Saving Sam Winchester
By ElenaBolton19
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Freshman year, ah, now I'm not some overly excited nerd who plans the whole entire summer waiting to go to school. No, that's not me. I'm also not the kind of person who fears the first day of high school and runs away immediately. No, I look at this whole experience like a new adventure.
I got my schedule, pushing and shoving through a few students, but I believe that's normal and can relate to life. You have to push and shove through obstacles to get to the path that is carved out for you.
"Biology…algebra…art…bio-chemistry," I grin, my favourite subjects, and the fact that they are Junior classes. I've always been smart for my age.
But I'm not a genius…just, I'm just smart. "Lunch…ASL 1, French 1..." I love languages; always been good at them, and not to mention I can annoy my siblings and parents with speaking in different languages. Or when I get mad, I swear in another language and they still get annoyed at me. "Spanish 1." My sneakers squeak on the shiny floor, people shove and lockers echo loudly as their owners for the year slams them shut. I breathe in deeply and I smell the advanced books that come from the library and the different perfumes that linger as the cheer squad and dance team walk on by, giggling.
Yes, I'm not in lower class anymore. I am in high school; however still a child, but a child masked in mascara, lipstick and blush to make my appearance appear…"womanly".
Like many naïve freshman, I couldn't wait to make friends. Get to know others. Maybe make a few enemies just to keep them close….that whole 'keep your enemies close' thing…doesn't seem hard to do in a student body of nearly three thousand people and two thousand eager newcomers.
ASL 1 connected me to Sam. Sam Winchester. According to the…entire student body, he's "Freak": black pants, baggy sweatshirts and hoodies that bare no logo, just plain black or dark brown. Long, shaggy brown hair that is tangled and greasy in his eyes. It wasn't attraction or a crush that connected me to him, no far from it; it's just…curiosity that caused the class times of whispered conversations and secret note passing; after that, it was hours- and I mean hours -of night after night talks over the phone.
It was like that for ….hmm…about the first three months of my high school experience. He began to grow on me, become like an older brother to me. Of course, he was distant; not really opening to me about anything really all that personal.
One time, he came to school with a bruise on his left cheek. He didn't speak about it for the whole morning. Then I confronted him in ASL class.
"Sam." I push myself off the wall, hugging my books to his chair. "What happened?"
A simple shrug and he tugs his hood over his face to hide the big, purple splotch. "It's nothing."
Bullshit. "It doesn't look like nothing."
He looks at me, his eyes a brown that is so dark and sad that it seems black and I find that I just want to wrap my arms around him like a little sister would and hug him tight. "Sam….what happened?" I ask again, not giving up on him.
He sighs, shaking his head but looking at me still. "You know how I told you that…my dad travels a lot, and I live with my brother?" I nod, how could I forget the time he told me of his broken family? I grew up in a pretty normal family myself; one mom, one dad and one dog. As an only child, I wanted a sibling for company and a role model.
Then I met Sam. "Is it your dad?" He nods again, but it's a scared nod. Small. "What is it?"
I hear him pull in a breath, I put my hand on his shoulder and encourage him to continue, but he doesn't he opens his mouth to but the bell rings and we go to class.
"Ha! I can't believe that Will actually did that!" I laugh into the phone, my ribs hurt and it's nearly ten thirty at night. Sam's voice on the phone is ringing with his laughter. It's boyish. Charmingly cute.
"I told him to swallow before he spoke…but he doesn't listen-"
"Sammy, it's Will Bensen we're talking about. He doesn't listen to anyone." He's silent on the other end. Too silent. I clear my throat, sobering from my laughing fit. "Sam? You there?"
"…..Get your ass out of that bathroom, Sam! You can't hide in there!" it's a deep voice, older; it doesn't sound like the voice of his brother Dean- who has called Sam off the phone before. Never has he yelled, so…who is this other voice?
"Hold on," Sam whispers, I hear his hands trying to cover the receiver; but that doesn't help. I can still hear what's happening. The screaming, the sound of skin hitting skin; how their swearing at each other.
The crying.
And then the phone goes dead. It's like a flat lining heartbeat, I can't stop listening to it, but I want to. "S-Sam?" I hang up the phone back in it's cradle and just sit in my computer chair; holding myself in my arms, pretending that I'm holding Sam. He needs comfort. I can feel it…..
Not two hours later, but a little later than eleven fifteen, the phone rings and all I but fly off my bed to pick it up. "Sam!?" I'm breathless and he takes awhile to answer me. "Hello, Sam?"
"I…Elliot, I just…I can't take it anymore." He's whispering, he sounds scared. It's way too quiet in the background. "I just…"
"Sam, I don't like how you're talking-"
"I just have to pull the trigger, Elliot. I just have to pull the trigger and it'll be over."
"No!" I yell into the phone, "Sam! You can't talk like that! One, you're scaring me and two, you have so much to live for!" A forced, hollow chuckle comes into my ear and I have to force myself not to cry right then.
"Elliot, you are a nice girl…but, I just….it doesn't seem like I have much to live for-"
"Sam-"
"Elliot. Good night." Why does it sound like he's saying goodbye? I shake my head, gripping the phone tight, and trying to calm my heart rate.
"Sam Winchester, I will not go to bed or to sleep unless you promise that you're going to do the same thing. Nothing more or nothing drastic." He sighs, I picture him running his hand through his greasy hair; bundling himself in his hoodie and sweatshirt.
"I promise. Good night, Elliot." He hangs up, and I do as well but I don't go to bed. Okay, well I do, but I just lie there under the covers staring at the ceiling and just trying to control my emotions. Sam…I just, he's like a brother to me and I can't lose him. He can't kill himself…he can't…I won't let him. Kicking off the blankets and going to my desk, I pull a loose leafed paper from my school folder along with a pencil.
I title it "Saving Sam: Why he should live"
What started out as ten reasons turned to twenty, then forty, then fifty and then I got sixty reasons why he should live. The first ten are as follows:
1) Your brother will be hurt if you die
2) Six feet of dirt on top of you doesn't sound like a way to really enjoy the rest of your life.
3) They don't play Skillet and Three Days Grace in cemeteries or at funerals
4) God loves you
5) It's not your time yet
6) What about college?
7) Uh…hello? Driver's License.
8) Twinkies! How can you live with out them?
9) Believe it or not, your dad loves you and you love him. Families fight.
10) You're like a brother to me. I don't want to lose the only big brother I've ever known.
Satisfied with my list of reasons, I fold it and place in my jeans pocket- the pair of jeans that I'm going to wear tomorrow. Beaded pockets, dark inseam, and flared out at the knees. They were my mom's in the seventies. I crawl into bed and hug my covers to my chin, closing my eyes I focus on my number one chore of the day.
Saving Sam Winchester.
Day passes, classes go quickly; I have homework and a test next week. I'm standing out side the door to ASL 1, the list is in my hand; ready to give to Sam when I see him. Oh God, I hope this works. I pray to God this works.
If it doesn't, no….I shake my head, I don't want to focus on the 'if's'. They are officially banned from my brain. "Sam!" I grab his arm, pulling him off the side, he looks into my eyes. He looks so sad.
"What?" He asks, his voice harsh. I swallow, handing him the paper.
"It's for you….I hope it makes a difference." And changes your mind, I mentally add. He takes it in his much larger hand and looks at me.
"Elli-"
I shake my head, holding up my hand in front of his mouth to silence him. "Class is about to start. Let's go." He just nods with a blank face, letting me pull him into the classroom. He goes to his seat by the window and I sit in my seat which is by the clock above the door.
"Hello class, how are you?" The teacher greets, shutting the door behind her and putting the warm up on the board for us to do. The whole time in class, I look at Sam from the corner of my eye, he's reading the creased paper and his brow is scrunched in concentration; my heart hammers in my chest. It's hard to focus on the class, the hand signs I'm supposed to do with the person next to me….
Feeling like it's too soon, the bell rings. Gathering my belongings, I walk to his desk; nervously but knowing that I must go over. Sam needs a friend. I'm a friend. His best friend.
"Sam?" I ask, my voice soft and timid- Gah! I sound pathetic!
He looks up from gathering his stuff, the creased note in his hand. Taking a breath, I open my mouth to speak but he beats me to it. Engulfing me in a large embrace, just holding me in the class room until we are the only one's left- besides the teacher.
That's when he pulls away, there is no 'Thank You' said, but that's okay…his eyes and his face. His embrace. Those said it all. Putting his one strap bag on his shoulder, the note -neatly folded- into his jeans pocket; I watch him take his leave from the classroom, walking a little taller…the grey cloud that normally shrouds him has …lifted somewhat.
And I smile. Feeling like my chore has been done. I saved him.
I saved Sam Winchester.
I haven't seen him for years after that; he left the next day when I passed by the hotel to see how he was doing. The room was empty, and the black impala that stands out like a sore thumb was gone. I felt disappointed that he'd leave without telling me, but also I felt…relieved. I had no 'feeling' that something bad might happen.
That he might try to…no, I knew that I saved him. I was and am glad to have been his friend for that short time in his life.
I just wish that I'd see him again, just to see how he is. To see that he's all right, but a girl can only dream. And pray.
Hope you like this(: Please be honest and tell me what you think. This is my first Supernatural one-shot.
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Review!
~Elena xx