I Call Him Sammy

Summary: Alternative Universe. Sam and Dean are not brothers but in the world they live in they still know about the supernatural and hunters. They have a history together and maybe even a different kind of relationship. Mild slash.

Samuel Benjamin Harvelle smirked at the hunter in the corner currently staring him down. The guy looked the usual rugged type he saw at the Roadhouse owned by his mother. Their bar was special, it attracted a different cliental than most bars. The Roadhouse was a safe haven for hunters of the supernatural. The hunters impressed him most of the time but from time to time he met a real jerk. Sam was used to random jerks coming on to him, both male and female hunters. This guy was clearly one of those jerks. It was obvious by the man was staring at him.

"Sam?"

Sam reluctantly broke his gaze with the stranger and turned his attention to his mother, Ellen Harvelle. Ellen was a brave woman, raising her son alone after the death of her husband and hunter William Harvelle. Sam loved his mother but sometimes he wanted more than working in a bar for the rest of his life.

"Yes, mother?" he respectfully responded.

"I don't pay you to ogle the pretty boys, Sam."

He felt a bright blush take over his cheeks as his mom mentioned his preference out loud. He had only told her less than six months ago that he was gay. He had expected disappointment even shame but his mother was accepting like most people who were hunters or related to hunters.

"So get back to work." She finished, crossing her arms to appear angry but had a grin painted on her face. She walked away from the bar and over to the table where the man staring him down was sitting.

Sam sighed and made his way to the bar to take over for his mother. He carefully watched them talk and spilled at least two drinks in the progress. He had to force himself to not spy on his mother. He knew she kept secrets from him, she always had. Sometimes Sam wished she'd kept some things secrets to herself like ghosts. He could have lived without knowing any of that.

"Hey, Sam! Give me one of them fancy drinks you're always making when no one is watching!"

Sam growled and muttered obscenities under his breath. Ash, the resident know-it-all at Roadhouse was such a pain in the ass.

"That's what he learned to do at fancy pants school." Sam heard Ash tell his bar partner who happened to look like a hooker. Another pain in the ass called Sheila. Her giggle sounded more like a pig squealing to him. Truth was after high school Sam had gone to college with a full-ride. With little money for school he learned to bar tend. He already knew how to some extent but he learned a lot about what other people in the world drink. He always thought as alcohol as a way to relieve pressure. In the outside world people drank for pleasure something he'd never understand. He didn't fit in there. Maybe he'd never fit in anywhere except here. Suddenly, yelling drew his attention.

"Hell no!"

Sam looked away for the person he was serving and towards his mother. She and the man who was maybe about four years older than him were standing up. Ellen and he were about the same height so the yelling match was face to face.

"Ellen, you got to help me!"

"Really now?"

"You owe me."

"I owe you. After all the heartache you and that bastard father of yours caused our family."

"This isn't about my father. You owe me."

"Get the hell out of here!"

Before Sam knew it he was at the table pushing the man away from his mother.

"I think my mother told you to get the hell out of here." He said sharply.

The man looked at him. His expression was blank almost stoic but if Sam didn't know any better he could've swore he looked hurt. The man simply nodded before saying, "Whatever you say Sammy."

Sammy.

The man turned to face the bar where a couple of hunters stood with their guns locked and loaded.

"There's no need for bloodshed. We're just some old friends talking and having a bit of a misunderstanding."

The hunters continued to aim until the man was out of the Roadhouse. Well, it was nice to know that people were looking out for him and his mother.

"Mom, what was that about?" Sam whispered as the noise of the bar returned to normal.

"Nothing, Sam. Nothing that concerns you." The coldness in her voice was real this time. She walked away and returned to the crowded bar. Sam stood silently.

Whatever you say Sammy.

Sam thought about what the man had said. He sounded so familiar. He scanned over his memory of the man briefly trying to recall any small detail. His jacket was worn and ugly, faded jeans, torn up shoes nothing out of the ordinary. Then Sam felt this stomach drop as he realized who the man was. How he didn't recognize him he didn't know.

"Dean."

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this fic. Please comment with suggestion or a simple, "I like it." I personally stuggle a lot with P.O.V so any tips or hints would be appreciated. Thanks again!