Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sam chewed his lip nervously as he stared at his father.

Him and Dean had come back from a hunt and now John was nursing a bottle of Jack Daniels staring glumly at the TV. 

Sam knew what day it was. He knew that since he gave Dean his space he should give his dad some space too. 

But when it hit 10 and Sam's stomach was still growling after a scarce lunch and no dinner, Sam couldn't help himself but let his skinny legs take him to his drunk father.

"Dad..?" Sam's voice croaked out, his hands sweaty from nervousness.

John's head rolled over to look at the small boy, the resentment shone in the man's eyes. 

Sam knew why. At 9 years old Sam was far from stupid. Sure he was a little chubby, stubborn and sarcastic but he wasn't stupid. 

John liked to yell, scream, and belittle his son, grabbing of wrists tight enough to bruise and..well that was Sam's life.

John tried to hide his mournful glances at Dean's hair which had quickly turned a light brown, instead of the stunning blonde John's late wife had.

John tried to hide the way his mouth twitched to be open to spit back insults at the too inquisitive Samuel who tended to ask where his mom was.

But what John Winchester's most ashamed secret was the hate that boiled up in John's body when he stared at the boy who always had...some certain darkness in him.

Maybe John blamed Sam for his wife dying.. maybe he didn't.. all he knew was he was angry. Furious. At the world. At himself.

"what do you want." The man growled his eyes narrowing at the smallest boy of the family. 

Sam's body shrunk back instinctively and he licked his lips suddenly very aware of the rising hostile situation he was in.

"Im-i-i just-its late..i-i know..I'm-i-" his legs trembled as he saw an unrecognisable look on his father's face.

"I-i-i what?" John mocked his knuckles turning white from how tight he was gripping his bottle. He could feel the resentment and annoyance bubbling up, and Sam just could not get the hint.

"y-you guys were gone.. and-and I had the last spaghetti-o's like dean told me to...but I didn't have any food since and since you came back-" 

"We were out killing a monster Sam! A monster, can't you just—fuck— take care of yourself?!" In John's outburst, his bottle rolled down spilling on the crappy motel carpet. 

That only fueled the fire of his frustration, John begrudgingly got out of his chair kicking the discarded bottle into the wall making it smash. 

Survival instincts kicked in as Sam took fast steps away from his father, the young boy's eyes widened in absolute fear.

John was blinded by rage, rage that should not have been directed at a child. But Sam stood still, frozen in fear staring at his enraged father who kept taking large, quick and menacing steps toward him.

Sam wished Dean would just wake up already and save him. Because that's who Dean was. He was his safe place. 

And oh god he was getting closer, Sam tried to back away even more just to hit the roughly textured wall.

NONONO Was all Sam could think. 

John's raised fist could say it all. John was going to hit him. He was going to lay his hands on his 9-year-old child. 

The impact was worse than he could have imagined as he fell to the floor. he could already feel a bruise forming as his head hit the floor too, he wouldn't be surprised if a bump was there. His eyes kept fluttering open and shut trying to focus on the situation at hand. 

His father had hit him.

His dad.

His dad had hit him and—god was he bleeding? Sam thought to himself as he looked at some crimson liquid on the hardwood tiles.  

In the span of two minutes, John was too out of it. He grabbed Sam's collar lifting him "you-you get to bed boy-." 

It was an order. 

"Yes..yes sir," Sam said the words coming out meekly as he scurried off to the bedroom, making a short turn to the bathroom.

His father would be too drunk to follow him, or even care as he locked the door.

His eyes travelled to the mirror, his hands soon following the reddish-purple forming on his cheek, near his eye.

It made it uncomfortable and slightly painful for him to close his left eye but he could deal with it, the blood though..he'd have to bandage that up. 

His hands fumbled with the first aid kit he knew Dean and John carried with them, he grabbed out a few band-aids shakily peeling off the cover and beginning to patch himself up.

In truth, Sam was terrified to leave the bathroom. What could he do? Could he leave the house? 

He didn't want to think anymore. His head hurt so much and..no. no, he was terrified and he couldn't deal with the belittlement anymore. He couldn't. 

Sam snuck back into his room quickly enough, he wouldn't be able to escape with a whole bag. He could only take a few necessities and..he'd have to make do. 

He glanced at the sleeping older boy. 

With a heavy heart, Sam grabbed what he needed, he (guiltily) grabbed out Dean's cash (only 20 bucks..crap.)

he put whatever clothes he was gonna need on him, 2 shirts of his own and..one of his teenage brothers.  A Metallica T-shirt. He pulled on his hole-ridden hand-me-down boots with shaky hands. 

Sam glanced at the phone that John had gotten Dean for his birthday, it was crappy and small..however, it made do.

But no. Sam didn't grab it. Instead, he grabbed the switchblade Dean had nabbed off a hunter 3 weeks ago. 

Dean had been planning to learn how to use it, but was unsuccessful, he couldn't even open it.

The knife was very skillfully disguised as a metallic crucifix, a beautiful silver, heavy but not dead weight. He needed anything to protect him. 

He spared one more glance at his brother. This might be the only time he'd see him in..ever.

That layed heavy on him. 

He stood at the doorway staring at Dean's lax body.

"..goodbye Dean." 

The rain started as just a sprinkle,  but Sam knew it wouldn't stay that way.

He had snuck past his father's twitchy but sleeping body and gently slipped out the motel's door in a graceful and unsounding move. 

One step out and he already felt miserable.

Leaving his brother and dad? His only family? Because he was...hit. 

Maybe this was a mistake...

No. No, it wasn't. Because it started with yelling..and screaming..now hitting?

How far would da-no. How far would John take it? How far could he take it?

Sam shivered and with a decided thump of his boot hitting gravel..he began walking away. He pulled up his hood and walked away from the only family he knew.

He needed to get away. So that's what Sam did. He got away.

The Winchesters had been currently staying in a shabby motel in Yankton South Dakota, dean had complained beforehand about how stuffy the room was and John had ruffled his hair telling him to quit the complaining, playfully.

Sam had never gotten the difference between how John was with Dean vs how he was with Sam. But then he got older. And he realised he was just.. different from dean.

Sam's boots trudged against mud and rocks, the rain pelted harder. But he couldn't turn around. It was now too dark to see anything but what car lights let you see, as well as lamp posts, but Sam wasn't stopping.

Sure his legs hurt. And he was now reaching the 1st-hour mark of his run away. 

God was that the rain pounding against his skin or was that the headache? Sam couldn't tell. He was hungry and cold, the rain soaked his clothes and his teeth were chattering but the determinedness to get away kept him going.

Each roar of an engine late at night, startled him so much, a fear that the engine could belong to one 1967 Chevy Impala, with a furious dad for the driver.

And soon enough it was midnight.

3 hours in and his legs were shaking, no. His body was shaking. The rain wasn't as heavy but his clothes sure were. He gripped the "crucifix" so tight he thought he was gonna pop a blood vessel.

When he heard a car halt behind him his mind raced

Oh no. Oh god. It's Dad, right? He's come to grab me back.

No no no no no no...Sam pleaded to himself, his body was ready to give up. To give in. To go back to that God-forsaken job-

"Uh, boy? I-I don't think you should be out here." A voice came behind him.

He turned around cautiously ready to stab the guy if need be but...

"Oh..kid.. you shivering and ouch that bruise ..is that blood? uh..here I've got a towel in the back? Its-it's got a few dog hairs on it but-" the man rambled on but he was..not..intimidating. 

The guy had curly blonde hair and a growing stubble with blue piercing eyes but he looked harmless. He fumbled with the hidden 20  in his shoe and hurried limply over to him as the guy grabbed out his towel, stinking of dog, but hey he wasn't complaining.

He wordlessly tried to hand over the 20 

"Will..this be enough?" He asked nervously 

The older man's eyes widened in disbelief "Kid..you don't have to pay me... Hey just..um get in the car and tell me where your home is..I'll drop you off. I promise I'm not some serial killer." He tried to assure opening his car to the shivering boy.

Sam hesitated eying the guy once more. 

Okay..okay..he can do this.

"Where to?" 

"Singers Salva..salvage." Sam blurted out

Oh no. Oh crap, why did he SAY THAT?! Where was that place anyway?! It could be anywhere?! Didn't John have a falling out with the guy?!

But Sam needed to come up with something and..the guy didn't seem too confused 

"The salvage yard? An hour from here? How long have you been walking kid?.." he asked gently 

"..a..an hour." Sam lied through his teeth hoping the guy wouldn't freak out as much 

"Jesus kid. I hope your dad will take better care of your wondering little feet man." He mumbled and turned on the car, warm air filling the car and making Sam shiver.

Yeah like he would care.

"Kid.. maybe you should sleep yeah?" The man asked the stiff, suspicious boy 

Sam couldn't even answer the question trying to blink himself awake, but his body soon fell asleep into the actually cushioned car seat. 

He woke up wincing, he almost forgot about the bruise on his face, and the arm he fell on..John really did a number on him. 

The guys car rolled into the salvage yard and Sam was already regretting everything.

"Um-thank-thank you. You can stop here..I'll-thank you again. Truly."

Sam rushed out croakily pushing his little body out the seat and willing himself to walk into the rain and see the guy he hardly knew that was indifferent to his father.. the guy might shoot him! 

"No problem, kid. Just-no more adventures alright? Your dad would be having a heart attack right now. You'll..you'll be alright though..right?" He asked him cautiously glancing at his bruises.

"Cause..cause if that was your parent I can-" his eyes glanced at the the house metres away from them 

"No! No-its-this was an accident-i- fell." 

What a lame excuse.

The older man eyed him suspiciously for a minute before sighing.

"Alright kid. Are you sure I shouldn't walk you in?- your still shivering, I mean you look like a mess I can-"

"It's okay! Really! I'm sorry-uh! Thank you!" Sam quickly got out the car giving the man a brisk wave goodbye and took nervous, cautious steps to the front of bobby singers muddy front steps. 

"Oh god. Oh god oh god.." Sam moaned weakly, his legs aching and tears brimming in embarrassment. 

He ran away and he ends up on this guy's doorstep? John had barely knew the guy. 

Sam felt a wave of nausea and anxiety roll over him and he was suddenly gripping at his soaked clothes willing himself up the stairs.

It was now about 1 AM and this guy wouldn't be awake he couldn't no way he-

But Sam's arm stretches out and he was suddenly knocking on the door, firm though his hands were a shaky mess. 

First set of knocks. Second set of knocks. Third set of knock-

"Alright alright you idjit! I'm coming!" A gruff and slightly Texan accented man's voice came yelling out. 

This was a mistake oh god a terrible horrifying and humiliating mistake. 

The door came swinging open and out stepped a 6'0 man, a little rounded with a rough beard and a worn out cap, strong and loud boots with a fierce glare.

His eyes travelled down from his expectancy to see an adult to the shivering, bruised up—was that blood?— dark brown curly haired boy, shaking and terrified.

Bobby stumbled back.

The kid looked innocent enough..too innocent.. bobby turned around quickly grabbing a bottle of holy water and splashing it on the boy the boy felt the wack of water and jumped when it hit him. Only in startlement..not that he was a demon. 

Bobby had a kid. On his doorstep.

Couldn't be his..so who was this bloody kid.

"I'm—crap—im sorry. Im-im not a demon. Or..or anything actually. Im-.." he paused wincing 

"I'm..Sam..Winchester."

Well that brought some bad memories.

That damned dad of his.

Was this kid his messenger bird? Did the guy need a favour? Is that why the kid was so..-

"I-i had nowhere to go, you have to believe me-i-i don't know why I came here- I know you hate my dad and-well- my family- i-i just.." the boy panicked seeing the strained look on the man's face.

"I'm sorry he just-the minute he hit me I ran-and-i.." the boy was in tears now, clutching himself as if he was going to break.

Bobby stopped dead in his tracks, fists clenched as he stared at the young boy 

No..no way John couldn't be that stupid..

"Who hit you?" Bobby managed the words out

The boy paused obviously contemplating this "..J..john.." his eyes landed on the floor still shaking and soaked.

"Son of a bitch!" Bobby yelled twisting around 

What kind of...that man was as dead as..when he saw that man..

Bobby's head was clouded with violent thoughts he couldn't even finish,

He turned back around to stare at the kid, who didn't even know if he...damnit. 

"How did you even get here, boy?" He asked 

"I..walked." Sam's eyes travelled to meet his again 

"..wh.." bobby put his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose putting pressure, hoping this whole situation wasn't real.

"From where?"

"Yankton." 

"Yankton?!" Bobby voice boomed out startled

"Boy, you better start making sense, that's hours away from here, there's no way you..you couldn't have." Bobby said gruffly 

"I was walking for..3 hours..and then some guy offered to take me the rest of the way cause he saw me in the rain-" 

"Some guy? Some stranger? Boy, you could've been kidnapped!" 

"I didn't have a choice! And I was freezing." 

"So let me get this straight..you walked for 3 hours in the pouring rain, got in some strangers car to come to my house? What if I was asleep?" Bobby demanded 

"..I.. couldn't be in that house anymore, sir..he got..really bad. And dean was asleep-and I didn't even know where to go at first-i—truly I was just gonna..keep walking..—but I panicked—and..here..I am?" Sam finished off his long story with trembling fingers.

Bobby pursed his lips, the boy was a mess.

Hair sticking all sorts of ways, soaked layers of clothes that couldn't be comfortable, he was shaking, trembling like a leaf..and worst of all those injuries on the boy.. damnit he wanted to kill John with his own hands, shoot the damned man in the head.

But now he had his..7? 8? Year old son on his doorstep..

Crap.

"Take off your jacket," bobby gruffed out as the boy quickly fumbled with the soaked thing, 

Was that boy holding a crucifix? 

Sam saw Bobby's eyes land on the switchblade disguised as crucifix.

"I-here-i—i wasn't going to use it! I promise, sir!" He put it down onto the couch after taking a few steps in 

Bobbys eyes twitched at the sir stuff.

"Call me bobby." He nodded to the boy and went off.

He left the boy alone—to his displeasure— and walked up the stairs going into his small bathroom, he grabbed out a towel walking downstairs.

The boy..hadn't moved a muscle. 

His eyes were wandering but he didn't dare move.

Jesus was this kid not even curious why bobby was helping him? 

The older man pushed the towel into Sam's arms "go up the stairs to your left the bathroom door is open, don't use all the hot water but just enough, you know how to use those showers right?" 

Sam blinked for a second, almost as if trying to compute the thought, 

"I-yeah-um- thank you-" Sam hurried up the stairs 

"And leave out your wet clothes! I'll put them in the dryer." Bobby yelled out.

He still didn't know what he'd be doing with this kid.. he didn't even have the full story. 

But..he couldn't just kick this kid to the streets.

He heard the shower being turned on and a thump of the wet clothes hitting the ground outside before the door shut. Bobby breathed in relief at being given some time alone 

"Jesus Christ.." he muttered to himself as he willed himself up the stairs grabbing the clothes and following out to his laundry room chucking them in the dryer.

Poor kid. 

6 minutes later the kid emerged out, towel wrapped around his whole body, the shake in his bones gone. 

And..Jesus that kid had wide eyes. Almost like bug eyes. Cute. But really creepy since he was just staring at him.

"What, boy?" He asked almost instantly regretting the tone he had in his voice.

"I..just..um-well I know you and my dad aren't on the best terms..-" 

Bobby snorted roughly at the understatement, turning to check on how much time the dryer had too finish.

5 minutes.

"—how did you know..to believe me?" Sam's voice came out small and croaky.

"Boy, even if I was good with your daddy—which I'm not—i would still point a gun at his head for laying a finger on you. I don't know you well and you don't know me, but I know for a fact, with those bruises all over your body, you didn't just fall. I believe you, and trust me. He comes to my doorstep there's a shotgun here, and a bullet with his name on it." 

The dryer dinged.

He grabbed out the clothes, still keyed up from the conversation.

He chucked the clothes at the kid, the smaller boy scrambling to catch them, bobby snorted.

"Dress up. I've got a spare bedroom on the end. Call me if you need something." 

The boy blinked again then nodded quickly turning to the door 

"Thank you..bobby. for.. believing me." Sam tried to smile but it just came out sad. With those damned puppy dog eyes.

"Go to bed boy, your tired enough as it is." 

And damnit bobby needed some whiskey and sleep to stop himself from tracking down that stubborn Winchester and shooting him in the chest.

The two boys seperated on 2 different sides of the house. One sleeping, plagued by nightmares.

The other drinking away his problems.

The sun would rise in a few hours.

Chapter Text

Sam stirred awake, his head throbbing against the pillow. The bedroom was small, empty, and clearly unused; not that Sam could complain—god no—it was far better than anything he had stayed in. Or remember staying in.

The boy toed out of the room, his eyes surveying to spot where Bobby was. When he couldn't see Bobby on the second floor of the house, he let his legs take him down the stairs. 

The house was... big-ish; maybe it was the salvage yard that made it feel huge, but he already felt like his little self could get lost in the house. He checked the front door first, then checked outside the window. 

Nope.

His feet padded around the house until he saw it in the most obvious way. 

Bobby was sprawled out onto the couch, his hair half combed through roughly, and the other half quite unruly. His arm lay on the side of the couch, and a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam was sitting up against the couch.

Sam pursed his lips, too familiar with the scene; at least Bobby's bottle wasn't emptied like dad's usually was, Sam thought to himself casually, and as if in routine, he grabbed it, capping the bottle and trotting off to find the kitchen,

When he did, he put it up on the bench, padding right back off to Bobby, who was startled awake.

He fumbled to grab some under where he was lying—well, that must be uncomfortable—and he blindly put it to Sam's head.

The boy instantly recognised the feel of cool metal pressed up to his forehead. Hunts that came across particularly violent hunters made you learn fast; he blocked it, taking it out of the man's hands swiftly and dropping it to the ground before recognising what he did.

"Oh my- crap, I'm sorry! I just-you put it on my forehead-" Sam cursed to himself and picked it up as Bobby blinked at him. 

"Damnit, boy. You don't just wake someone up like that!" 

"Uh, I wasn't here. I was in the kitchen."

So.. paranoid. Got it.

Bobby looked almost embarrassed for a second, but he quickly covered it with a confused look. 

"What were you doing in my kitchen?" He asked, getting up. 

"I didn't want you to trip." 

Bobby raised his eyebrow, needing a bit more context. 

"The bottle of Jim Beam Dad used to trip over his bottles and spill them on the motel carpet. I put it in your fridge so you wouldn't trip," Sam added nervously.

Damn it. What kind of childhood could you have if you didn't think it was abnormal to put away alcohol for an adult? Bobby thought to himself, feeling guilty. 

Drinking before bed was already bad for headaches, but this kid seeing it...

Wait, Jesus Christ, he still had a kid in his house. 

They both fell into uncomfortable silence at the weird situation they had found themselves in.

"Um, so kid, do you eat..." Bobby paused, getting up.

He only ever had to take care of himself; did he even have anything edible for this kid? 

Bobby scanned through his cupboards nervously.

Damnit.

He spotted some cereal he had picked up and looked at it. 

Lucky charms—what the bloody hell was a lucky charm?

The kid peered over, seeing what was in the man's hands. 

"Lucky charms?! I haven't had those in years!" Sam sqwaked, grabbing it up. 

Ok good. The kid likes lucky charms. This was...good?

Bobby wiped down some bowls and utensils, setting them down for Sam, pouring the milk, and eyeing him.

He didn't even know this kid's story.

"So, kid. You wanna tell me what happened? What's been happening?" Bobby asked gruffly, frowning.

Sam hesitated and began eating hastily. The kid must've been starving. 

"Dad and Dean were out to finish a hunt, and we only had a bit of food left, so I kind of finished that off at lunch, dinnertime rolls around, and..well, it's.." 

He stopped again, taking a deep breath, before pushing a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, chewing silently.

"It was mom's death date. I tried to stay out of Dean's way; I knew he was upset. But Dean was asleep, and it was 10; I tried to ask Dad for some dinner, 't was stupid." He mumbled, not looking up from the bowl.

"He was, um, drunk. And he was annoyed, and I accidentally made him spill his drink, and he just-just got so angry, and then he was storming up to me, and he hit me in the face. I kind of hit the tiles, banging my head. He passed out after he told me to go to bed. I-..I left. He doesn't know where I am." Sam said it quietly.

And Bobby, sure as hell, was contemplating tracking the bastard down and shooting him so many goddamn times they wouldn't recognise the body- 

But Bobby didn't. He stayed calm and stared at Sam.

"Has this happened before?" 

Sam shook his head, looking away.

"He gets angry sometimes, yells at me, and grabs my wrists too tight," he shrugged, now pushing around the soggy cereal in the milk.

Bobby clenched his jaw. 

"And what about Dean?" 

Godhelpmepleasedonttellme-

"No. Dad likes Dean," he answered, looking up at Bobby straight in the eyes, a look so purely confused.

A look that conveyed, Why would dad hit Dean? Dean's the one he likes?

"God damnit." 

Favouritism? Seriously? The kid already looked like he had issues, and now the kid would have to deal with the fact that his asshole of a father liked his brother more.

"That's okay. I like Dean better anyway." He said quietly, staring at the milk as if he really were interested.

"What am I gonna do with you, kid?" bobby sighed.

Hazel eyes, wide and fearful stared at him once more

"I-i can't go back- please-i'll pull my weight, sir-" 

The older man cringed. 

"Bobby," the kid amended nervously. 

"I can clean, and I can cook. Kinda. Dean taught me. I can dress, shower, and feed myself. You-you won't even notice I'm here-i swear." The boy's words were so fast, and the kid looked like he was going to explode in an anxiety-filled mess. 

Bobby furrowed his brows.

"If your to stay here, boy..we set some ground rules, alright?" The man's voice was brusque. 

Sam nodded to every word, his hands moving restlessly against his jeans in motion.

"1. You will pull your weight with chores, boy."

nod.

"2. You listen to what I tell you; when I tell you, no complaining."

Nod.

"3. I ain't your daddy, and I'm not going to act like it. But if I'm to...keep you safe, You're going to have to work with me through this."

Nod.

"4. You eat what I cook, no whining."

It was a no-brainer that the kid would do that easily, Bobby bet that the kid had never had a proper home made meal in his life.

"5. And god, kid, please remember this, stranger danger."

Nod.

Bobby tried to massage the migraine forming 

"Let me guess, your dad didn't put you in school? How old are you anyway?"

Now that was the real question.

"I'm 9."

Damn, the kid was so skinny, he looked 6.

"Alright, and also, no touching the alcohol, alright?" Bobby said, getting up and crossing his arms, 

He glanced at the kid again, his lips pursing again.

Jesus. A kid? He was looking after a kid?

Bobby could feel an unwanted memory of Karen swell again, so he pushed it out of his mind. 

Right, still said kid in his kitchen.

"You don't have much, do you." Bobby said, eying the very obviously hand-me-down clothes he had on. Baggy jeans, an oversized flannel jacket, and duct-taped boots. 

He could get the kid some new clothes, right? 

The child looked up, blinking. 

"Only what I brought." He said, he was now fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt, also a hand me down.

--

That's how he found himself walking Sam to his truck and watching the kid gape at it like it was cool. It was a rusted ford It couldnt be that pretty to look at.

He hopped in his nose, scrunching at the smell.

"Smells like off food. And mould." 

"Well, thanks, kid." Bobby answered sarcastically, although he was glancing back nervously.

Was there something infectious in the car?

I mean, it couldn't be rats..

But then again, a rat jumped at him once, and that wasn't pretty. At all. Lots of swearing and gunshots. 

Through his fretting, he calmed down, putting his key in the ignition, listening to it rumble to life.

"You got your belt in?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"I heard it click."

--

The drive into town wasn't bad, the town was small enough, and he ignored the weird glances he got from the local onlookers.

Town drunk? Nah. 

Maybe.

Probably.

He'd have to fix that.

Definitely. 

Sam was quiet in the back, his head laying on his arms as he stared out the truck window, watching as the town passed them by before the car pulled to a stop.

It was kind of unnerving. a kid like that, and he didn't seem to make a sound unless asked to. Very weird. 

He stepped out of the car, opening Sam's door. Bobby took off his worn-down and peeling cap, brushing away Sam's unruly curly hair and pushing the hat firmly but gently on the kids heads. 

Bobby might not mind the looks but Sam wasn't stupid, and the kid would get overwhelmed. And well, Bobby wasn't taking any chances with these folks.

The walk to the thrift store wasn't too long, and it was an all-week open store, so that was even better. 

Sam had shuffled closer to Bobby instinctively, like something was going to grab him up and run away. Maybe he was still expecting John to be there. Whatever it is, Bobby simply leads Sam into the store with a guiding hand on the boy's shoulder. 

Paranoid, just like his daddy.

--

The cashier couldn't have been any older than 15, and her eyes widened, hiding her surprise, and she turned away to put something in the back.

Sam glanced up at Bobby with a questioning look in his eyes. Bobby didn't look at him; he just pushed him in the direction of the clothes with a firm look in front of where he was walking. 

He literally walked like a man who didn't care. Sam scrambled to catch up with him.

The clothes were anything you'd expect in a thrift store, some were good, and some of them were god awful, with the weirdest looking patterns on them that made Bobby want to roll his eyes in annoyance. Sam seemed to gravitate around the darker, blander colours no patterns, just simple shirts and pants.

Bobby could relate to the boy, just wanting to blend in. Inconspicuous. He could work with that.

Sam hesitated over the clothes, pausing and pushing the material back. He was becoming increasingly nervous with questions about why Bobby was being so nice and why he was buying clothes for him.

While Bobby picked each one, Sam pushed back, checking sizes and watching Sam like a hawk.

Sam felt as useful in this shopping trip as a bird with a broken wing; his wrist was going to become rubbed raw if he kept nervously rubbing it like that, so he just shuffled along each aisle, shoving his hands in his pockets as swiftly as he could without making such a dramatic flare about it. 

Bobby had no problem picking out Sam's clothes, the kid wouldn't, so he would, actually, the kid looked like a nervous wreck. 

They reached the cashier, the girl watching Bobby with a watchful, waiting eye. "This all?" She asked a Looking down at Sam, then back at Bobby, a look in her eyes read: 

All of my friends are going to know this: the town drunk hauling around a kid?

Seriously? Seriously.

Bobby grunted out an affirmation as he slammed down a few bills for the clothes. The woman watched them go, 

What a pain.

If Sam saw the annoyed look on Bobby's face, he didn't comment on it. At least not yet. 

--

Dinner was pizza. quick, easy, and greasy, just like Bobby liked.

In the hours that they came back Sam folded all his clothes, thanking bobby profusely for the stuff as he put it beside the nightstand, pursing his lips as he went for another shower.

They were still awkward around each other; what could Bobby say? It wasn't like Bobby was all that used to company. 

The dinner was quiet for a few minutes except for the sound of chewing and hands brushing against cardboard while Sam glancing up at Bobby occasionally, obviously wanting to ask something but deciding against it.

Bobby had enough of the nervous silence and broke it with a sigh.

"Spit it out, boy." Bobby grunted, shifting in his seat to lean back.

The young boy looked up at Bobby, chewing for a second before swallowing, 

"The town doesn't really like you much, do they." He asked, and his eyes weren't wide with sympathy, pity, or judgement.

No. They stared at him, all big and wide and creepy, but analysing.

"No,"

"Is it because of your reputation?" Sam asked, going back to tearing his crusts apart. 

"My reputation?" Bobby hesitated, wondering what the hell this boy could be talking about. 

"Your a badas-a..a really cool hunter, right? Like dad?" Sam asked, glancing up at him. 

Bobby grimaced, talking about how his Activites out of the salvage yard should be off limits for a kid like Sam. 

Sam, who seemed already too traumatised,

"I don't think that's what defines me in the town, but they knew I had to put my anger somewhere, but no, they don't know I'm a hunter." Bobby asked truthfully, the honesty flowing through his sentences shocking himself.

He hadn't been this honest for most of his life, and Sam seemed to share the sentiment. Bobby wondered how many times Sam has to play the victim or bait in a monster attack for John's blood thirst.

Bobby didn't want to know. 

"What does?" Sam's eyes watched him. 

Bobby would've normally snapped at any kid trying to pry into his life like this, but Sam was far from a normal kid.

"My wife, Karen, was killed; i-..a demon possessed her, and at the time..I didn't know anything about that sorta stuff. She died because of her injuries." Bobby said not looking away from Sam.

He didn't even flinch.

"My mom died because of a demon; I guess we're in the same boat?" Sam wasn't amused, but he stared back at his food in an instant. They fell back into silence.

"Yeah. I guess we are, boy." 

--

Chapter Text

The week went on awkward as ever, Sam was a growing kid and had a tendency to stumble over himself in his thick boots—and god did bobby want to replace those pieces of crap— but also...Sam was just..quiet.

The child didn't talk much, maybe he was afraid of the tall hunter or maybe he just didn't like to talk, none of it mattered except the fact..The kid was quiet. 

It was a rainy stormy day like the one Sam encountered when he ran away, and the boy was already feeling down.

His head leant against the window hearing the pitter patter of rain, his eyes squeezing shut and his body going rigid when he heard a crackle of lighting then the boom of thunder.

Dean was always there when he needed to be protected from the storms.. he wasn't here now.

Bobby was watching quietly from his chair, looking up from his book here and there to check up on the boy.

It's not like Sam would run amuck, the kid was a really good kid. Which confused bobby even more of johns actions.

This whole situation at hand was confusing for the older hunter, 

Why the hell would John hit the boy?

For asking for food? 

Bobby's face dimmed at the thought of it. 

Even though the hunter didn't necessarily like kids doesn't mean he would...

Not to a kid.

Not like his father.

Bobby was nothing like his father, he refused to be.

His eyes wandered to Sam's slouched figure. The boy kept..—was he flinching?— 

Almost directly on time lightning shook the sky making the ground grumble.

Sam's body nearly jumped out of its skin as he scrambled away from the window.

...shit. why didn't he notice before?

The feeling of dread dawned on Sam as he let his head swivel to meet bobby,

The man was getting up. He was setting down his book.

He was walking to a drawer.

he grabbed something out.

Oh god oh god oh god he was dead this was it

(maybe the kid was a little dramatic)

he sat down—with a distinct but totally ignored crack of his knees—

And then....

Sam had to double check to see if his eyes were right.

In Bobby's hands, the man shuffled brightly covered Uno cards

"Ever played Uno, kid?" Bobby's  voice travelled out, somehow still tough and rough like usual but in a way that didn't frighten him off.

"Yeah-uhm-with my brother, he was..." Sam hesitated "really good at it." The boys words became softer with each syllable.

So missing his brother.

Jesus this kid was going through it.

"I'm guessing you lost all the time?" Bobby's eyebrow raised a few looking up from dishing out the cards to see the kids face

Hopefully he wasn't crying.

Bobby could do anything—hunt monsters, bury his friends, deal with dick hunters— but he could not for the life of him deal with crying kids.

Luckily the kid wasn't he was inspecting his cards with a careful eye before meeting Bobby's 

"Not all the time." Sam answered cautiously, testing the waters for joking with the man,

Bobby knew it would be a slow pace to gain Sam's trust but he was...happy enough to start here.

"So...most of the time?" 

Bobby set down a green 8

"Kind of. I wouldn't be able to tell. dean cheats alot." 

Sams card hit the other. A green 3.

"Really? I would think since your his baby brother.." 

A blue 3.

"Nah, He's so competitive we wrestled over snakes and ladders once." 

Sam picked up a card from the pile. Bobby's mouth twitched up into an almost smile.

"I can imagine"

A 4+ from bobby.

"Not to mention his insane love for pie." 

He grabbed up four cards.

Sam was breaking out into a full on grin as he met Bobby's eye not even caring if he was losing, there was this twinkle in it.

Innocence.

He couldn't imagine forcing a kid to hunt at this age. Or deans age.

"Oh yeah?" Bobby inquired 

"Yeah, didn't matter what kind, he loved pie, I mean...I couldn't imagine someone loving it more than him, I remember he took me out to a diner on my birthday with some money he was able to beg out of dad and.." 

Sam watched bobby set down the next card, a red 6.

"—well he looked at the cases in the diner and chose 3 pie slices, one for me, dad and him. He then dropped me off at the motel room for a few minutes, he comes back panting like a dog, red in the face-" Sam smiled warmly to himself suppressing a laugh.

"He..he had ran a street over to this party store and grabbed a packet of candles and this cheap birthday badge, he was really proud of himself that day. We put a candle on each pie." He pauses for a second 

"Dad didn't come. He uh- he was out hunting, so dean and me shared the last peice. Hes really nice like that." Sam finished quietly 

"How old were you?" Bobby asked looking up from the pile at the slouched over boy

"6." 

He sat down all of his cards, multicoloured 1's go down to the pile

"Uno." 

Bobby tried to wrap his head around it all.

HE LEFT HIS 6 YEAR OLD WITH HIS 10 YEAR OLD TO FEND FOR THEMSELVES ON SAMS 6TH BIRTHDAY?!

the voice raged in his head like a tornado.

Thunder struck at that time, lighting up the cloudy sky making Sam jump again, his card falling to the ground 

Green 5.

Bobby grabbed up a sheet that had fallen off the couch grabbing loose pegs and stringing it up to cover up the window he turned back to Sam picking up his card.

Bobby shuffled over laying down a green 2

Usually he wouldn't give a crap if a kid cried over not winning,

Sam was a different kind of kid though.

The boys eyes lighted up as he slapped down his green 5 cheering in joy 

"I won!" He beamed 

Goddamn those big, brown, sad, puppy dog eyes of his.

Kid could turn into a menace if he wanted to.

Bobby hummed in response as he shuffled the cards sliding it back into the box. 

"There's not much to do around here kid, sorry, it's like.. adult land here." The hunter mumbled to the boy getting up and passing the box back into where it came from.

He spotted scissors laying on the top of the book case Sam was walking towards

"Its okay, I've never really had a place I could stay in a really long time, so this is cool. Plus you have books" Sam said hauling out a Greek mythology book out of the case 

Bobby quickly pocketed the scissors as Sam talked, nodding his head as the kid rambled 

"—its so cool how many books you got—"

Bobby bobbed his head "yeah" while he inspected ever surface he had knives strapped under a coffee table for security, obviously. 

"—did you know?—"

Bobby tried to listen best he could while on his "baby proofing" mission as his thoughts spiralled in his head.

He owned 268 knives 

30 of them hidden 

The rest packed away.

Still Sam could hurt himself.

Damnit.

While on his important mission something made him stop in his tracks 

"—do you think my dad is a bad person?" Sam asked, his voice quiet and his eyes low—oh god were those tears building up?— 

Bobby hesitated turning around to face the kid who clutched the book to his body like armour.

Yes. He wanted to say.

Yes and I hate your dad for putting you through this shit.

But instead—"I think...your dad did a bad thing, boy." Bobby answered his voice low. 

The silence was suffocating between Sam and bobby.

They both knew what eachother were thinking.

"But your good company. For an old man like me." Bobby gruffed out, it was the most feeling he expressed in a long time, and the widening of Sam's eyes said it all that Sam knew that too.

"Now go for a shower boy, I ain't having you stinking round here, get." Bobby gestured  up the stairs with a pointed look 

Sam grinned softly heading up quickly with a creak of the stairs.

Once alone bobby braced himself up against the kitchen table.

There was so much complicated about this situation.

But wasn't there always?

Bobby knew the risks when taking in Sam.

Baby proofing shit..was just part of the job now.

Yeah.

Chapter Text

2 months went by with the kid, he was efficient with his chores, didn't talk back except for the occasional mumble but it didn't bother bobby as much someone would think.

Sam knew he had to pull his weight, bobby clearly stated that when he let Sam stay in the house, and Sam wasn't taking chances.

So if it was washing dishes, hanging up the washing or taking out the trash, the little nine year olds body could move fast.

Though bobby had to remind the kid sometimes that it was just chores and he wasn't gonna be upset at Sam if he didn't hurry.

The boys response?

He pointed at the tv that was turned onto the cartoon channel.

Sam had a fascination with those.

"You give me jobs at 11am usually...that's 10 minutes before the cartoon channel starts back up, bobby."

Yeah no the kid didn't care about being fast he cared about missing out on watching looney tunes.

Right. The kid was still...just a kid.

Idjit.

Overall? Sam was an..okay kid.

For a kid.

--

It was when Sam was outside, cleaning out the back where a tree stood tall.

The kid had gotten sudden inspiration to make those tire swings he'd seen in movies,

And where better to get unused tires than a salvage yard?

Bobby was keeping watch from afar making sure the kid didn't hurt himself too bad while the kid tried to attach rope to the tree failing miserably, as any short and skinny kid would expect.

But he was damn stubborn.

And.. lonely.

Bobby sighed as he watched the kid refuse any help and kept at it, he was determined.

And bobby almost felt guilty for not getting the kid in school sooner.

Maybe he was too busy staring at his phone.. waiting for it to ring..

To hear johns voice on the other side.

"Kid! Lunch time, get in here!" Bobby ordered as he set the sandwiches on a plate putting it on the kitchen table.

The kid usually ate everything, but he seemed to hate anything that could get greasy on his hands.

Fair enough.

He watched the kid scarf down the sandwich while glancing outside, eager to get outside again

"Okay okay hang on kid, I wanna talk to you about something." Bobby voice rang out making Sam's head snap up, his cheeks so full of food it made him look like a squirrel.

He took a minute to swallow as bobby went onto talk.

"Kid, you've been cooped up here for 2 months and-"

"-i like it here!-"

"-and let me finish. I think to be a responsible guardian..and not have people knocking at my door..I want you to be enrolled into 4th grade" bobby finished crossing his arms.

He was expecting a fight. Maybe some snark at him for expecting the kid to do his chores *and* go to school. But no. Nothing the kid instead beamed like he had just given him the greatest gift in the world

"Really? I get to go to school? For how long?" Sam asked excitedly

"Until you graduate, kid. I'm not raising a dropout, your smart, use it" bobby warned

"Ive never stayed in school for longer than a term.. this is gonna be really different." Sam mumbled to himself

"Yeah well, we'll go out and get you your school supplies while I go enroll you, which reminds me...I can't just say I kidnapped some kid from his dad so we have to come up with a cover story" bobby said to Sam walking over to set his plate down.

"Well...we could..you know.." Sam flushed a sudden red rubbing his neck, "-just say I'm your kid?" He answered laying back in his chair. Bobby thought about it for a few minutes. No one in his town knew him as a guy who would have a kid. But..it wasn't like they knew much about him anyways.

"Yeah alright." He said slapping a bit of sunscreen on Sam's face as the boy winced at the smell and feel "yuck" he muttered gagging as he rubbed it into his face and arms

"Kid, it's hot out there I'm not sending you our there to make a damn tire swing if your not gonna put on a bit of sunscreen." Bobby said dryly sending off the kid with a few tools in hand, begrudgingly letting bobby move the tire for him.

"Still smells like crap.." he scowled whispering under his breath.

"I heard that!" Bobby called back grinning to himself so much it hurt.

--

Sam was full of nervous jitters on that Monday morning after a week of bobby gathering fake documents to enrol him.

He wore baggy jeans, a tad big sneakers and a Scooby doo shirt (the design was dusting away). Bobby was in the kitchen cling wrapping his sandwich up, aswell as an orange, a juice popper, string cheese, and a small bag of chips. "Alright kid—" bobby began putting his lunchbox in his bag before looking back at the nervous kid toying with his shirt "—your bag is packed, your shoes are tied, your hair is done, wait wait wait." Bobby paused observing Sam

"You brushed your teeth?"

"Seriously? Bobby I'm gonna miss the bus!" Sam complained gesturing to the door in a hurry

"You've got 5 minutes kid relax!" He hushed the boy pursing his lips.

"I'm not into that sappy crap so..just don't get into any fights..don't talk back to teachers...uh..what else.." bobby muttered

"Be myself?" Sam volunteered the suggestion

Bobby rose a brow "if you say so."

Before the old man knew it Sam was one foot out the door turning to him with a smile

"Bye!! I-"

Love you.

It was a normal gesture when waving off caregivers or parents when your about to go to school, instead bobby and Sam stay in uncomfortable silence for a minute,

"C'mon I'll walk you down to the bus, we don't want you missing it now do we?" Bobby asked clearing his throat as he led down Sam to the bright yellow bus.

The man turned to Sam grabbing off his wore down cap and smiled pushing it on Sam's head "chin up, and be good." Bobby assured letting Sam get up in the bus.

His eyes drifted to the bus driver to give a polite nod when he saw the guy already glaring at him.

Ugh. It was jerry. That guy smelt like cheese.

Samuel William singer was off to school.