A/N: This is my first Supernatural fanfic so please be kind to me! You've probably heard this a million times but reviews really are magic and they make me happy so please review my chapters and you'll receive more.
Full summary: Sam has severe depression and his father's physical and verbal abuse doesn't help matters none. He's frustrated that he can't live up to his father's expectations. Dean is the only person who can save him from his own inner demons.
Dean is 22 and Sam is 18, just for a point of reference. Also, I'm not really writing from any point of the episodes or anything. I'm aware that Sam didn't see Lucifer at 16 but that's where the fiction part comes in so try to enjoy it.
Sam Winchester tossed and turned in his bed, listening to the rain tap on the window relentlessly, the weather matching his current mood. He put his arm across his forehead, a dark invisible cloud looming over him as the voices whispered cruel words in his head.
You'll never be good enough… your own father even told you how worthless you really are. Dean can't stand you. Everyone is better off without you, Sam…
Sam closed his eyes and tightened his jaw, waiting for the voices to dissipate but they only seemed to get louder. He finally forced himself to get up out of the bed as quietly as he could and then walked into the bathroom, half pulling it closed so he wouldn't wake up his brother. He turned on the faucet and slashed cold water on his face, placing his hands on either side of the sink.
Take Dean's shaving razor right now and slit your own throat. Everyone wouldn't even mind. You're the useless brother…
"Shut up… shut up… shut up…" Sam ordered under his breath.
Suddenly he heard a throat clear at the door and saw his brother peeking in worriedly at him. "You all right there, Sammy?"
Sam jumped slightly and nodded, swallowing hard as he turned to look at his brother. "Uhh, yeah… umm… why?"
Dean leaned against the door and shrugged. "Well, it's not every day you hear your brother telling an invisible person to shut up. Are you… seeing ol' Lucifer again?"
Sam shook his head and bit his lip. "No, nothing like that. I'm fine, I guess I'm just overtired from training, you know?"
Dean gave his brother a skeptical look but nodded once before he looked at him thoughtfully. "Sucks that you'll be training with Dad again today. Hey, what do you say afterwards if we go out to eat and just talk?"
Sam felt anything but hungry but he nodded anyway, feeling like it'd be good to get away from John for awhile. "Yeah, that sounds good."
Dean smirked. "Great, I'm out. Dad's got me going out to check out a job, see how bad the situation is so I'll see you later."
He turned to leave when Sam felt a fearful pang in his stomach. He'd be alone with his father. He walked out where Dean was in the bedroom getting dressed and hesitantly rubbed his neck with his hand. When he couldn't find the courage to speak, Dean looked up at him, his eyebrows raised.
"Do you want me to put on a show for you or did you want to ask me something?"
"Just… umm… what time are you going to be back by, do you figure?" Sam asked curiously, hoping Dean wouldn't be gone too long. At least when he was around, Sam was safe.
"I have no freakin' clue, man. I'm hoping I'll be back by noon."
Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Did… you need backup or anything? I can come if you need me to."
Dean got dressed in his suit and grabbed his wallet. "Nice try, Sam but you need to stay here and train with Dad. Build up some muscle in those weak arms!" he teased before he patted him on his shoulder and smirked.
Sam just nodded and ran his hands through his hair, a small part of him wanting to fall down at Dean's feet and beg him not to leave him alone with their father. He knew that he would just be even weaker than he already was if he did that and Dean would probably laugh at him. He looked down at the floor and then looked up again to see his brother walk over to him, his teasing gone and his serious face on.
"Do you need me to stay? Is it a bad day for you, Sam?"
He hadn't expected Dean to offer this at all and he swallowed hard, searching his face. Genuine concern was laced in his eyes and it was times like these when he was grateful that he hadn't hit his depression from his brother.
"No, I mean… it is a bad day but… you need to go and check things out. If people are in trouble, then they come first. I'll be okay," Sam promised, knowing that was a lie as soon as the words came out of his mouth.
He didn't want to be selfish when there were actual monsters hurting innocent people out there. Sam knew that business came first, and then family, that was his father's slogan for them. However, it felt like maybe it was different for Dean. Maybe he truly felt like family came first, and then business. Either way, it didn't matter as long as they were under their father's roof.
"Okay, Sam but if you need me… you better call me. I'm here for you." Dean looked his brother in the eye, his voice firm.
Sam felt pathetic standing next to older, strong Dean. He really was the weakest link in the Winchester family chain. He was just holding them all back and if Dean got killed by a monster because his mind was on Sam, then he didn't think he would ever forgive himself, and he knew that his father wouldn't either.
"Thanks, Dean… really, it means a lot. Go and check it all out and then come back in one piece and then we can hang out," Sam attempted to reassure him.
Dean nodded again and then grabbed his phone before finally leaving the small cottage where they were staying for now. Sam stood in the empty room, feeling Depression hanging over here still. After what felt like hours, he forced himself to go into the kitchen and at least pour himself some juice. He stiffened when he entered the room to find his father pouring himself half a tumbler glass of whiskey.
"A bit early for alcohol, isn't it?" Sam asked bravely, unable to stop feeling resentment towards his father, no matter how scared he made him.
John glanced up at him and grunted in response before he took a long drink. "Something you want, Sam?"
Suddenly, something snapped inside him and he turned to look at him. "Why didn't you go with Dean? You usually back him up on these things…"
His father sat back in his chair and the corners of his mouth revealed the identical smirk Dean always gave him. "Because I'm stuck here having to train you, son. Are you ready?"
Sam's depression made him feel apathetic to train at all but he figured the sooner they started, the sooner Sam could be free to do his own thing. He nodded and walked outside in the rain as it drizzled down. He watched his father come out with his Colt Revolver and place three bullets in it before spinning it and slamming it closed again. Something uneasy grew in Sam as he watched his father's expressionless face, suddenly feeling sick.
"You're going to try and get this gun away from me, Sam. Understand? You need to defend yourself."
"Y-Yes, sir…" He got into position and sidestepped his father who did the same. He bit his lip before he tried to take out his father's legs and grab his wrist. As he attempted this, his father slid out of the way all too quickly and took Sam's arm and positioned it awkwardly behind him and upwards. The discomfort of this unusual position sent Sam to his knees and he groaned in pain, grimacing as he closed his eyes.
"Nice try, but you're going to have to be a lot faster than that, Sam! Try and get out of this position now…" his father ordered sternly.
Sam let out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the pain he was feeling in his shoulder and back. He tried to think quickly but his depression was blocking his logic.
You're going to die if you ever get into a position like this because you're weak and pathetic. You're monster meat. It's a good thing you didn't go with Dean; even if he does need help, you'd be utterly incompetent...
The frustration of his negative thoughts made adrenaline pump through his blood and he reacted without a second thought. Before he even realized what he did, he found himself free enough to heel palm his father in the face hard and kick his shin. He thought his motions had been quick enough but John let out a loud yell and sent Sam to the ground, aiming the gun at his head and panting hard.
"That's not how hunters fight, son. That's weak fighting. You'd be dead in an instant… if you were smart, you would've brought a knife or your own gun with you to practice," John scowled, the gun still in his hand.
Sam swallowed hard, looked into the barrel nervously and then looking at his father. "I'm sorry, I forgot."
His father let out a sickening laugh just before he hit him with the barrel of the gun, causing cuts to appear on Sam's face just before knocking him over. Then, he felt himself being kicked hard in the ribs.
"I wish I had had the common sense to dump you somewhere else when you were younger… there's something defected with you, Sam. You can blame it on the depression but you're just weak and pathetic! I can hardly believe you and Dean are even brothers! He's much stronger than you are. Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy!"
Sam felt tears trailing down his face now, feeling ashamed to be crying in front of his father like this. He had already been feeling low but John's cruel words just sent him sinking deeper and deeper.
"You're crying? You've got to be kidding me! Hunters don't cry!" John yelled at Sam, kicking him again near his chest this time before hitting him in the face with the cold metal of the gun once more. "Stop that right now! You're the sorriest excuse for a son if I've ever seen one!"
Sam wiped his nose on his sleep and swallowed a sob, making himself get back on his knees to look up at his father but regretting it instantly when he saw the sheer disappointment in his eyes. "I-I'm sorry… I'm so s-sorry, Dad…"
"Not good enough. Sorry doesn't bring back your mother, does it?" John walked closer over to Sam now and pressed the gun against his forehead before he cocked it.
Sam felt a terror he never knew before. He had fought monsters side by side with Dean but somehow, this fear felt greater, more terrible than he's ever known. He closed his eyes and felt his whole body start to tremble. "Please… p-please no… I'll be b-better! I p-promise… please…"
Click.
Sam dared to look up at his father now. He had pulled the trigger but no bullet had come out. It had been empty, at least that particular one. It was total luck that he hadn't been shot dead right there; and they both knew it. His father didn't seem the least bit regretful of his actions as he glared at Sam.
"Go get cleaned up. Training's done! I can't even look at you, son!" his father growled, clicking the safety back in place and placing the gun back into his jeans just before he started back towards the house.
Sam sunk into the ground, feeling the rain hitting him and soaking him quickly. He could hardly believe what had just happened; his father had played Russian roulette with his youngest son and made himself believe it was part of his training. He felt a numbness wash over him as the rain camouflaged his tears on his face. He looked around him, wishing that there had been witnesses to John's attempted murder, but alas; there were none he could see. He took a deep breath and finally made himself limp back into the house.
"Don't you even think about telling Dean about our Training session today, Sam… he won't believe you anyway."
Sam closed his eyes tightly, trying not to let his father see him crying, both out of pain and out of fear. He just nodded and limped into the bathroom he shared with Dean in their bedroom and took off his clothes. He let the hot water wash away his chill from being outside, along with the dirt from outside, replacing it with warmth again.
Once he got out of the shower, he wiped the mirror to shave and felt a lump in his throat when he saw the bruises that were visible on his chest from where his father had kicked him. He chewed on his lower lip for a bit before he finally shaved and got dressed into jeans and a t-shirt. Sam couldn't let Dean see what their father had done. It didn't matter how old they were, it wasn't like he could run away from his home. Not with the job they had.
Sam grabbed his laptop and lay on his back on the bed, clearing his throat casually before he winced in pain. The unhealthy whirling sound of the laptop drowned out the voices that were spinning webs in his head again, but once it stopped, they were back again.
You should've grabbed the gun from your father and offed yourself right then and there. You would've been able to shoot yourself eventually. Now Dean has to put up with your useless self and your father has to look at you in shame every day. You're an embarrassment.
Sam clenched his jaw and moved over to Dean's side of the bed where he always kept bottles of whiskey by the bedside table. He looked around and carefully grabbed one of the already opened bottles and took a long pull from it, letting the alcohol mix with his thoughts and drown them. He stopped when he could no longer hear the Depression whispering to him. He put it back where he found it and then focused his attention on researching the events that were happening where Dean went to investigate.
"Hey there, Sammy… what are you looking at?"
Sam glanced up to see his brother. He was slightly taken back but composed himself as quickly as his tipsy self would allow. "Just seeing what I can find about recent attacks… how did you make out?"
Dean undid his tie and took his suit off to slip into more comfortable clothes. "Not a whole lot. No one saw the monster, obviously, because if they did, they'd end up monster meat. All I found out was that it's attacked twice in three days and it's pretty much just killing anyone in the woods."
Sam scratched his head to try and come up with answers but the alcohol clouded his logic. "What do you think it is? New Jersey Devil maybe?"
Dean looked thoughtful for a moment but then shook his head. "I might agree with that if we were actually in New Jersey but we're in Connecticut, Sam. I was thinking maybe it was Yellow Eyes again but there's no burger joints anywhere in town. Wanna take another stab in the dark?"
Sam sighed and then winced as he tried to make himself comfortable on the bed. He felt pain shooting throughout his chest. "What about… a wendigo?"
Dean didn't miss his brother's flinching in pain and eyed him suspiciously. "I…I don't think so. Even with wendigos, there were at least one or two people who witnessed their friends get eaten and made it out. This thing, whatever it is, is out for blood and isn't interested in witnesses. Hey man, are you alright?"
Sam glanced up at him and saw concern in his eyes. "Yeah, just… just the training with Dad earlier, it was hard on me. You know, I'm just out of shape. Rusty and all that. What about other demons? Like the ones we know personally?" he suggested, trying to change the subject.
Dean ran a hand through his hand and shrugged, sitting down on the bed beside Sam. "I thought about that too, but I think it was Crowley or Lucifer, they'd come to one of us and brag about it. I think I'm going to need you to come with me tomorrow to help me find whatever it is and bring it down. Do you think you'll be up for it?"
Sam internally groaned. Fighting a mystery monster with bruises and Depression at an all time high would be a Hell he'd never been to before. He searched Dean's eyes and saw his desperation though. There was no way he could not back his brother up. "Yeah, of course. Whatever you need me to do, I'm there to help."
Dean nodded and smiled. "Good. I'm going to go talk to Dad and bring him up to speed. Then we can go out and grab a bite."
Sam nodded in acknowledgement and went back to his screen. Hiding his bruises from his brother was going to be more difficult than he thought, especially when they had no qualms about changing in front of the other. He suddenly jumped when he heard yelling coming from the living area where his father and Dean were.
"Just leave it alone, Dean! I'm taking care of it!"
"Oh yeah, Dad! You're doing a fantastic job of taking care of it! People are dying and you're sitting in here on your ass drinking!" Dean yelled back.
Sam felt uncomfortable now as fear swelled inside him. He rarely heard Dean talk back to their father like that. He shut down his laptop and limped over to the doorway to listen, feeling like a young child listening to their parents fight.
"You know better than to talk to me like that, son! I know people are dying and it's difficult but you need to trust me! I have other hunters up there working on the case! They're going to find the son of a bitch and kill it so just leave the case alone now… do you understand me?"
"Oh yeah," Dean replied coldly. "I understand. I understand that you just don't give a damn about anyone but your own self!" He entered the bedroom now and grabbed his jacket before glancing over at Sam. "Grab your coat, Sammy. We're going out to lunch now."
Sam nodded and grabbed his wallet and heavy jacket before following his older brother out of the small cabin and into the black Impala.