Genre: a little angsty and a little humour I suppose.
Rated: T for odd, mild swear words
Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine. It and everything in it belongs to lucky old WB.
Summary: Sammy has a secret. Not exactly Wee-chesters. Sam is 11, Dean 15.
Authors note: I know, I know. I should be working on Rush, and I am, really. It's just this popped into my head and wouldn't shut up so I had to get it out. Sorry. This is totally unbeta'd so the bad grandma and speeling mistakes are all mine.
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The front door slammed and Dean Winchester looked up as his 12 year old brother appeared in the hallway, rain water dripping from his lank hair.
"Hey."
"Hey." Sam replied as, facing the wall, he shucked off his coat.
"You're late. Where were you?"
Sam bent over his school bag, rummaging around as if he were looking for something.
"School. There was something I had to do."
Dean snorted. "Geek. You can't get enough of books in school hours, now you need more learning outside too?"
"Shut up, Dean." Sam retorted, still rummaging.
Dean grinned. "Dinner's going to be a while, but there's ham in the fridge if you want a sandwich."
"Nah, I can wait." Sam said, giving up the hunt and instead picked up the bag and walked off along the hallway.
"Hey, where are you going? Rude Dog is about to start."
"I'll skip it thanks." Sam called over his shoulder.
Dean sat up, concerned by his brothers lack of interest in their favourite cartoon.
"What? Skip Rude Dog. Are you okay, Sammy?"
"I'm fine Dean. Just not in the mood." Sam replied as he ducked into the bathroom and closed the door.
Something wasn't right. Sam was acting odd, almost as if he were avoiding Dean. The kid had refused food, which considering his normal appetite you'd think he had hollow legs. Now he was ditching Rude Dog and the Dweebs, the cartoon that was practically a nightly ritual for the boys. The only times Sam missed an episode was when they were either travelling or hunting, or when he was sick.
When he was sick.
"Crap." Dean swore softly as he rose from his chair and trailed after his brother.
Leaning against the doorframe, Dean knocked on the bathroom door.
"Sammy, you okay in there?"
"What? Yes I'm okay." Sam replied; his voice muffled by the wood between them. "A little privacy would be nice."
"So what's with skipping Rude Dog? You never miss it." Dean asked, ignoring the barb.
"I have homework."
"Dude, it's Friday night. You have all weekend to catch up on that. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, Dean, I'm okay. I just want it done, that's all."
Dean could practically see Sam heave his shoulders as he sighed.
Growing impatient, Dean rapped at the door.
"Sammy, open up right now!"
"God, Dean! What's the matter with you? You wanna hold it for me?"
Dean took a step back, momentarily surprised by his brother's answer. The kid was learning attitude, and Dean LIKED it.
Grinning, he put his face right next to the wood.
"Dude, I don't know if I could even FIND it, let alone hold it." he said, laughing aloud when he felt the door rattle as Sam hit it with force.
"Get lost, jerk!"
Dean had no clue what was going on with Sam, but he decided what ever it was wasn't so serious that it warranted his breaking into the bathroom, even if the action would get some great results from his already pissed off brother. He knocked once more on the door then turned to go back to the T.V.
"Hurry up with that homework, Sammy. Dinners in an hour."
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Almost an hour later, Dean gave a last stir to a pot of macaroni and cheese; Sam's favourite. He'd never admit it, especially not to his pain in the ass brother, but he felt a little guilty for tormenting Sam earlier. Maybe Sam wasn't sick, but something was up - Dean's bigbrother-O-meter didn't usually swing into action for nothing. What ever it was could wait for now, but the older Winchester was going to get it out of him sooner or later.
"Sam! Chow time!" Dean called as he put a couple of plates out on the table.
"Sam! Move your ass!" he yelled again as he cut up some bread.
When Sam still didn't appear, Dean stomped off down the hall. Damn kid and his huffing! The bathroom door was ajar and the room was in darkness, so Dean carried on to their bedroom and pushed open the door. The light was almost gone outside and the room was in semi darkness.
"Are you going to stay mad at..."
The words froze in Dean's mouth when his eyes fell on his brother. Sam was sound asleep; flat out on the bed, one side of his face buried deep in the pillow. His body was so still, Dean found himself a little freaked. Silently, he crossed the room and laid a light hand on his brother's back, relieved when he felt the slight rise and fall of Sam's ribs.
Dean rubbed a hand across his face and sighed. What the hell was the matter with him? The kid had had a bad day, that's all.
"Getting soft, Winchester." he quietly told himself as he turned and left the room.
The mac and cheese could wait. He'd leave Sam for a couple of hours then he'd wake him, they'd have some late dinner and then they'd watch a crumby B movie into the small hours. Tomorrow was Saturday and they could lie in as long as they wanted.
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A while later Dean's ears perked up as they heard a noise. Cocking his head slightly, he tried to work out what it was and where it had come from. When the noise came again, it only took another second for Dean to realise it was coming from the Sam.
He dropped his car magazine and rising swiftly, headed toward the bedroom. As his hand touched the door he heard Sam cry out.
"No! Leave him! Leave him! Dean!"
Dean pushed open the door and a shaft of light from the hall fell across the floor next to Sam's bed. The youngest Winchester was writhing around on the bed, caught up in the throes of a nightmare. Dean crossed the room in three paces and dropped onto the bed beside his brother.
"Sam, come on, wake up." he demanded, placing a hand on the teen's chest.
Sam responded immediately by jerking up on the bed, taking a swing and landing a punch squarely on Dean's chin. Shocked, Dean jerked back and ended up on the floor on his ass.
"Jesus… " He muttered, rubbing at his chin.
Sam sat dead still on the bed, his eyes skirting the room wildly as Dean pulled himself onto his knees as he reached for the bedside lamp. Sam jumped as the room lit up then back peddled quickly up the bed turning to the wall and curling into himself.
Dean pulled himself up onto the bed as he eyed his frightened brother.
"Take it easy, Sammy, it's just me." He said softly as he reached out and touched Sam's hand.
Still hugging the wall, Sam stared at him out of the corner of his eye for a long moment before Dean saw a spark of recognition.
"Dean?"
"Yeah, kiddo. It's me."
Sam blinked owlishly, his face a picture of confusion. " What's going on? Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, you were dreaming that's all."
"Oh." Sam replied, turning to face his brother.
As he did so, Dean gasped. "Holy shit! Sam! What happened to your face?"
The right side of Sam's face was a mass of purple and black bruises. His eye was swollen and almost closed and there was a small cut on his cheek.
Dean moved up the bed and took his brother's face gently in his hand as he inspected the damage.
"It's nothing." Sam murmured as he tried to pull away.
"Nothing? Nothing my ass! Who did this to you?"
"Leave it, Dean. Please."
Dean let Sam go, but couldn't take his eyes off his brother's face. "No way, and Dad sure as hell isn't going to like it when he sees it either."
Sam snorted. "Yeah, well Dad isn't here."
Dean bristled slightly at the sarcastic tone but decided to let it pass.
"So are you going to tell me who did it, or am I going to have to give you a matching eye?"
Sam hesitated for a long moment, putting a knot to Dean's stomach and adding fuel to his temper.
"Sam." He growled.
Sam sighed heavily as he uncurled his legs and stretched out on the bed.
"Danny Portello." He said quietly.
Dean immediately stiffened as the name registered in his brain and Sam could practically see them steam coming from his brother's ears.
Portello, as in 9th grade Portello?"
The Winchesters had been arrived at Rock Hill on a hunt three weeks previously. When it became obvious to John that the place was central to a whole host of supernatural things going on in the area, he had decided to drop anchor for a while. Sam had been delighted at the prospect of some steady education; even if was only for a short time. The town wasn't that big and the whole schooling system was under the same roof. Within a short period of time it had come to light that a kid named Portello was considered to be the tough guy around school, and that the other kids either liked or hated him. While Sam had been placed in a different part of the building and had virtually nothing to do with Portello, Dean was in the same classes. From the offset, Portello had tried to instil his influence over the new guy, but was annoyed to find Dean unbending to his self claimed authority.
Dean knew enough not to get into fights with the jerk; his Dad would kill him if he brought any unwanted attention on himself. However, the kid kept pushing until one day Dean had got him on his own and let him know in no uncertain terms that unless he backed off he was going to be sorry. After that, Dean had had no reason to even think about Portello – until now.
"He's a big fat jerk, Dean." Sam said angrily. "He was calling us names; saying dad doesn't take care of us and that we stink and don't have any good clothes. He said we nothing but dirty, rotten tramps."
Dean watched as Sam began picking at the blanket like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
His face turned to stone. "What else did he say, Sam?" he asked.
Again, Sam hesitated long enough for Dean to dread what was coming next.
"He said Mom is better off dead. That she would be ashamed of us."
"I'm going to kill the little shit." Dean growled as he felt blood begin to pump through his veins.
"You are not." Sam retorted. "I already took care of it."
Dean looked at his brother quizzically. "You? Took care of it?"
Sam glared at his brother with his good eye; offended.
Dean grinned in spite of the seriousness. "So what did you do?" He taunted.
Sam looked away suddenly embarrassed. "Put him on his ass."
Dean's jaw dropped. "You did what? No way!"
"Way." Sam grinned sheepishly. "Bust his nose. I think I might have broken it. That's why I was late; Mrs Feldman kept me behind."
"My God! You got detention!" Dean laughed crawling up the bed to sit shoulder to shoulder with his brother. "Dammit Sammy, I'm PROUD of you! Dads going to freak when he hears about this."
Sam groaned at the prospect of his father finding out about his misdemeanours.
"He's going to kill me."
Dean nodded in agreement. "Only a little though. I reckon he's going to find some humour in there somewhere."
Sam smiled to himself. As much as he hated fighting, he had to admit it felt good seeing Portello hit the deck.
The boys sat in silent contemplation for a few minutes then Dean slapped a hand on Sam's knee and made a move to stand up. "You hungry?"
Sam swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Starving."
"Me too. Come on kiddo, let's ice that eye. I don't want to be dragging you round the mall tomorrow looking like an extra from ER."
"The mall? What's at the mall? We don't have any money."
"We don't, but I do." Dean grinned as he made his way into the kitchen. "I saved it up from odd jobs I've done. Portello's an ass, but maybe it's time you had something nice for yourself instead of hand-me-downs."
"Dean…" Sam began to protest.
"Can it Sammy, I already made up my mind. Just do me a favour though?"
Sam grinned happily as he sat down with an ice pack as he waited for his macaroni and cheese. "What's that?"
"Just show some taste, okay? The rate you're growing it won't be long before you start handing down to me!"
end