Under My Skin
Sam was tired. He was tired a lot lately. He had just started at another new school and the upper classmen were giving him a hard time, but Sam just didn't care enough to fight back. He could handle a few kids pushing him around a bit, I mean his family fights monsters, no one was gonna care that little Sammy was getting pushed around a bit. Things had changed in the last year; Dean had left high school, decided to get his GED instead, and now at nineteen, he wasn't exactly around much, preferring to hang out at bars, pick up girls, and he had been going out on hunts with their dad more often. Sam didn't even argue with his dad anymore. When he was told to train, he trained, when he was told they were moving, he was the first one with his bag packed and waiting in the car. Guess he understood why Dean never cared much about school and friends, he was right, it was easier to keep your grade just high enough not to attract attention from Child Protection Services, and then get the hell out of dodge. He didn't care anymore.
Sam was walking home from the local high school. Dean was supposed to pick him up, but he must have gotten distracted. Sam didn't really care he preferred to be alone. At fifteen, Sam was all kinds of awkward. He was no longer a chubby twelve year old, instead he had shot up to almost 6 feet, but seemed to have gained no weight to balance off his new height. He was gangly and awkward, and was having a difficult time adjusting, which made him an easy target for bullies. Sam turned the corner, and was confronted by three boys from the football team. He was pinned up against the wall by the two smaller boys. The third boy Sam recognized, he was the quarterback, one of those kids that people in town treated like royalty, and anything that he did wrong was easily covered up and ignored.
"Hey new kid." The quarterback said. "Your wallet ain't in your backpack, you got it on you? I really could use a couple of bucks." Sam bucked against the other two boys.
"Sorry fresh out, you gonna call off your hounds?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Cause attacking someone three on one just makes you look like a little bitch?" His attacker smiled.
"No I am not gonna do that, but I will do something for you. I am gonna knock that smart ass right out of your mouth." Sam saw the blow coming and saw the blood spurting out of his nose. He hit the ground when the other two boys let go of him. He felt another hit to his ribs, which he was sure he heard crack, then a hit to the back of his head, and then lights out.
When Sam came too he heard his phone ringing. His books were scattered everywhere, but his wallet was still in the hidden compartment where he kept his butterfly knife. Guess they never did find what they were looking for. The annoying ringing continued and aggravated his headache. He searched for it, and picked it up. It was Dean. He was in so much trouble.
"Hello" Sam said into the phone, trying to keep the tears from is voice.
"Sam!" Dean said, he sounded genuinely worried, which made Sam mad, if he was so worried, he should have been at the school to pick him up. "Where are you? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine Dean, I'll be home in a few minutes."
"Jesus Sam, it is almost 6 o'clock." Sam's anger boiled over.
"Fuck off Dean." Sam slammed the phone shut to the sound of Dean screaming from the other end. Sam stood up, and whimpered. He could feel his ribs shifting under his skin. Breathing was a bitch. He wiped as much blood as he could from his face; grimacing when he realized it hadn't stopped. He was bruised and hurting. A year ago, this is about the time he would call big brother back, and beg him to come and find him, and Dean would find a way to make it all better. But todays Sam Winchester, couldn't find it in him to do that. He began to walk the last five minutes home.
When he got home, his brother and his father were not in the living room of the run down apartment they were currently calling home. They were in Sam and Dean's bedroom, and it gave Sam just enough time to get to the bathroom and close and lock the door, before Dean's big brother sense went off, and there was a loud knock on the bathroom door, his dad seemed to have walked out the front.
"Sam, you have exactly 10 seconds, to get your ass out here before I kick the goddamn door down!" Dean would do it too. He had before, and he certainly would do it again. His nose had finally stopped bleeding, so he cleaned the blood off his face. Unfortunately there was still a vivid bruise on his face, nothing he could hide. He sighed and opened the door. Dean was standing there with that pissed off Winchester snarl on his face, until he looked up at Sam and his jaw dropped.
"What the hell happened, Sammy?" Dean grabbed Sam's face but Sam pulled away.
"I got jumped." Sam mumbled then leaned against the wall.
"What the hell Sam, did you fight back at all?"
"There were three of them Dean. I was pinned, I couldn't exactly do much. Wouldn't have happened, if I hadn't of missed my ride." Sam stared at Dean accusingly.
"I am sorry Sam, I was… I just got…"
"Distracted? Yeah I figured." Sam turned to walk away and proceed into his bedroom.
"Sam, we aren't done." He reached out and pulled on Sam's arm and Sam let out a yelp, and pulled his arms back in to shield himself. "Jesus Sam, where does it hurt, did you break your arm or something?" Sam shook his head and took a deep breath.
"Ribs… and I hit my head pretty bad." Dean looked at Sam, and then heard the front door open; he turned to see his dad walking through. Sam took the opportunity, and went back to his bedroom. He didn't want his dad to ask how after all the training, Sam still managed to get jumped, by humans nonetheless. He knew Dean would follow him. He didn't really care. He could hear Dean and his father talking through the door.
"…Just leave him alone Dean. He is gonna have to learn eventually."
"Dad, I can't. He might have a concussion, we can't screw around with head injuries."
"He would tell us, if he was hurt badly Dean."
"No he wouldn't Dad."
"Fine, do whatever you want Dean, but all this babying isn't gonna help him, it is gonna hurt him in the long run." Sam wanted to cry. No matter what he did his dad thought he was weak. Sam changed his pants and laid down on his bed, focusing on breathing. It hurt, and Sam tried to control the tears, but he couldn't stop them from sliding down his cheek. Dean opened the door to their bedroom and Sam wiped the tears from his face. Dean took the first aid kit out from under his bed and sat down beside Sam. They just looked at each other for a few minutes without saying anything.
"You should change your shirt Sammy, you got blood all over it." Sam huffed.
"I couldn't…. can't lift my arms that high." Sam's speech began to slur, and his eyes closed.
"Hey." Dean slapped his cheek slowly until Sam's eyes slid back open. "No sleeping yet, I got to take care of these injuries. Come on you gotta sit up." Sam grumbled, but let Dean help him sit up.
"I can do this you know, you don't have to help." Dean laughed.
"Shut up Sam." Dean opened the first aid kit, and cut off Sam's shirt with the scissors. He bandaged up Sam's ribs, wasn't much else he could do. His nose wasn't broken, but judging by his pupils, he had a bit of a concussion, nothing that wouldn't heal with a few days rest. "Rest up Sammy, I will wake you up in a little bit to check on that head of yours." Dean went to stand up, but his little brother had a death grip on his shirt. Sam's eyes looked up at his brother, and Dean nodded his head at Sam. It wasn't often Sam asked for his brother anymore, so Dean wasn't going to deny him, they would just pretend it never happened in the morning. Sam slid over a little bit and Dean leaned back against the headboard and put his hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam sighed.
"Do you think I am weak too, Dean?" Sam slurred.
"You aren't weak. Nobody thinks you are weak."
"Dad does."
"No he doesn't. Since when do you care what dad thinks?" Sam teared up and then closed his eyes.
"Since always. I don't fight with him because I don't care, I just want him to see me." Dean didn't know what to say to that, and the next time he looked over, Sam was fast asleep.
When Sam woke up Dean was over in his bed. Probably a good thing, that would have been awkward. It was early Saturday morning and Dean would be asleep for a while after all, he had probably been up all night so he could wake Sam up every couple hours to make sure his concussion wasn't getting any worse. Sam appreciated it, and missed that closeness with his brother, and wished it didn't take an injury to get his brother back. Sam put on a zip up hoodie and went out into the kitchen to grab some breakfast and saw his dad sitting at the table drinking coffee. He didn't even look up from his paper.
"Where's your brother?" John asked.
"Still asleep."
"Why? It was a Friday night and he didn't even go out. How could he possibly be tired?"
"Guess he stayed up most of the night." John looked at Sam, with a condescending glare.
"Looking after you?" Sam looked away uneasily. John sighed. "He can't afford to be looking after you all the time Sam. You can't handle a couple of thugs, what happens next time you get hurt on a hunt? You are gonna get Dean killed. Do you want Deans blood on your hands? Think about it. I got a hunt in Nevada. Tell your brother I'll be back in a couple weeks. Do all your training when I am gone. Can't get sloppy." Just like that Sam was alone, and feeling worse then the beating the night before could ever make him feel. He went into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub. He didn't know what to do anymore, nothing he did was right, and every time he tried to make things better they seemed to get worse. Sam sighed and reached for the first aid kit. He cut the bandages off of his chest and felt his ribs jar as he took a breath. He tightened his hand with each breath, and then gasped when he pricked his thumb on the surgical scissors he was holding. The blood pooled up, and he felt instantly calm. It was strange. He looked at the scissors in his hands and brought it down to his left arm. He made two straight cuts across it, and watched the blood pool up slowly. He found some peace in it; it was something he could control. He jumped when there was a knock on the door.
"Sammy? You okay in there?" It was Dean, and Sam scrambled to clean up the blood and pulled down his sleeve.
"Yeah, I am fine. Just hang on a second." He flushed the toilet, and opened the door. "What's up Dean?" He said washing his hands.
"Nothing I was just checking on you. How are the ribs?"
"Same as how they always feel. Only one is actually broken, don't worry I will be fine."
"Okay. Just let me know if you need anything for it. Where's Dad?"
"'Hunt, in Nevada. Will be gone for a couple weeks." Dean looked disappointed. He was stuck here with Sam while dad was out hunting. "We gotta train today." Dean quirked an eyebrow at him.
"You can't train Sam. You got busted ribs and a concussion, you're benched for the next week Sam."
"Dad said we had to Dean. Can't get sloppy."
"Tell you what Sammy. You do 1 sit up without looking like you are going to bust into tears, then we will talk about training." Sam shifted on his feet knowing that he couldn't do any. "That's what I thought. How about lunch at the diner? Little late for breakfast, pick up some beers, watch a movie tonight or something?"
"Don't you have plans or something? It's Saturday, isn't that bars and cheap hoes night?"
"Haha Sammy. Not in the mood for bars, and you are a cheap enough date, two beers and you're falling off your chair."
"How would you know that Dean?
"Please Sam, I have seen you drunk, you suck at covering it up."
"Yeah, yeah you know everything." Dean smiled.
"You suck at hiding things Sam, of course I know everything." As Same felt the cuts on his arm underneath his sweater, he only hoped he was better at hiding things then Dean thought.