A/N- Well this little plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone so here it is. This is just the prologue the other chapters will be longer, also a lot of it will be flashbacks from this point.

Warnings: Wincest, underage sex, abuse. (May vary depending on the chapter.)

Disclaimer: Things would be a little different if Supernatural belonged to me.

Spoilers: N/A, PreStanford

Sam swallowed hard, the bitter taste in his mouth wouldn't dissipate. It wasn't as if he should be feeling this way. In fact, he was pretty sure it was incredibly wrong to feel the way he did. Biting the inside of his mouth, he turned away from the scene unfolding before him.

It didn't matter what Dean did or who he did it with. Sam shouldn't care who his brother was screwing. They were brothers and that was it.

If only things were that simple but for the Winchesters? Yeah, right. They were so far from normal they made the Adam's Family look like the picture perfect all American family.

Sam tried to tell himself the emptiness he was feeling was completely unrelated but the lie was so cheap he couldn't make himself buy into it even for a moment.

It was wrong to feel this way. It was fucking wrong.

The blond bitch Dean had his arm around was laughing so loud it was beginning to give Sam a headache. Even from across the bar, he could tell she was being completely fake. That didn't matter to Dean and he knew it. It was just someone to feel good with for a while and leave behind like all the others.

This wasn't supposed to go down like this, not at all. He knew Dean fucked girls. He really did, he just didn't need it shoved in his face like this. To be fair his brother wasn't doing it intentionally. Hell, Dean didn't even know he was here. It was a thing between them they ignored, simple as that. Dean would go out for a few hours every now and then and Sam would never ask where he went.

Seeing it though, seeing it hurt so fucking bad.

It was their dad's fault, Sam reminded himself. Everything he was feeling was his dad's fault, all of it. The wrongness, the dependency and most of all the jealousy was all result of the way their dad fucked them up.

Sam smiled at the bartender as he refilled his jack and coke and downed it quickly. He had gotten more than one skeptical look, he had a youthful face but at seventeen he was tall for his age. That plus his fake ID really helped sell it.

Pulling the opened envelope out of his pocket once more he looked down and reread the return address once more. Stanford University. He still couldn't believe he got accepted. He had been so unsure of whether or not he should go. Whether it be the alcohol or the way Dean was nipping at the blond's earlobe it seemed his mind was made up.

Tossing a few crumpled bills on the counter, Sam made his way over to the couple. The woman had to be a few years older than his brother and was clinging to him like she'd maul any other girl who dared try and take Dean away. Sam couldn't blame her.

"Hey dude, I think I'm going to head back to the motel," plastering on a smile he clapped his brother on the shoulder. Dean's expression would have been comical except Sam wasn't much in the laughing mood. The older boy had enough sense to look ashamed, at least to some degree.

"Sammy? What are you doing here?" His gaze was apologetic and it was making something complicated twist in Sam's stomach. Looking away, he shrugged.

"Just getting a few drinks, I didn't want to interrupt you. I'll see you back at the motel." With that, he nodded to the blond, not actually glancing at her and turned on his heel. He would tell Dean later, when he came home stinking of booze and perfume, that he got accepted to Stanford and that he was going.

The night air was bitter, the Massachusetts' winter was harsh. Sam shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie.

"Sammy! Sam! Hey, wait up," the unmistakable sound of Dean's footfalls behind him made him seize up and stop. "Jeez, kid, you walked out of there so fast, hardly gave me time to excuse myself."

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you and your friend," the last word came out harsher than he intended and as he turned to face his brother he kept his gaze averted, looking everywhere but those beautiful green eyes.

"Fuck, Sammy listen. That in there, that didn't mean shit I was just-"

"Dean. Stop, please. Whatever. It really doesn't matter. I'm your brother, why should I even care? And it's Sam."

Dean frowned, moving in so close it was making Sam ache in ways he wished he didn't. "Baby," his older brother breathed softly, "it's okay. No one matters to me like you do Sam, you know that." Calloused fingers reached up to brush against his jaw.

More than anything he wanted to lean into that touch, fall into his brother's protective embrace and just feel Dean around him. Instead, he jerked back as if he had been burned and tried and failed to glare at the lighter haired man. "Look, it doesn't matter who you sleep with. I don't care," he lied, "I'm not going to be around much longer anyway."

Green eyes narrowed and if hurt flashed in them for a brief moment, Dean hid it well. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I got accepted to Stanford and I'm going."

The silence that hung between them was heavy and thick. Sam bit his lip and kicked at the ground absently, trying not to feel regret at the words. He expected Dean to yell at him, to tell him he wasn't allowed to go, to tell him he could go over his dead body. To say anything.

"Does dad know?" The bitter resignation stung more than he could have imagined and he shook his head, he had wanted to talk to Dean first. Things didn't go the way he planned. The older brother made a noncommittal noise, "well make sure you tell him. He deserves to know."

Sam wasn't so sure about that. Their dad was the reason they were like this but he nodded anyway. He wanted to go back to the motel room and curl up with his brother, have Dean kiss him and call him a bitch for wanting to read for a little bit before they went to sleep.

Gasping, his eyes dilated in shock as Dean reached forward to tilt his head upward to allow their gazes to meet. He searched his eyes for a while, leaving Sam feeling more naked than ever, before giving a short nod and allowing his hand to run through his hair for the briefest of moments. He gave him one last soul searching look before turning on his heel and going back into the bar.

He didn't have to say anything, Dean knew Sam wanted to stay with him.

Dean also knew Sam would leave anyway.