HIYA! Okey-Dokey. So, before you read, I will just say that this is my first Supernatural fic. Now, I don't read much Supernatural stuff myself (but a few stories by trusted authors) so, if you have a story up that is like this, I'm sorry. Please notify me : (. Okay? Alright. Hopefully this is spectaculacular XD. Hehe. That was a great episode, right? Talking about Sam, Interrupted, by the way.
Okay, here it is!
Enjoy!
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I don't own. Eric Kripke is the proud parent of this wonderful creation : )!
Title: The Graduation Blues
Summary: Sam Winchester has waited what seems a lifetime for his graduation. Now, with the day finally here, what can go wrong? But what he doesn't realize is that nothing can ever go right with the last name Winchester.
Rating: T for mild language
SxDxBx
"You know,
that's what you said when you snaked my ATM card,
or when you bailed on my graduation,
or when you hooked up with Rachel Nayv."
-Season 2; What Is And What Never Should Be
SxDxBx
Prologue: The Graduation Blues
Sam Winchester stood in the line of awkward, fidgety, soon-to-be graduates. He, himself, was just as nervous as the next guy, yet he managed to keep a cool demeanor without freaking out or showing it his fear. He thought and understood it to probably be from his experience at "the family business," but he was not certain.
One thing he did not understand is why everyone was so nervous. Perhaps it was the fear of walking across that stage and then the principal leaning over and whispering you aren't allowed to graduate, sorry in their ear. Or, he thought, maybe they were afraid to venture out into that big, new world. But Sam was not afraid. He had been out in that world, thrived there even. He had seen the every horror you could possibly see… that 99.9% of these kids had not…
The line in front of him began to dwindle to a mere twelve or so kids as they walked across the long stage. His turn was coming. Oh was he ready. Finally, he thought, I'll be a graduate. I'll be done with a different high school every month––once in a great while every two weeks––and I'll be… free.
But he was not sure if he was ready.
The next thing he knew was that he was standing in front of the five stairs that lead up onto the platform stage.
"Samuel Winchester," a large man in a navy blue suit that, by goodness, just buttoned over the heaping mass of stomach that bulged under his shirt.
He gazed over the strange-lit horizon of the stage before him. With an apprehensive foot, he tested the first step. It held his weight, as if it wouldn't, and he moved up the remaining steps.
He willed himself to walk across the stage, to grip the rolled up piece of paper, to shake the principal's wrinkled hand and smile as he looked toward the clapping, half-bored crowd as a few people snapped candids of their children still standing in line.
Somewhere he could here the whooping of what he thought to be Dean. His heart blasted in his chest, and his back felt stiff and rigid. Mr. Potter, the principal, let go of Sam's hand but, odd enough, Sam continued to stand there, frozen in front of the mass of people.
The principal mumbled, "you can go now," but Sam seemed not to hear.
He repeated it, and Sam realized that he was talking to him.
"Huh?"
"You can go now, son."
"Oh," a few childish characters laughed (one of whom he thought to be Dean) as he, as fast as possible, exited the stage.
Once off stage, he realized that he had not been breathing. He let out the breath he had been holding, and relaxed his shoulders. He had finally, finally graduated. Not exactly with scholastic honors––he should have because he was definitely smart enough––but with the honor of success.
Academic honors were not possible for him, they moved around too much and he missed a ton of school for obvious reasons. But, at least he graduated, unlike Dean who dropped and got a GED instead. Which was fine, because that was what Dean, and he thought his Dad, wanted.
Dean was meant to be a hunter. No other job would suit him. Sam could never imagine him in a office, doing his work with a content look upon his face. Nor could he imagine Dean as a doctor, a lawyer, or a construction worker.
But Sam wanted to graduate and maybe even go to college. Although he knew the college thing would be something far off, he still had the family business to look forward to for years to come.
He, once again, sat in the rows of better-behaved yet still shaky graduates as the last few walked across the stage and received their diploma in a bit of a better manner then he had himself. And, as the minutes passed, all of the students of the class of 2001 had graduated.
"We," Mr. Potter scratched the patch of gray beard that coated his round face. "Will be dismissing our young graduates to the side yard for the traditional cap-throwing festivity. Ah, then we will, um, be dismissing the parents and relatives.
"On behalf of the students, the school, and the staff––thank you for coming today!" And with that, he released the hoard of shoving, laughing and some even barfing, kids.
He pushed through the doors and bright, hot sunlight greeted him. The sun was something he loved; something he cherished. Maybe it was because of the many times he spent crawling through dark, dank places in search of ghosts or ghouls or the other mythical––yet real––creatures that plagued this world.
The one hundred and fifty-five graduates finished up the ceremony with the traditional cap-throwing and then they dispersed to talk to their family who were now swarming out of the colossal auditorium. Among that crowd was his family, but so far he did not see them.
Then, all of the sudden, he seen Dean strutting through the crowd, occasionally turning his head to get a look at a girl's rear end. Sam had to stifle a laugh; that's all he ever thought about, wasn't it? Ghosts and girls. An odd combination, one might say,
"Hey Sammy, congrats!" Dean beamed as he slapped his brother of the back.
Sam grinned, "Ah, thanks." Sam paused and then said, "Hey, where's Dad?"
"Nice out today, isn't it? Can you I believe I scored three––"
"Dean, where's Dad?" Sam interrupted in a hasty voice. This time the question was a little more forceful.
"––girls phone numbers. Two blonde's and a––
"Dean!"
"What the hell? Would you let me finish? Really, Sammy, you're being rude. Just because you graduated from high school and think you're all smart and everything doesn't give you the right to prance around and interrupt me like a… like, in the words of Bobby Singer, a stupid idgit!
"Now, where was I? Oh yeah, so I got the digits for two blonde's and a redhead. Oh man was that redhead something else! And you know how I like blondes…" Dean flashed a smile, "So what were you saying?"
"Where is our father."
"I wonder where Bobby could be… He was right behind me… then he wasn't. I swear he's getting delusional in his old age!"
"I heard that," Bobby glared at the oldest Winchester brother before turning to Sam. "Congratulations, kid."
"Thanks, Bobby." Sam was caught up in the moment; he smiled like an idiot. Then his face jumbled into a look of annoyance. "Hey hey, now, you're trying to distract me!"
Bobby flashed a accusing glance at the older Winchester. Dean shifted mildly uncomfortable and looked his brother in the eyes.
Those eyes… Dean thought, have seen so much. Too much. How is he gonna take this?
Dean bit his lip, "Dad had…"
"Oh god… no." Sam's look of annoyance melted into a look of pure, hateful rage. He glanced around at his fellow classmates. They were happy. They had their mothers or fathers there.
He didn't.
"You know, I hate him sometimes." Sam said in a wistful, angered voice. "I hate him so much I wish they… those things would kill him. Murder him. He… he only cares about himself anyways."
Sam raised his head, "he's just an inconsiderate asshole, that's all."
Bobby stifled a giggle, but Dean did otherwise.
He took a thundering step toward Sam and grabbed a fistful of his gown. Dean slammed his brother against a tree.
"Don't you ever talk like that about our father. He would be here if he could… if he could just get out of it… he'd give anything to be here. So don't you talk––"
"If he'd give anything," Sam panted, trying to push Dean off. Even though Sam had a good few inches on his brother, Dean was the stronger one. "Why won't he give it up? Or, I don't know, not go this time. He knew how much my graduation met to me."
"You're selfish, you know. He's trying to save people." Dean bellowed through clenched teeth.
"Dean, get the hell off of me," Sam growled and tried to free himself once more.
Dean pushed down on his brother once more before letting up. Sam popped up off the tree and walked over to Bobby.
This was the first time Sam had really thought about quitting. Of course, he had always wondered…. What would it be like? He had thought about it a few other times, weighing his pros and cons. But never had he actually been serious.
He'd always wanted to do something more with his life.
He just stayed in the family business because, well, he didn't want to give up on his father (even as much as John Winchester pissed Sam off at times). But, now, what did he care if he gave up on his father? Let someone else "rid the world" of the supernatural creatures that lurked in it.
Then there was Dean… Dean, he believed, would make him hang on. But that was because, deep down, he loved his brother. Even on a day like this when they were at each other's throats… literally.
Sam knew Dean didn't mean it, though. He was just overprotective when it came to things about their dad. You see, Dean worshiped John. He wanted––and thrived––to be like John. Dressing like him, eating like him, thinking like him, and, most importantly, hunting like him.
But he would never be him, and Sam wondered if Dean understood that.
But that's not the issue on hand. Right now, let's get back to the boys.
Dean felt a pang of guilt rip through his heart. He took one diffident step after another until he reached his brother. He sighed as he threw an arm across his brother's shoulders.
"Sam, look, I'm sorry. I really am. Damn, I didn't mean to blow like that. I just…"
Sam looked at his brother, and pulled away from his arm, "Dean, we look gay. You're usually the one to say that, but we look absolutely, positively gay with you hanging all over me like you're my––"
"––you're bitch?" Dean flashed his signature smile, and continued grinning.
"I was gonna say boyfriend… but I guess that works."
"Although, you'd be my bitch. Because, you know, I'm defiantly the manlier one."
"Yeah right!" Sam snorted. "Oh, man, I'm glad at least you two came. By the way, thanks Bobby. I know it was a long drive."
"No problem, kid."
"You too, Dean. I mean, I know I would've done the same thing for you… if you'd have graduated."
Dean felt that guilt return and engulf his heart. He had to tell Sam the truth… it was only fair. Or right, whatever way you put it.
"Well, you see… I kinda… didn't."
"Didn't what?"
"Oh come on, Sammy. I thought you were a high school graduate!"
"You didn't… come? But, but… the blondes… the red head… the phone numbers?"
"I got them at the bar… where I came from… before I got here. That's why I was late. I kinda got… occupied."
"So you bailed?!"
"Yeah, kinda. Okay, I did."
Sam turned to Bobby, "Bobby, don't tell me you were with this idiot."
"No, Sammy. I was here the whole time."
"But… but…" Sam stuttered, "you're lying, Dean. 'Cause I heard you yelling. And then laughing at me… I know it was you!"
"No Sam, it wasn't me." Dean said in a pensive voice. "It must've been someone else."
"Sorry kid," Bobby laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "But your brother wasn't there."
Sam let out a troubled sigh. He glared at his brother. Once again, he hated him. He hated him with his whole heart. His whole soul. Every muscle was crying out…
"Oh Sammy… don't give me that look… You're my brother…"
"And I'm your brother." Sam said tensely, "but––"
Sam was caught off by the blood-curling screams of a lady somewhere within the crowd. The three looked at each other, and––the brother's, differences aside––took off through the crowd. Bobby hot on their heels.
Sam made it there first, and––as he approached the scene––he knew that this would be, yet another, fight against evil.
SxDxBx
Okay. Comments? Questions? Snide remarks? Leave 'em here. I'll be happy to receive them.
Also, if there are any mistakes, please tell. I edited this while listening to the Whitest Kids U Know… so, yeah. If you've ever seen it, you'd understand. Am I wrong? Lol.
Also, I plan to have the next chapter up in a jiffy.
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