Chaos
victorious_1314
AU: Hey! I've been wanting to write a fanfiction like this for a long time but have never gotten around to it. I can promise 100% that my other fanfic, Sympathy for the Devil, will be continued. My other fanfictions that I discontinued were because I lost interest the show, Once Upon a Time. However, I still love the show Supernatural and cannot honestly see an end to that love in the future. Anyways, I'd like to give a shoutout to my bff Emma, who helped (continues to help me) with this story. Emma also made the cover photo for Sympathy for the Devil and if everything goes according to plan (neither of us getting hit with a bus), she'll most likely make one for this fanfiction as well. Sorry if this story is bit goofy, I have a strange sense of humor. Okay, so I hope you enjoy this story as much as you like my other fanfictions. Thank you all for your kind reviews, favorites, and follows! You are the reason I push myself to write. 3
Warning: Sensitive topics, self harm, suicidal thoughts/actions, mentioned torture/abuse, mental instability, insanity, frightening scenes and flashbacks
Sam opens his eyes slowly to reveal Lucifer, his unwanted companion that he can't seem to get rid of. Sam's entire body feels sluggish and foreign under the scratchy motel blankets that wrap around him. Sam stares up at the stained ceiling and- wait, what? He sits up immediately, the world around him a swaying blur. What the hell is he doing in a motel room?
The last time he checked he was-... Where was he again? Memories flood Sam's mind of a demon in the mental hospital preforming electro shock therapy on him. He cringes and lifts a hand to the spots where the burns must be on his temples. Surprise runs through him when his fingers meet smooth skin. He tries to think harder, remember more details.
Sam remembers seeing... Castiel? No, that's impossible. Cas was killed when the Leviathan held on inside of him after his 'God' trip. Sam finally looks around the room, his eyes purposefully avoiding the Devil who is now singing, "Stairway to Heaven." As he surveys the small room with unattractive lime green walls and a ratty couch sitting in front of an old looking TV, his gaze settle on the bed next to the one he lay in. On the bed, someone sleeps, completely covered by blankets. Dean.
He'd recognize that snoring anywhere. Sam feels a sense of calm wash over him. He debates waking Dean up to ask about what happened but decides against it. He'd take a quick shower first and let his brother sleep in. Sam stands up and wobbles on his feet a bit, feeling strangely off balance and light. He runs a heavy hand over his face to wipe the sleep from his eyes and furrows his brow when he feels no stubble on his cheeks.
Huh? Sam could've sworn he didn't remember shaving. All he remembered was the excruciating pain from the electricity traveling through his body, and then waking up here. Lucifer chuckles from behind him but he ignores it. Maybe Dean shaved his face for him while he was out? How long was he asleep, anyways? Sam opens the bathroom door and locks it behind him, the soft, reassuring click offering no privacy because Lucifer never leaves his side.
Sam turns on the shower and moves to take his shirt off when he's suddenly frozen in place. What does one do when they look into the mirror and see some kid staring back at them. Sam's first thought was that, instead of a window in the bathroom, the motel staff thought it would be a grand idea to put a window in instead. When Sam finally manages to breathe, he finds that the boy breathes with him. Sam's eyes widen, so do the boy's. Sam experimentally moves to touch the mirror and adrenaline pumps into his heart when he mirrors his movements.
Sam's small, bony finger touches the cold mirror and he instantly flinches away like it somehow burned him. He finally looks down at his body to see that his limbs are shrunken. A scream is trapped in his throat and his hands are shaking. Sam takes a step closer to the mirror to examine his new face some more. The face looks familiar somehow, like really, really familiar.
That's when it hits him, he's somehow been de-aged. How the hell did this happen? He shoots an accusatory look at Lucifer but he looks just as confused as him. Sam doesn't fully disregard the idea that this is a very realistic hallucination yet, though. Sam spends the next several minutes poking and prodding his younger, smaller body in the mirror, as if he'll suddenly turn back into his 28 year old self.
Dean is woken up by the sound of the shower turning on. Sam always gets up earlier than him. Dean stretches his joints and yawns loudly. He looks at the clock, it's 4:30 am. Damn, Sam got up really early this morning. Grumpy from his stolen sleep, Dean heads into the crappy motel kitchen and starts making coffee. Sam just started drinking it but Dean still only gives it to his younger brother it in smaller cups.
Dean hears the shower turn off and watches from the corner of his eye as Sam walks out, completely dry and wide eyed. Dean smirks, "What, was the water not to your liking, princess?"
Sam blinks a few times, "Uh, no. I-um..." Sam stutters, in awe from seeing his brother has been de-aged as well. Dean raises one of his eyebrows in concern, "You ok, Sammy?"
Sam clears his throat and sits down across from Dean on a wobbly chair, "W-What happened?" He finally manages to ask. Dean frowns, "What do you mean?" Dean watches over Sammy like a hawk, was he having a stroke or aneurysm or something? Realization dawns on Sam after a few awkward moments of tense silence.
"N-Nothing, Dean. Uh, would you mind telling me the date?" Sam offers, his heart pounding in his ears. Was he somehow sent back in time? If so, how? Only angels could travel through time and the angels haven't wanted much of anything to do with Sam and Dean since... well, since Castiel died. Dean looks even more bewildered, "It's September 2nd, Sam. It's your first day of 11th grade, remember?"
Sam scratches his neck awkwardly, "No, I meant, What year is it?"
Dean starts laughing suddenly, "What are you acting like a time traveler for? Next you're going to start dancing around and shouting 'Eureka! It worked!', right?" Dean chuckles some more and Sam joins in eventually, remembering that they didn't know time travel existed when they were young. Sam scoffs, "Yeah, and I really had you going there for awhile too, huh?" Dean rolls his eyes, "Did not."
Sam smiles, his blood still pounding in his ears, feeling dangerously close to freaking out. Dean tosses a foil wrapped PopTart at him, which he misses due to his preoccupied thoughts. "If you're going to pretend, you're going to have to do a better job than that." Lucifer snaps suddenly. Sam picks up the snack from the floor and starts to open it with shaking hands. He watches as Dean pours two cups of coffee while he tells Sam about his dream about a hot chick who came in to have her car fixed at the mechanic shop. Sam picks at his food, not feeling in the mood to eat, both from the dire situation he is in, and the fact that Lucifer is making maggots crawl out of the holes in the PopTart.
"Hey-" Dean stops, "You're not hungry?" Sam shakes his head and offers it to him. Dean looks a bit unsure but takes it anyways, scarfing it down in just a few seconds. Dean continues to watch Sam warily though. Suddenly he puts a hand on Sam's forehead and asks, "Are you sure you're feeling alright? Because I'll take a day off from the shop. I've been doing extra hours just in case you get sick."
Sam ponders this for a moment, would it really be in his best interest to spend the day around someone who knows everything about him and can point out anything different in his manner? Sam decides not. "I'm fine, just didn't sleep well." That is true, in 2011 Sam was on the verge of death from not sleeping. Dean smiles and ruffles Sam's hair, "Yeah, you woke me up! You do realize it's only," Dean pauses to look at the clock on the microwave, "5:00 am!"
Sam grunts in reply and heads into the bedroom to find some clothes. Dean stands up as well, downing the last of his coffee. Sam stops in his tracks, his eyes following his brother up, and up, and up. Jesus, he forgot what it was like to be the shorter brother. Dean snorts, "See something you like, Scrawny?"
Sam blinks a few times, the words taking a bit to settle in. He chuckles uneasily and shakes his head before rushing off towards his duffel bag to get dressed.
.
.
.
"Come on, we have to go!" Dean shouts from the door, his work uniform a faded blue color with the logo for the shop on the back. Sam nervously leaves the bathroom, berating himself the entire time. If I can kill monsters on a weekly basis, stop the apocalypse, and spend 180-something years in hell, I can go to High School, he thinks to himself. Lucifer looms a few yards behind him, not causing much trouble other than singing a few annoying songs here and there. Sam's shaggy brown hair is messy and covering his eyes for the most part, his hands are folded together in a black hoodie, his jeans are hanging low on his waist, and his plain brown backpack sticks out behind him, the straps snug on his shoulders.
"Come on, slow poke. You were up so early, I thought you were going to be the one rushing me," Dean comments as they close the doors of the Impala, "You're sure that you're okay?"
Sam smiles, "I'm fine Dean." Lucifer pipes in, "Your mouth says, 'I'm okay,' but your eyes say, 'help me'." Sam grits his teeth, he knows he needs to be more convincing because he keeps catching Dean giving him worried side glances as he drives. "He's gonna crash the car" Lucifer muses.
"No-" Sam starts but clamps his mouth shut at the last minute. "What'd you say?" Dean asks absentmindedly. Sam chuckles nervously, "Nothing, I was just thinking out loud I guess."
Dean rolls his eyes, "Don't go crazy on me, Sammy." Sam knows he's just joking, but he can't help but feel miserable. They pull up to the High School and Sam feels a little bit of nostalgia. He remembers this school, barely. For some reason as they pull farther up, towards the drop off zone, Sam starts to feel sick. Then he remembers.
This school was called Granite High School, and Sam was bullied by a group of senior jocks here. Sam curses under his breath as he remembers the five, bulky football players cornering him in gym class, the teacher looking away on purpose. Sam tried to fight them off with his exemplary fighting skills that he'd gained from hunting, but he was outnumbered. He ended up with a broken rib and a black eye. The next day, Dean beat all five of those guys up so badly that Sam, Dean, and John had to leave town soon after to avoid legal trouble. Speaking of John, where was he? Sam tries to remember what his father was hunting but is interrupted when Dean's hand slaps his shoulder.
"Have a good day... and remember, if anyone gives you any problems, you tell me." Dean's previously cheery voice slowly lowers into dangerous territory. Sam gulps and nods, not wanting a repeat of the last time this school year happened. God, how long is Sam going to be stuck here? How long can he keep this façade up? Sam starts walking towards the school building and pulls his schedule out of his bag. He glances down at the piece of paper and sighs, this is going to be a long day.
.
.
.
Sam sits in his Algebra II class, aghast from the realization that he didn't remember shit from math class. I'd only been, what, six years since he left Stanford? He's going to fuck up his younger selves' grades if he doesn't get back into his adult body and his own time soon. The teacher hands out homework just before the bell rings, who the hell gives out homework on the first day of school? Sam grumbles and stuffs the paper into a neat binder that his sixteen year old self must have organized.
At lunch time, Sam chooses a seat outside that was mostly solitary since most kids didn't want to eat outside in the ninety degree weather. Sam takes one sip of the school milk and grimaces, how could he have ever eaten this shit? The food at Stanford was fine dining compared to this garbage. Sam looks down at the oily pizza in the tray and eats it regardless of the sour aftertaste, thankful for the first meal left alone by Lucifer in weeks.
Sam feels unexplainably anxious in his English class. "Maybe because this is the class you have with the football douches?" Lucifer comments lazily. Sam looks around quickly and surprise, surprise, the fuckheads are sitting in the back of the class. Sam can't remember what he did that made them hate him so much so he doesn't have any idea what to avoid doing. Lucifer doesn't offer any help so Sam keeps his eyes low and picks apart the eraser on his pencil with his thumbnail.
The bell rings and Sam is immediately up and ready to leave, wanting to be out of there before the bullies could even set their eyes on him. Sam heads out to the front of the school to wait for Dean, the inescapable sensation of dread forming in his stomach. If only he could remember what-
Sam's train of thought is interrupted by a girl with bright blonde hair and hazel eyes. Freckles dusted her sun kissed skin, and a headband held her hair back from her face. "Hi, my name is Emily. What's yours?" She asks sweetly. Sam feels his heart drop. This is it. This is why the bullies targeted him. This was one of the asshole's girlfriend and he took Sam talking to her as a threat to his bravado. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Lucifer laughs, "Oh wow, it's your one weakness Sammy, a teenage girl!" Sam inhales sharply and starts to walk away from the girl who is still waiting for a reply.
"Um, excuse me?" She says, obviously not used to boys ignoring her. Sam starts heading towards a tree across the street. The girl scoffs, "Are you deaf? I'm talking to you!"
Lucifer starts laughing harder, "She thinks you're retarded! This is the best thing I've ever seen."
"Shut up." Sam mutters. The girl stops in her tracks behind him. He hadn't meant for the 'shut up' to be for her but he's relived it got her to stop. Sam finally reaches the tree and spots the Impala pulling up around the corner and rushes to it. Throwing himself in the passengers seat and slamming the door. He lets out an exhausted breath and turns to Dean who is eyeing him curiously.
"What's wrong?" He asks warily. Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair, "Nothing, I'm fine." He realizes that his voice sounds a bit angry but doesn't have the energy to fix it. Dean lets out a short laugh, "Okay, Grumpy."
Sam rests his head against the window, his thoughts disorderly and frustrating. How the hell is he going to get back to his own time? How will he pass Algebra? Where is dad? What the fuck is Algebra even for? Did Castiel somehow have something to do with this? And lastly, What the actual fuck is a Quadratic Equation?