One day later update? I know, I can't believe I did this either. XD Thanks for the reviews, they really mean a lot to me!
SPN
When Sam woke up, the first thing he realized was that it was a school morning. Dean was rushing around, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He was humming some old rock song, one Sam didn't recognize. But once he saw that Sam was awake, he smiled.
"Dad said you told him you were sick last night, but he said it wasn't that bad, think you'll be able to go to school?"
Sam shook his head and removed his arm from draped over his eyes, it wasn't helping with the light at all. Dean gasped. "What happened to your eye?"
"Nothing," Sam mumbled. He was surprised Dean hadn't noticed any of the other injuries he was currently sporting. "I just tripping and hit it on the table yesterday."
"What about your jaw?" Dean came over and looked over the obvious bruises.
Sam rolled over. "I already told you, come on Dean, relax." He tried not to wince as his bruised chest pressed into the hard motel mattress.
"Fine." Dean said, but Sam could tell he would pry about it later. "See you after school."
As soon as he heard Dean leave the hotel room, the door slamming behind him, Sam managed to pull himself to his feet, his head swimming. The light hurt his eyes, but he didn't want to turn it off, the switch was on the other side of the room and he didn't even know if he was going to make it to the bathroom, let alone the other side of their bedroom and the bathroom. Sam brought his arm over his eyes and winced when it came in contract with his bruised eye. After a few steps he just closed his eyes and using his hand, felt his way into the conjoined bathroom.
Once he reached it, the first thing he did was rinse out his mouth, it tasted like dried blood. He winced as the cold water hit his slashed tongue, the gash was bigger than he had thought. He examined his bruised eye and jaw and frowned at how big and dark they were. Dean was going to put the pieces together sooner or later.
He turned the shower on and when he took his shirt off, gasped at his purple side. It was a mix of purple and green hues and needless to say, it was downright painful. Luckily it was his left side, so it wouldn't hurt when he moved his right arm.
He looked at his left arm, or at least what he had of it. It cut off right above the elbow, and the end of it was crooked like someone had broken it, instead of it forming that way. When he was younger he had asked Dean about it, and Dean had said when he turned sixteen he would tell him. He didn't know what Dean knew, or even have a clue as to what it entailed, but he could tell it was bad, after all, Dean had never refused to tell him anything. He had even come clean about their dad's obsession with the supernatural.
Sam ran his hand over the stump at the end of his arm. More often than not, he wondered what it would be like if that arm was full, if he had a second hand. He blinked and pushed the thoughts back before peeling off the rest of his clothes and getting into the shower. The warm water stung and soothed his wounds at the same time. His tongue was swollen but not so much that it affected his speech. His side though, it pulsed. He tried not to touch it or move it, but it was hard.
After his shower, and after he'd painstakingly dried off and hopped into clean clothes, he went out into the living room and collapsed on the couch. There was a small stain on the left armrest, and it was a dark crimson. Sam would bet money it was from his father's painful beating.
Even though he had just woken up, Sam's head was still pounding, so he decided to take a nap. It was mere minutes before he was completely comatose.
SPN
"Sammy," he heard someone whisper.
He rubbed his non bruised eye and yawned before stretching. "M'hm."
"Dude, it's six o'clock." He opened his eyes to see has brother smiling from above him.
"What?" Sam bolted upright at the thought of so much time passing, but the startling pain in his side stopped him. He gasped lightly.
"Sammy, you okay?" Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Sam nodded quickly before sending his brother a fake smile.
"'M fine," he pulled himself up and off the couch and tried to once again ignore the pain that was fully consuming his body, he saw a few dark spots, but quickly blinked them away.
Dean leaned closer, examining his jaw and eye. "Maybe you hit your head harder than we thought," he gently reached out and ran his fingers lightly over the bruises. "Do you think you have a concussion?"
Sam shook his head, "No, I swear Dean, I'm fine," he walked into the kitchen and tried not to cry out as he accidentally bumped his side on the island.
"Dude, your face looks like the Pillsbury Dough Boy's after a beat down," Dean said, trying not to raise his voice, it irritated him to no end when Sam was like this.
Sam could feel his anger building. He wasn't mad at Dean, he would have been glad Dean noticed, but if Dean brought it up in front of his father, he was worried it wouldn't end well. It never did when his dad got involved. He was mad that his father put him in the position where he wasn't only angering his father, but Dean. If it bothered Dean, it irritated Sam. And that wasn't fair. It shouldn't have to be that way.
"Dean, for the last time," Sam tried to keep his voice steady and neutral, he didn't know whether he wanted to cry or scream and he didn't want to do either, "I'm fine. I'd tell you if I wasn't."
Dean opened his mouth to retort when their father walked in. He had been sleeping in his bedroom for most of the day, well, either that or he had passed out from the severe amount of alcohol he had consumed the night before. Either way, he hadn't shown up all day and Sam wasn't thrilled to see him.
John smiled contently at Sam over Dean's shoulder before he turned around, and Sam suppressed a shiver. John somehow had managed to master the loving father attitude around Dean but the scornful attitude around Sam, it was scary but relieving at times. Dean would never have to worry about going through what Sam was enduring, his dad loved him too much, and after all, he was the perfect son, the exact opposite of Sam.
Dean didn't deserve it. He hadn't done anything wrong, and even though he still didn't know what it was, Sam had done something. Sam had done something wrong, and even though he had no clue what, he knew it was bad, his father wouldn't punish him if it wasn't. He had done something horrible and it had something to do with his mother's death. He just knew it.
"Dad?" Dean said as he turned toward him, and John switched expressions quickly from scorn to affection. "Oh God, you smell like a bar."
"I'm taking a shower anyway," he said, before walking off, the bathroom door slamming a few seconds later.
Dean coughed and once he heard the shower on, looked at Sam skeptically. "How drunk was he?"
"What are you talking about?" Sam lied, he couldn't give Dean any clues as to what happened. Especially since Dean put pieces together quickly, even one clue could give away what Sam had worked so hard to hide.
"You know what I'm talking about, unless he dumped a thing of Jack Daniels on himself, he was drunk," Dean lifted an eyebrow, "You okay?"
Sam realized he had started shaking. The memories were flooding back and his will power was weakening. He pulled himself together though and used the cool environment to his advantage. "Nothing, just cold."
Dean raised his other eyebrow, "Dude, you're wearing a long sleeve shirt. It's only seventy in here. Seriously, what's up?"
"Nothing," Sam sneered. Dean stepped back at the violent reaction, Sam had always had a temper, but he had almost never gotten hostile with Dean, never.
Sam headed out of the kitchen and into their bedroom slamming the door roughly, he wanted to scream and throw things and cry and punch things all at the same time. But instead he collapsed onto the bed, landing on his back and covered his face with his arm before slowly calming his breathing. He was done with this, he was sick and tired of lying. He was sick and tired of being hurt. He just wanted to tell Dean the truth so Dean could take him out of there.
He laid there for who knows how long, he lost track after an hour or so. After what he was hoping only amounted to a few hours or so, he decided he should go and apologize. He felt guilty about yelling at Dean, he had only been trying to help. Also, he knew apologizing would lower Dean's suspicions some, and the last thing he wanted was for Dean to find out.
He pulled himself up and grimaced at the pain knotting his side, but it wasn't too bad, so he dealt with the pain.
He cracked open the door and noticed his dad was sitting on the couch. He was drinking a beer and watching the news, and Dean was nowhere in sight. Had he gone off to get something? What if his dad got mad again? Was he that drunk yet?
Sam carefully closed his door and sliding along the wall, made his way quietly into the kitchen. He was relieved to find Dean there, sitting at the table, polishing some knives. He didn't look up when Sam walked into the room, but he did when Sam sat down across from him.
"Dean," he struggled to say, he hated apologies, "I'm sorry about earlier. I don't know what's up with me, I shouldn't have lost it on you like that."
Dean nodded slowly. "Apology accepted, I'm sorry for bugging you, but dude, you look like you got run over by the Impala."
Sam nodded, but didn't say anything else. He didn't want to lie about how he got his bruises, because he knew Dean would find out later, and that was the last thing in the whole world he wanted.
"So, you going to school tomorrow?" He asked, his eyes back to his polishing.
"Yeah," Sam nodded, "I feel better."
"What exactly was wrong with you?" Dean questioned.
Oh God, Sam hadn't thought about what his cover story for his father's cover story would be. But as a Winchester, he quickly thought of something. "I had a stomach virus. It was short lived, but Dad thought it was safer for me to stay home, just in case it made a reappearance."
Dean nodded. He went back to his previous engagements, and Sam just sat there with him, his mind wandering everywhere.
He was snapped out of his day dream, when John walked into the room, his step slightly hesitant. He was already drunk.
"Dean, will you go get some more beer? We're out," his voice was only slightly slurred, but Dean still noticed.
"Dad, you're hammered," Dean reasoned, "The last thing you need is another beer."
"Just go get me one," he said, "or I'll go get one myself."
Dean stood up and grabbed his keys. "I'll be right back, there's a convenience store only a few miles out."
Sam wanted to ask to accompany him, more than anything. But he didn't want to risk it, what if John got mad? What if he beat both of them instead of just him?
Sam didn't want to risk it, so he watched as his brother walked out the door, and he was left all alone with his drunk father.
SPN
So? What do you think? Like, no like? I'll try to get the next one up soon...
Review, please? It's seriously the best motivation out there.
Also, HAVE A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS!
I'm having A Very Supernatural Christmas...