Warnings! Mental Abuse, seriously depressing subject material. I mean, I almost made myself cry just writing it. NOTHING like any of my other works.

I Break Everything I Touch

The first time Bobby found Sam Winchester crying in his auto yard, he didn't think much of it. Sam was a sensitive child, and John road his kids like they were marine recruits.

His first instinct was to go get Dean. Dean always knew how to handle his little brother.

Or, Dean thought he did, at least.

And Sam let him think it.

Bobby saw Sam retreat behind a mask sometimes. Sometimes Dean could make little Sammy feel better again, but most times Sam just put up a mask of happiness for his big brother's benefit.

Bobby hated that mask. It scared him, to be frank. It looked like the mask he himself had given his younger half brother. The little boy would never have understood Bobby's pain, so Bobby never said anything.

So it was for entirely selfish reasons that he didn't call Dean, Bobby told himself. He didn't call Dean because he didn't want to risk seeing that mask, not because it would save Sam the trouble of putting the damn thing up in the first place. Not because he knew nothing Dean said was going to make it any better.

It was selfishness. It was.

As Sam grew, Bobby noticed more and more how closely Sam's life was following his own.

Sure, Sam hadn't killed his father, but Bobby knew he felt responsible for his mother's death. He knew that John encouraged that view, just as his mother had always made sure he knew he was responsible for his father's death.

He knew Sam had the burden of the cold blooded murder of a family member on his shoulders just as though he had been the demon that set his mother on fire.

And then Sam left for college.

Bobby prayed this would be where Sam's life deviated from the course Bobby's had taken.

Bobby had gotten away from his family. Away from his mother's constantly disapproving stare. Away from his little brother's superiority.

Why should Billy be any better than him? Just because he was willing to take the place of the father Bobby had killed? Because he was willing to sit around and drink all day, only to beat their mother into the ground every night?

Just because Bobby was different didn't mean he was wrong.

It was the same with the youngest Winchester. Why was John so set on the fact that Dean was better? Just because he was more willing to hunt? More willing to throw himself into the quest for revenge? More willing to die at a young age due to too much crappy dinner food or alcohol poisoning?

Just because Sam didn't want to lose any more family, he was suddenly the villain?

But Sammy seemed to have gotten Bobby's crap luck.

Jess and Karen. Both women killed. Neither had done anything wrong. It was Sam's fault about as much as it was Bobby's fault, but neither man would ever be able to believe that they shouldn't be held responsible. Neither was able to let go of the guilt.

And then John was gone. Dean followed soon afterwards, and Sam was slipping. Slipping like Bobby had that time Rufus had split them up for a couple months. Rufus was all Bobby had had left like Dean was all Sam had had left.

And then both were suddenly gone.

Dean came back just as suddenly as Rufus had, and in just the same way. Waltzing through the door like he expected everything to be the same as it had been before he left. Just like Rufus.

Then came the blow out.

For Sam, it was the demon blood. The bad choices. Death

For Bobby, it was almost exactly the same. The alcohol. The liquor induced decisions. Rufus's intended wife dead on the ground.

No forgiveness. For either of them. Guilt, forever. Nothing either of them ever did could make for what they had already done.

At least Sam had him to come to when the hunters beat him so badly.

He was shaking when he showed up on the doorstep. His face was bloody and pale. His expression was the most horrible, though. The shuttered mask was firmly in place. The horrible, horrible mask.

"I didn't take it Bobby," he had muttered, his voice shaking so badly that Bobby almost didn't understand it. "They tried to make me. I didn't take it."

Booby had soothed him and cleaned him up.

Sam stayed for a few days after that.

When Bobby found him crying in the auto yard this time, he just couldn't stay away. He approached Sam for the first time since Sam had started doing this.

He realized for the first time that Sam was muttering something under his breath.

"What's that, Sammy?" he asked gently.

Sam slowly looked up to meet his gaze. "I break everything I touch."

The one sentence sent everything crumbling to the ground.

That one last difference that Bobby had always been able to comfort himself with.

That one measure of comfort.


I Break Everything I Touch.

The stories of their lives.

Like I said; depressing. I don't even know where I got this idea. When I started writing it, I meant for it to be a chapter fic. I wanted to write what Bobby's reaction to Sam saying that he "broke everything he touched" would be. It kind of twisted itself into a comparison of Sam and Bobby's lives (something I never even thought about before) ending really sadly. Now I want to go read something funny and try to forget this.

Did you know there's a song by the same name? I looked it up. "I Break everything I Touch" by Jason Aldean.