Broken Promises, Uncovered Secrets.
Summary. . . . . Things had been tough for Sam in the years following his abuse at the hands of The Burton's, yet one thing had remained constant, his family. One sentence said in fear and anger though had taken even that security away from him.
Now someone knows his deepest secret and Sam's having to deal with it alone. Sequel to Months To Rebuild Seconds To Destroy. Mentions of Sam's rape and abuse. Rated K
Disclaimer. . . . Maybe tomorrow, until then I'll just carry on playing. Mistakes are all mine!
Sam's hands shook all the more as he waited for the person on the other end of the phone to answer, his heart thumping all the more furiously in his chest when they finally did so, only slowing when he heard the familiar timbre hit his ears.
"Hello?"
Sam blinked back tears of frustration as his voice failed him, humiliation washing over him at the thought of having to tell even this person that his dirty, disgusting secrets were once again resurfacing. The friendly, safe voice spoke once more and Sam found himself breaking inside all the more.
"Hello? Who's there?"
Sam finally found his voice this time and around a sob managed to croak out a whispered answer. "G. . . . . George?"
George Vose had decided to retire from the police force soon after Sam's second bout of abuse at the hands of the Burton family. The internal politics, bribes to free undesirables, and the court systems negativity towards the victims had eventually gotten too much for him. Unsure of what to do, it had been Sam himself that had finally suggested that he become a hunter. He had found out pretty quickly though that the actual hunt wasn't for him, but his connections in the force added to his meticulous research skills, that surpassed even Bobby's at times, had meant that he had become invaluable to the small band that he had come to call, family.
Occasion called that he sometimes was needed to still partake in one or two simple salt and burn jobs when no one else was available as back up, and so that was why he was to be found sat in a truck parked outside a graveyard when his phone rang. Taking it out of his pocket and noticing the unregistered number he was in two minds whether to cut the call, something pricking at the back of his mind though stopping him.
"Hello?"
When nobody responded, George took the phone away from his ear thinking that he could possibly mistakenly have cut the call anyway, at seeing that he hadn't he tried again.
"Hello? Who's there?"
After a brief pause, George was finally rewarded with a quiet, almost whispered answer. Surprise, confusion and fear fought to be the winner in his head as he registered who the caller was, registered the tears trying to hide beneath his softly, stuttered name.
"G. . . . . George?"
"Sam, is that you son? Is everything okay?"
"Yeah it's me."
"Sam, what's wrong? It's like eight thirty in the morning here, so you're at what? Five thirty?"
"I don't know what time it is, I'm sorry that I called you so early, but I didn't know who else to call, I should just go." Sam rushed out, his sentences practically falling over themselves.
"Sam, Sam. Don't worry about the time I was up anyway, I just need you to calm down and tell me what's wrong. Can you do that for me?" George could hear Sam's breathing hitch as his sobs increased and he fought to regain his composure.
"George, are you alone?"
George glanced at the other occupant inside the truck, the occupant whose eyes had widened when he had realized who George was talking too, taking a gamble George decided on a little white lie. "Yeah Sam, I'm alone. Now please tell me what's up."
Sam was quiet for a very long time before he managed to speak again, when he did so his words cut through George like daggers. "Someone knows, George."
George didn't need to know what it was that someone knew, there could be only one reason that would get Sam as upset as he was. Taking another glance at the person beside him, George made a decision. "I'm on my way Sam, but it will take me some time to get there. Keep yourself safe until I do, okay?"
"Yes."
"It'll be okay Sam, I promise. I'll call you after I've organized a flight."
Another muffled okay could be heard before the call was cut. Taking the phone away from his ear, George stared at it until the person next to him, unable to stow his curiosity any longer, spoke up.
"George? What's wrong? What's going on with Sam?" Caleb's concerns echoing in both his voice and his expressive chocolate brown eyes.
George didn't want to hang around; starting the engine he gunned the truck and headed for the highway, deciding to tell Caleb what he knew on the way to the airport. "Sam says somebody knows."
"God damn it!" Caleb bellowed out his fist punching at the dash. "But how? And who? We dealt with all the main players, and the bitch took care of that Corey kid. The other two were mere pawns, and believe me they were sent away knowing what would happen if they spoke up. Who the hell could have found out?"
"I don't know, Caleb. Alls I do know is that Sam sounded pretty messed up and the sooner we get there the better."
"Has he rang Dean?"
"I don't think so."
"Do you think that we should?"
"I don't know, but I'm guessing that Sam doesn't want him to know for whatever reason, otherwise he would have called him himself. I say we respect his wishes, we get out there, and we decide from there."
"I don't know George. If Sam's in trouble and we don't tell Dean, he's gonna be pissed. What if Sam gets taken again? Could you live with that guilt? I know I couldn't. I think we should tell him."
"We don't even know what's going on yet Caleb and I already lied to Sam by saying you weren't here. Let's get there and try and convince Sam to call home himself."
Caleb reluctantly agreed and the rest of the journey had passed in silence. Arriving at the airport, George left Caleb to park the car as he sorted out the tickets, the younger man doing so before returning to the terminal. Caleb paused outside the main entrance before entering, he knew how angry he would be if he had been left out of knowing Sam was hurting, he could only guess that that anger would be multiplied for Dean. Taking out his phone he quickly speed dialed a number and waited for an answer, guilt eating away at his insides at what he felt was a betrayal of Sam's trust. But then again he thought, Sam didn't even know that he knew and that fact made him feel a little better. The voice that finally answered at the other end also helped and Caleb answered back knowing that he had made the right decision.
"Dean, you need to meet us at Stanford."
Sam had decided to take a shower after his call to George had ended, thankful that because of the early hour the communal bathroom was empty. He had still felt exposed though, feelings of being watched making him feel both dirty and terrified, so much so he had reverted back to doing something he hadn't done in a very long time and had refused to strip completely. He had closed his eyes as he stepped under the spray, his tears that had started to fall again mingling with the scorching water, water that he had hoped would wash away his depression.
Even the water though, that had always worked in the past to ease him, was working against him today, each drop feeling like a finger trailing down his body, so sure was he that someone was in there with him, touching him, Sam had hastily pulled his clothes back on, not caring that he was still dripping wet, and had bolted back to the relative safety of his own room.
After making sure that he had locked both the door and the window, he had crawled onto his bed as far as he could, so that he was backed against the wall. He pulled up his wet, denim clad legs against his chest, his head dropping to rest on top of them, one arm hugging around his legs, the other wrapped over his head trying to cover his ears in an attempt to block out Sherry's voice that he could hear whispering what she planned to do next.
When, no matter how hard he grabbed his head, her words still continued to make them selves known, Sam removed his arm. Falling to his side and curling up into the smallest ball his tall frame could manage, his body shaking as trembles wracked his frame once more, he started to lightly finger the faint scars that still remained on both his wrists, while his mind drowned in his dreams.
A.N. . . . . Loved writing this chapter and I hope it shows. Thanks for reading as always, Peanut x