Beneath the Bleeding - Chapter One
Warnings: child-abuse (not on the boys), swearing and innuendo
Disclaimer: No matter how many birthday wishes I waste on it, I still don't own Supernatural
Author's Note: This is my first time posting so I hope you like. Like many others on this site, I believe that reviews are the equivalent to candy and I love candy.
Sam Winchester gripped his backpack tighter in his grip. He should be used to being the new kid in school thanks to his family's nomadic lifestyle. But now that Dean was eighteen and could legally drop out, Sam was completely alone on this. Completely and utterly alone.
The school wasn't huge—but it wasn't small either. It was the typical small town high school. It was a fairly nondescript brick building and Sam was willing to bet money that, years later, he probably won't remember what the school looked like. This was only a stepping stone for a few weeks until John found another hunt and Sam would be forced to uproot and move onto another school. His plan was like every other: focus on school, maybe try to make friends with some of the kids and remain under the radar.
It wasn't hard to find the main office. From there, it was the same routine as every other school: he told the secretary his name, he or she welcomed Sam to the new school, Sam was given a schedule, and sent off after that. The only difference was that, this year, Sam had to do everything on his own. Dean usually took charge in situations like this. However, Sam was going to have to get used to the idea of having to do things on his own now.
It wasn't hard for Sam to find his locker. Locker number 005. He just had to find where the numbers began. He struggled with the combination a bit, but that was because people kept bumping into Sam, causing him to lose track on what number he was on.
"Do you need some help?" a girl asked him. Sam turned towards the girl next to him. She was bent over her own locker trying to put in her combination. A veil of blue-black hair obscured her face, but Sam just knew she was beautiful.
When Sam didn't respond, the girl looked up. Sam's prediction was right: she was beautiful. But, the first thing he truly noticed was her eyes: one blue and one brown. He remembered learning about how having two different colored eyes was a mutated gene. It reminded him of those X-Men comics that Sam read of Dean's when he had nothing else to do on those long car rides to nowhere.
"Um…do you need help?" she asked again, giving Sam a confused look. She wasn't dressed like many of the other girls Sam had seen around here with their short skirts and way-too-low-cut t-shirts. She wore a pair of jeans, a pair of combat boots and a modest black sweater.
Even though he didn't really need help with his locker combination and only needed to stop those jerks from bumping into him, he said, "Yes," and stepped back for the girl to do her work.
She twisted the lock and gave Sam instructions on how to do it. Her words were kind and understanding—not at all condescending, like many other students who tried to help Sam in the past. She seemed rather patient as she explained the necessary steps to using a combination lock.
"And that is how to open your locker," she added with a flourish as she lifted up the handle and opened Sam locker wide, blocking her own.
"Thanks," said Sam, placing his backpack on a hook. The girl went back to her own locker, acting as if Sam just disappeared. Normally he took the hint as a sign of him being unwanted, so it mildly freaked him out when he asked, "So, what's your name?"
Never taking her eyes off her own locker, she answered, "Erin."
Sam was slightly disappointed. Erin didn't feel like a name that would fit her. Despite his distaste for annoying young adult novels, they do have some interesting names. She seemed more like a Blaire or a Mimi then an Erin.
"And you are?" Erin asked, looking at Sam expectantly.
"Oh, I'm Sam," he said. The bell rang overhead and he looked down sheepishly. "Uh…it looks like it's time for class."
"I understand you're new here, so do you want some help finding your first hour?"
Sam looked down at the schedule he was given. He had English with Mrs. Derks. He told Erin and she pointed him in the right direction. It wasn't far from his locker, which was a good thing.
It was the usual introductions. What's his name? Where was he from? There's an open seat towards the back. So-and-so, please get Mr. Winchester here a book from the cupboard. Sam heard it a million times before.
They were on the poetry unit. They were currently overanalyzing "Annabel Lee" by Edgar Allen Poe. Sam remembered having to memorize it last year at one of his schools. He wasn't surprised that he needed it memorized by Friday.
He was late for his next class: chemistry. Despite the teacher's obvious bitterness towards rule-breaking, she gave Sam a free pass for being a new student. But, much to Sam's relief, no introductions were given. Instead, she just announced Sam's name and told the students as a whole to make him feel welcome and help him catch up in his stoichiometry packet.
No one did, which was fine with Sam. This class seemed to be behind in his previous school, which means he was just reviewing it. Besides, stoichiometry was pretty much just math with the periodic table of elements mixed in with it.
By lunch, Sam had covered most of his classes for the day. He had only two afterwards: pottery and geometry. He was only taking pottery for lack of another good elective he could take that wasn't already completely full. Despite his lack of creative skills, Sam produced a fairly descent flat-bottom cup. Of course, the only criteria is that it can hold water.
His last class of the day was geometry. He was taken aback when he saw Erin sitting in the desk closest to the door. She was enthralled in what looked like a Stephen King novel. Sam wasn't able to catch the title before the teacher whisked him away for introductions. Once the embarrassment was over with, the teacher seated him in the only available seat: the one next to Erin.
"It seems that fate just wants us to be friends or something," Erin commented as the teacher told them to pull out last night's homework.
Sam nodded, almost afraid to comment in case the teacher heard. But, he was busy getting attendance recorded and, since the other students were talking, what was stopping him?
"Yeah, I guess," Sam said awkwardly.
"So, what brings you to Hellsville?" Erin wondered. Sam could only guess that 'Hellsville' meant 'Mooreland', which was the actual name of the town.
Sam told Erin the usual story on how John found a good job opportunity in the area. Not a total lie, but it was far from what Erin was most likely thinking.
"Wow, your dad found a job around here. Maybe he should give my dad some pointers on where to look." Suddenly, Erin's demeanor completely changed. She went from being friendly to almost hostile. But, she kept the comment light, but Sam could still tell.
However, their conversation was cut short when the teacher began reading off answers to last night homework. Sam kept glancing at Erin as she marked almost all of her answers wrong. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she was not good at all with math.
Sam noted the score on the top of her page and, when her name was called, she added five points to it making it go from what should have been a low-D to at least a high-D and maybe even a low-C depending on the teacher's grading scale worked.
It bugged Sam the entire time they were writing down notes. It didn't seem like Erin would be the dishonest type. But she seemed more desperate than anything. Maybe she was failing the class and just needed a few extra points on her homework to give it that boost to bump it up. Sam also noticed how she hung on Mr. Smith's every word. She tries hard, she just doesn't understand it.
"Does anyone know the measure of angle A?" Mr. Smith asked the class, sweeping his eyes across the students. No one moved a muscle—no one even coughed. Sam didn't understand. That one was easy.
Tentatively, Sam raised his hand. Mr. Smith didn't hesitate to call on him, as if he was eager to find out what kind of student Sam was like: the one who knows or the one who tries to know. "63-degrees," Sam answered. Instead of looking at the teacher, he glanced down at Erin who was watching him curiously. When she realized that Sam was watching her, she turned away and pretended to write notes even though what she was writing didn't look like it made sense.
"Correct," Mr. Smith said, writing it in on the whiteboard. He went about explaining how to find the angle to the class, but Sam was only half-listening. He glanced towards Erin who was writing notes ferociously. She stopped momentarily to glance up at Sam. Quickly, he averted his gaze back to his own notebook. His pulse quickened with worry and it took him a few moments for him to glance back at her. She had her eyes on her notes but her movements seemed awkward.
Mr. Smith gave them the homework assignment just moments before the bell rang. Sam quickly scrawled the information on the top of the page and couldn't seem to leave the classroom quickly enough.
Sam knew that Erin thought he was some sort of freak. The way he kept looking at her and the way she always caught him. She would eventually catch on that Sam has feelings for her and Sam wasn't ready for that. He was only supposed to survive this school and move onto the next one.
He kept the stop at his locker short; worried that Erin might come along. He lucked out and was able to avoid her and was out the door before most were out of the classrooms.
The walk to the motel that the Winchesters were staying at wasn't far from the school, which Dean forced John to consider when they searched for a place to stay yesterday. In no time at all, Sam was walking into the motel room. It wasn't much with two queen beds, a small kitchenette and a bathroom in the back. Dean sat at the table looking through some old newspaper clippings. John no doubt had Dean doing research on whatever hunt he was on.
"Hey Sammy," Dean said. "How was school?"
"It's Sam and not bad," Sam said. They fell into silence while Sam pulled out the books he needed for his homework. "Uh…where's Dad?"
"At the library looking up some information on this spirit in the next town over," Dean answered, looking up at Sam. Sam squirmed under the gaze that seemed analytical. "Is something bothering you?"
To this day, Sam was still amazed on how intuitive Dean was towards him. They had only spoken with small talk, but it was almost as if Dean had a sixth sense that something was up with his little brother.
"Well…" Sam considered telling Dean about Erin. Of course, it would practically be an open invitation for teasing. But, at the same time, Dean would probably still give some valuable advice since he had more experience with girls. "There's this girl…"
"Ooh, it's only be a day and Sammy already has a girlfriend!"
"Like I said before, it's Sam and no, I don't have a girlfriend."
"But you'd like her to."
Sam only nodded.
Dean was probably coming up with a million different snide remarks about how his little brother was crawling to him for girl trouble, but he put his caring big brother face on instead and told Sam, "Just ask her out, dude. That's all you need to do."
"Yeah, but—but she isn't like any of the girls you like Dean."
"I know that," Dean said. "But, it goes the same for all girls: slutty or not. If you ask, they'll either say yes or no. Simple as that."
No, not as simple as that, Sam thought. If Erin said no to him, then that would leave him heartbroken and he didn't want that. But, in the same respect, he'd rather not leave Mooreland with this sort of regret either. He wanted to give it a chance, he was just afraid to.
"Look, just find some common ground and work from there," Dean said. "Just, make sure no one is in the motel room when you bring her back here and make sure you use protection."
"DEAN!"
"What? I don't want to see this mystery girl on some sort of reality show about teenagers being pregnant and calling you names for getting her knocked up."
Sam couldn't believe he was hearing this. "Dean, I don't want to go that far," he semi-lied. He'd like to think he didn't want to go that far with someone like Erin. "And I highly doubt she'd want to either."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Dean said. Just then, Dean's cell phone rings and he answers with a gruff, "Yes sir." Sam sighed. Dean was talking to John since he's the only one who gets a "Yes sir," when answering the phone. After another "Yes sir," Dean hung up and stood from the table. "Dad's done at the library. We'll stop someplace for dinner. Anything sound good?"
"Whatever's fine," Sam said, not looking at his older brother. Once Dean left, Sam plopped down and looked up at the stark-white ceiling. "I'm screwed," he muttered to himself.