Chapter Text
Dad was cooking food on the stove and it smelled so good, Sam stood beside him on a chair in a fair distance and looked down at the food in the frying pan, his dad was whistling and Sam didn’t really understand how that sound could come through his lips, but he didn’t ask.
He never did.
In a few weeks, he’d be turning four years old. A big boy. The food sounded kinda funny in the frying pan and dad turned to take something from the sink and Sam just wanted to taste the food, because it really smelled good. Sam stretched out his hand to the stove but his eyes shout up just in time to see the bird that hovered past the window, it was yellow and black and Sam's hand started to hurt.
Instead of pulling his hand away however, Sam looked down at where his hand was and widened his eyes as the hurt turned into a burning feeling and as he pulled his hand back, the frying pan fell to the floor, the food was destroyed and Sam’s hand hurt and it was red and the bird was gone.
Dad was there and he was yelling, Sam couldn’t really hear the words because his hand hurt really bad and then dad took his wrist with his big hand and Sam tried to pull away, because he really didn’t like to be touched but dad didn’t let go of him and the frying pan was still on the floor, the food was destroyed and the burning turned cold and Sam looked at his hand as it was bathed in water.
“You better?” It was a question and Sam knew that and nodded. “Never do that again.”
Dad wasn’t angry. He had yelled but he didn’t sound angry anymore. Dad was never angry with Sam. Sometimes he was, but not always. Not as much as he was with the other boy anyway.
Sam wouldn’t touch the food in the frying pan again, because it was destroyed.
Sam had just turned four years old and a few minutes ago, he sat at the table, eating cornflakes with a spoon of ice cream underneath and a tuna sandwich on the side - the only thing he liked - in silence as he counted the spots of dirt on the wall, something he did every chance he got. But at the moment, right there, he was under the table in the small kitchen of the house daddy was renting for the time being.
Sam had his eyes tightly shut, his hands were covering his ears to keep out the loud words he didn’t understand. He understood words alright, but when they were loud, it just got too much and he didn’t hear anything but loud noises and it scared him.
Sam rocked to and fro in a nervous manner to calm himself down, he wasn't aware of how he'd be able to silence the voices and the harsh words didn’t stop even though he whispered the words he knew would stop the loud voices, but it didn’t help that time and he started to cry.
He didn’t notice when the absurd noises hushed out and finally stopped, he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone under the table any longer, all Sam heard at the moment of confusion and fear was silent words of apologies and the loud pumping noise that was his own heart.
His heart was beating so fast and there was wet on his cheeks, he didn’t like the wet on his cheeks when he was sad and he didn’t like the loud words and the angry voices and he didn’t even want to try to understand how it all started. All he wanted was the angry words to stop.
A soft hand touched his shoulder and Sam shrugged it off, he didn’t like when people touched him, he didn’t want people to look at him, and there was a different voice coming through the hands that was covering his ears, no loud voices anymore and the words was quiet - calm.
Sam didn’t stop rocking, but he did take his hands away from his ears and opened his eyes only to have to bend his head down to avoid the face and the eyes that was way too close for his approval. He didn’t like it when people got too close, it made his body go rigid and it hurt to be touched, it almost felt like burning.
“It’s alright, he’s gone now.” Sam didn’t understand but nodded his head anyway.
It was always alright, at least that’s what the other boy was always saying, but Sam wasn’t sure if it was the truth. There was always loud voices, anger and other things Sam didn’t really understand and it scared him and that was not alright. He was four years old and he didn’t understand why the voices never was quiet enough.
All Sam wanted to do was to eat his breakfast in silence.
Bobby was a nice older man, he was as old as dad and that was old, Sam figured, because dad wasn’t a kid like he and the other boy was, dad and Bobby drove cars and Bobby had very many cars in his garden. Dad called the garden a junkyard, but Sam knew his dad was wrong, because the grass outside the house was a garden.
But the grass had died, it was ugly and yellow and the many cars there looked funny and many. They had been at Bobby’s for a night and Bobby and dad was inside and Sam and the other boy was in the garden by the cars.
“Come on Sammy, play ball with me!” The other boy said and Sam ignored it because the car was so much more interesting than a ball.
He sat down on the ground and touched the old tire of the old looking truck. Cars were easier. Cars weren’t humans, it didn’t have eyes and it didn’t touch him when he didn’t want to. Cars were awesome. The ‘pala was cool and Sam knew it was black.
He was happy it wasn’t red.
But that truck on Bobby’s junkyard/garden was bigger than the ‘pala and it was an old shade of green. The grass should’ve been green. But it was dead so it was yellow instead. The color yellow wasn’t very nice, but nothing was worse than red. Sam just didn’t like red.
The other boy played with a ball. Sam knew it was a ball because it was round and the boy had said it was a ball. But it was hard and tires of the truck was hard too. Not as hard as the ball maybe and Sam really knew it’d hurt if the other boy played ball with him.
The grass was sticky underneath his hands, it tickled his palms a little, and the sun was warm above the sky. There was no clouds that day and dad walked out of the house, yelling at Sam and the other boy to get into the car.
It wasn’t a question, so Sam did what he was told. Dad looked angry. Or rather, he sounded angry and their duffle bags were already in the car when dad shut Sam’s door. The other boy didn’t ask, so Sam didn’t do either.
He never did.
On Sam’s fifth birthday, the other boy gave him a ice cream and a new T-shirt in the color black. It was nice, because the ‘pala was black and now Sam could have his black T-shirt on when he was in the ‘pala and that was cool. The ice cream was tasty and a cat was sitting by Sam’s feet, it was gray and white and it looked at him.
Cat’s were funny, and Sam laughed as he reached his hand down and petted it on the back. The cat’s fur was soft and nice and Sam liked it. The other boy’s shoes were very ugly, dirty, and broken and Sam didn’t like them.
“Shoes.” He said and surprised himself, he hadn’t planned on speaking and his voice sounded funny.
“Yeah, what about them?” The other boy asked and she didn’t seem to be surprised like Sam was, but his voice sounded strange.
Sam opened his mouth to answer, but there was no words coming through, because he didn’t really want to. He didn’t like the sound of his voice and the other boy put her hand on Sam’s shoulder and Sam quickly shook it off.
“It’s okay if you speak, Sam. I actually kinda like it.” The other boy said and Sam could hear that she meant it.
“’gly.” Sam said it again and it wasn’t a surprise this time because he had been prepared.
The other boy twisted his feet a little, the dirt was also underneath it and Sam made a grimace, he really didn’t like dirt very much. A loud sound came through the boy before a stinky smell hit Sam’s nose and he made another grimace and covered his ears. The other boy farted very often and laughed afterwards. Sam didn’t think it was funny.
“Sorry, bad gas.” The other boy said as Sam uncovered his ears because the smell didn’t disappear from doing that. “Yeah, they’re ugly. I probably need a new pair soon.”
The smell disappeared and Sam nodded, the other boy really needed a new pair of shoes.
Dad didn’t understand and Sam’s fife years old and he just wanted to tell him but the words never came out the way they should and Sam got frustrated and angry because his words never came out right and Sam knew that dad got angry because he wasn’t in the chair anymore, he was upstairs and angry and Sam started to cry.
All he had wanted to do was fly to the moon like the man had done on the TV, walk around in the air and jump up and down and flying in the sky. Was it too much to ask for? He had seen the man do it, so why couldn’t he do the same? Sam couldn’t stop crying and he was still in the kitchen and wet on his cheeks when the other boy got home.
“Sam? Why are you crying?” The other boy asked and Sam looked up at the ceiling and counted the dark spots there out loud.
Was he crying? Yes he was. But why? Sam blinked a few times and clumsily whipped at his cheeks with the back of his hand, he really didn’t like the wet that came from his eyes when he was sad and he didn’t like to feel sad wither.
The other boy repeated the question and Sam didn’t knew how to explain it so the boy would understand, she was smart, she often understood him but Sam wasn’t sure she would do it then because dad hadn’t. So instead of telling him, Sam started to count the dark spots of the wooden ceiling again.
“Sam you’ve got to tell me.” The other boy said and Sam was sure she would be angry. “Otherwise I’ll have to ask dad.”
Sam whipped at his eyes again. Stupid wet, stupid boy and stupid, stupid words for not being right. It was alright in his head, he just said it out wrong, and he couldn’t focus anymore on the dark spots on the ceiling and he started to rock himself a little harder, tried to calm himself a little more and he didn’t want the loud words to start again.
There was a man on the television..
“..on the moon.” Sam said, but he knew it came out wrong and hits his own head with the palm of his hand, again and again until the boy took his hand away.
“The moon?”
“Yeah.” Sam said and pulled his hand away, he didn’t like to be touched. “The moonwalk.”
Sam started to laugh because he knew that was Michael Jackson’s dance and that wasn’t right, that wasn’t what he had meant to say and the other boy didn’t laugh but cleared his throat and Sam looked into her eyes for a second or so before he looked up at the ceiling again.
“You want to do the moonwalk?” The other boy asked and Sam frowned.
Did he? No, he didn’t want to. But he wanted to walk on the moon. Sam wanted to tell him but she wouldn’t understand because dad hadn’t and the words was all wrong and the other boy was going to be angry too. Sam didn’t like it when people got angry, they got so loud when they did and he clearly disliked loud noises.
“Yes.” Sam shook his head and sighed loudly. “Fly there.”
And he finally said it right and he smiled brightly at the other boy before he looked up again but the smile didn’t disappear and he finally said it right and there was no way the other boy would misunderstand him now. Then he jumped a little as the boy started to laugh.
“Oh Sammy, we can’t afford to it. Not enough money.” The other boy said and Sam narrowed his eyes because he couldn’t figure out why the other boy was talking to Sammy and not to him.
He didn’t like Sammy, not that he had ever seen him or anything, but he didn’t like Sammy’s name, he didn’t knew why really, but the name just made Sam angry. Sam was glad he had such a wonderful name. And they had afford, they had..
“Money.” He said and sighed because that didn’t came out right. “EnouG’ money.”
The other boy told him to go on and Sam didn’t want to go anywhere, all he wanted was to fly to the moon and they could because they had money and the other boy knew it too, so why was she telling Sam to go? Sam didn’t understand and he looked down instead of up and the floor was just as boring as..
“Aah!!” He shouts and bent down, took up a penny and gave it to the other boy. “Money! Moon!”
He got up from the chair, hurried to his room with shaky legs that didn’t want him to walk and returned to the kitchen with a hand full of money, put it on the table in front of the other boy and smiled, he had money and now they can fly up to the moon!
“Sam. This ain’t enough. Dollars, like a million dollars isn’t even enough and you can’t even take the bus into town with these.” The other boy said and Sam didn’t understand.
He wanted to fly to the moon like the man on the television had done. Why did he fly there if it needed money to do so? Maybe the man on the television had enough money and Sam hadn’t. Sam didn’t want to think about it anymore because it made him sad and then if he was sad he’d start to cry and he didn’t like the wet that was on his cheeks when was sad, so he didn’t want to be sad.
But he was anyway.
Another thing Sam didn’t like, was when his dad smelled weird and was talking about someone called Mom. Sam wasn’t aware of who that was, and he really didn’t want to knew either because dad’s voice was dry, the words sounded funny and he smelled weird and Sam just didn’t like it.
And there was always a bottle of soda in dad’s hand when he was talking about Mom, a soda that De had told him was only for adults and De was usually right so Sam believed him. Dad was outside, he made the air smoky and the bottle of soda was on the living room table, De was in the kitchen and Sam was very thirsty.
Sam lifted the bottle with clumsy hands, smelled it and made a face, it smelled like dad did when he smelled weird, but Sam was still thirsty and he took a swallow from the bottle, lost his grip of it as his throat burned like fire, worse than a touch and he started to cry.
He was six years old and he had just been drinking dad’s soda that smelled weird and tasted even worse. Sam didn’t understand it. How could soda be so.. All of sudden, he was underwater and he could breath.
There was no way he could breath underwater, but his lungs still took in air. And the room was louder than usual, the clock above the TV sounded awful lot and made the ticking sound in Sam’s head, and there was a shark beside him, big and dangerous and underwater with Sam - close.
Sam had seen a shark before, on television and it looked just like that and the water was hot and cold at the same time and the shark had a face that looked exactly like daddy. The shark was screaming, Sam heard it clearly because it hurt his ears and wet ran down his jeans and that wasn’t water.
Someone took his hand and pulled him upstairs. Sam didn’t understand what happened, because he had been underwater and there had been a shark that had looked like dad and now De was pulling him upstairs. There was no kittens there because kittens couldn’t breath underwater. Neither could Sam but Sam could breath and De was talking and undressing him. Sam didn’t like it.
He took a clumsy step backwards, lost his balance and fell to the floor, butt first and it hurt. He wasn’t underwater anymore. He was in a swing and it was going too fast. And the disgusting taste of vomit filled his mouth, Sam didn’t like it.
De helped him up, sat him down in the bathtub and cleaned up the mess on the floor, Sam felt a little better. After a shower and a change of clothes, he was put to bed. De kissed his forehead and Sam didn’t turn away - couldn’t. He would never drink daddy’s soda again.
“What’s wrong with you, you retarded fucker?!” A boy at the schoolyard yelled but Sam just walked past him, wasn’t sure if the boy yelled to him or not because the boy hadn’t said his name.
Sam was eight years old and he had just started first grade, the other kids were one year younger than him because he hadn’t started school until now and from what he had learned, school wasn’t something great even if the classes were fun, Sam really liked math.
But the breaks in between classes weren’t as fun and the kids wasn’t nice, they were loud and they touched too much and Sam didn’t like it. He liked when it was quiet, still and easy, he wanted it to be that way all the time but the older kids didn’t and Sam didn’t like it. He liked planets, the universe, the earth, he liked it because it was fascinating, but most of all, he liked books.
Thick books of complicated words only he understood in his class and Shakespeare were one of the best writers in the world according to Sam. Sam was eight years old and it was just a year ago he learned that boys were called he and girls she, he didn’t understand why however, because they looked the same.
Women and Men were different, they didn’t look the same. Women had a big chest with two humps and Sam knew that because the other boy at home - De - had shown him in a newspaper of a different name Sam didn’t remember. Women was weird and Sam didn’t like them, they smelled weird and were either laughing or crying too much, they were simply too loud and Sam didn’t like loud noises.
Men on the other hand had a penis, Sam wasn’t sure if women had one too, or if it were just men who had them. But how would women look without a penis? No, even them had to have one, Sam figured, because it couldn’t just be nothing for them down there! How else would they be able to pee?
“Are you mute or something? Deaf maybe?” The older boy from before asked and Sam eyed his shoes, they were very dirty and Sam didn’t like them very much. “Hello?” The older boy snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face and laughed when Sam jumped a little in fright.
He didn’t like it and looked elsewhere, tried to ignore the older boy and the words he didn’t understand and the older boy talked some more and laughed and Sam started to count the stones on the ground out loud and felt himself calm down a little.
He finally found himself relaxed and that lasted for around half a second, ‘til he felt the hand on his shoulder and it wasn’t the other boy at home, no, it was the older boy and before Sam even had time to understand what happened, he was on the ground on top of the stones and Sam didn’t like it.
There was only one loud voice screaming words Sam couldn’t really hear, he understood them but ignored them and it only made him the more confused. His hands were still broken, it hurt and thick red water dripped down on the ground from them and the voice was high and Sam didn’t like it.
He wanted to be in class, read about planets and maybe he could go now? But the voice was too high and Sam was scared and he covered his ears with the hurting hands and squeezed his eyes shut, hopefully they wouldn’t see him when he couldn’t see them. Wet ran down his cheeks too.
After exactly 94 seconds - Sam counted them - a soft hand landed on his shoulder, but Sam didn’t look up, he was scared of what he might see and maybe - hopefully - he’d disappear from the world if he kept his eyes closed, but the hand didn’t disappear and Sam didn’t like it and the wet from his eyes didn’t stop and his hands still hurt.
“Sam, you okay?” A friendly voice asked and Sam knew it was a question, it was said that way, Sam opened his eyes, uncovered his ears and looked down at his hands and whined.
Was he? No, he wasn’t. His hands hurt and he opened his mouth to say so but closed it again, unsure if he wanted to talk because he didn’t want people to be angry again and he clearly didn’t want loud voices, he really disliked that but..
“Red water.” The words was slurred and Sam hiccupped and sniffled as he looked down at his red hands and disliked the color of the water because he believed the red was the reason it hurt so badly.
He really disliked red.
The hand on his shoulder was around his wrist then, bent the palm upward to face the sky and Sam looked up too and when he passed the face of the friendly voice, he recognized her as his math teacher and Sam liked her. He didn’t like women, but he liked her because she was different and she clearly didn’t have any big boobs as De called the chest of women and it made Sam smile a little, because he didn’t like big chests but he liked De.
“This is blood, Sam.” The friendly woman said and Sam narrowed his eyes as he looked down at his hands again and he didn’t understand. “It can hurt a lot but it’s not dangerous when you hurt yourself like this. I’ll clean it, okay?”
Sam looked blankly at the clouds in the sky, they were white and the sun was bright yellow on the sky but the air wasn’t warm and he was freezing but dad didn’t have afford to buy him a new jacket and Sam didn’t like it very much but he can’t just take a jacket from the store without paying for it - De had told him so.
Sam got up from the ground and walked in silence behind the teacher, got through the doors to the school and went through the hallway ’til they got into her own office that wasn’t big. The nice math woman teacher took a wet cloth, the walls were white and Sam’s hands hurt when the teacher cleaned them and Sam screamed because he didn’t like when it hurt but after awhile, she took the wet cloth away, Sam stopped screaming and the red water - blood - had disappeared.
It still hurt but the blood was gone.
“Can you sit here while I call your daddy?” The friendly woman asked and Sam nodded.
Of course he could, but he could also walk around, move and jump and rock, there was many things Sam could do and Sam liked that. When the door closed and he was alone in the small office, Sam got up from the chair and walked slowly to the window and looked outside.
The kids on the schoolyard looked happy but Sam wasn’t interested, he liked the birds in the sky and that was what he looked at. The birds fly so beautifully with their wings and Sam wished he could fly like them, he wanted to have wings too and maybe he would be able to fly to the moon then.
No, they didn’t have enough money, De had told him so and Sam shook his head, he decided that one day, he’d be on the moon, walking around in the air and flying like the birds did in the sky - with wings.
Sam wasn't sure how he'd be able to grew wings but he was going to look for it at the library, dad had told Sam that he could find every information he might want and need there. Dad was stupid, Sam figured, but Sam also wanted to believe him.
He was going to fly in the sky with the birds one day, because dad had said every book was in the library and Sam would find the right book there and hopefully De wanted to go with him. But De didn’t like to fly, De didn’t like anything, but he liked Sam and Sam was sure of that.
“Well, your dad will be here in a few.” The teacher said as she entered the door and Sam ignored her.
That meant he was probably - hopefully - going to be able to skip gym class and that didn’t bother him at all because he didn’t like to run since his body didn’t really like it and it always hurt and the kids around him there was always laughing too much, touching too much and Sam just didn’t like it and hopefully dad would take him home before the class started.
But Sam didn’t want to move again, Sam had learned that the road was endless and there was just so many towns and cities over the country and the Winchester family had lived in almost everyone of them and Sam didn’t like it, he wanted to be in one and only place and he didn’t understand why dad had to move all the time.
Stress and angst slowly creeps up Sam’s body as he thinks about it, there was always too much and he so didn’t like it, too much loud noises, too much red water, too many different voices, too much touching, too many towns and cities and too much people and eyes he didn’t understand.
“I asked you to sit down.” The teacher said, her voice sounded so much closer by then and Sam blinked as he looked at the birds again and their beautiful wings that allowed them to fly like planets in the sky.
“Yes.” He answered her and started to rock a little, he didn’t like the voice she used at the moment and she was angry, he knew she was. “Asked me.”
“So why didn’t you do what I asked you to?”
Sam narrowed his eyes a little as the birds took a seat on the top of the roof of the building across the street and he didn’t like it because he wouldn’t be able to see their beautiful wings. But soon after, when he looked down, he found another matter and started to count the kids on the ground below him. They were at least thirty down there and he wondered why they played with the things down there.
Sam really liked birds, math, classes in school, planets, the universe, the sky, the moon and animals. And oh, he also liked De. He disliked food, loud noises, new towns and cities, buying new clothes and shoes and red water.
Everything else beside these things were just a blur of confusion, things he didn’t understand. Take eyes for an example, they hold so many emotions, so many expressions and Sam didn’t understand what to look for and what he saw there, so instead of looking inside the eyes of the person he was talking to, he simply looked elsewhere.
A few minutes later, Sam was sitting on the floor, with a book in his lap, facing the wall like he always did when he wanted to be alone and rocked himself to and fro, and when he was done with the first three chapters of the heavy book, dad walked through the door.
Sam couldn’t see it was him, because he was reading, but he knew it was dad because the sound of his shoes hitting the floor way too loudly was something he heard every day and Sam tensed up on cue because dad’s voice asked him if he could head down to De and the waiting ‘pala.
Sam nodded, but didn’t move. Of course he could go down to the car, but he was reading. Sam could do many things, but he was in the middle of something else and didn’t want to give it up just to prove to dad that he could do it because dad should knew already and Sam huffed in annoyance. Sometimes dad was so stupid.
Why did people keep asking him stupid questions when they knew the answer already. It was annoying.
“Did you hear what I said kid? I told you to go down to the car, Dean’s already down there.” Dad said even louder than and Sam looked up for the first time and frowned at dad’s chest.
Dad hadn’t told him before, he had asked. That was different. Sam knew it was different. But he got up anyway, it took him at least 45 seconds to get up and another 45 for him to leave the room. There was so many things to look at, listen to and try to understand. There was also many things that covered the inside of his head and he had to stop walking to think it through.
It took him 39 seconds to get out of the building and another 10 to get across the schoolyard, then he stood by the side of the car, staring down at the beautiful black of the hood and he liked it. Sam heard how the car door opened and with a loud noise, it closed again. Shoes appear on the ground by the hood - De’s shoes.
“I heard you fucked up again, twat.” De said and Sam narrowed his eyes at the voice he used.
He sounded angry and De never was, not with him. He always angers together with dad, but never with him and Sam wanted to scream in frustration but instead he just started to rock himself a little harder because it made him somewhat calmer and the shoes he was looking at was dirty and Sam wanted to do so many things but he’d never be able to and he knew it.
“Don’t you get that we’ll have to move again?!” And Sam was back in present and he didn’t understand why Dean was so angry.
“Yes.” Sam answered but he knew it was the wrong answer because it both sounded and felt wrong but he didn’t correct himself, instead he pressed a hand to the side of his head, it hurt but he didn’t stop. “Yes, yes, yes.”
He really disliked to move, he didn’t want to, he wanted to stay there and it hurt, everything hurt and he wanted to tell De but the words didn’t come and Sam was frustrated, angry and sad. He didn’t want to be sad, he disliked it, and the wet that formed in his eyes was really annoying and he didn’t want them to wet his face but it always did, and that time was no different and Sam pressed the hand harder to his head and it hurt really bad, but he didn’t stop.
“Sam!” Dad’s voice entered his pained world by then and Sam started to beat his open hand against his head for around a minute before strong hands settled on his wrist and forced him to stop. “Stop doing that, damn it!”
Sam wasn’t stupid, he simply lifted up his other hand and started all over again, clicking sound was heard somewhere in his ears and Sam really didn’t like that sound but he didn’t stop - couldn’t - he wanted to, really badly and he wanted to tell dad and De he was sorry.
And yet he had no idea what he had done wrong.
He was so sad he wanted to fly away and dad gripped his other wrist too, and Sam was powerless and frustrated and sad and he disliked it, really badly. All he wanted to do was to not move again, for dad to understand and for De to stop being angry.
“Listen to me!” Dad screamed and Sam started to rock, the hands around his wrists were strong and it hurt and burned and Sam was scared of the voice because dad almost never screamed to him - at De - but never Sam.
“Yes.” He whispered and didn’t knew if he did wrong thing to voice the answer out loud because he wasn’t sure if it was his time to talk.
“I want you to stop this, right now.” Dad sounded calmer and not as angry but there was something else there and Sam couldn’t figure out what. “And I want you to talk more so the kids won’t tease you or hurt you. Understand?”
Sam nodded but he really didn’t understand what dad meant, he was way too upset to really pay attention and listen and that was the day when Sam stopped talking for three years in a row, not a single word was let out of his mouth in a waking state and even if dad begged him to talk, pleaded with him to say something, ordered him to spit his words out and even cried like a baby for Sam to just talk again.
Sam didn’t.