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Chapter Text

JULY 24TH 1994

Hot showers aren't Sam's thing, the way it would burn his skin and make him feel stuffy. It was a no. A big no for him. That was till he was 11, he would have the water so hot it would burn him. The red hot welts that formed on his skin, he would have tears in his eyes from it. He would bite back his tongue from a painfully broken sob forming at the back of his throat. He wanted to cry for Dean, he wanted Dean to tell him it was okay. It is going to be okay. To hold him. But he was so tainted with sins, so un-pure, so him. So till he was pure and forgiven for his shameful sins he would scrub his skin till he felt clean enough, but it didn't happen. It never did. He scrubbed and scrubbed till his skin was red hot and bleeding, it wasn't enough, it would never be good enough, he would never be clean. He couldn't be clean. He couldn't be forgiven. Even if he died he would still be dirtier than the dirt he was buried in. He would have to still feel this way. 

He was held down by the back of his throat.

He wants to throw up, he felt disgusting, he clenched his jaw as tight as he could and balled his fists. Nails digging into his flesh

He couldn’t breathe right. Too many things happening at once... He didn't want to breathe then .

Too many thoughts in his mind, too many glances at himself in the mirror. He would look in the mirror, see his puffy red eyes from crying so hard, the fading red marks on his throat. He wants to feel okay like he didn't ask for it. 

Did he ask for it? 

John said he did .

Was it all his fault? 

John said it was. 

Would Dean think he was a freak for what he did? 

John said Dean would never look at him in the face again. So he had to be quiet, so Dean didn't know or hear. He said that Dean would hate his guts. Or did he? Well it's not like Sam could blame him, but he doesn't want Dean to think that. He was a freak, he was disgusting, but Dean would stay with him, right? Dean would make him pure again, Dean would help him. Dean has always been there for him.

Dean was his world, Dean is his world. Dean is his night and day, yin and yang, his 42. Dean was his and he was Dean's. But he couldn't shake the feeling, he wasn't clean, he is far from it. He let John touch him in ways that no one would understand, not that he would tell. Sam tried to stop shaking, it was no reason to cry, he was a Winchester not a sissy. Dad told him that but when did he ever listen to him? 

'You listen to me just a few moments ago'

Sam shook the thought out of his head, he didn't want to think about John, not after what happened. No after the way he told him how he looked. 

'You look like your mom when you're on your knees, Sam, so pretty '

Sam didn't know what to think of that, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be like his mother anymore if that is what he got in return. He didn’t want to be called pretty by John. He didn’t want to be on his knee having to look up even more when it came to looking at him 

'Pretty blue eyes, right Sammy? So pretty'

He didn't like John calling him Sammy, to him he was Sam he didn't like how it sounded when he said it. It was all the bad things in the world when he said it, it was gross, sinister, it wasn't good. Sam didn't like his eyes anymore, he wanted hazel like Dean's, he tried to look like Dean, not his mom. Never his mom.

He couldn't look at himself anymore. He looked down at his legs. The light red marks on the insides of his thighs and on his hips, he knew it was going to bruise. Some already were. He wants to be alone. Walking to the cheap tub in the cheap motel, he sat down in the corner of the tub. Hands lightly grazing the formed bruises on his hips and inner thighs. Discusting. That was all he thought about. How could he be so gross, so tainted. Sam wasn’t dumb, He knew what rape was and sex but he didn’t know where he fell on that line. He didn’t want to think about it too hard. If he thought about it then he would have to remember, he didn’t want to remember. He didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to cry. So he would shut up. 

I'm not a sissy, I'm a Winchester

Chapter Text

AUGUST 15TH 1994

The motel room was dark, it was too dark to even see what was in front of him. But he could see the open door, the door that was supposed to be closed, Sam always closed it. He could see John walking in. He can feel his skin crawl, dredging the moments that would follow. He prayed to the one thing, the one person who swore to never leave his side. Humans side. God.

Please God, please

 He tried to pray to his light, he prayed and prayed for a hand.

I know what I am, but please

He prayed for it to stop,

I don't want this to happen, not with John, not with anyone. Please God.

but his steps only got closer. His breath only got louder.  He muttered under his breath, telling him to take his clothes off.

God! Please!

 He didn’t want to, but Sam knew better than to not follow John's words. John pulled down the covers and slurred over his words, 

'Dean asleep in the car'

He swallowed, and let out a small whimper. 

' Open your pretty little legs Sammy'  

John was sick, but something in his mind tried to make up some excuse for him. He tried to lose himself in his thoughts, his mind. 

Why me? Did I bring it upon myself?

He prayed and prayed for God to hear him. 

Why do I have to give up everything? Why can't I be selfish? YOU PROMISE TO BE BY MY SIDE . You swore to help me.

But he never did.

FUCK YOU GOD,

Fuck you and all your white, and all your angels, all of you are worst than Satan.

Chapter Text

JUNE 3RD 1995

Dean told Sam that he couldn't pick him up today, so he walked to the twin pines motel by himself. His head was wrapped up in too many thoughts. Did I do this to myself? Did he set himself up for this? Did he bring it upon himself, was it because he was a monster? A freak? The boy who doesn't know his mother's love? The boy who doesn't stay at a school for longer than 4 months?  The boy who wasn't good enough, he wasn't enough for anyone or anything. His father's love, his approval. His brother's affection, his hugs.

Dean

He wasn't enough for Dean.

Would he have a shot with his brother if he was a girl? With a slim waist, big eyes, and a perky chest. Was that good enough for Dean? Would he be thrown out like the rest? Or would he be just enough?

No. What is wrong with him? Why was he thinking about his brother that way? 

I'm 12.  

No way his brother would even think of him that way. 

His brother

His Dean

Sam's Dean

Just his

No one else's

That's why this was happening to him, he was disgusting. Thinking about sleeping with his own brother. His flesh and blood. The person he looked up to all of his life. The hazel eyes that could pierce through stone and souls. The someone that would hold him close after nightmares, the one that he always looked up to.

Dean

His one constant throughout all the schools, lies, motels, cars, all of it.

How could he think of messing all that up just for a stupid thought?

Chapter Text

SEPTEMBER 21ST 1995

John

John came home, he came early to the motel. He was supposed to take 2 more weeks, Sam was going to be alone with [his] Dean for 2 more weeks. 

'Sam, you okay?'

Sam looked up, tears threatening to spill over and fall. John isn't supposed to be here, I was supposed to have 2 more weeks.

'Ya' 

He gave Dean his best smile, his best 'I'm okay De' he had to be okay, He had to be okay for Dean, he wouldn't worry Dean over such a little thing like this. He wasn't worth the worry.

'You sure kid?'

Dean pushed a little harder, he knew something was wrong, he knew Sam wasn't okay. But he didn't know the extent of it. Only if he knew what was happening, maybe it would stop. Maybe Sam would stop hurting as much as he was. Is.

'Yes De, I'm okay'

The lie came so easy. How could Sam lie to his brother Dean so easily? It wasn't supposed to be this easy. Dean left it be, he walked over to the crappy couch in the crappy motel that they shared. John's que. That was John's que. The older man got up and walked to the door, getting something from his bag.

'Sam'

John looked over his shoulder to Sam, with a look in his eyes that Sam knew all too well. But Dean. His thoughts ran to a place he never thought they would run. Did Dean know? No, he would have stopped it, right? Was John going to make Dean watch? Make him look at Sam while the lights slowly turn off in his eye? Sam looked at Dean, who was watching a Clint Eastwood movie. No John wouldn't. Would he? 

'Sam'

He already tested John's patients enough

'Get some food would ya' Sammy'

Sam nodded and walked out not bothering to get his shoes or coat. Silently begging for John Leave him intact for the day. They had never gotten another motel room, he would just wait till Dean was asleep. Or would John take him in the car? Tainting Dean's "Baby". 

John started to drive, giving Sam some sense of relief. Not just yet , I'm safe for now.

'What are we doing?' 

Is John not going to touch Sam? He wasn’t looking at him just turned the block around Dean’s favorite dinner at the moment

'Strip'

 he wasn't saved he wasn't staying intact Why?  Sam's thoughts ran again

 Dean, Dean's pretty face, his hazel eyes, his big hand that looks so perfect. What is Dean's touch like? Sam took off Dean's old shirt a shirt that still smells him. It was a hand-me-down from a while back. Yet the smell still hadn't faded. Folding it and placing it in the middle of the seat, then his jeans that had an oil stain from when he tried to help Dean fix the Impala. Dean. Why did all things leave back to Dean? Before Sam knew it John was in the back seat

 ‘Sammy’

 Sam started to climb over the front seat. Sitting next to John. John didn't take off his clothes just unbutton his pants and took off his belt. Sam is going to let this happen again, wasn't he?

 ‘Yes’

His voice came out as a whisper John leaned over, Sam's slid down. No. Sam should be fine but he wasn't if someone ask Sam if he was okay, Sam wouldn't know what to say. Was Sam okay? That was a good question a great question to ask. But it was dumb, pointless, not relevant. Sam wouldn't speak about this. He couldn't. He wouldn't dare say anything to anyone. 

Sam was disgusted with every touch he made, his hands went down trailing his stomach. You know Sammy can push him off of ya. San wanted to. He really did but what would he do afterward? Run? If he did he was going to lose plus John had the car the Impala. Dean. He would leave Dean. He wouldn't, he couldn't. No matter how tainted he was, how revolted he was by himself he wouldn't leave Dean. That was his selfish need. The one thing he could be selfish about, Dean. He didn't have to share Dean. He wouldn't share Dean. No matter how many people he slept with Dean would always come back to him. Always come to his bed and hug him, hold him close. Whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Yet in the morning Dean wasn't there, he was in his bed like nothing had ever happened. Did it even happen? Did Sam make it all up? No, he didn't, Dean is smart but careless he left his boots by Sam's bed. That shows that he at least sat by him. Dean thought Sam was asleep, Blissfully ignorant in those moments. 

‘Sam what are you thinking about'

 John, he was still here wasn't he. Holding him. Sam looked away and bit his lip. Why?

 ‘Sam’

 he didn't look at him just turned his head farther John shoved his hips forward or any that Yelp from Sam. No. Sam started to shove him away

 ‘Sam’

 John was hostile he was getting mad oh, he grabbed his hip so hard it would most definitely leave a bruise for Sam to cover up later. Please. He pushed his legs further into his stomach. It was so uncomfortable but he had to deal with it he didn't want to look at John.

 ‘Oh, that's not fair Sammy I want to see you’

 his hands move down holding onto the seat of the Impala, no, no not in Dean's car. Sam felt his stomach turn more than he was used to, tears streaming down his face

 Please

 Sam tried to curl into himself as much as he could, his breath caught in his throat. This was too much it was all too much. It all happened before but never like this, never something that was so close to him something he has to be in every day something that he couldn't just drive away from and not look back. this was an Impala. Dean's car.

‘please Dad’

Why did Sam still think of John as his father? He was a piece of work. He left Sam and Dean alone for a minimum of 4 weeks at a time. Didn't even leave enough money for them. 150 bucks 5 to 7 weeks. Sam was honestly considering doing some illegal things with some people just to get enough money. He knew they would pay a good amount of money. Those workers makeover 300 bucks a week plus what they would pay for the fact that he was underaged. Sam knew they would pay a lot. If he could do that and get the money for him and Dean he said he had found it or that he had gotten a job. It's not like Dean would care what happened to him anymore he just wanted things and him to be okay to be happy that's all he wants all he needs

 'Please what? What do you want Sammy?'

 San Sobed harder. no no no he can't call me that. He can't ruin that name for me.  Sam shoved his knees into John's chest

 'no, no you can't call me that.'

 John grabs and by his neck. Squeezing it hard enough to leave light marks. how is Sam going to cover these up Dean was going to see them he knew he would.

 'watch your tone when you're talking to me boy'

Sam started shoving at John, letting out small string wood wines. He knew that John would kill him if he wanted to. And it's not like people would have noticed if it happened they would just assume that he moved to a different school. He wondered how long it would take for gain to notice that he wasn't home. Would it take him a week maybe two? Hell wouldn't even care? Maybe he would be happy about it. Hopefully, he would be happy. A sad Dean is not a good Dean. He deserves to be happy.

***

 The look in Sam's I scared Dean, he wasn't the same. He knew something was off, different. Sam came home with light marks on his neck but Dad said it was from their sparring match earlier. what else happened? Dad left for the bar after he came back. 

“Sam You okay?”

What was Dean thinking of course Sam was okay! Sam was probably tired from the sparring match he just had with their dad. But Dean couldn’t shake the feeling, something happened when they left

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 3RD 1995

Sam wasn’t acting normal. After he came back from his sparring match with John he was distant. It bothered Dean, Sam was always so close to him and he to Sam but now he wouldn’t even look at Dean. He didn’t have his head in a book 24/7 either. Just wrote stuff down. Granted Dean wanted to look in the book and read it but knowing Sam it wasn’t about his feelings it was probably a hunter’s notebook. Just basic facts for Dean and John to use later for hunts.

Or maybe his feelings were in the book. Maybe Dean was just scared to see what he would find.  Dean wasn’t ready to see what was breaking down his effortlessly perfect brother. What could he possibly be worried about so much that he stopped talking to everyone?

‘Dean I think I’m going to start doing stuff after school’

Sam wasn’t even looking at Him, he couldn’t even speak to him in a normal voice. He’s leaving me now. He was leaving Dean alone for longer. Was Dean the problem?

‘Okay’

Sam looked relieved. Sam looked fucken’ relived! This made Dean mad beyond belief. Sad too. Dean was the problem. He was happy that Dean was letting him go. He had to let him go. Sam would be happy if Dean let him go. He wanted Dean to let him go. Maybe that was what was bothering Sam. It was Him. It was me. It wasn’t that John may have gone too hard on him. It was me. Maybe John had told Sam just how much of a loser Dean was.

‘I don’t really care what you do’ 

He was going to tell him that he didn't care about him, but no matter how mad he was, how much he felt like he hated Sam that would never be true. He would always love Sam. No matter how much he loathed himself and Sam he wanted Sam.

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 5TH 1995

In a nutshell, Sam lost his mind. His fucken’ mind. What made him think this was a smart thing to do? To sell himself to any fucker on the street that would take him, Sam didn’t even have connections to people like that. Sam didn’t have anything. Nothing that would help him.

‘Kid, you okay?’

Sam looked up from his scrunched-up paper of notes. The sun burned his eyes as he looked at the tall, burly man standing before him. 

‘What's it to you?’

Sam wasn’t in the mood to play nice, because it was straining his eyes to look up and forward at the man. Sam started to pick up smells that his stomach couldn’t hold down. John. He smelled like John. Sex, Cheap cologne, Beer lots of beer, & leather. Disgusting. He wanted this man to be as far away as possible from him. Sam grabbed his bag and book.

‘Woah, Woah, kid I didn't mean disrespect I just thought you’d want a job’

Sam knew what the guy meant, he should have felt disgusting by the offer, but he wasn’t. Why wasn’t he? It would open so many more doors. But Dean! he would help Dean if he did this. The man backed up a little. Almost taking a turn around.

‘Wait! Wait’

The man turned with a smile that gave Sam a red flag, but red was one of the colors Sam liked. Just his luck.

‘Yes’

Sam bit his lip trying to make something up in his mind. How could he approach a  pedo? Schools only taught you how to avoid and run away from them! Not say Hey I want a job Every fiber of Sam’s being was telling him to run.

‘How much does it pay?’

Sam bit his tongue. This was a bad idea, a really bad idea. But this is what Sam wanted.

‘Well if a client can take your virginity then that's a couple hundred or if you’re popular then 1g’

Sam wasn’t a virgin he hadn’t been one in a year, but then again he didn’t have to tell. But what would Dean think? Fuck what Dean thinks he slept with any women that would look his way, then he would walk them out like they were nothing. Well now Sam could do that too, in fact, he would. This was it Sam made up his mind.

‘What do you get out of this?’

What could Sam lose out of this? Was the risk worth the prize, or was it a big red flag?

‘I get more business and some of the money you make’

What a scam he knew this was too good to be true, this guy was only going to give him like 30 bucks out of like 400 that he made.

‘How much of the money'

Sam was willing to bite

‘If you make 400 I’ll get 100 so you take home’

‘300. I can do simple math’

‘So Deal?’

It was now or never

‘Deal’

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 6TH 1995

‘On your knees kid.’

This was the first time Sam had been on his knees for anyone other than John. The feeling was nerve-racking. He couldn’t help but feel like he might mess something up. But Sam was confident that he knew what to do. It still didn’t stop his doubts. Sam was raised in a way that would make him have to trust his gut, it was telling him to leave, run. That this wasn’t a good idea, it wasn’t. But Sam knew that. Anyone with a brain knew that. 

Sam should know better

The tall man (which Sam later figured out he’s name was Abraham) was teaching him, Sam knew how to do what Abraham wanted him to do. John taught him. Sam hates it but he could safely say that he wasn’t half bad.

 It hurt him, John hurt him. John broke him. He had gone farther in Sam’s space than Sam was okay with making Sam puke up his dinner. 

Or was it lunch? 

Maybe brunch?

Doesn’t matter, Sam learned that his father wasn’t a good person and he didn’t like it when he puked. John violated Sam so many times in so many different ways, and he just let it happen. Now he was going to let someone else do that to him, then another person, then another. But this was on Sam’s terms.

When Sam was down on his knees, the cold blunt surface felt all too familiar. Shifting a little to get comfortable. Should I moan and react to everything like it was porn? Was that too far?

‘Open up’

Sam hates the feeling he has in the pit of his stomach, it always happened. The need to throw up. To forget what he put in his mouth; to drown it out with throw up.

‘Sam’

Right. Now was no time for Sam to get lost in his thoughts.

Sam felt gross, he needed a shower asap. He thought it would feel different, it should have felt different. How was it supposed to feel? How was he supposed to feel? Was he supposed to feel proud? Feel good about himself?

Because he didn’t, it felt the same as when john did it, it didn’t matter that it was his choice. Someone was still using him. Sam felt the low rumble of the Impala.

‘Home’

The word felt bitter on Sam’s tongue, Dean was coming. A pit of dread filled Sam’s stomach, why had he done this? His eyes started to water. His head started to spin. He tried to bite the inside of his lip.

What was he thinking? 

He felt like one gust of wind would knock him over.

‘Dean’

It was the wall he knew to say, it was a bad habit he had gotten into when he was younger. Dean was always there for him, always held him close, talked to him, and worked stuff out with him. Didn’t just yell at like John. Talk. Sam needed Dean, he needed to talk to him, but how could he tell Dean?

‘Dean I’m sorry,  I’m so so sorry-’

Sam started to sob, he held onto himself. It hurt him.

‘Hey, hey, hey Sammy what's wrong?’

‘I- I’

Pressed his lips into a thin line, he couldn't even say what he did, Dean shouldn’t know what he did.

‘Hey hey it's okay you don't have to tell me’

Dean was always so nice to Sam, he didn't deserve it, he wasn’t worth it. Why was Dean always so good to him?

‘I’m sorry for everything

Chapter Text

November 6th 1995

Something was wrong with Sam, Dean knew it. He felt it from the pit of his stomach, Sam wasn’t okay and it was Dean’s job to fix it. He was Sam’s older brother. As prideful as he was to carry those words on his shoulder it came with a lot of guilt, if Sam wasn’t doing good then it was Dean’s job to make him better.
It took a toll on him sometimes, having to always care about the kid. Don’t get him wrong he loves Sam, but it was a lot sometimes. He felt the need to choose his next words carefully
‘Sammy?’
Sam’s lip quivered before he spoke, and his shoulders tensed up, pulling his legs closer to his chest.
‘I-I didn’t mean to, I didn’t like- I wanted y- I’m sorry’
Dean turned off the ignition and pulled Sam close to his side. Loved and care filled his eyes. He brushed his fingers threw Sam’s hair, kissing the top of his head.
‘Hey it's okay, you don’t have to tell me. Okay?’
Sam nodded, he wrapped his arms around Dean. Dean pulled Sam’s face out of his side. Dean looked at Sam’s face his eyes were puffy and red, and his lips were stained with blood. Sam’s skin crawled as he looked at Dean, he felt bad for what he did.
‘We’re going back to the motel, alright Sammy’
Dean saw the look in his eyes and how scared he looked, it broke Dean’s heart. He should have been there for Sam. He was supposed to protect Sam, it was something that was instilled into him when he was young. He closed his eyes taking a deep breath, he didn’t know what he wanted to do. He just hoped it was best whatever he did was for the best
‘I- De do you care?’
He didn’t know how to answer, how do you respond to a question like that? Was he supposed to be a sapp and act like he knew how to show he cared about the kid?
‘If you’re asking if I care about you, then ya. I do.’

Chapter Text

November 11th, 1995

Sam hadn’t spoken to Dean since he cried on his shoulder, begging for his forgiveness the incident, it had been 5 days since then. Sam didn’t eat for 2, just pick at it, now Dean was lucky if he could get him to eat half a sandwich, Sam hardly drink either. It had started to get Dean worried, so he stopped eating and taking care of himself too. Sam looked sickly pale, He missed the tanness of his skin as though he had just seen a ghost. He wanted to help him but he didn’t know how, when it came to emotions Dean was useless, he would take a fight any day of the week over emotions. But he didn’t have that option, he didn’t have that privilege. 

This wasn’t a fight, this wasn’t a scrape on the knee. This was Sam and that was something he couldn’t fuck up. Sam was too important to fuck up like he knew he would

‘Sammy’ Sam looked up at him away from the book he had his nose stuffed in. It didn’t take long for Dean to understand that Sam was listing to him when he looked up, but it did take him some getting used to not having a response, he had to look at Sam to know if he was even paying attention.  Sam hadn’t responded to him in 5 days, so to make up for the silence that was eating him alive Dean spoke to Sam, even if he wasn’t listening, He started to read to Sam again.

Well, it was more of bedtime stories that Dean would make up. It was worth the humility when sam seemed to look forward to it, it brought a sense of normalcy to Dean, he was Sam’s big brother again. But it didn’t take away from the fact Dean had no idea what was running threw Sam’s head, it didn’t take away from the gnawing feeling at the pit of Dean’s heart when Sam didn’t eat. It didn’t fix it. Any of it.

“I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to help you” Dean hesitated before he spoke again. He didn’t want Sam to spiral again. He knew that Sam and their father weren’t very close, they yelled at each other more and more now. Honestly, Dean never understood why or how it started. It just did. Maybe if he read Sam’s letter, those letters that Sam held so close and hide away, then maybe Dean would finally know what was happening in Sam’s head.

“I think- No, I’m going to call dad”

“No!” Dean’s eyes widen when Sam spoke, that had been the first he said to Dean, his voice was hoarse.

“Sam, that's the first thing you’ve said to me in like a week! I can not call him, Sam” Sam scrambled out of his seat and ran over to Dean.

“YES, YOU CAN! Don’t! I’ll talk!” He pleaded

“No, it’s not that simple Sam, it's not just you talking! It’s you not eating, it you not taking care of yourself, it's you taking hours at a time in the bathroom! It's you skipping school, Sammy, you used to like school. You use to beg me and dad not to pull you out! I don’t know how to help you like this. I don’t know how to be your big brother anymore” Dean looked at the ground and took a deep breath. “I’m not a good big brother anymore am I?” The last part came out to barely a whisper, Sam couldn’t have heard him. Dean was thankful for that. He didn’t want Sam to hear. He didn’t want Sam to know that he wasn’t enough to help him.

“I’m calling dad”

“I’ll tell you!” Before Sam knew the words had already fallen out, they both looked at each other with a wide-eyed expression.

Sam and Dean sat in silence, his blood was boiling. He didn’t know what to say, that's how mad he was. He gripped the metal leg of the table, he would have broken it if it hadn’t have been for the fact that they were at a motel. If Dean spoke right now he knew he would yell at Sam for being reckless and putting himself in danger but he bit back his tongue he knew better than to yell at him after telling him what happened. So Dean did the only thing a Winchester was good at

He drank till his stomach wasn’t queasy from his thoughts 

He drank till he was numb to the very depths of his soul

He drank till everything around him slowed down

Chapter Text

November 18th 1995

     He told him, He had told Dean about Abraham. Not John. He thought he would feel better if someone knew. But he didn't. He felt even more guilty, he felt even more hurt. Dean couldn't even look at him. Why would he? Look at him. He was pathetic. He didn't let not 1 but 2 people touch him.

     He was disgusting. His soul was stained, he would never be pure. It didn't matter if he prayed to God for forgiveness. When he's six feet under he's going to hell. He deserved it. He let down God.

     He let Dean down

He let him down in so many ways. He wasn't good enough. He would never be good enough. It wasn't in his cards. It wasn't in his blood. He was doomed from the start.

     Sam would never be clean.

     Sam looked up at Dean. He used to feel bitter when he looked at him. He felt so bitter that he would never be like Dean. He could never compare to Dean. But now he felt woeful. He would never be able to have Dean the way he wanted, he couldn't have what he had just a few hours ago. He couldn't have Dean tell him wild bedtime stories. He couldn't have Dean sit next to him and just talk to him.

     He broke Dean.

     He hurt Dean and he doesn't know how to fix him. He shouldn't have told Dean anything. Everything would have been okay I'd he had just kept his mouth shut. If he had just- it didn't matter if he shut his mouth or not. He still broke Dean.
His one and only constant wouldn't be his constant anymore. Dean would surely leave him. John was right Dean was disgusted by him. John is always right. It would only be a matter of time before Dean left him. There was no way Dean would look at him the same. He had done things that he couldn't even say. He wasn't enough.

     Dean deserves so much better than Sam could give him.

Chapter Text

January 5th, 1996

Sam and Dean had been at pastor Jim’s for the past week. John had left them with barely anything, like he always did. For once in this entire month Sam could breath, he had a room to himself, he wouldn’t have to see Dean every night when he turned around. He didn’t have to feel guilty everytime he looked to his side and saw Dean. It wasn’t like all his guilt was gone. It was far from gone. There would always be guilt engraved into Sam. It was threaded into his very being but it wasn't eating him alive every moment of every day. But the guilt of loving Dean was traded with the guilt distancing himself from Dean, he couldn't look him in the eyes. Dean had been drinking more than was normal and Sam felt he was to blame for it because he was, he told Dean and what he feared would happen happened. He broke Dean.
While trying to distance himself from his brother he had gotten closer with pastor Jim, not close enough to tell him everything but as close as he could get. He had taught Sam how to properly pray. He asked Sam what prayer he wanted to learn. Sam hadn’t known there were multiple different ways of praying. Pastor Jim told him about The Guardian Angel prayer, The Righteous Man prayer, and The Lord’s Prayer.
So tonight when Sam went to his temporary room got on his knees for a different reason. For something he thought he would never do again, he prayed.

Dear God,
Our Father, which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, As it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, The power, and the glory, For ever and ever.
Forgive me lord. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I gave up on your word, I lost hope. I said I hated you, and I say this but I don't want to take it back. Pastor Jim says you do bad stuff to good people because you know they can handle it.
But I'm not good, I can't handle it. I'm breaking, I'm a child. I don't want this. I can't take this. This is eating me alive, I don't know what to do anymore. I'm so tired, I don't want this. I can't, I can't. I can't eat, I can't sleep. I'm cant make Dean stop worrying about me and I can't help it. Please God just make it stop.
I don't want to look at myself and think of everytime it happened, think of everytime I asked for it. I don't want to have to take showers in scorching hot water and still not feel clean. I don't want that everytime I think of my mom to hear the words he said. I don't want to look at Dean and think I messed everything up with him.
He is my world, my everything, I love him no matter what. Even if I love him too much I know he'll be there. Please. I don't want to fail him even more. I want it to stop.
Just make it stop.
Please

Sam un folded his hands and got up from his knees, he didn't feel better. He felt worse. He had told someone, what would God think of him? Would he think badly of him? Would he be disappointed to have even created him? If that was the case Sam is fucked, if God didn't even what him what would Dean think? Dean couldn't be more forgiving then God right? Sam was an abomination. You could bathe him in everything Christ and he would still be tainted. Who was he kidding? No matter how much he prayed he couldn't be saved. He would never be saved.
Sam felt his chest get heavy, and his lungs burn.

He couldn't breathe.

He grabbed at the chest of his shirt and tried hitting his chest. He let out wheezes.

Why couldn't he breathe?

He felt like he was suffocating, he grabbed at his own throat trying to claw off whatever was choking him. Even with all the times he said he wanted to die, he didn't, he would do this to himself he was too much of a coward to actually do it. Sam threw himself onto the floor with a loud bang thinking it would help him breathe but it knocked the wind out of him. Sam pushed himself against the wall, and curled into himself. Heavy footsteps could be heard through the church.

"SAM! SAM!" Dean ran into his room. Gun pointed in front of him and looked at the whole room before his eyes laid on Sam. "Sammy"
Dean dove to his knees dropping that gun onto the ground he scooped up Sam and hugged him into his chest.

"Sam it's okay, it's okay. I'm right here, I'm here. It's okay, it's okay." He said with so much care in the world Sam could feel his heart throb. "Breathe with me, come on. In out, in and out."
Sam gave Dean a deep breath in and out. "I'm here Sam, I'm here come on. Just breathe with me, Sammy." Sammy. Sam felt suffocated by the word, he missed that name so much. Dean had stopped saying it as often as he used to because of dad. But here Dean was saying it like it was no big deal. Not knowing how much it meant to Sam.

"You want to talk about it?" He said, showing he wouldn't force it out of him.

"I'm sorry-"

"DON'T- don't apologize, I can't handle it when you apologize. You don't need to. You haven't done anything, none of it was your fault" Dean had no idea how much those words meant to Sam. He had no idea how wrong it made Sam feel, he was at fault. He would always be at fault.

Chapter Text

January 14th, 1996

Sam laid in Dean's bed with his arms wrapped around His pillow, Dean had left to go to town with pastor Jim. A few people walked in and out the church but besides  that Sam was alone, but even with his brother away he had a feeling of comfort. He felt himself smile. Things weren't perfect but that was okay. For once he was okay with things not going how he wanted, not like they ever did, but He had Dean looking out for him. He had Dean. That was all that mattered. That was all he needed. Dean was his and he was Dean's.

Yet his stomach still turned everytime he thought of it but he didn't know why. Was it because they were brothers and he felt like that was eating him whole? Was it because every time he thought of him he remembered all the times Dean had sex with women while Sam was less than 6 feet away? Was it because he thought Sam was asleep peacefully when he was really wide awake? And Sam would always try to quiet himself because he didn't know if he wanted to cry or touch himself? 

Runt himself against the mattress hoping that one day Dean would touch him, that one day Dean would be kissing him all along his chest and running his hands down his body, lingering at his hips. Not giving Sam what he wanted till he begged. And once he did, he would be so caring and sweet. Taking his time to make sure everything was just right. Sam breath hitched, he hesitantly reached his hand down into his pants. He felt himself twitch, he pulled Dean's pillow higher.

Why was it always Dean?

Was ut because of his perfect fucking body, his lean fucking body.

He rubbed himself over his boxers, stuffing down a moan.

He was in a church! Why was he getting horny thinking about his brother? Thinking about his brother, his Dean. His perfect fucking lips, his perfect fucking body, even with all its scars, his perfectly green eyes that look so gorgeous in the sun light.

"Ah" His hand moved faster, he bit his lip and pushed his face more onto Dean's pillow. Dean's smell overwhelmed him, sweat and cheap cologne. Sam pushed his hip up desperate to get any friction he could. He felt sticky and warm. He had cummed in his boxers. Sam reached into his boxers and ghosted his hand over his dick. Smearing his cum into himself, Sam stuffed down a moan. Slowly he rubbed himself with his own cum, his finger grazed over the head of his dick, more cum spilled out. 

He lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked on his fingers. It wasn't the best taste but he liked the saltiness of it and how it dripped from his finger to his tongue. How he could close his eyes and imagine that it was Dean’s cum. Dean .

Sam's eyes snapped open. What the fuck was wrong with him?! He felt sick to his stomach, how could- how fuck in the head was he?

How fucked was he?

Sam felt his throat go dry, why was he so fucked up? Why did he always do this to himself? How was he supposed to be forgiven if he couldn't keep himself together? If he couldn't keep his word?

His stomach turned, it turned in the way it would when he was with John. The cynical feeling of dread and discomfort seemed to plague his life more and more, he couldn't escape it. He wouldn't escape it. It was his guilt, it was his birthright. He made all of this happen, he deserved it. 

He caused it. He ruined his family. He killed his mother. It didn't matter how much it hurt his to be so close to something he longed for but couldn’t reach, it didn't matter if Dean didn't love him he would always love him; it didn't matter if John lied to him and hurt him like everything else, he would always feel guilty to see him as anything but a father. 

He knew he did terrible things to him, things he could barely remember without throwing up, crying till he rubbed his cheek raw, and burned his back with water. He wanted to hate him and yell at him but he couldn't bring himself to do that. He was still his father, he still was there for him when he grew up, he still provided for him, he shouldn't be mad, he shouldn't hate him.

Because that was the thing with sons and their father's, wasn't it?

Sons are supposed to look at their father with admiration. Sons see their father as a person to be respected as if they were a king sitting on an immovable throne. As a man's man, as a God in a world of mortals. They were supposed to put their dad's on pedestal and when they would fall it would be a son's job to break the fall.

And if they didn't they were wrong, they were misled. That they should feel that way. 

But Sam didn't. 

Sam couldn't feel that way, he couldn't follow John without a doubt. He couldn't see John as all powerful, it didn't matter if he scared the living daylights out of him. It didn't matter that everytime he looked at him he felt like a deer in headlights, that later those nights he would push him against the mattress with such force he would be bruised for weeks. That Sam would feel him for longer than he wanted.

You like it,

Sam's chest tightened and his eyes sting, he bit his lip and started to sob. 

You make such pretty noises

The room started to spin and his stomach turned again. He pushed himself out of bed and grabbed onto the wall. His breath got heavy and his footsteps echoed through the hallway. With each step it seemed to get louder, and louder. 

Thud

Thud

His heart when faster and faster

Budump

Thud

BUDUMP

His heart and steps rang in his ears, he felt like they would explode. 

Just like Mary, take it just like that

Sam threw himself over the toilet and hurled the little bit of lunch he had. That was another thing John ruined for him. Food. What was the point of eating if he was going to throw it up anyways? What was the point if he was going to die anyways? There was none! He didn't like how he looked when he was heavier but now he doesn't like what he looked like lighter. He was skin and bones, at best a little mussel. His hip bones stuck out; his chest looked like it had a dent in it. He couldn't imagine how he'd feel when he lost more. 

He picked himself off the ground, flushing the toilet he looked in the mirror. He was a mess. His shaggy hair sticking out in odd places, his eyes red from crying, his mouth scabbed and bloody from all the times he bit it till it hurt, his nose slightly cricket from when he broke it in a sparring match with Dean, His shirt crinkled from laying down all day, his collar stretched out from all the times John practically tore it off him, and his pants stained with cum from jerking himself off to the thought of his brother. 

He wasn't a mess. He was a train wreck.

Chapter Text

AP* an AP is an assisted principal

January 19th 1996

Sam was sitting in class talking with a classmate, his teacher let them do what they wanted after they all finished their test. "What does your dad do?"

   He hunts things

  He kills things

  He killed me

Okay maybe that wasn't exactly true, he did kill things, he did kill some part of me a very long time ago.

He couldn't remember when. When was the first time Sam didn't feel like himself? That when he looked back at the things he did he couldn't recognize who he was or who he'd been becoming.

"He's a mechanic" It was simple, it was easy. No one ever questioned it, no one ever thought to hard about it.

"Sam! Come over here" Sam raised his head and looked over. It was Mr. Linsey, the school's AP*.

"Coming" he grabbed his stuff and walked over to him, he had never really liked Mr Linsey but he didn't not like him. There was nothing that really stood out about him. He was average height, had green eyes, and light brown hair slicked over some days, others it was left parted down the middle, and he always wore a tee shirt or plaid with an occasional leather jacket. When the days were particularly cold. He didn't really look like an AP now that Sam thought about it. He didn't seem to dress all that professional, he was muscular and constantly had stubble, and he looked more like a cop than an AP. Sam put on his bag and walked alongside the AP. 

"Where are we going?"

"My office," Mr Linsey said and he followed. Sam felt nervous, he didn't know what the AP was going to talk to him about. Was it John? No, he hadn't told anyone. He wasn't that careless. Did they see his bruised and battered skin? No, he didn't change in the locker rooms.

"Take a seat" and Sam did, he took a seat in front of the desk.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"No Sir"

"Okay," Mr. Linsey nodded his head and walked out. Sam was here, He knew he was in his principal's office but hell he didn’t feel like it. His mind was everywhere but here. 

He was in January of 1987. When Dean kissed him on the head after he rode his bike for the first time without training wheels. 

He was in August of 1994. Looking down at the insides of his thighs, cringing at the bruises. Crying so hard his throat was raw.

He was everywhere. He just wants to be at home with Dean. Just Dean. He wants to be with Dean. Just sit down with him on a crappy motel couch and watch western movies till he wanted to gouge out his eyes from all the inaccuracies. He wanted to complain to Dean about how bad the movies where but always light heartedly never to hurt his feelings.

"Mr. Winchester '' Sam turned his head and looked at the man in the doorway. He was balding and wore a blue suit with a red tie. 

"Yes" he willed away his nerves and sickening feeling of dread.

"I have been told you're not aware of why you're in this room. Is that correct Mr. Winchester?"

"Um Sam, just call me Sam and no. I'm not sure why I'm here "

"Okay. Sam you're here because of you track record" The principal said. His track record? What was wrong with his record? He's had straight A's for as long as he could remember. "And because CPS from the state of Minnesota called"