Dean Winchester was one of the may Seniors at Truman High. His school life isn't easy neither is home life. Dean's dad was hardly ever home because his job and that left Dean home with his little brother, Sam, most of the time. Sam was someone who would let things bottle up inside him until it got to much for him to handle. Sam's life was a mess as well as Dean's, but Sam was battling depression at the same time. This made pressure for Dean, he sometimes didn't have the time to look after Sammy, so he'd leave him home alone while he went to school or earned money. He hated doing this, because as well as depression, Sam was suicidal.
Dean tried to make sure they wasn't anything sharp enough to hurt his brother while he was away but scars and cuts would always found their ways onto Sam's body. "Sam, I'm heading out. I won't be long, okay kiddo?"
"Sure, Dean." Sam said, not rising his eyes from the book he was reading.
"Don't do anything stupid, please Sammy."
Dean always tried his hardest to reach out to Sam but no matter what he did, Sam wouldn't let him in anymore than he already was.
Sam didn't say or do anything this time, his eyes just kept scanning the page in front of him, Dean got up, grabbed his keys and left. Times like this, his depression got to him. Whenever he was alone, it got worse. Sam's eyes finally left the textbook and down to his wrist. His large shirt was covering his scars so he pulled it up slightly and flipped to the last pages of the book. This book wasn't a normal book, he had cut several pages out so he could keep some razors within. He pulled on out and turned it in his fingers a couple of times before staring at the blade for a minute or two. Cutting gave me this sense of belonging. It felt normal while everything else in his life felt unnatural . He glided to razor across a clean area on his wrist. The blood started to flow instantly, that's how deep he cut. He pulled his sleeve down, over the cut. He knew the sleeve was soon to be stained red from blood so he got up and changed his shirt.
Dean returned home hours later. He had made a habit of getting out of the car, running up to the house and making sure Sam was okay. He even did this from the roadside, where the school bus dropped him off. He turned the key, pulled them out, opened the door to his black Chevy then pulled himself out. He quickly made his way up to the house, opened the door and yelled his brothers name.
"Sammy?!"
Silence filled the house, "Sammy? Answer me goddamit!"
A soft voice came from the bedroom, "what's with all the yelling?"
"Bloody hell, Sam. Don't you do that to me."
"Do what?" Sam rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Ain't I allowed to sleep now?"
Dean let a sigh, "You just scared me, that's all," He went over and sat on the end of the single bed. "How're you? Holding up?"
"Yes, Dean. I'm fine."
"If you say so. Get some more rest." Dean ruffled Sammy's hair before leaving the room.
The next morning, Dean left a note on the kitchen bench before leaving for school.
"Off to school. I'll pick up some sort of book for you if you want?
Car keys are on the hook. Ring me if you need me, phone fully charged and on, for once.
Behave and I'll see you after school kiddo."
Dean left 20 dollars next to the note, pulling his jacket on and his bag over his shoulders and left for the bus stop.