Thought it was time for another Supernatural story of pure Sam whump! I am attempting a longer story as opposed to another one-shot. Let me know what you think, reviews are much-loved! XD I am writing further chapters at the moment so hopefully the next update shouldn't be too far away!
It has been four days since the death of John Winchester. Four days since the failure to apprehend his killer, the yellow-eyed demon. Four days since Dean Winchester had graced Sam with the power of speech. Four days since Sam's major screw-up, causing destruction in the already fragile Winchester family.
Sam stared out of the small window in Bobby Singer's kitchen, watching his older brother mending the destroyed Impala. He knew Dean wasn't coping well with their father's death, but he sure as Hell wasn't going to talk about it, so all Sam could do was watch from a distance. He hated feeling this helpless, that he couldn't stop his brother from the emotional turmoil he was facing. Then again, Sam wasn't exactly doing brilliantly himself. Despite their arguments, Sam loved his dad and missed him dearly. If that wasn't bad enough, he was still reeling from the loss of his beloved Jessica; he still had the nightmares of her burning on the ceiling of their shared apartment. What made the grief worse for Sam is that he was convinced he was to blame for everything. Their mother, Jess, their father… all killed by a demon that wanted Sam for some big plan that no one could figure out. If it hadn't been for him, they would all still be alive; and Sam was pretty certain that Dean felt the same, hence the lack of communication. Every time Sam entered a room, Dean would leave, mumbling some excuse to Bobby, who would give Sam a sympathetic shrug that said "give him time, it'll get better" but still seemed uncertain. At one point Sam had manage to get Dean to speak – well, more yell – telling Sam it was "too little, too late". Since them Sam gave up trying to get Dean to open up, and instead settled into a routine of staring at his brother from afar.
"You know if he catches you staring like that he'll start one of his rants," Bobby muttered in his ear, causing Sam to jump.
"I wasn't staring…" Sam lied.
"Yeah, and I'm Julia Roberts. Face it Sam, Dean just deals with grief by shutting himself off from the world. He doesn't do talking like us normal human beings. Something he inherited from John if I'm not mistaken," the old hunter chuckled as he thought of the happier times with his recently departed friend.
"I know Bobby, it's just frustrating. I understand his need for personal space right now, but I really wish he didn't look at me like I was a piece of bird shit spoiling the bonnet of the car. Do you think he blames me for… what happened?"
Bobby responded by smacking the young Winchester on the back of the head. "Don't you start that boy! Self-pity ain't gonna get you anywhere!"
"I wasn't feeling sorry for myself Bobby! I just want to know why he is so pissed off at me, and I'm running out of ideas!"
"He's full of rage," Bobby explained, a little gentler. "The tiniest thing will set him off, and it seems you constantly asking him if he is all right is one of those triggers. Just back off for a while. He knows you care and you are there when he is ready. Now, let's get you doing something useful. I still have a fully functioning scrap yard and want to continue with the business. So you can give me a hand while I work."
"Ok, but you know how useless I am at this kind of handy work. I was always more of an academic…"
"Fine, you can be my caddy. Carry my tools and bring the beer when I get thirsty. Plus your brute strength might be useful at moving the heavier pieces, my back ain't what it once was."
"I told you you were too old for physical work, granddad." Sam teased, receiving another clip around the ears.
"Get a move on ya cheeky git."
Sam smiled at him and picked up the tool box, ready to follow Bobby outdoors and help.
Bobby didn't actually have any work to do, but he just needed to get Sam's mind on other things. He was struggling with grief, guilt and worrying over Dean, and it wasn't doing him any favours. Sam had hardly eaten a thing since the accident and had barely slept, probably plagued by nightmares. Yet, typical Sam spent his energy worrying about Dean instead of taking care of himself. If Bobby dared to ask how he is, he would grumble "I'm fine Bobby"; the way Sam complained about Dean bottling things up made him a complete hypocrite, but Bobby wasn't willing to point that out to the kid.
Dean of course had been completely oblivious to Sam's fragile state, but Bobby didn't blame him for that. Dean was in an equally bad place, and was taking his father's death worse than his little brother. Dean had always has a better relationship with John than Sam had, especially during the years Sam spent at Stanford. Then again, Dean didn't have a dead girlfriend, freaky visions or a son-of-a-bitch demon trying to drag him into something sinister. Thus, he didn't really have a reason to be so bitchy at his brother. However, Bobby knew better than to get too involved with a Winchester fall out; that family had some bizarre issues that only they could understand. Bobby therefore would sit back and allow them to work things out while still looking out for the boys; he was determined to keep the promise he made to John after Mary died, that if anything should happen to him then Bobby would take care of his sons. After all these years, Bobby considered Sam and Dean as his own, and would care for them for as long as he lived.
Bobby walked slowly around the scrap yard, trying desperately to find something to work on. Eventually, he spotted an old truck that he had neglected but had one day planned to restore. Well, no time like the present eh?
"All right Sam, see these truck? He's gonna get a makeover!"
Sam turned his nose at the wreckage. "You mean this rusty hunk a junk? I just need to glare at the thing and it would fall apart! Why are you bothering?"
"If you saw a sick dog at the side of the road with three legs whimpering for help, would you just leave it there as it will probably die eventually?"
"Bobby, don't compare an inanimate object to a living thing, it's completely different."
"Not to me it ain't Sam. This poor boy just needs some love."
"Ugh, you're worse than my brother!" Sam gave a chuckle, but then cringed when he realised what he said. Remembering the happier times with his brother upset him due to the current state of things.
Seeing the pain on Sam's face, Bobby pretended not to notice and carried on talking. "Don't listen to him boy, he just doesn't understand you. Anyway, I think I can save most of the doors, but the driver's door is beyond help. We'll need to find a replacement. Sam, do you think you could go to that pile of doors over there and find something similar to the rest?"
"You have a pile of car doors just lying around?"
"I need to keep all the parts in some sort of order, so if I ever need parts I can find them easily. It's basic organisation. And I thought you were the academic?"
"Shut up. I'll go find your damn door!" Sam feigned annoyance, causing Bobby to laugh. Sam went in search for the door while Bobby got to work dismantling the truck.
After what felt like years, Sam finally came across a door that would fit the truck. As he made his way back, he passed the Impala, but failed to notice his older sibling working underneath. It was almost inevitable that Sam would trip over the elder Winchester's legs and fall flat on his face. Sam felt a sharp pain in his side, and found a small piece of metal imbedded into his skin. Wonderful, Sam thought miserably.
"What the Hell Sam?" Dean screamed, pulling himself out from underneath the car and promptly standing over his fallen brother. "Can't you watch where you're going? You made me scratch the metalwork!"
Yeah like you could notice, Sam thought, but decided against voicing that sarcasm. "Sorry Dean," he voted for mumbling instead.
"Oh you're sorry are you? Well just tell me what on Earth you are doing wandering around here when I specifically told you to leave me the Hell alone?"
"Bobby asked me to help. He's fixing a truck and asked me to find a spare door."
"Bobby must have lost his mind asking an incompetent idiot like you help with important work like that!" Dean spat.
Sam sighed. He had not wanted to start another fight with his brother, and his massive feet had literally stepped right into it. He stood up, wincing slightly at the pain in his side, and picked up the fallen door muttering, "yeah, well maybe he has, but I thought I'd humour him nonetheless."
"Getting sarcastic now are we? College boy wanting to be clever with his dumb older brother?"
"It's not like that Dean and you know it. But I'm not going to argue with you about it, I'm clearly just in your way so I'll go back to what I was doing." He heard Bobby calling for him and saw him coming around the corner. He turned to leave, when Dean's words stopped him in his tracks.
"That's an understatement Sam. You've been in the way since the day you were born. Because of you our parents are gone, and some innocent girl who, for some reason fell for you, died as well. The demon wants you, yet you feel it's necessary to drag us all into your mess. Well I'm tired of it, and I'm damned if I'm going to die because of you!" Dean was breathing heavily, exploding with suppressed rage.
Sam didn't look back at his brother. He was shocked at Dean's outburst, yet deep down he suspected this was how Dean felt. At this moment he had to get away from his sibling, scared of further verbal abuse. He saw Bobby staring at both of them, unsure what to say. Sam just walked up to him and gave him the door. "I hope this will do," he mumbled. "If it's Ok with you I'd like to wash this dirt off."
"Uh, sure Sam…" Bobby wanted to say more, but the boy just wandered away without a second glance, walking towards the house like a robot. He saw Sam's eyes briefly, and was terrified as to how dull and empty they looked, as though Dean's words had stolen the life out of them. Great, Bobby thought, I guess my idea that Sam was starting to recover has just been ruined.