Wayward Son

Summary: Bobby didn't think that Sam would ever understand that he had one father. And it wasn't John Winchester. Abuse.

Warnings: Abuse. Rape. Neglect. Nasty, nasty things.

There were plenty of things Sam Winchester did not know about his brother Dean, though Sam would argue vehemently against that. He would like to think that he knows everything about Dean, everything about his life, everything that he is. Those who know otherwise are usually content to let Sam stay ignorant. It's what Dean always wanted, and everyone who knows anything about the Winchester boys knows that Dean always has the final say on Sammy.

Not that there are many people in the world who know otherwise or who know anything about the Winchester boys. There used to be two. When Pastor Jim died, there was only one. Bobby Singer. And yes, Bobby Singer was usually content to let Sam stay ignorant. But sometimes he wasn't. He wasn't when Sam used to run away. He wasn't when Sam ran off to Stanford. He wasn't when Sam got obsessed with finding John. He wasn't when the light of revenge colored the child's eyes. He wasn't when John died.

Bobby wasn't content to let Sam live in his ignorance when he started having Psychic visions, and he wasn't when he started associating with Demons. He wasn't when Dean returned from hell and Sam had turned into a shell of himself. He wasn't when Sam was hooked on Demon blood, and he wasn't when the apocalypse was nigh. He wasn't when Sam decided not to tell Dean he was back from hell, and he wasn't when he found out Sam was soulless. And he especially wasn't when Sam's soul was returned to him, because now he knew that the boy needed to know.

But it wasn't his place to tell him. It wasn't Bobby Singer's place to say the things that needed to be said, and it wasn't his place to explain. It wasn't his place to reveal Dean, and it wasn't his place to change the status quo. But that didn't mean that Bobby hadn't thought about what he would say, if he could say the things he would. He had. Over and over and over, he had.

"D'you know what your first word was Sam?" He would ask, one day out of the blue, when they were sitting together drinkin' beers and Dean was asleep.

"It was Daddy," He would answer before Sam could say anything. "But you didn't call John Daddy. You called Dean Daddy. You called him that until you turned five, when Dean told you that you couldn't call him that anymore. You cried and cried and cried, and Dean told you that you could as long as you called 'John', which is what you called him, 'Dad.' You stopped when you started school because you were wickedly teased for calling Dean Daddy. But you still call him that sometimes, when you're not quite with it.

"Do you know that John lied to you? That when he told the story he made it seem like he left you with folks when he went huntin', but he never did. He left you with Dean even when you were only six months old. Sometimes he would leave you in motels, other times empty houses. He left money for food, but Dean did all the shopping. He made your bottles and changed your diapers and gave you baths and put you to bed. He held your hand when you took your first steps and understood your baby babble better than anyone. He took care of you when you were sick and found ways to deal with colic and teething and diaper rash without ever seeing a doctor. He was four. Four years old, but he was already grown up.

"When he wet his bed when he had nightmares about your mother, he changed his own sheets, drew his own bath, washed his own pj's and put himself back to sleep. When you had nightmares about your mother, or anything else, and you wet the bed, he did all of that for you.

"The first time Dean handled a gun was on his fifth birthday. He fired it the same day. The first time he shot something was two weeks later. Your father made him kill a man to prove that he could. Admittedly, he was hardly a good man, but your father made his son, his five year old son, who still had nightmares, wet the bed and slept with a stuffed animal kill a man.

"Dean didn't go to school until you turned five. He couldn't, because who would stay home with you? It never once crossed his mind to leave you alone as John had done to him. He taught himself from stolen books. He taught you to read when you were four, and helped you with all your homework. He cooked you dinner and gave you baths and told you stories and sung you lullabies. He put you in time out and weaned you off a bottle and then a pacifier.

"He stole clothes for you and stitched them up when you ripped them. He kissed your 'boo-boo's' and put Scooby-Doo band-aid's on them. He was the one who never told your dad you wet the bed 'til you were twelve and went out and bought you goodnites, even though when he was caught he was teased at school, just so John wouldn't find out and you could sleep peacefully.

"He did your laundry and folded your clothes. Even when you were growing like a weed, he kept you clothed in things that fit. He did that. Not John. He never let anyone hurt you. He didn't stand for you to be bullied. Starting when he was fourteen he attended all of your parent-teacher conferences. He never left you alone. He told you that he was watching over you and that nothing would ever hurt you. Not ever.

"The first time your father raped your brother was three weeks after Mary died. Three weeks. He raped him every time he came back to you guys. The first time that he beat him was on his sixth birthday, because he wasn't strong enough in their fight. Because he couldn't draw a gun fast enough or handle a salt bag or clean a weapon correctly.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you Sam? John abused Dean. He abused him horribly."

Some day, Bobby Singer would say all that to Sam. But now, it wasn't his right. And in all honesty, Bobby didn't know what Sam would say. He didn't think Sam would understand the sacrifices his brother made for him.

Bobby didn't think that Sam would ever understand that he had one father. And it wasn't John Winchester.