slip of paper made Sam feel something deep inside his gut. Was it fear or
enticement?
Sam wanted to take a picture of the ticket anyway.
"Did you buy anything?" Dean asked, he kind of hoped that Sam had.
Sam's ears turned pink, he stared down at his ticket, gripping it like if he
didn't, he'd lose it.
"Yeah, sorry.." Sam said, but Dean just shook his head. The older man squatted,
his large hands holding Sam's wrists. Sam felt the urge to flinch but with
Dean's intense green eyes, he wouldn't dare to look away. Dean's calloused
hands rubbed against Sam's skin, but it wasn't unpleasant.
"Don't be Sam. I think you deserve to be spoiled a bit." Dean insisted, his
thumbs making circles on Sam's wrists. Sam's bit his lower lip, and nodded,
because right at that moment, words didn't form in his mouth.
Plus he needed to get away so he could blush in private. He slipped out of
Dean's grip and said something about heading to the gate.
Dean chuckled; he noticed the kid's face anyway.
~~
Dean had first class seats.
FIRST class.
Everyone else who was on the plane was wearing jewels and suits, even Dean
looked a lot more suited to be in first class. Sam on the other hand was
wearing saggy jeans, and a sweatshirt, his hair was just past his ears, and he
looked like a zombie. Pale skin, to-the-bone skinny, and bags. Oh the bags
under his eyes would scare anyone of these people. Sam was definitely out of
place, even the stewardess gave him a nasty look as he walked past.
The plane they were on was some double decked one, so it resembled one of those
buses in England. Sam saw that in Harry Potter once. He always wanted to ride
one and this was probably as close as he would get.
Sam struggled to put his other bag in the overhead compartments, but Dean
pushed it the rest of the way.
Dean was really close.
If Sam was to lean his head back, it would be pressed into Dean's chest.
Sam wanted to smack himself for thinking that. So to avoid it, he sat down,
taking the seat by the window.
Dean plopped next to him, reclining his seat back ever so slightly. The seats
in front of them had screens that showed how long the flight was going to take,
and it's route. Basically like GPS for airplanes. Then Dean started clicking on
his screen and hundreds of movies, shows, music, and books showed up.
Rich. People.
Sam let out an audible gasp, and Dean grinned, he looked as if he was about to
say something but then the pilot came on over the intercom.
"Hello ladies and gentleman, you are aboard flight 347 from Kansas to
California. We're looking at about a three hour flight so sit back, relax, and
enjoy the ride." People had already begun settling in, ignoring what the flight
attendant was saying but Sam listened to every word.
Dean just watched Sam, more or less observing his status.
Sam held himself together pretty well, there was no denying that, but Dean had
seen this many times before. Sam wasn't dealing. He was pushing away everything
that happened, not accepting that it happened, or just pretending it was okay.
Just pretending that he's okay.
That would work, for a little while, but it will come back. It always does, and
it will hit harder.
Dean would just have to be there for the downfall.
The initial take off was rough. Sam's face went pale and he was grabbing Dean's
shoulder so hard, Dean felt himself bruise. Despite that, Dean laughed.
Sam hadn't realized that taking off would mean his stomach was in his throat,
but he got used to the feeling soon enough. He brought out his book, intending
to read but soon found himself sharing a headphone with Dean, the armrest
between them pushed up so Sam could watch more comfortably, watching Indiana
Jones, after Dean almost cried about hearing how Sam has never watched them.
Soon Sam's head dropped, resting on Dean's shoulder. Dean didn't mind, and he
didn't move a muscle, he just watched his movie.
Brushing hair from Sam's face, or admiring his long eyelashes, his defined
jawline, and the slenderness of his neck only once or twice. But mostly, he
just enjoyed having Sam's warm breath against his shoulder, and his long hair
tickling his neck.
Dean would be there for the fallout.
Not matter what, the thought of leaving that kid; was the farthest chance in
the world.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Summary
     SO I FINALLY HAVE UPDATED, I AM SORRY IT'S SHORTER BUT I WANTED TO
     GET IT OUT.
The plane settled in California at six, and even though they were still in the
plane, Sam could feel the humidity soaking in. He would take off his sweatshirt
but he had nothing on underneath it.
No one needed to see that much of Sam's skin. Even he didn't wanna see that
much of his body.
Insomnia tugged at Sam's eyes, he'd only gotten maybe an hour of sleep on the
plane. It wasn't the plane's noises that shook Sam from his sleep,
surprisingly. It was the nightmares. The nightmares that crawled forward each
time Sam closed his eyes. As much as Sam would try to brush them off, Dean
noticed.
He also took notice to the deep bags under Sam's eyes, and couldn't help but
wonder, 'When was the last time he got a good night sleep?' Anytime Dean even
began to mention something about Sam's weight, sleeping habits, or just how he
was feeling, Sam would ice him out completely. Sam had begun to build up a
wall, because he didn't want to think, or feel but Dean knows how most victims
act. They are cursed with sympathy, to everyone but themselves.
Sam rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck, giving a small smile to the
flight attendant who was ushering people off. As soon as he stepped off the
plane and assumed it safe for him to use his new phone, Sam texted both Charlie
and Jo. Both messages read the same thing, short and sweet.
Jo replied almost seconds later, with about a paragraph full of questions, most
of them like, "Are you okay?" and "Did you eat anything?" But the final
question was, "Are you thinking about our kiss?"
Sam's couldn't help the color that rushed to his face. He felt Dean's eyes
behind his back, which did not help in the slightest. Dean knew how big of an
invasion of privacy it was for him to be creeping over Sam's shoulder but Dean
felt a strange material protection for the kid, and he did not like that Jo
girl. She was way to intense for Sam. Sam furiously typed a message and hit
send, quickly shutting off the phone and shoving it in his pocket.
"S-So where do you live exactly?" Sam asked, his back still turned, and his
gaze directed at one of the Starbucks stationed in the airport.
Dean took a stride to end up in front of the lanky thing, and pulled out his
own phone.
"Here, gimme your number before I end up forgetting." Dean said, handing his
phone over to Sam. Sam took the phone, and held it as if it was a baby. Dean
couldn't help but smile at the fact this sixteen year old kid could give off
the vibes of a seven year old. With the fascination Sam showed on the plane,
the way his already huge eyes got even wider when he saw something new, and the
excitement you could feel radiating off of him, it was a phenomenon. "I live
about an hour from the airport. We should have an Uber waiting for us out
front."
Sam and Dean headed towards the baggage claim, but Sam wandered off, heading
towards the Starbucks that had caught his attention early. The line was non-
existent, which was good because Sam had to think very intensely about what he
may like. He'd never had coffee before, but he was definitely curious. Sam was
so intent on his decision that the buzz of his phone almost made him scream.
It was a text message from Dean, that read, 'Where are you?'
Sam couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief that Dean had proper grammar,
even while texting.
'Getting coffee, want anything?'
A second went by, then a buzz.
'Just a black coffee, please.'
Sam put away his phone and stepped to the counter, ordering Dean's coffee and
buying himself some seasonal gingerbread bullshit. Sam had almost forgotten
that Christmas was a couple days away. Sam had become used to spending his
holidays cleaning up after his drunk father, he wouldn't even know how to
celebrate it now that he was on his own.
A sting went through Sam's body. That's right. He was alone, truly with both
parents slipped from his fingertips. Sam traced his fingers over his bruised
cheekbone, a small shock of pain but he didn't stop. Sam didn't stop pressing
his bruise, little by little, until it throbbed just like new again.
~~
Dean wondered why Sam was so quiet. The kid had come back with a large coffee
for Dean, and what Dean could only assume was an extra-extra small for himself,
yet Dean hadn't seen Sam take a single sip yet.
They sat in the back of the Uber, completely silent except for the soft hum of
Guns & Roses playing from the driver's radio. Dean was tempted to ask the man
to turn it up but he didn't want Sam think he was avoiding conversation. Sam
lifted his cup and took a tiny sip, and that was all before putting it back
down again. Dean wanted to help the kid so bad, it hurt but he just had to be
patient.
Then again, the twenty-seven year old could barely stand in line for more than
two minutes without getting frustrated. He reached over and patted his hand on
Sam's head.
The kid jolted, as if he'd been lost somewhere else but didn't shake Dean's
hand.
Dean wanted to say something but nothing could to justice to the feelings he
had, so Dean just stared. He stared at the side of Sam's face as the he looked
out the window.
"Here you are sir," the driver said, Dean hadn't even realized they'd made it
to his house. Dean thanked him, and pulled out a twenty, Sam got out first,
looking up at the top of Dean's apartment building. It was certainly a lot
bigger than Sam's old apartment building, thirteen floors at least.
Dean dropped his arm over Sam's shoulders, and let out a relieved sigh.
"Welcome to your new home kid."
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Summary
     ok ok ok, so yes self harm and eating disorders and some darker shit
     might become more talked about and stuff so please be careful of
     triggers!! and ps i make Cas more like Misha srry
Dean apartment was on the sixth floor of a thirteen story building. Dean had
mentioned something about all the apartments being the same in layout so Sam
could only imagine just how much it cost to live there.
The apartment itself was larger than most modern sized homes Sam had been in,
and it had a balcony over looking the city. To get a place with a nice view at
Sam's old building would cost a chip out of Sam's college fund, it gave him
anxiety to think about how much Dean's apartment cost. Taking that into
consideration, Sam didn't touch anything. He pulled himself away from the
bookshelves, which was very difficult because they were packed, and just sat on
the middle cushion of Dean's couch.
The living room was fairy big, and connected into the kitchen which was were
the front door actually was. The living room had a couch against the wall, with
two coffee tables on each side, and a table in front of it, then to the right
was the balcony to outside. Dean had a flat screen tv, that was at least 48
inches with a PlayStation.
Again Sam pulled his internal leash because he didn't even want to stare at
anything for too long. Dean plopped his keys on the counter in the middle of
his kitchen, and left his suitcase leaning against the door. Sam kept his eyes
forward, his nerves practically radiating off of him and Dean just sat down
next to the kid, his hand lazily thrown across the top of the couch.
Sam sat straight up, stiff as a actually plank of wood, his back wasn't leaning
against the couch at all, and his feet were square against the ground. Dean
sighed, digging a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
That got Sam's attention.
Sam face gave off a parent-like disappointment, his eyebrow hitched up.
"What?" Dean's voice sounded like a shrug. Sam rolled his eyes but with a small
smile.
"You're a doctor," Sam replied, "shouldn't you know better?"
"Yesss," Dean dragged, not stopping the man from taking out a cigarette and
placing it between his teeth. He grabbed his lighter of the table in front of
them and struck the wheel. Sam watched Dean's hands, as one cupped around the
flame, the glow illuminating Dean's freckles, eyes and lips in the gloomy
lighting of the apartment. Watching Dean was like watching a piece of art.
Without thinking, Sam pulled out his camera, and snapped a picture. The 'click'
of the camera made things a little more awkward then Sam intended.
Dean busted out laughing, as Sam shook the polarized photo, his face burning.
"What was that for!?" Dean finally got out in between his giggling. Sam punched
his arm, it was as hard as it looked, but he automatically drawed back, his
face almost apologectic. Dean didn't seem to mind.
"I dunno," Sam whispered, "it's like you're a walking piece of art, and art
deserves to be captured."
For the shortest moment, Dean just stared at Sam, in shock, or maybe awe. He
looked away, taking a drag of his cigarette, but Sam could of sworn he saw the
faintest trace of color on Dean's ears.
For the life of him Sam didn't know why it was embarrassing to hear. It was
just the truth.
"How about I show you to your room?" Dean said, patting Sam on his knee, and
stood up. As Sam walked behind Dean, he got a small pinch in his side. Nothing
to painful, just like someone had stuck a needle or two into his gut.
The hallway had three doors. One of the right and two on the left. The one on
the right was going to be Sam's room, the one across from that was Dean's and
the last door in the hallway was the bathroom. Sam's new room was only a bit
bigger then his room at his old apartment, but it was a lot cleaner. No cracks
in the walls, and Sam had a hunch that he would find mice every now and then
under his bed.
The room was painted light brown, with a twin sized bed, bookshelves, a
nightstand, and a little bench that connected to a window.
"Wow." Sam said under his breath, he'd never been so happy to see an actual
bed.
"It's nothing spectacular," Dean retorted, his hand ruffling the hair on the
back of his head. Sam almost stopped breathing.
"Are you kidding!?" Sam exclaimed, dropping all his bags to the floor,
relishing in the freedom. Sam found himself wondering, when was the last time
he was actually happy to be home. "It's perfect! It's awesome! It IS
spectacular!"
Dean didn't stop himself from smiling, the dorky grin fit so well with his
little curls behind his ears, and dimples. Dean wanted to see Sam smiling more
often, he wanted to give Sam reasons to smile.
Sam flopped himself on the bed, but sat straight up a second after.
"Are you sure it's alright I stay here?"
The question took Dean a tiny bit by surprise, Sam was either really
considerate or really oblivious. Maybe it was an unhealthy mix of both.
"If it wasn't alright," Dean started, "I wouldn't of bothered buying you a
plane ticket."
~~
Sam stayed up the rest of the night.
Long after the shuffling of Dean's feet had stopped in his room and all over
the house, Sam stayed awake. Maybe it was his excitement that kept him from
actually laying down in his new bed, or maybe it was the fact he kept
reorganizing everything in the room.
He didn't have many belongings, but he made sure his books, were organized in
alphabetical order, along with the books that were already place into the
shelf. He put his shirts, and sweatshirts color-coded into his drawers and
since he only had jeans, he just made sure it went from lightest to darkest
colors. Sam messed up his bed sheets and refolded them, fluffed his pillow only
to punch it again.
He found himself unable to stop his hands from doing something, but it was
strange since he wasn't even tired. There was still that slight sting so Sam
convinced himself that this was why he couldn't sleep.
Sam finished Game of Thrones by the time the sun rose, and when he heard Dean
moving in his room, he decided it best to at least pretend to sleep. Dean was a
doctor after all, so he probably wouldn't be to happy knowing Sam stayed awake
all night. So Sam slipped under his comforter (it was green, and smelled kinda
like a forest), even if he wasn't sure if Dean would actually come in to check
on him.
But Sam was proven wrong, he just poked his head in, but he did in fact check.
Sam waited about an hour before actually pretending to get up. Mostly he got up
though because he smelled something in the kitchen, that was definitely not
being cooked correctly.
The lanky kid stumbled his way into the kitchen, he had the starting of a
headache, but that was probably because of the smell. Dean stood in the
kitchen, in a tank top and some pajama pants, a spatula in hand. He stared very
intensely at his "dish" of food on the pan. Sam leaned against the door frame,
in a worn out hoodie that once seemed to have words on it but had long
disappeared, and his only real pajama bottoms, a pair of grey sweats that had
the string tied as tightly as possible because they were about five sizes to
large.
"Mornin kid." Dean called shortly, not even taking his eyes off his dish. Sam
made his way over to Dean, leaning his elbows on the counter next to the older
man.
"What is that?" Sam questioned, one eyebrow up and the other furrowed, a bony
finger pointing into the pan that held a once yellow substance that had been
burned around the edges.
"An omelet," Dean replied, defeated. Sam gave a small grin, and scooted next to
Dean.
"Here," Sam said, taking the spatula from Dean's hand, and pushing him out of
his spot in front of the stove. Sam cracked open some eggs, commanded nicely
for Dean to grab some of his spices, and for some tomatoes, peppers, and
potatoes.
As Sam worked diligently, Dean watched on, visibly impressed and sipping out of
a coffee cup.
"Where did you learn to cook like this?" Dean asked nonchalantly, Sam's motions
slowed down, his eyes seeming to darken despite the sunlight shinning in
through the balcony. Dean realized his mistake, and growled, "shit" under his
breath. Guilt hit him the gut, Dean didn't know, he shouldn't feel bad about
Sam's over reaction.
"Uh, my mom taught me!" Sam said, his voice chipper and light, it even fooled
Dean. He seemed to be getting good at convincing people of what he needed them
to see.
It was a lie. Sure Mary had taught Sam a few things about baking and cooking
here and there but Sam never truly paid attention. He began home ec. classes
after his dad threw a plate at Sam because the food wasn't that great. He
actually went to the library to look up recipes, not because his dad wanted
culture but because Sam actually found it fun. It was a small freedom that his
father gave him, so Sam cherished it.
"Why were you cooking anyway?" Sam questioned in between a nibble of a basil
leaf.
"Well, I actually have a lot of cooking supplies, because at one point I
thought I would actually learn how to cook correctly," Dean gave a breath of a
laugh, and stared down at his feet. "It never really happened, but I figure I
should cook something for you. Considering it's your first real day in
California, and-" Dean cleared his throat- "and, uh, in my house."
Dean looked up, his face showing a hesitant smile. Sam's face dropped into a
mushy, puppy-eyed look; he was truly touched. Dean stepped forward and pushed
Sam's face back with his hand,
"Don't look at me like that," he said. Sam couldn't quite make out his tone,
but he wasn't angry, that was for sure.
There was a knock at the door, Dean's hand dropped and he set his coffee down
next to Sam, and while going to the door he made sure to tussle Sam's hair.
Dean swung the door open and there stood a man. He was only a bit shorter then
Dean and a bit taller then Sam, with black hair and bright blue eyes. He was
handsome but nothing like Dean, and more normal build.
"Cas, man!" Dean boomed with a grin, they both went in for a hug.
Sam stayed quiet, simply reaching over to grab a plate from off the counter,
and sliding the omelet on to one. Dean and the man, named Cas, were talking
about something that Sam wasn't particularly interested in.
Sam walked to the table in the living room, setting the plate down, and
bringing Dean's coffee along too. The door shut and Sam turned around, to be
face to face with the stranger.
"Woa-" Sam stumbled back a bit, but Cas caught his forearm. Sam flinched, the
man accidentally gripped his cuts. It had been a while since Sam made those,
but it seemed self-harm wounds took a little longer to heal.
Cas pulled Sam forward, the blue eyes staring down at Sam, into his very soul
it seemed. Then the man broke into a wide smile, his arms throwing themselves
around Sam.
"You didn't tell me you had such and attractive kid living under your roof Dean
Winchester!" He was almost yelling, and Sam's face heated slightly.
Attractive? Him? No way.
"And he cooks!" Cas cheered, letting Sam go to begin dramatically present Sam's
omelet.
"Hey how do you know that's not mine?" Dean fake a hurt tone, and Cas clicked
his tongue, his arm once again thrown around Sam's shoulder.
"I know because last time I left you to cook, you caused a miniature fire."
Dean raised his shoulders and eyebrows as in a, "yeah, he's got a point" kind
of way. Sam slowly backed away from Cas. He wasn't scared of the man or
anything, the guy just touched a lot, and was a little intense.
Okay, maybe that did scare Sam just a bit.
"It's time I introduced myself!" Cas announced, his eyes flickering over to Sam
who was almost cowering in the doorway towards the bedrooms. "I am Castiel
Novak, but of course you may call me Cas." He stuck out his hand, which was
probably the most normal thing this guy did. Sam weakly shook it, and watched
his jump over to Dean, apparently satisfied.
Sam kept slowly backing up until he was at his door. He opened it, still facing
forward and didn't turn around until he was fully inside his room. The boy
sighed, and got under his blanket. He was so tired, and meeting that guy just
made him exhausted. Sam couldn't explain this strange feeling he had for the
new man, he obviously didn't see him as dangerous. Maybe a bit of a Lennie from
Of Mice and Men, because of not being able to realize his own strength, but not
a bad person.
Maybe jealousy, on how Dean just completely dropped everything to talk with
this guy. Almost like Sam wasn't there.
Sam rolled his eyes, and shoved his pillow over his head. He was being a child,
Dean was allowed to have friends, who was he to say anything? To even think
that way was terrible, Dean deserved happiness.
So Sam got out of his bed, pulled on his best pair of jeans, cleanest shirt,
and went to go play neighbor.
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