Title: What's A Boy to Do? (Yeah, I stole the title from Mat Kearney- so sue me! No, actually, don't...)
Prompt: This is for my H/C Bingo prompt- "Imprisonment" over at LJ (I don't know if this is exactly what the prompt was going for, but this is what I came up with, so there you have it!)
Rating: T
Warnings: language and implied prostitution. As far as actual content goes, this would get a PG rating but due to subject matter I'm going to err on the safe side and give it an R. Or T... whatever is FF closest equivalent to LJ's "R"...
Word Count: 3800
Summary: Pre-series, Dean is 15 and 16, Sam is 11 and 12. Dean is carrying far too heavy a load and Sam just wants to help.
A/N: This is a hard subject matter for me to write about... honestly I don't even know why I'm attempting it...actually, I do. I wrote it because it was floating around in my head and making me cry. :P So here's the story and I hope that it turned out well!
August 1994
Dad is going on another one of his hunting trips.
He leaves us behind in a crappy, lice infested apartment that smells of cat pee.
Dean pretends he doesn't mind. He pretends a lot of stuff for Dad's sake.
Dad puts Dean in charge and as he always does, he tells me to obey Dean while he is gone. He gives him some money, asks him if it will be enough and Dean says he thinks so.
Dad says he'll be back in a couple of weeks, maybe even sooner if things go according to plan. But a couple of weeks passed a long time ago and dad's still not back
I have nightmares about him, nightmares about monsters eating him and then coming after me and Dean. I worry that maybe he's dead, lying in a gutter somewhere and we'd never know.
But then we get a call and he says that the hunt went south and now it looks like he'll be gone a while longer. This time he doesn't say when he'll be back but he asks Dean if he has enough money and Dean assures him that he has plenty.
It bothers me that Dean lies to dad like that.
Dean doesn't know that I know that he's lying. He thinks I'm just a stupid kid. He doesn't know that I overhear the landlord screaming at him when the rent hasn't been paid in over a week (I wonder how he managed to scrape together that stack of twenty dollar bills that he eventually pays the landlord with. I will have to ask him about that.) He doesn't think I notice how low we get on food. How he'll pretend he's not hungry and then eat only half his dinner and then give the rest to me.
As if he could possibly be full after eating half of a half of a bologna sandwich.
When we do manage to get a decent meal he doesn't think I notice how he can't even keep it down.
I wonder why that is. Why sometimes after he eats more than just a couple bites, he has to rush into the bathroom and vomit it all up.
Until one day in health class the teacher is talking about eating disorders and how if you starve yourself you get to the point where it's not even a choice. Your stomach just can't handle the food. It was more complicated than all that but that's the part that stuck out to me because it sounded like Dean.
I don't think Dean has one of those... I don't think he has an eating disorder... I don't think that he's purposely starving himself or sticking his finger down his throat to make himself throw up, but I think that he doesn't eat enough so that when he does get food, his stomach just can't handle it anymore.
And then dad comes back and everything's okay again. Dad never even knows that Dean nearly starved to death and when dad asks Dean if he left enough money, Dean says yeah, everything was great.
I don't know who I'm more angry with. Dad, for not being around and not noticing how skinny Dean is, how dull his eyes are, and how if I just blew on Dean he would fly away. For not leaving his sons with enough money for food and rent.
Or Dean, for being such a dumb ass and lying to dad about the money. I know he doesn't want to worry dad, cuz it's not like dad's rolling in money either, but dad needs to know. And no, knowing why Dean does something doesn't make me less angry with him.
And I'm pissed at him for his stupid martyr complex. How he thinks that somehow I deserve to eat more than he does. How he thinks he needs to be the self-sacrificing hero or something, the guy who starves to death so that his brother doesn't.
Yeah, I may be eleven but I notice a lot more than they think I do.
October 1995
And now here we go again. Different town, same story.
The landlord shows up, gets all up in Dean's face and when he leaves I notice that Dean is shaking. Dean sees that I was watching and he puts a hand on my shoulder and tells me not to worry because he'll make sure we have enough money for the rent.
I notice the fridge is getting empty and when Dean makes a grocery run he doesn't bring back nearly enough food.
More and more he says he's not hungry but I know that's not true. My health teacher says that growing boys need to eat even more food than normal people and I've noticed that Dean has been growing a lot lately. He is nearly as tall as dad now and so when he says he isn't hungry I know he's lying.
But at least he's not puking again.
That night, while he's taking one of his really long showers, I check under his mattress where he hides the money and I notice that there's only five dollars left. The landlord is going to be so pissed.
I am shocked several days later when the landlord shows up and Dean has the exact amount ready to pay the rent. I ask him where he got the money and he shrugs and says that he won a bet with some of his buddies from school. I tell him that he should try to win enough to buy more food and he just gets a strange expression on his face and says that I don't know what I'm talking about and then he looks me right in the eyes and lies to me saying that we have plenty of money for food.
...
I know Dean is frustrated that he can't just get a job and earn some money of his own. It's hard to hold down a job when you're only going to be in a town for a few weeks tops.
Unfortunately, we've been here more than a few weeks and I know that Dean would be working at McDonalds or something like that if any of those places would hire him but he says no one will give him a job because he's a minor and he doesn't have a worker's permit.
Back when we stayed in Indiana, Wisconsin, or New York, Dean would snag a job mowing lawns or shoveling snow. But here in Arizona there is no grass and there is even less snow.
I tell him that maybe he should call Pastor Jim or Bobby but Dean hates that idea. He says something like "Dad doesn't want us calling them unless it's an emergency."
I don't know what Dean considers an emergency but he's getting scary skinny again and I'm thinking that maybe I should call Pastor Jim or Bobby myself. But somehow that feels like it would be a betrayal to Dean.
Dean would never forgive me for going over his head and calling emergency after he told me that he had everything under control.
Nevertheless, dad's absence and Dean's continued weight loss weigh heavily on me and I need to do something. I know that Dean is doing all that he can but I'm not going to sit back and do nothing while he struggles all by himself.
...
I remember the time Dad had the "talk" with me. Told me about sex and babies and stuff like that. Yeah, awkward.
Then a while later Dean sat me down and had a similar talk with me, though this one was a lot darker. He told me that he would always watch out for me but he said there would be times when he wouldn't be around. Told me how to protect myself, what kind of behavior was unacceptable. Told me that if anyone ever says anything or looks at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable then I should just run the other way. Don't think twice because even if I'm overreacting, it's better to be safe. It was another awkward conversation but he lightened the mood by demonstrating certain facial expressions to watch out for, ways that perverts would look at a kid my age.
He had me rolling on the floor laughing as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and licked his lips. "Damn kid, you look fiiine!" he winked and that was just too much, we were both laughing so hard we were nearly crying.
Underneath his humor I could tell he was deadly serious.
I remember this story because the way the landlord is looking at me right now sends chills down my spine and I'm pretty sure this is the kind of person Dean was warning me about.
Dean and I usually tried to avoid the man as much as possible but tonight I ran into him, quite literally, on my way out of the apartment.
I was going out to find some way to get some money or some food. I didn't have much of a plan. All I knew was that I had to help Dean out in some way. Do my part. Maybe I could steal some groceries. I have never stolen anything before but I know Dean has. In fact Dean once told me that he has been stealing since he was seven, which is nearly half my age, so I feel pretty confident that if he could pull it off without getting caught, then I can do it too.
The landlord is friendly. A little too friendly and I know what he's going to say before he even says it. I know that I look small and innocent but I'm not stupid.
I turn to run away but he grabs my hand. He tells me that he knows that we have been struggling to pay the rent. Tells me that he knows how rough it is with dad away from home (though I don't know how he figured that dad was gone!) and he tells me that if I cooperate he'll even pay me.
...
I don't get a chance to give Dean the money until the next evening at dinner.
I wonder if it's written all over my face, I try not to look Dean in the eyes when I hand him the ten dollars. Afraid that something in my eyes will scream out what I had done to earn it.
I'm a terrible liar and I know that Dean is a little suspicious about where I got the money. He doesn't fully buy my story but I can tell he's not going to push it. He seems a little hesitant to accept my money though, telling me that he's the one that's supposed to take care of things like money and food. He says that I should buy myself those new shoes I want or maybe take Katie, the girl at school that I have a crush on, out to a movie. I shake my head and insist that he take it. I can tell he's grateful for my contribution and in fact I have never seen him look so relieved in my life.
As I take another shower I try not to think about what I had done. Tried to wash away the smell, the touches that I could still feel on my skin, the images of his hands, his mouth, his body all over me. I shudder and crouch down in the tub and let the water wash over me. Trying to think of nothing but the crisp ten dollar bill that would buy us food until dad got back.
And I remember Dean's smile, his relief and I knew that I'd do it all over again if I had to.
I hoped that the ten dollars was enough. I wonder if maybe I could have asked for more but the man had said that ten dollars was the going rate. I guess he should know.
...
Dean manages to stretch the money out for a week. He doesn't tell me when it's gone but I figure it out. I had really hoped that dad would be back by now but he's not.
I know that I'm gonna have to do it again- "it"- because I can't even bring myself to say what I'm doing. All day I'm jittery and nervous and I can't look Dean in the eyes. He thinks I'm not feeling well which I let him think because it's a handy excuse and because it's true. I'm not feeling well. Only it's for different reasons than he assumes.
It's not like I went looking for this. I didn't wake up one morning and think, "Hey, maybe I can get some money by whoring myself." (And oh my gosh, I just said it.) I try to tell myself that I have nothing to be ashamed of but I don't really believe it.
It just kind of happened. It just kind of found me. Or rather Mr. Fagre found me, and well, he offered to pay me for something that honestly, he could have forced me to do whether I agreed to it or not. He didn't force me, he didn't even threaten to force me but he could have if I hadn't needed money more than my pride.
It's been a week... I still have nightmares and I still feel so dirty. But screw that because sometimes you just have to man up and do what needs to be done. It's that simple.
I just pray to God Dean never finds out.
I sit outside by myself on a park bench during lunch. I watch my classmates as they laugh, and joke, and tease each other and it's all so petty and normal and I want their lives. But how can I be normal with a dad who's never home because he's killing the monsters in other children's closets and a brother who's starving himself to death just so that I can eat?
That night, after Dean goes to bed (which lately has been pretty early) I go looking for Mr. Fagre. He isn't home and the knot in my chest tightens. I just wanted to get this over with. I don't know if I should just wait outside his door till he gets back or what. I can't go home empty-handed. I just can't.
Maybe I can find someone else. I remember seeing some kids over on 2nd Street. I put two and two together a long time ago and I figured out what they're do out there. The idea of going out on the street and doing this is even more terrifying than doing it with Mr. Fagre.
But I've already made my decision. I'll ask for more money this time and it will be the last time I do this because soon dad will come home and take us away from this shit hole. It will be nothing more than a bad memory that I can pretend never happened.
...
I approach the first car that pulls up and lean against the window. Just like I see all the others do it. I try to control my trembling and hope that the man doesn't notice.
"What can I do for you?" He asks.
I'm caught slightly off guard by the question. All of a sudden I'm not sure that I can do this. I don't know that I can proposition this complete stranger. I thought he'd know what I wanted without me having to say it.
I somehow manage to get out the words but I barely remember what I said.
Apparently he gets the point, "How much?" he asks.
"$25...?" I wonder if this is too much?
He seems surprised.
"I can make it $15!" I am ashamed at how desperate I sound.
He frowns slightly, digs around in his pocket but it's not money that he pulls out.
"I'm a police officer." He says, showing me his badge, "I'm going to have to arrest you for soliciting."
My head is swimming and I can barely hear the rest of what he says.
"Oh God." I whisper. All I want to do is die. Who would have thought that this shitty night could have gotten even shittier.
I am insanely grateful that he doesn't handcuff me but I'm pretty sure that I sob the entire drive to the police station.
...
"Dean?"
"Where the hell have you been Sam? You scared the crap out of me!"
"I need you to come pick me up."
"What? Where are you?"
"..."
"Sam! Where are you?"
"In jail."
"..."
"Dean? You still there man?"
"What the hell did you do?"
"I... uh... I just uh... can we talk about this later?"
"...I don't have a car Sam. I'm gonna have to call a taxi."
"Okay... Just please come quickly."
...
I sit in a holding cell, huddled in a corner and I try not to think about the fact that I am in jail and I try not to think about what got me here. One minute I'm praying that my brother will hurry up and get me out of this mess and the next I'm praying that he never comes. That he decides to leave my sorry ass to rot here for the rest of my life. Because maybe I'd prefer that to him finding out about what I did.
I ask the police officer about every couple minutes if Dean is here yet but I didn't need to ask because when Dean arrives I can hear him.
I can't make out the words but I can tell he's pissed. Though I can't tell if he's pissed at them or at me.
Finally a police officer comes and lets me out of the cell and then leads me to a back room. I ask him what's going on but all he tells me is that I need to take a seat and that my brother will be back here shortly.
It's a couple minutes before Dean walks through the door and one look at him and I start to sob again.
His green eyes are bloodshot, like he's been crying, and I realize they must have told him. His hands are fisted tightly and he walks stiffly.
He sits down across from me and for several minutes he doesn't say a word and won't make eye contact with me. I don't really blame him. When he finally speaks his voice is low and controlled.
"They won't let me spring you out of here." He looks down at his hands and rubs a few of the scars on his knuckles.
My eyes widen, "What? Why not?"
He clears his throat, "Uh... I'm not old enough. They need an adult. And uh... I can't reach dad and Bobby is the closest but even so it will be an all-night drive for him."
"Bobby knows?" I ask in horror.
"Of course... I had to tell him. I'm sorry."
I can't look at him. Bobby knows. Dean knows. Does the whole friggin' world know?
He speaks again, "And... uhh... the CPS is getting involved too."
"What?"
"What did you think would happen Sammy?"
"I didn't think I'd get caught." I mutter under my breath.
"Damn it, Sammy. Why? Why would you do it?"
"We needed the money...It's no big deal." I say quietly as I look at my hands. My voice is unsteady.
"No. It is a big deal. A really big deal... I told you I could take care of the money..." Dean stands up and turns his back to me, his shoulders are shaking, "It's not supposed to be like this Sam! You're only twelve! Your first should have been some hot sexy chick who you love and who really loves you and who thinks you're the greatest thing in the entire world... not some fat sweaty pervert in a back alley!"
I lower my head onto my arms and start to cry, "I'm sorry Dean! I was just trying to help! You keep saying that dad is coming back but what if he doesn't? What if he never comes home and we all starve to death?"
"Don't even think that! Dad is coming back!" He wipes at his eyes and looks away from me, "I'm so sorry Sammy!" His voice cracks and I'm afraid he's going to start crying again.
"What? Why are you apologizing?"
"I screwed everything up. I couldn't keep you safe... and I let you down. You shouldn't have to live like this... Like you don't know where your next meal is coming from. Like you have to go out and do... what you did. It's my job to keep us fed Sammy, not yours!"
"No, it's dad's job... and he's not doing it!"
"Don't blame dad! He's doing the best he can!"
"And so are you Dean! And I just wanted to help!"
"That's great Sammy, that really is... but I don't want that kind of help! God, I feel so sick... I wanna throw up everything I ate with that money you gave me!"
"Well I feel pretty sick too...Dean... it's not like I want this either."
He sighs and sits back down, he looks me in the eye, "Promise me you won't do it again."
"I can promise you that but it doesn't solve anything."
"Well then we'll figure out something that does! Just promise me!"
"Promise me you'll eat."
"What?" He's startled by my response.
"You don't eat. You say you're not hungry but that's a lie."
"I eat!"
"You're too skinny... you can't pick up chicks looking like that- girls don't like skinny guys!"
He grins a lopsided smile, looks down at his hands again and nods.
"And promise me that you'll tell dad next time we need money."
"Aw come on Sammy, stop it. You know dad's poor. He gives us what he can- it's not like he's holding out on us!"
"Well then he shouldn't ask if we need money if he can't give us any!
Dean sighs in frustration, "Whatever."
"Is that a promise?"
"Only if you promise you won't ever even think about prostituting yourself again!"
We'd both been dancing around that word. It was jarring to hear him call it what it was, "I won't do it again." I whisper.
He pulls me into a hug and we both cry.
The End
A/N: I know I left a few loose ends in here, like what happens to Sam, how much trouble does he have to deal with in regards to the police, how does John react when he finds out (does he find out?), what about the CPS? Honestly, I could tie those up but I feel like they aren't relevant and to try to address them would be an emotional drag on the flow of the story. I didn't want to tie this story up in a nice neat happy bow. The ending seems pretty happy and hopeful as it is so I think we're all good :P