One Piece at a Time
Time stamp to Retribution: it is essential to have read that fic.
On the other hand, if you really can't be bothered, then hear this:
Sam was kidnapped, abused, beaten and raped by some town bullies, and they left him brain damaged.
His father took steps to fix this, but the cure is very slow and no one knew what would evolve...
In this tag, temporarily brain damaged Sam turns a bit kickass when something comes back to threaten him. And, of course, we have protective, older brother Dean cheering him on.
Sam 16, Dean 20.
"Hey, Sammy? You wanna go out for ice cream, dude?"
Sam abandoned the alphabet bricks, smiled sweetly, and shuffled awkwardly over to his big brother on unsteady legs.
His eyes, as always, were sparkling with love and excitement, though Dean had noticed there was something different about him in the last few days.
There was a wariness Dean hadn't seen since just after Sam's brutal kidnapping. And the kid made constant, subtle glances around the room, as though not entirely sure he was safe.
John had warned him, and the quacks had gone on about this at great length.
He might not remember what happened but he could always know something went wrong...
Dean had been grabbing some juice from the cooler, but his little brother's voice suddenly broke.
Dean caught Sam before his knees could hit the floor, heart breaking when the kid's sobbing was deliberately muffled by burying his nose in Dean's shoulder.
"Sammy, it's ok dude," Dean crooned, softly. "You're safe."
But the kid shook his head.
Sam tried to pull away and just kept shaking his head from side to side, until Dean wrapped his fingers in the kid's hair and began gently rubbing his scalp, holding his head still.
"It's just us, Sammy..." Dean pushed and pulled until he gently forced Sam to look at him. "You're safe. No one's getting near you again, ok? Not without going through me and Dad first!"
Sam gazed at him through tear-laden eyes, gradually calming down, though Dean suspected it wasn't what he was saying to the poor kid, so much as how he was saying it.
"Here ya go, Sammy," said Dean, reaching across the diner table.
Sam's eyes were still a little red from tears, but his face was beaming when his big brother deposited a big bowl of mint choc chip ice cream in front of him.
"Thhhhhssss Deeeeeee," he slurred, quietly.
Dean shrugged. "Don't thank me, dude. Thank yourself," he smiled, proudly. "You did good today, kiddo."
Sammy was making great progress with his therapists, and they were all amazed.
Dean looked around. The diner seemed quiet enough.
"Hey, I'm just going to pee, ok Sam?" Dean asked. "You stay here and enjoy your ice cream."
Sam nodded, a huge smudge of the stuff already lining his grinning mouth. "Mmmhmm."
Dean shook his head, laughing.
"Ok, but we'd better clean you up before we go home, huh buddy?" He tenderly cupped Sam's face, just briefly, winked, and then headed to the restroom.
But he couldn't help grinning when he overheard the young waitresses talking as he sauntered down the hallway.
"Aw... he is so sweet with that kid!"
"That's his little brother, I hear."
"Really?" a pause, followed by a genuine "Ya know? They look so different but I can see that somehow?"
"Apparently, the little brother was kidnapped and beaten to within an inch of his life last year," one of them said, sounding sad and worried, and Dean stiffened up.
He stopped, suddenly not needing to pee so badly after all, and backed up against the hallway wall so he could listen in some more.
"How'd ya hear that?" another sounded a little shocked.
"My cousin works at the special school as a volunteer," came the hesitant, yet sympathetic reply. "She came home crying one night, 'cos one of the kids had drawn a picture? Said he couldn't talk about it, he was so injured and traumatised. But, apparently, it was horrifying! She told me it was a new kid in town. Figured it's got to be that kid out there," she sighed. "Poor boy. Such a sweetheart..."
Dean nodded to himself, worry abating ever so slightly.
Sam would be ok for just a few minutes.
Sam happily and messily slurped away at a huge spoonful of ice-cream.
Eager for the next bite, his tongue swirled noisily round the outside of his mouth, and he stabbed gently downwards again with his spoon.
So intent on his treat, he didn't hear the diner doorbell jangling madly, the raucous laughter that often accompanied stupid, vulgar bullies, or the sudden tension filling the air.
"Jack, leave him alone..." one of the waitresses began to protest.
But she was brutally cut off by a snide "Shutup bitch!"
Sam didn't really take much notice, just kept on savouring the minty, chocolaty goodness on his tongue.
That was, until a fat, menacing figure loomed over him.
Sam smiled innocently up at the guy and generously offered the new stranger his bowl of ice-cream.
"Wannn sommmme? I donnnn m...mminnnnd shhhharrring."
Man looked like he could use some cheering up after all.
Sam's friendly smile widened when the stranger took the bowl from him.
But the guy sneered, cruelly, at Sam.
"Been hearing stuff 'bout some retard faggot hanging round here. That you kid?"
He leaned down and snorted in Sam's face, before launching the ice-cream bowl at the far wall.
Sam gasped and watched, sadly, as the bowl smashed and ice-cream slid downwards, leaving a sticky green mess on the paint work.
"Minnnt chopppp chipppp..." he murmured, helplessly, like the world had ended on him.
And, in a sense, it had.
Dean had bought it for him.
Take away Sam's favourite ice-cream, and you might as well take away his brother.
Before the fat stranger had a chance to carry out any more torture, Sam let out a feral growl, and launched out of his seat.
Three hundred pound, Fatty Jack suddenly found he had a skinny, sixteen year old 'retard fagot' wrapped around his body, tripping him up, and incidentally shoving a painful, sharp-edged knee in his joy department.
To make things worse, the diner waitresses appeared to be laughing their asses off at him and making no attempt to intervene.
"Serves you right, asshole!" one of them yelled, defiantly. "You've been asking for this for years!"
"Fuck you, bitch!" But Jack's eyes rolled wildly in their sockets when his companions and partners in crime backed off, shaking their heads. "Nonono..." he screamed, when he felt thumbs jamming into his eye sockets. "You gotta get him off me... come back here you fucking pussies!"
His cohorts, bravely, and without another thought for their friend's safety, took off at high speed. The diner door bounced forlornly off its frame in their wake.
Their point couldn't have been made more clearly.
You're on your own, shithead!
Jack, now desperate to avoid any more pain and humiliation at the hands of his victim, swung violently from side to side, trying to dislodge the little shit.
But the stubborn retard wasn't letting up, and he wasn't letting go!
"Help!" the fat bully screamed like a big girl's blouse.
His shrieks got even louder when Sam suddenly sank his teeth in the thick blubber of the guy's neck.
"Get this fucking animal off me!"
Sam growled and hissed, dug his fingers in deeper and kicked repeatedly with his feet, until...
"Samuel Winchester, you let him go right now!" Dean suddenly roared across the diner.
Sam released his death grip, looked up and gulped, nervously.
The waitresses stood, wide eyed and silent as Dean stalked across the room.
Even small, furry animals, happily mating in the hedgerows outside the building were shocked off their stroke and hurried away, whimpering with embarrassment.
Dean's glare was hard, cold, and filled with unaccountable fury.
"Sam? Go sit in the car!" he snapped. When Sam just blinked at him, he added "Now!"
His little brother scampered awkwardly out the diner door, occasionally looking back at Dean, eyes filled with fear, and what looked heartbreakingly like shame.
Dean watched him go and swallowed down his guilt at putting that fearful look back on his kid brother's face, and turned back to sneer at Fatty Jack.
Dean's scowl morphed into an evil grin.
"You are so going to pay for that, fatso..." he growled and advanced on the guy, menacingly.
Sam sat in the passenger seat, limbs cold, numb and shaking, head buried in his hands, body almost curled up in the foetal position.
He whimpered in fear when the driver's door opened, and shrank away. He knew he'd done something wrong, but couldn't figure out what, and that didn't matter 'cos big brother was angry and all Sam could do was run because last time he tried to fight them it hurt...
When a gentle hand rested on his shoulder, Sam blinked and shuddered.
"It's ok, dude," his brother told him, voice sounding gentle and worried. "You're safe."
"Sorrrrrrry..." Sam whimpered, still shaking from head to toe.
"Sam," Dean muttered, pulling the kid, gently into his arms. "Don't be sorry. Be proud of yourself."
Sam pulled away and blinked at his big brother. "Huh?"
"You've nothing to prove to me, Sam, I know you," Dean told him, gently. "We all fight, and sometimes we lose."
Sam ducked his head again. "H-h-how c-c-can..." he ran out of juice, his speech problems too much for this conversation.
"'How can I say that'?" Dean's gaze was proud when Sammy nodded. "Dude! You came, you fought, and this time you conquered."
Sam just looked uncomfortable.
Dean stared hard at Sam, sadness flooding his heart when he realised the truth.
"You didn't care if you lost, did you?"
Sam just stared back at him.
He looked a little less troubled and a lot less haunted. But Dean knew his little bro knew more about the world than he was letting on.
Dean rested his forehead against Sam's, and sighed.
"Whatever," he whispered, sadly. " Love you kiddo, no matter what happens..."
Dean knew Sam still had a long way to go, but at least, now, there was some kind of path to follow...
Sorry if this offends, but I have very little tolerance towards bullies.
I don't believe in the death penalty, but I do believe in kicking the crap out of anyone who has a go.
Bullying is NOT a rite of passage, it is a time period in one's life that involves unrelenting and horrendous mental and physical torture.
And it follows you into adulthood, whether you realise it or not.
So please, all of you, do not stand for it!
First chance you get:
Punch their fuckin' heads in!