Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Also there will some swearing and possible gore, because... it is a Supernatural fanfiction.
Set: Pre-series, Late November
Main Characters: Sam and Dean (Possibly other characters, undetermined)
Ships: N/A
Ages: Sam is fifteen, Dean is nineteen.
Chapter One: Restless Nights
Sam Winchester rarely slept lately.
Nightmares plagued his mind every time his eyes closed, and a sick feeling punched his gut whenever he laid down. His body yearned for rest, but his mind seemed to be waging war against him, and he hadn't had more than three hours of sleep in a week.
The horror-stricken dreams were different most of the time but always centered around the exact same thing. That night.
Hugging his stomach, Sam stared at the wall, unnerved by the silence crippling the room. Dean had gone on the latest hunt, and Sam had been forced to stay behind to heal, but it was hard to heal when you were trapped in a cage called the past. A cage that would only accept the key nestled in Dean's comfort.
"You're okay, you're okay, you're okay," Sam mumbled to himself, the repetition filling the quiet with a cold solace. "You're okay."
Sam's brain scoffed at him, sharpening his mind to the sounds of his surroundings and putting a fearful dampen on it all. The wind howling outside, gut-wrenching. The mindless chatter of people heading to their rooms for sleep, heart-pounding. The quiet hum of the heater, sickening.
The young man's chants grew louder in an attempt to zone out of the noises, "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay."
After all, the monsters were dead now.
"You're okay, you're okay, you're okay-" How do you know all of them are gone? "-you're okay, you're okay…" They could still be lurking. Just waiting to swipe you up again. "...you're okay, you're okay, you're okay…" They'll take you, again. You aren't safe. Nobody is here to protect you.
A sharp knock at the door sent Sam jolting upward in his bed. His fingers clawed at the skin covering his heart, desperate to silence the rapid beating of the muscle. "Who is it?" He called out shakily, biting back fear and patting under his pillow for his knife.
Dean's voice rang loudly in Sam's mind. Strike them hard enough in the neck, and the vampire scum won't stand a chance.
The voice on the other side of the door was clear, gentle, "Samuel? Would you please open the door?" Sam's grip over the blade tightened, and he carefully approached the door. When there was no response, the voice tried again, "My name is Morgan, would you please let me in?"
Once again, Sam didn't respond right away. Instead, he placed his ear to the door and listened to quiet conversation on the other side.
There were at least four people -or creatures- and some were growing impatient. "I'll bust the door in myself," one of them, a more masculine voice, growled lowly. The first voice -Morgan's?- harshly hissed at them to shut up.
"Samuel, I'm with the cops, and we need to ask you a couple questions. Is that alright?"
A beat of uncertainty passed before Sam spoke, "Okay." They could ask, but until he knew who they really were, the door was remaining bolted shut.
One of the other voices grumbled in annoyance when the door stayed closed, but the lady shushed him again and raised her voice. "Is your brother home? Or your father?"
If they're vampires, I could say yes, scare them away… Sam's knuckles began to turn white at his grip on the knife. Anxiety was eating at his soul, chipping pieces of ease off like an icepick. "They went to the store. Should be back any minute."
A heavy sigh followed that, and the lady quietly argued with the other people for a couple seconds before inhaling sharply in annoyance. Sam heard a resigned 'fine,' and then a strong pounding on the door. "Open the door, or I'll break it in." This voice was much less warm than Morgan's, and Sam felt his heart thud fearfully in his chest.
"I don't know you! So… no!" Sam hated how much his voice wavered.
"We're the police. Five, four, three," the counting was slow, and Sam's vision blurred with nerves as he tucked the knife in his jacket and deftly unlocked the door. At 'one,' Sam flung the door open and stood face to face with four people in police uniforms and one young lady in a suit.
His eyes widened in shock, and Sam chewed on his lip nervously. "Hi."
The lady stepped forward, reaching out a hand to Sam, "Hey, Samuel. I'm Morgan. Can you come with us?"
A pause. Sam narrowed his eyes in distrust, shying away from Morgan's gesture of friendship. He turned his gaze to the police officers, "I want to see your badges," He demanded confidently, before a wave of anxiety passed through, and the confidence vaporized, "Please."
Morgan laughed softly, and one or two officers did as well. Two reached into their pockets and revealed their badges to the teenager. Sam studied them, glanced up at their faces, then back to the badges, and slowly nodded. The badges were real… and more or less looked as if they belonged to their respective officers.
"Okay…" Sam murmured, turning his attention back to Morgan. "What can I do for you, guys?"
Make them seem like they're in charge. But if anything goes wrong, you get out of there. Dean's snippet of advice for talking with the police rang loudly in Sam's head.
Morgan smiled, and Sam's stomach knotted because the smile was too cheery. "I'm with Child Protective Services, and we've received a call that you've been staying here by yourself for quite some time now… is that true?" Fuck. Sam glanced uneasily at the officers, an escape forming quickly in his head. CPS was bad news.
"No. D'n and Dad just went to the store. They'll be back soon." Lies. He hadn't seen them in at least a week.
One of the officers scoffed, and the rest seemed to stop listening to the conversation. They must've been expecting a fight, and because there wasn't, they had nothing to do. Morgan sighed another heavy sigh. She did that a lot, Sam could tell. "Samuel-"
Sam couldn't help himself anymore. "-Sam."
Morgan smiled softly and nodded. "Sam, I'm going to need you to come with these nice people and me," When the young man's eyes widened, and his mouth flashed open, she shot him a look and spoke up first. "You can call your father on the way. Don't worry, if they're at the store, they should be able to pick you up right away. There's nothing to worry about."
But there was.
Sam didn't even know if Dean or John were by their phones. Pursing his lips, he turned his attention to an approaching car and raised his voice, "There they are!" he called out. Morgan and a couple of the cops glanced, giving Sam his chance to make his escape.
Shoving through the unsuspecting officers, Sam darted away from the motel. Escape was on the tip of his tongue, but a harsh grip on his arm jolted him backward, back to the officers and Morgan. "No! Let go of me! Let go!" Sam screamed, trying to attract attention. The cop who had grabbed him didn't seem fazed, but people inside the motel were popping their heads out of their rooms to see what the commotion was about.
"Sam! Sam, calm down! We aren't going to hurt you!" Morgan pleaded desperately while the other officers tried to reassure the people watching nothing was happening.
The knife burned in Sam's jacket, and he pulled it up swiftly, slashing at the cop's arm and scrambling away when she hissed in pain. Blood tinged the blade that Sam now slashed at the air. If the cops took one more step, he'd stab them, and they seemed to know this because everyone backed away.
Maybe it was raw fear in Sam's eyes, or maybe... it was the crazed look of desperation, but it was clear Sam wasn't going to be taken in gently.
Escape wasn't going to come easy, Sam knew that. But he was sure he could do it.
That was… until a gunshot rang through the air, and he crumpled to the ground with a scream.
One of the officers had fucking shot him.
"Hold up, what the fuck happened?" Dean's voice was harsh, and his rage was soaking through the phone.
Sam nervously picked at his nails and readjusted the phone so it was wedged between his ear and shoulder. "'S'not a big deal, Dean. Just a skim, 'm fine."
The young man was fine. Physically. Legally and mentally? He was a wreck. Because his pant leg had to be pulled up to check how bad the bullet wound was, Morgan had been exposed to the nasty bruises forming on his leg. And how was he supposed to explain them? So he refused to talk, and they'd assumed Sam's family had done it to him.
Which, this time, they hadn't. This time it had been Sam getting his leg crushed by a dresser trying to escape a nest of vampires. But how was he supposed to convince any sane person that had been the case?
"Just a skim?" his brother pressed angrily. While the older Winchester seemed a little reassured by that fact, the fury at the news was still fresh. "That officer shouldn't have shot you in the first place!" Suddenly, Dean's voice grew a bit muffled. "Sorry, you're right, Dad," His volume increased again, struggling to stay calm. "So, what happened after?"
Sam glanced uneasily at Morgan, who was carefully watching his face for any emotions. "I was brought to the hospital. 'M fine, though, honestly," The young man desperately wanted to alert Dean about the discovered bruises, but he wasn't sure how to go at giving that information out without making it seem like they were conspiring. "So… Can you be here? Soon?"
A stressed-out inhale, "Yeah, Sammy, 'course I can. Dad can finish up this hunt alone, and I'll start driving in the morning. Think you can hold off that long?"
The young Winchester frowned but pursed his lips and hummed affirmingly. That was the best he could hope for. Still, that was two more days battling CPS by himself. Morgan gave him that look, and Sam's eyes narrowed in frustration. "'Kay. I gotta go. Love you, Dean."
With a click, the line fell silent, and Sam held out the phone to Morgan.
A long silence hung in the air, and Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks…" he tried meekly to break the awkward tension.
Morgan smiled softly, "You're welcome. What did they say?"
The way her voice was sharp with curiosity made Sam want to spit at her, but, with a heavily bandaged leg and mind loopy from pain drugs, he was in no place to provoke anyone. "They'll be here tomorrow… or the day after."
"Okay," The CPS worker's face was friendly, but something loomed in the back of her gaze. A thirst for honesty and a hunger for the whole story. "So… Sam… care to explain a few things for me?"
Sam blinked slowly, fighting off drug-induced sleepiness with a nod.
"Why did you lie about where your brother and father were?"
Fuck. The young Winchester knew that question was going to come up, and he still hadn't come up with a logical reason. "I… didn't know who you were. And Dad always says it's safer if strangers think my family's nearby." That… while partially the truth, seemed to satisfy Morgan, and she accepted it with a sympathetic smile.
"That's smart," she noted. Sam resisted the urge to snap at her. Because, of course, his father was smart. He was one of the smartest people Sam knew. "Are you left home a lot?"
Sam turned his attention to the hospital blanket, picking at the loose strings to avoid making eye contact. "No. I usually go with." Once again, mostly the truth.
Morgan pressed further, "Why didn't you this time?"
Because a nest of vampires swiped me from my bed a week ago, and my dad didn't think I was ready for another hunt so soon. "I couldn't do school where they were going. And they were only suppose' to be gone for a little bit."
"Oh," the young woman didn't believe him. "Let's talk… about those bruises we saw. And please, don't lie to me. I'm only trying to help you…" Morgan's voice was just so soft and so welcoming that it was so hard not to just pour his heart out to her. "Does your father hit you? Does Dean?"
Sam was able to answer fairly quickly, "No," But that was his second lie so far. John did occasionally hit him, but it was fair discipline, and he never really hurt Sam. Was never abusive. "And no. Dean would never." Sam's first complete truth.
"You and Dean, you're close?"
The young man wasn't sure where this line of questioning was leading to, "Yeah… he's my brother, so 'course we are."
"That's good. And your father, are you two close?"
Cautiously, Sam shrugged, "I guess, yeah."
Morgan's voice sharpened slightly, warning Sam to tell the truth with just one tone change. "So close you'd lie for them?"
Yes. "No."
The young woman slowly got to her feet, slipped her phone in her pocket, and put a hand on Sam's shoulder. He fought the urge to shrug her off. "Where'd you get the knife? And… all the weapons in your motel?"
Shit, shit, shit. How had they found the other weapons? Sam had hidden the gun and backup blades as well as he could! He faltered, "We… go hunting. The gun is my dad's. He has a license for it. But… but the knife's mine. So… I can protect myself when he's not home. It's legal, I know that. Dad's very serious about following the law." Not one bit of truth in that last part, but complete truth in the first parts.
Morgan chuckled slightly, shaking her head. "Okay. That's enough questions for now. You should get some sleep before you have to meet your foster family."
A sick feeling shot through Sam, and he lunged forward, gripping Morgan's shirt tightly. She flinched in surprise at the sudden panic in the young man. "Foster family? P-please, that's not needed, is it? Dean'll be here soon, I don't… I don't need a foster family, I promise."
"Until the state deems your dad a suitable parent, you're going to have to stay with a foster family. But don't worry, Sam, it'll be a really nice, safe family, I'll make sure of that."
Sam was fighting back tears.
This was bad. He couldn't be sent to a foster home.
Because bad luck followed him like a disease, bad luck and monsters, and death. Bad luck that normal families were not ready for in the slightest.
But how was he supposed to explain that without seeming delusional?
A/N: Yes... here I am, making another fanfiction when I haven't finished my others. But what can I say? Writing is a fickle thing. Anyways, I really hoped you enjoyed this chapter! Please review!
