Just Like You
A/N: Each chapter is its own short scene from the life of Sam Winchester, with a few lines from the song "Just Like You" by Three Days Grace to set the theme. The timeline jumps around a bit, so I will write when it happens at the beginning of each chapter.
Special thanks to my Beta, Little Miss Rosie!
Enjoy, and please do review, as reviews are love. Ideas for future chapters are welcome.
"I could be mean
I could be angry
You know I could be just like you"
1993- Age 10
Sam slipped out of the backseat of the Impala, slamming the door behind him, and stomping into the crappy motel room. His father was quick to follow, where as Dean, sensing the oncoming argument, lingered behind. He watched as John marched into the room, without even bothering to shut the door.
"What the hell was that, Sam?" John's voice boomed so loud that Dean could hear him very clearly outside.
"That was me almost getting killed by a poltergeist, Dad, which wouldn't have happened if you hadn't left Dean and me there by ourselves!" Sam was now on the edge of the bed, shooting daggers with his eyes at the oldest Winchester.
"And, what was I to do, huh? There was another one at Molly Creve's house that seemed far angrier."
"You could have taken us with you! The one at the warehouse wasn't bothering anyone till we showed up. Then, it chose to trap Dean in another room and mess with me!" It was then that Dean walked in, keeping his silence as his family fumed.
"Grow up, Sam! I did what I had to do." He pushed passed Dean, and out the door. A few moments later, the Impala revved to life, and he was gone.
Sam tucked his legs up on to the bed, rolled over, and allowed the tears to flow. He wouldn't dare cry in front of his father, but Dean was always there for him. It was okay to cry when it was just the two of them. Thus, Dean sat down behind his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Sammy," he near whispered, "are you alright?"
Through the sobs, he managed, "I will be." He closed his eyes, and rocked slightly.
"Sam, you're bleeding." Dean noticed a large diagonal slash along the younger boy's back.
"It's alright. At least I feel something."
"Sam," Dean spoke in his warning tone, "Don't do this…let me patch it up." Without a word, he rolled off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Dean took this as a signal to follow. He'd patched up his brother enough times to know what Sam's body language said when he was hurt.
Sam cursed at his father under his breath as he removed his shirt, waiting for Dean to come in with the sewing needle and floss.