A/N: This is written for the OhSam comment meme on LJ. The prompt was from the lovely cherry916. Thanks again hun!
All is Fine
Hand held him down, pressing him farther into the cold asphalt. Small rocks scraped painfully into his back; an unexpected kick sent them biting further in the skin.
"You really are a freak!"
Tears slid down his face and more taunts fell on his ears. Hits and more kicks pounded down on his sensitive flesh. Blood slowly seeped through the layers of clothes.
It wouldn't end….
Pages from his book cascaded onto him. He could see red splotches on the pages that had landed on top of him.
The tears came harder.
The chanting started up again.
"Freak! Freak! Freak!"
"Hey, come on Sam!"
The hands grasping at his shoulders were much gentler. The voice, although tinged with panic, soothed rather than taunted. The combination allowed Sam to finally open tear filled eyes and bolt upwards from his bed. The sweat soaked sheets tangled around his legs as he did his best to scramble off the bed, as if the moving away from there would somehow allow him to escape the terror the dream had brought.
"Woah kiddo," Dean called out as he grabbed Sam around the arm to prevent him from tumbling out of the bed. "Slow down, Sammy. You're ok."
Sam closed his eyes and took in a deep breath to calm himself. Seconds later he opened his eyes to see Dean's green orbs swimming with worry. "Thanks," he croaked.
"What was that all about?" Dean asked ignoring the 'thanks' his brother had sent him.
"It was nothing Dean," Sam placated as he maneuvered around his brother's arms to get out of the bed.
"Like hell! You've been tossing and turning all night. Then you start screaming like someone is torturing you! You can't tell me it was nothing."
Sam sighed and grabbed a change of clothes to take to into the bathroom. "It was just a bad dream, Dean."
"I promise, and don't call me Sammy Dean. I'm not a baby."
"Whatever….so what was the dream about?"
"Nothing Dean; just drop it!" Sam practically snapped.
"Fine!" Dean threw his hands up in surrender.
Sam slinked past Dean and made it to the door before his brother spoke again. "Clowns or midgets?"
"Jerk," Sam called without even bothering to stop and turn around. He made it to the bathroom and carefully undressed. He bit his lip to keep from crying out as his t-shirt scratched against the cuts and scrapes lining his torso. Ridding himself of his sweat pants was just as bad if not worse. Bending down sent pain through his bruised stomach, and his thighs still had the deep cuts from the rocks. He spared a quick glance in the mirror, sighing at the damage done to his body, before jumping in the shower. He washed as quick as he could manage. He couldn't risk Dean or his Dad walking in and seeing all the bruises.
Toweling himself dry was difficult, but he did so as best he could before dragging on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Sam barely had the hoodie on when Dean barged through the bathroom door.
"Don't you knock?" Sam snapped and tugged down his hoodie hurriedly. The motion sent stabs of pain through his shoulder. Damn….forgot about those bruises…
"Sorry, Sam," Dean grinned. "Your ass was takin' too long. What are you, a girl or something?"
Sam glared at him.
"Look," Dean spat out a wad of toothpaste, "I have to get ready too. Caleb will be here any minute."
Dean looked away from the mirror to look at Sam. The kid seemed pale and had dark smudges under his eyes. But what caught his eye the most was the sad downcast expression marring Sam's face. "What's the matter kiddo?"
"I just forgot you were going with Caleb."
"Sam," Dean sighed, "you've known this was coming for weeks."
"I know," Sam mumbled. "Things have just been…hectic…at school and all." Dean looked skeptically at Sam. "It's not like Dad has ever let you hunt without him anyway. So it's not like this happens every day of the week, Dean."
"Well it should happen more often. I'm 19 dude. Dad's gotten lighten up more now."
"Yeah right," Sam huffed.
"Sammy, promise me you and Dad won't be at each other's throats all weekend while I'm gone?"
Sam knew he couldn't really promise that. The two had been fighting more and more. But then again, Sam also knew he didn't want his Dad to see the bruises and cuts…so maybe he would just end up avoiding him all weekend. "I'll be fine."
"You keep saying that Sam…I'm starting to not…"
"Dean!" John yelled from the front room of their rental house. "Caleb's here! Sam, you gotta get to school!"
"Ok Dad!" Dean called back. "Come on squirt." Dean squat playfully at Sam's back to push his toward the door. But he brushed over some of Sam's tender bruises, causing Sam to bite his lip to stop from voicing his pain.
"I'm coming," Sam breathed out, thankful Dean hadn't noticed how badly that had hurt. He slowly climbed down the stairs. Dean followed behind, but shoved past him once Caleb came into view. Once again Sam bit his lip to keep from crying out as he abused body throbbed.
"Caleb!" Dean rushed over to the young man.
"Hey, man!" Caleb pulled Dean into a one armed hug. He let go of Dean as he saw Sam come into view. "Hey squirt!" Caleb then proceeded to give Sam a hug as well.
"Why does everyone call me that?" Sam half-heartedly whined. He never truly minded when Caleb called him that. He knew it was his way of showing affection. "You do realize I'm not that short any more, right?"
"I do, but you'll always be that to me kiddo." Caleb ruffled Sam's hair.
Sam groaned, but smiled nonetheless.
"Sam! Stop with the attitude!" John yelled from the kitchen.
Sam's smiled faded instantly. "Dad, I wasn't! I was just…"
"Sam," John said as he walked into the room, "I said to stop it and I meant it."
"Whatever," Sam mumbled.
"Sam," John warned again. "Go grab something to eat then get to school."
Sam knew it was pointless to argue anymore. "I'm not hungry."
"Fine," John sighed. "Then get your stuff and get to school." Sam started to move to grab his backpack. "And Sam, make sure you come home right after you end get out. I need you to do some research with me since you lost those books I needed. And you've been coming home later and later each day. I'm tired of it. So stop doing whatever it is you've been doing and come straight home. Got it?"
Sam sighed. It wasn't exactly his fault he had been late every day. Not like he could prevent the assholes at school from making him late…
"Yes sir," he mumbled.
"Sammy," Dean called. "Wanna ride to school? Caleb and I are heading out now. It's on the way."
"Yeah, squirt. There's room," Caleb said gently. He could feel the tension rolling off of Sam.
Sam nodded as he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked outside. He could hear Dean talking to his dad, but couldn't make out the words. Minutes later, Caleb and Dean appeared on the porch with Dean's equipment and duffle bag in hand.
"You ok Sam?" Dean asked.
The rest of the trip to the school was fairly quiet. Sam answered questions posed by Dean and Caleb, but his mind was too preoccupied but what would await him once he got to the building. Caleb's old truck pulled up beside the sidewalk a block away from the school. Busses sat directly in front, blocking him from pulling in there. "You ok with getting out here Sam?"
"Yeah, it's just a block Caleb. I'm used to walking here anyway."
"Ok squirt." Caleb squeezed Sam's shoulder in affection. "I'll see you in a couple of days when we get done."
"Thanks Caleb," Sam smiled up at him.
Dean opened the truck door and climbed out so that Sam could as well. Sam carefully moved out of the middle seat and onto the sidewalk.
"So…" Dean started.
"Take care of yourself while I'm gone. I'll be back late Sunday."
Sam nodded. He already knew all that. After a few seconds of silence, Sam stepped towards Dean and threw his arms around his big brother. "Be careful," he said into Dean's leather jacket.
"I will kiddo." Dean squeezed Sam hard. For once Sam didn't mind the pain it sent through his battered body.
The brothers broke apart moments later. With a gentle squeeze to Sam's shoulder, Dean hopped back in the truck and took off towards the hunt with Caleb. Sam watched as they made it to the end of the road and turned out of sight. He sighed and turned with trepidation towards the school. This is going to be a long day….
School started out fairly decent. Sam avoided the bullies for most of the morning, at least until lunch. He was sitting with a small group of friends, mostly students from one of his honors classes, towards the back of the cafeteria. Even though he had skipped breakfast, he still wasn't very hungry. He sifted his fork through the congealing mashed potatoes.
Suddenly, something hot and squishy came falling down over his head and clumping around his shoulders. He looked up and saw the smirking face of the main bully he'd been facing for the past couple of weeks, Gary. He then noticed that the clumping and squishy material was mashed potatoes, presumably from Gary's tray. Before anything else could happen, a teacher walked over to see what was going on.
"Sam…Gary…is everything ok over here?"
Gary beat Sam to answering. "Of course Mrs. Meadows. I must have tripped over Sam's backpack he had in the floor. I knocked over some of my food onto Sam. Just an accident."
"I see," Mrs. Meadows said, seeming to be less than convinced. "Sam is that true?"
He wanted desperately to finally tell someone what was going on, but Gary glared daggers at Sam over Mrs. Meadows shoulder. Sam just nodded his head before grabbing his backpack and running out of the cafeteria towards the bathroom. He didn't hear any of his teacher's words as he fled. Once safely locked inside one of the bathrooms, he shrugged off his t-shirt and threw it towards the sink. Sam then proceeded to wash out the food from his hair and dry it off as best he could with the paper towels from the dispenser. He slid on his hoodie without bothering to put his spoiled t-shirt back on. He cleaned it off as best he could before throwing it in his bag and making his way towards his next few classes.
The end of the day brought him to Mrs. Meadows' honors literature class. Even though it was Sam's favorite of the day, he wasn't able to enjoy it at all. His mind kept replaying the cafeteria incident and worrying over what would happen after his class. He robotically turned the pages of the book on his desk until the bell rang and startled him.
"Ok, I'll see you all on Monday," Mrs. Meadows called. "Please remember to finish Hamlet over the weekend!" The class began to file out. "Sam! May I speak with you for a moment?"
Sam sighed as he turned back towards her desk. "Yes ma'am?"
"Sam, was what happened this afternoon with Gary an accident, sweetie?"
"He said it was."
"I know he did, but I don't really believe that. I want to know what you have to say?"
Sam glanced at his watch. "Ma'am, not to be rude but I really have to go. I promised my dad I'd be home right after the bell. He needed some help. I'm fine."
"I'm really sorry, but I have to get home Mrs. Meadows."
"Alright Sam," she replied. "Just…I'm here if you need to talk."
Sam nodded and rushed out of the room. Once he made it to the parking lot, he looked around to see if anyone was still hanging around. There were a few people here and there, but none of the people he was worried about seeing. He breathed a sigh of relief and started walking down the deserted road toward their rental home. As he continued walking, the more residential area surrounding the school turned to the more wooded area that led to their house.
The further from school he walked, the calmer he became. But his sense of peace instantly shattered when he felt something hit him from behind. He stumbled and fell flat on his stomach. His arm twisted painfully underneath him as he tried to catch himself. He barley took notice of the snapping sound it made. His attention was instead drawn to the gathering group of boys now surrounding him.
"Hiya Sam!" Gary said too cheerfully. His friends all smirked and began to form a circle around him. There was only about four in total, but Sam was terrified. They had never tried to get to him anywhere other than around the school.
Gary reached down and yanked Sam's backpack off the hurt teenager's shoulders. They ached with the force by which Gary had removed the bag. "Let's see what you have today shall we?"
Sam tried to remember if he had left any of his books relating to hunting in there by accident. He sagged in relief when it appeared as if nothing in there had caught Gary's attention.
"Left all your freak crap at home today huh? Guess you think you're pretty smart Sam." Gary aimed a kick to Sam's ribcage, causing him to gasp in pain. "Still a freak. Doesn't matter if you have that shit with you or not Sammy-boy."
"But…" Sam tried to say. One of the others quickly shut him up with a punch to the face.
"Sam, we don't appreciate that devil worshipping bullshit around here."
That was the last Sam could hear of the boys taunts. After that, everything blurred into one big ball of pain and humiliation.
Minutes later, out of nowhere, it all stopped. He could finally hear a new voice: his dad's.
"What the hell do you boys think you are doing?"
"This damn well doesn't look like nothing!" One of the boys started to back away to leave. "No you don't! All your asses stay here! The police are already on their way. And I'm not in the mood to chase any of you idiots down but I will if you try it." With that, the boys all stayed firmly in place. John turned his attention to Sam. His anger flared even more at the state of his youngest. "Sammy…"
He knelt down and gently ran his hand over Sam's hair. He felt his son stiffen under his hand and curl into himself. John felt the urge to take his anger out on the boys. However the sounds of sirens stopped him from moving away from his obviously injured son.
Hours later, John sat beside his son's hospital bed. Sam's arm had been set and put into a cast. A deep purple bruise marred the pale skin of his face. Matching bruises lined his shoulders, back, and stomach. A pristine white bandage wrapped around his knee, hiding the new stitches underneath. The older injuries had been taken care of, along with the new. The discovery of each and every one of them sent fresh anger through John's body.
Sam started to shift a bit in the bed, drawing John out of his thoughts. "Sam….come on….wake up son," he coaxed.
Sam's eyes slowly opened. He blinked against the bright light before finally setting his gaze on his dad's face.
"Hey Sam. How ya feelin'?"
Sam took stock of his body. "Sore," he croaked.
A glass of water was presented to him and he drank greedily. "I bet."
"Can I go home?" Sam looked so lost, making John suddenly aware of how young his son still was.
"Yeah. Doctor said you could once you woke up. You amazingly don't have a head injury. So you don't have to stay. I'll go get your doctor and get your paperwork started."
The paperwork went quickly, and it wasn't long before John was walking around to the side of the Impala to help Sam into the house. Sam tried to get out on his own, but nearly fell. The stitches in his knee prevented him from being able to walk very well. John was there to instantly catch his son and guide him into the house. He carefully placed Sam on the couch before heading to the kitchen to get something to eat for him.
Left alone with his thoughts, Sam continued to replay the night over and over again. John came back in the room and sat a plate with a sandwich and fries in front of him.
"Thanks," Sam muttered. Despite everything, he was finally starting to feel hungry. He began to nibble at the food. About half way through the meal he could feel his dad's eyes on him. He sat his food down and met them with his own. "Um…how did you find me?"
"Your teacher called. Wanted to know if I knew of anything going on with ya. Then she started telling me about some things she'd seen 'round school…she thought some other boys seemed to be bothering you. I headed to school to find you when you didn't show up here. I was…was worried after Mrs. Meadows called…"
"I'm sorry dad," Sam sighed. He shoved the plate away and leaned back farther on the couch.
He felt the couch dip and a calloused hand snake around to cup the back of his neck. "What in the world do you have to be sorry for Sam?"
Sam couldn't face his father…he didn't want to see the disappointment. "I sh-should've been able to stop it myself…"
Sam felt his dad's hand stiffen against his neck, and he was sure the yelling would come soon.
"Sammy, did I ever tell you about my first year of high school?" Sam just shook his head. He wasn't sure where this was all going. "I was like you, really tall and skinny. Except I wasn't as strong as you are…"
"Why do you say that son?"
"I couldn't…I couldn't even stop a couple of teenage bullies from laying me out Dad."
"When there is four against one, no one could. I know I couldn't have at your age. I couldn't even fight off one."
"What?" Sam sat up more, ignoring the twinge of pain it caused.
"You heard me son. I couldn't even fight off one asshole of a jock when I was your age. He made me public enemy number one my freshman year because his girl was tutoring me in math."
"Yeah, buddy. So don't you dare say you aren't strong."
Tears welled up in Sam's eyes and John gently wrapped him in a hug. Moments later, John heard Sam's muffled voice trying to speak around the fabric of his shirt. "What Sam?"
Sam moved so that his mouth was away from his dad's chest. "They found my books…the ones on shadow demons and witches. I had accidently left them in my backpack after our hunt a couple weeks ago. They started after that."
"So, that's why you didn't have them when I asked for them the other night?"
"Yeah…they…they tore them apart while the beat me up."
"Sammy," John's voice cracked at Sam's broken tone. "I'm sorry I yelled at you for that. But I want you to promise me something…if that ever happens again, don't be afraid to tell me or your brother."
More tears fell as Sam nodded his head in agreement. John pulled Sam back into his embrace and just held him while he let all his tears that had been building for weeks out.
Sam fell asleep there on the couch with his dad. Knowing that the position would hurt Sam in the long run, John reluctantly gathered up his baby in his arms and carried him to his bed. He carefully placed his precious charge under the covers and turned off the lights. He ran his hand through Sam's hair, smiling as his son turned into the touch.
I won't ever let things get that far again, Sammy…You're gonna be fine…