"The hardest struggle of all is to be something different from what the average man is. "
-Charles M. Schwab
Their was a peace here, just here in this moment he hadn't felt in so long it ached. Warm water splashing against his skin, growing lukewarm by the time it skimmed down to his toes. The sweet, almost acidic smell of freshly applied cleaner blending with the dull, generic scent of mass produced soap.
No aches in his body to massage away, or bruises he had to hurry to hide. Just another guy enjoying a shower, for a shower sake. He bowed his head under the spray of water, taking the heat against his scalp. It burned almost but his long chin length hair let the water bead down to his shoulders and waterfall to his torso.
"Just another average teenager." He muttered to himself, before tossing back his head to take a mouthful of the hot water. He spit it against the shower wall, in a playful manner ignoring the bite of silliness he felt. He turned his face back into the spray filling his mouth back up, before a sharp almost needle like pain shot through his hip.
The water went down the wrong tube, making him grab for the shower wall before a hand pushed hard against his arm almost throwing him unbalance. "What you doing in the showers so late, pervert? Playing with yourself?" The voice was sharp with a accent he could quite place, but then again he really didn't want too.
"Yeah, little Sammy need a yank." A English accent spurred in, feeling another shove on his shoulder this time.
Sam spun on his heels, thanking the tile secretly for being small enough to let him not slip. His eyes focused in on intruders pass the steady drip of his floppy bangs. Four teenagers crowded in on him, their fully clothes bodies looking a hell of a lot more bulky then he remembered in the gym shower earlier that day.
"Average." Sam muttered to himself, trying to ignore the weakness he felt in his nudity.
"What did you say?" The third boy growled, taking a rather large step towards him. The water soaked into and down the arm of his long sleeve shirt; going unnoticed.
Sam bite his lip, trying to ignore the way his hand itched to knock the fuck out the guy. 'You got to blend in, just long enough for me to get this job done. Just be a average, everyday teenager, and everything will fine.' His father's words rang out in his head, and as much as he thought about ignoring them he knew his brother wouldn't let him go on this.
"Nothing." Sam muttered, trying to avoid eye contact with the asshole in front of him. He tried to ignore the way the musky, slightly soar smell of dinner wafted off the boy's breath . "Doesn't matter."
He knew it was a mistake speaking at the way the other boys closed in even tighter on him getting ready for the kill. It seemed oddly funny with the rolls so reverse with him being the hunted, and by something human no less.
"What you smiling at faggot?" That set them off, making the four boys push against his arms and chest, making his footing unsteady. "Faggot, faggot, faggot, faggot." A rain of the insult came with every push, as he was temporarily blinded by the spray of water hitting his face.
"Leave him alone." The sharp bellow echoed through the small tiled room, making one of the boys jump back with the force of it.
"What you going to do about it Winchester?" The asshole who started the whole thing growled, puffing his chest out slightly.
Sam turned his head out of the shower, staring at his brother scowling at him for a moment before clenching jaw and ground out through his teeth. "Come on, Sammy."
Sam shuffled backwards several steps before a arm shot out in time to make his back slap the tile wall. "I said leave him."
Dean shot across the shower room, grabbing the fourth boy who had pushed him to the other wall. The smack was loud to say the least, and his cronies momentarily stunned enough for Dean to get the jump on them.
"Dean." Sam snapped, in a pitch higher then his own voice as the water on the floor started to go pink from a bloody nose and busted lip. English accent took off out of the shower as his fellow friends fell under Dean's fist, like the devil himself was on his tail.
Sam clenched his eyes closed trying to ignore the way the sight of blood made a pang of homesickness sweep through his chest. A warm, slight damp coat wrapped around his shoulders and he blinked to see his brother frowning down at him. "Come on Sammy."
Sam pulled the coat around him, trying to ignore the fact that it barely covered the lower part of his ass cheeks. "Dean." He slouched at the cold stare his brother offered to him, before he turned to see a crowd of boys snickering at him at the entrance of the shower room.
"What? Pissed because we know your fucking your brother?" Sam turned in time to see his brother's knee make contact with the kneeling teen's face. More blood poured from his nose, before he flopped back to clutch his face.
The group of on watchers parted, as Dean pushed Sam forward through them. None of them looked at him for more then a second before a nervous glance was focused on his brother. Sam felt the push until the door for the shower swung closed, and Dean had snapped the lock on it. "Fuckers."
"Thanks." Sam felt the glowering look on his brother's face, turning to shuffle back to his dorm room but his brother gripped his upper arm to drag him the opposite direction.
"You are out of your fucking mind if you think I am going to let you stay in there tonight." Dean dragged him, ignoring his stumbling until they were a flight up to brother's dorm room. The door slammed behind them before a bellowed , "What the fuck was that?"
The banging against the wall was almost immediate but they both ignored it as Sam sunk down to his brother's still messy sheets. "Average." The only word to describe what he was doing, what he thought he was doing.
"What?" Dean stood over him, fist clenching and unclenching at his side. Sam tried to pull the jacket more around himself, trying to ignore the way the water let the hospital like cold sink into his skin. His older brother stood over him for several moments, before stalking over to his cardboard dresser to toss a old AC/DC shirt and gray sweat pants in his direction.
Sam sat for several more seconds before standing to slide the clothes onto his body. His brother back tense under the starched white shirt of his uniform. "Average…what the hell does that mean?" Dean's voice was softer this time, despite the harshness of the words.
"I was trying to be average." Sam grumbled through the shirt, pulling it over his head. "Like everyone else."
Dean turned when Sam flopped down on the bed, laying down to rest his soaking wet head on Dean's pillow. "By getting your ass beat up." Dean snarled, snatching the pillow under Sam's head.
"Dad wanted us to try and fit in." He stared at his older brother pacing for a full minute before sighing and sinking down beside his hips.
"Fit in, not get our asses beat up." Dean scrubbed his face, a gesture that happened every time he was frustrated. "Fuck this."
"Dean?" A sharp knock on the door made Sam jump, before Dean touched his arm.
"Stay here." The older Winchester moved quickly, opening and closing the door behind him. Sam cringed when he heard the raised voices, before a loud bang against the door. It shuttered and Sam was on his feet before another loud bang and Dean stalking through the door. "Get your stuff, we're leaving."
Sam watched with small bubbles of happiness; Dean rolled up his shirts to shove them into the canvas duffle bag. It was something so familiar to him; something that was done with ease and routine ness. In three minutes all traces of Dean Winchester was wiped from the room, leaving only a few pencils and a calendar two months behind hanging on the wall.
Dean moved with purpose out the room, ignoring the way several teen's glowered at him. "Brother fucker." One boy snapped, and Dean fist connected with his jaw before Sam had the chance to even pick out which one it was.
"Fuck you, Drew." The fire in Dean's eyes was enough to spur Sam to his room, and ignore his roommates as he packed his stuff in the same manner of his older brother.
"Young man, you are in a lot of trouble…" A young teacher snapped, stalking down the hall toward Dean.
Sam grabbed the last shirt, ignoring the pang he had to take the picture of the pretty brunette he had taken in a school meeting school dance. Dean completely ignored the teacher grabbing hold of the AC/DC shirt to drag him down the hall.
"Dean, how are we suppose to…"
"Relax, Dad prepared me for just such a occasion." Dean ignored the growled warning to his back, and Sam jogged along to keep up until they were outside the school doors. The weather was warm against body, making his brother's sweats oppressive against his legs. "It's a couple of miles away."
"What is?" Dean pulled on the duffel bag, and waited for Sam to follow suit. The doors of school swung open and close and several voices were calling after them before they both broke into a sprint.
Sam followed ignoring the way his stomach bottom out every time he thought he lost sight of his brother in the darkness. Dean would always be waiting for him around that corner though, patient despite the fact he could have been to where ever they were going in half the time.
Dean turned into a storage unit and typed in a code before the gate was sliding open and Dean was jogging inside. "Dean, where…?" Sam watched as his brother pulled a key seeming from nowhere to unlock the oversized storage unit. The sound of metal clicking upwards and Dean was ducking inside, pulling Sammy behind him.
"Jump in the back." Sam blinked at the black impala, before a hand shoved him forward. "Hurry up."
Dean didn't wait any further for him to follow instructions, sliding into the front seat to start the car. He was out of the storage unit before Sam could slam the door to the backseat. "Dean?"
"It's fine Sammy, just get some rest." Dean whispered, pulling on his seat belt as they drove out the storage units gates. He peeled out into the darkness, his eyes focused watching the night. Sam laid his head against the side window, relishing the coolness.
"What will Dad say?" Sam wondered momentarily when he cared about what his father thought before closing his eyes. A sweep of exhaustion he didn't realize he had swept through him, and the rocking of the car lulling him into sleep. The last thing he remembered was Dean saying something about how it didn't matter before he slipped into a dreamless slumber.