And now (drumroll please) I present you with my latest story! Originally I wanted to post this story on Monday (because that was my birthday and I thought it'd be a nice present to myself) but I just couldn't get it all finished by then. So we begin today instead.
I'm a little nervous about this story, but I certainly enjoyed writing it so I hope you'll all enjoy reading.
WARNINGS: This story will contain bullying and self-harm. Consider yourself warned!
Disclaimer: Sadly, Supernatural and it's respective characters don't belong to me.
Word Count: 2,100
Chapter 1: Moving On
Sam carefully shaded in the shadow of the dog he was drawing. He'd seen it while walking home from school that afternoon and wanted to draw it before the image left his brain. It was a large brown dog that was kind of scruffy, in a cute way. The dog had been casually laying in the yard of an average suburban home, and had given Sam a quizzical look when he passed by. As soon as Sam got back, he'd found his sketchpad, which he kept hidden, and tried to duplicate the image in his mind. So far it'd come out quite well, except for the paws. They looked awkward and a little too large but Sam had long ago given up trying to fix them.
He was nearly finished when Dean got back from work fifteen minutes later.
Because there were several hunts in the surrounding area, John had agreed to let them stay for a while. So Sam was enrolled in school and Dean, who had graduated the previous year, found a job at a local mechanic shop.
"Hey," Dean called as he entered the small rented house. It was old and a bit decrepit, but it got the job done.
"Hey," Sam called out. He snagged his geometry book off of the floor and opened to the page in which he'd stuck a sheet of paper that he'd started his homework on.
"Doing homework?" Dean asked as he poked his head in the small room which Sam and Dean shared.
"Yup," Sam said as he jotted down a random equation solely for show.
"You're such a geek," Dean said with a small shake of his head, "but anyway, what do you want for dinner? We can order subs or pizza."
"I don't care," Sam said without looking up.
"Well if you don't pick I'm going to order a large pizza with anchovies and spinach on it." Sam finally looked up to make a face.
"Fine, subs – the usual, please," Sam added. Knowing Dean, he'd probably order some crazy thing like hot sauce and mustard on tuna topped with jalapeños if Sam didn't specify.
"What else would I get?" Dean said, feigning innocence.
"Haha, very funny." Dean smirked before slipping out of the room. Once Sam was sure Dean was gone, he shoved aside his geometry book and looked down at his drawing.
There were many reasons Sam kept his love of art a secret, even he didn't know them all. For starters, Dean would tease him to no end for liking something so 'girly' as he would put it. It didn't seem like something a Winchester would do. They were tough soldiers fighting a never-ending war with evil. They didn't draw. His dad would probably make him stop if he found out – would demand he don't waste his time with such foolish activities when he could be training. And it would no doubt cause yet another fight between them. And, really, he had nothing to gain from telling them, but he certainly had stuff to lose. There was also a tiny part of him that worried they would think he was a terrible artist and was wasting his time. No, it was better that they weren't told.
Sam sighed and looked over his dog. It was so close to done…just the facial features left to detail, but he didn't have the time to finish, not now anyways. As much as it bothered him to leave something so close to finished, he tucked the sketchpad and his favorite pencil away in the bottom of his duffle bag.
He climbed back onto his bed and began to truly do his homework.
Ten minutes later, Dean called from the living room, saying the subs had arrived. Sam sat down at the table and picked up his sandwich. He looked it over with a critical eye, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Ignoring the humored look on Dean's face, he tentatively took a bite and was relieved to find that Dean had actually ordered him a pain old turkey and cheddar – his favorite. He continued to munch on his sandwich while Dean chowed down at a much faster rate on his BLT.
"So when's Dad getting back?" Sam asked conversationally.
"Dunno, probably soon though, it's been almost five days." Sam nodded and they continued to eat in silence.
Soon turned out to be the next day when John arrived a little after six.
"Get your stuff packed, we're leaving in the morning," John said gruffly immediately after entering.
"What?" Sam asked, his head jerking up from his homework. Tomorrow? That was so soon, so sudden. They couldn't just up and leave. For one, that'd be rather suspicious and two, what about school and Dean's job? They couldn't just not show up, Sam would have to inform the school he was moving (they'd told the principal it was only temporary, but still he couldn't just up and leave) and Dean would have to quit his job and…tomorrow?
"Yes, tomorrow, now get your stuff together, I want to be out of here early."
"But what about school? I can't just leave, we have to tell them and stuff and…"
"Sam! Pack. Now."
"But that's not fair!" Sam continued. "I have a big history presentation tomorrow! I've been working really hard on it!" Sam snapped. "I can't just let my partner down!" He looked over at Dean for support, but Dean just turned and went into their room.
"Sam, it's just a project, it doesn't matter. And I'm sure your partner will be able to live without you," John said as he went into the kitchen to grab a beer.
"But Dad-" Sam said as he followed John into the kitchen.
"No! Sam, stop it! Why can't you just move on like Dean? We're talking about saving lives, Sam, and you're worried about some stupid school project? Now, go to your room and pack," John finished with a stern tone, leaving no room for argument.
"Why can't we just have a damn normal life?" Sam said as he turned.
"Because that would be selfish!" John growled after him.
Scowling, Sam stalked down the hall. He threw open the door with far more force than necessary causing Dean, who was facing away from the door, to whip around and instinctively lunge for the bag to grab a weapon.
"Chill, it's just me," Sam snapped as he entered the room briskly and shut the door behind him.
"Dude, what the hell's your problem?" Dean scowled as he righted himself.
"What the hell's yours?" Sam instantly replied as he stalked further into the room.
"Gee, maybe the fact the neighbors ten frickin' miles away could hear you and dad going at it then you just stalk in here like it's all my fault?" Dean snapped.
"I didn't say it was your fault," Sam growled as he yanked his duffle from under the bed and tossed it on the old, yellow comforter. He stormed over to the brown bureau in the corner and opened the bottom two drawers, the top two being Dean's.
"Dude, we've been here for almost a month, you had to see this coming soon," Dean reasoned.
"Oh, not you too," Sam said with a roll of his eyes as he ripped clothes from the drawer and tossed them into the duffle, not caring in the slightest that they were a mess.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded. Sam said nothing and continued to pack angrily. His frustration grew as the strap to his duffle got wrapped around his wrist in his haste. "You know what? Dad's right. This shitty attitude of yours has got to go," Dean said simply while Sam continued to struggle with the strap.
Sam whipped around so fast that the duffle was yanked from the bed and thrown to the floor. The sudden weight on Sam's left side caused him to topple over after his luggage and land next to it on the ground.
"So just because I don't like moving from shit-hole to shit-hole, and would actually like to keep a few friends more than a week, means I've suddenly got a shitty attitude?" Sam asked angrily. He attempted to stand up but didn't get far before the duffle tugged on his wrist. He growled and forcibly yanked the strap from around his wrist causing it to tear slightly along the seam.
"No, Sam, you've got a shitty attitude because you can't go one fucking minute without trying to rip Dad's head off about something or other and you always complain every time we move, even though you know we're going to. And you act like what we're doing isn't worthwhile or isn't doing any good. Well newsflash Sam, the world doesn't revolve around you! And this whole questioning Dad's every move thing is just stupid. Don't you trust him?"
"Then act like it!" Dean snarled.
Dean grabbed the wooden handle on the bureau and jerked open the second drawer from the top, nearly hitting Sam in the head, and grabbed his last few items to pack. He crammed them into his already nearly full duffle before zipping it closed with more aggression than necessary. Dean looked around more, as though daring more clothes to suddenly jump out, then, after finding nothing remaining, stormed out the door.
As soon as the door shut behind Dean, Sam grabbed the nearest thing, an AC/DC t-shirt Dean had given him a while ago that he was yet to pack, and pelted it at the wall as hard as he could. All though it didn't exactly make a satisfying noise when it hit the wall, Sam did feel slightly better having physically released some anger.
Once he finished packing five minutes later, Sam was still feeling tense. He unpacked his duffle then repacked, merely so he'd have an excuse to stay in his room and to keep him from throwing everything in the room around.
"Pizza's here," Dean said tersely from the other side of the door. The sound of socks on carpet told Sam that Dean had retreated without a response. Not that Dean was really in any mood to care if Sam skipped meals or not.
Despite the fact that Sam would far rather stay locked away in his room than face his family, he was quite hungry. And if they were planning on leaving early tomorrow, there would most likely be no breakfast. Sam wasn't sure he would be able to make it to lunch tomorrow, that is if they even stopped for lunch as opposed to driving right through it, and decided food was just worth it at the moment.
Sam stepped out into the hallway and began to trudge angrily down, then stopped himself. If he wanted to make it through dinner without any more arguments, he'd have to at least be civil about it. Walking much lighter, Sam entered the kitchen and sat down in one of the last two empty seats at the plastic, blue kitchen table. He grabbed one of the Styrofoam plates and put two pieces of the greasy cheese pizza on it.
Apparently Sam missed the 'bring your own reading material' memo because John was flipping through his journal while Dean was absorbed in the Maxim magazine he was reading. Sam huffed and began to eat his gross pizza.
Sam finished first, mainly because he only ate the two pieces. He rinsed his plate then deposited it in the trash before muttering "Homework," and going back to his and Dean's shared room.
Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the peeling ceiling, he let his thoughts run rampant. Selfish. Both Dean and John had essentially called him selfish. Was he selfish for wanting a normal life? For wanting a life beyond that of hunting? Wasn't it possible that he just wasn't cut out for hunting? Why was that so ridiculously hard for them to understand?
It wasn't fair. They had both had their normal, however brief. Dean had gotten four years of living as a normal family. He could actually remember his mom. But no, not Sam. Because somewhere along the line, someone decided Sam Winchester was just not good enough for any of that.
Would they never understand?
And there you have the first chapter! Like I said, I'm a little unsure about this story so do me a favor and leave a review!
Next post should be in a few days.