Summary: Oneshot. Preseries, Wee!Chesters. Important moments in Sam's childhood that Dean was there for. Some Hurt!Protective!Boys.
Warnings: Language, maybe? And a bit of child neglect. I tried not to stray too terribly far from canon, but it's all up to interpretation, really. Oh, and it's littered with anachronisms, too. And it has a certain disregard for things like laws and common sense.
Disclaimer: I think at this point disclaimers on FFN are more of a tradition than anything.
A/N: It's not Ixnay. It's not anything close to Ixnay. More on that later.
This was supposed to be part of another multi-chaptered fic I was toying with, but I unearthed it and decided it worked better as a oneshot. It's a bit more rambling and a bit more angsty than I expected. Enjoy:
He is seven when Dean first rattles off the basics of driving, and he is ten when he gets his first real lesson. He is eleven the first time it really matters that he knows which pedal is gas and which is brake and how to turn the keys in the ignition, and Dad is two states away and Dean is bleeding in the passenger seat beside him, and he wonders if the Impala is such a goddess why doesn't she go any fucking faster.
He is fifteen when he gets his first real driver's permit and his first fake license. Just in case. He is seventeen when he gets the license that says he's old enough to drink, with Dean making sure he won't anyway, at least not too much or without his brother there.
He is sixteen the first time he gets piss-on-the-floor drunk, and Dean is there to haul his ass off and nurse him through the following hang-over and make him promise to not be such a goddamn moron again.
He is six the first time Dean tells him about sex, in abbreviated terms, to try and quench his childhood curiosity. He is eight when he gets a little more detail from his brother, gathered from playgrounds and locker rooms. He is eleven when he finally gets the full picture, after getting home from his study group early and walking in on Dean and Melinda Rudy doing something complicated on Dean's bed. Dean's knowledge-- gathered from back seats and broom closets-- isn't quite enough to answer Sam's questions this time. They go to the local library, Dean with his cheeks burning red but his head held up high, and check out every book on the subject. After Sam is through with them, he catches Dean sneaking a few under his pillow, and knows that some of those books are never going to be returned.
He is fourteen when Dean catches him and Lillian Frasier making out on the front door step. The next day when he gets home from school Dean sits him down. His brother hands him his first box of Trojans with instructions and a stern warning that he better not do anything-- but if he does, he better not be an idiot.
He is fifteen the first time he falls in love. Her name is Lizzie Miller, and she is all doe-eyes and long legs and brains, and he wants to spend the rest of forever with her. He is also, inevitably, fifteen the first time his heart is broken, and he tries not to cry into Dean's shoulder at night and in the morning watches Lizzie's hometown fade to dust in the rear window of the Impala.
He is three or four the first time he remembers seeing Dean cry, and the memory is hazy and blurry but he knows that it isn't just his imagination. His brother is sobbing quietly, too quietly for Sam to hear but he just knows. Sam walks over to Dean and places a tiny hand on his brother's arm, which is draped over his face, and neither of them move for a long time.
He is five the first time he sees Dean terrified. Sure, his brother has been startled and maybe a tiny, little, infinitesimal bit scared before. But when something that isn't their father and isn't the land lord and maybe isn't even anything human won't stop thump-thump-thumping on the front door, in a circle of salt Dean holds Sam close with one hand and has a handgun pointed steadily at the locked door with the other. They stay that way for the entire night, wide-awake, until their dad makes it home. It's the first time Sam sees his big brother scared shitless.
He is five when Dean drops him off for his first day of school, and the school building is old and looks faintly haunted. They are both reluctant to stop holding hands, and Sam thinks it's the first time his ten-year-old brother has held hands willingly with him in a while. He tries the whole day not cry, and it eventually passes in finger paints and songs and cookies and novelty. Dean is waiting for him when he gets out, which is odd, because he knows Dean's class is longer than his. But they talk about Sam's day instead. His brother's eyes were wary that morning and they still are, all the way the walk home.
He is eighteen when he graduates from high school, valedictorian of his class with four years of straight A's and impossibilities behind him. It's drizzling during the ceremony, and Sam's speech starts with going off and achieving your dreams and somehow ends with a brother's love and him thanking Dean, over and over. He sees Dean's face in the edge of the crowd, and he knows the tears are just a trick of the rain.
He is fourteen when Dean shows him how to shave-- actually shave, he is five and Dean is nine when they first smear shaving cream over their chins and pretend, Dean is mimicking their Dad and Sam is mimicking Dean-- and how to tear off a tiny piece of toilet paper and stop his bleeding cuts when he inevitably nicks his face with the blade. He is fifteen when Dean buys him his first razor, tossing it next to the bathroom sink as Sam is brushing his teeth and calling him "Peach Fuzz."
He is six the first time Dean attempts to cook-- really, actually cook, not sandwiches or cereal or take-out-- him dinner, and the mac & cheese is a little crunchy and Sam thinks it's the best he's ever had.
He is four, as best as he can remember, the first time Dean tells him that they're on their own for the night.
He is eight the first time he is left alone while his brother and Dad hunt, and Dean shows up at the door at three in the morning with a pissed-off looking John trailing behind him, and Dean hugs him like he is checking to make sure Sam's alive. He is.
He is twelve the first time he thinks Dean is going to die. Really, actually die. There is blood everywhere and Dean isn't moving or breathing or talking to him and telling him it is going to be alright, and there is a panicked look in his Dad's eyes that Sam can't forget. There is a long, hard night in a hospital waiting room and a surgeon in mint-green scrubs with a floral pattern of blood staining them who tells them with a tired smile that it was going to be alright. John and Sam spend the rest of the morning listening to Dean's heart monitor beep-beep-beep into the night. When Dean wakes up finally, after forever, he hazily smiles at Sam and talks from behind the oxygen mask to ask him if he's okay and to tell him that it was going to be alright, and that Sam really needed a haircut.
He is six the first time Dean yells at him, screams at him, and shakes him so hard his teeth feel like they're going to fall out. Because how could he be so stupid and how many times had he fucking told him not to play in the parking lot and God, Sammy, Sammy... that trails off into Dean hugging him so tightly his teeth feel like they're going to pop out. It's the second time he sees Dean scared shitless, and he cries from shock and fear and the squealing of brakes and car horns but doesn't really care, isn't really scared, because Dean is there.
He is thirteen the first time he has to stitch Dean up and the sutures are a little crooked going down the length of Dean's forearm, but his hands don't start shaking until he's completely done.
He is fourteen the first time Dean has to stitch him up, and he is pale but Dean is paler, laughing and joking and telling him he needed to learn to dodge, and his eyes never leave Dean's face, never look down. The stitches are neat and Dean's hands are steady. After he's finished and is sure Sam is alright, and after he gets Sam in bed, he pukes in the bathroom for the next hour. Sam listens to him retching amidst the clouds of the painkillers, until Dean crawls into bed next to him and he finally falls asleep.
He is sixteen the last time he hears Dean pray. His voice flickers in and out of Sam's consciousness-- Sam, who is huddled bleeding and breaking apart in Dean's arms. There is blood everywhere, all over the rain-slicked ground, and Dean is praying to God that his Dad will hurry and that Sam will please, please be alright. Dean is telling God every prayer he can remember, Hail Mary and Our Father who art and Jesus, please, I'll do anything. Sam drifts in and out and finally fades completely. When he wakes up it's in a hospital room and Dean is listening quietly to his heart monitor, and he finds out that Dad never made it back and Dean somehow, someway, made his own miracle and pulled Sam through the rain to safety and surgery and air. Dean doesn't pray again.
He is ten the first time Dean kills somebody. Or at least something that looked like somebody, something that looked a hell of a lot like a human being. His brother is all bravo but Sam hears the strain and sees the shaking and the pale skin, and Dean sleeps next to him and wakes up choking back screams in the night. Sam reassures him and quiets him back down and Dean finally falls asleep, physically and emotionally drained. Sam lies awake and sees his father's eyes glittering in the dark, watching the two of them.
He is seventeen the first time he kills somebody. Somebody who actually was human. And he knew the guy probably deserved it, had it coming, needed to be stopped, but it comes down to Sam didn't mean to and he was just a guy. Not a werewolf or a ghost or a demon. Just some dude who didn't stand a chance and maybe could've been saved. He fired and the guy moved and his skull exploded, or at least it looked like it, and blood and damp brain matter and gore splashed over Sam's face, rained down on him in perverted hail. Sam never even goes asleep, and he lies shuddering and not-quite-crying in his brother's arms for the entire night. Dean quietly hums old rock songs and older lullabies and his hands rub up and down Sam's back.
He is almost three when he first starts talking. It's a little late, and his dad would have been more worried if it weren't for everything else going on. His first word is "Dean."
He is nine when Dean teaches him how to swim. It is a little later than some kids, but they haven't had a lot of time or opportunities-- most places they stay aren't the kind with swimming pools. Now, he clutches his brother's chest as Dean wades in the water, supporting both of them. The lake is warm, and it is dark and deep and could swallow him whole. He clings to his brother as Dean encourages him, and makes him promise that he won't go anywhere. Dean gives a lopsided grin and asks, "Where do you think I'm gonna go, bitch?"
He is ten when Dean teaches him to ride a bike, and again it's a little later-- no, a lot later-- than most kids. But when they find a rusty six-speed abandoned in the alley next to their apartment building in Fish Creek, Michigan, Sam sits wobbly and nervous on it and Dean holds onto the seat. They roll shakily and slowly and Dean tells him he won't leave but he has to let go. His encouraging murmurs turn into shouts and cheers as Sam goes speeding down the street, and he's flying. He ends up in a tangle of scraped knees and asphalt and can't wait to do it all over again.
He is twelve the first time he tries to run away. He is eighteen the second time he tries, and that time he makes it. This time, he gets out the front door with his backpack slung over his shoulder filled with all of his possessions and dreams and a few snacks, and there's Dean, impossibly, naturally, waiting for him. Dean who is supposed to be in school. "Where were you going to go?" Dean asks him as they head back inside, and Sam doesn't answer. The day passes in a flurry of card games and television and laughter, and they silently agree not to tell John. Near the end, Sam quietly says, "I would've taken you with me." Dean pretends not to hear.