Chapter 3

Sam was woken abruptly when Dean slapped his boot into the side of the upper bed near Sam's head. He sat up and started bleary eyed at him, seeing nothing had changed while he slept.

"You better get up and get dressed or you'll miss the bus," he told him. "And you know Dad's not going to drive you to school and neither am I."

"I'm up," Sam mumbled as he wiped sleep from his eyes before climbing out of bed. He went to the dresser for clean clothes to wear. After looking through every drawer, Sam finally found jeans and a shirt to wear. He wandered into the kitchen and saw John sitting at the table drinking coffee with Dean.

"Is there anything for breakfast?" Sam asked in a quiet voice.

"What do you care?" Dean asked. "You get free breakfast and lunch at school," he sneered.

"Oh," Sam whispered not sure what to do. "We're out of milk."

"That's because you drank it all dipshit," Dean sneered.

"Can we get more?" Sam asked cautiously.

"You know we don't get food 'til Fridays when I get paid," John told Sam. "Somethin' wrong with your memory?"

"No, no," Sam stuttered backing away out of arm's reach.

"Take my lunch and tool belt to the car boy."

Sam looked around and saw a beat up lunchbox sitting on the counter and picked it up. He saw the belt hanging by the side door and slipped it off the hook. He opened the side door and stepped out into the morning sunlight. Sam almost fell when he stared in shock and disbelief at the Impala that sat by the house. Last night he couldn't see the car, but in daylight he could see every scratch, dent, ding, on her dull, lifeless body, and even a cracked side window. The Impala was coated in dirt and grim and had patches of rust over her body. Her tires were worn and almost thread bare in places. "Oh Baby, what did they do to you?" Sam whispered as he walked on unsteady legs to the car and laid a loving hand on her hood blinking back the tears of sorrow.

He opened the backdoor to look inside. It was missing the toy green army soldier he had crammed into the ashtray when he was three and Dean and his initials were missing from the back shelf. The floorboard was littered with trash and there was a tear in the backseat upholstery. The Impala had been his home all his life and his heart broke to see her this way. Evidently, this John didn't have any respect for his vehicle. He left the things in the backseat and headed back inside, wiping his face of his tears.

John ignored Sam when he returned, as he looked at his oldest son with cold eyes.

"You be sure to take the garbage to the dump today. I'm tired of seeing it piled up out there."

"Yes sir," Dean grunted not hiding his disgust.

"I'm working some extra hours tonight, so get yer on dinner," John told them as he got up and grabbed his jacket, pausing before opening the door. "Boy, you need to do laundry when you get home from school. There's some change in the coffee tin in the cabinet. Make sure you get it all washed." John headed out the door and cranked the Impala to head to work.

"I'm off too. Better get to the bus stop unless you're walking to school," Dean told Sam as he got up to. Make sure you watch my sheets shithead, I had a busy week," he laughed rubbing his crotch, so Sam knew what he meant.

Sam stood alone in the kitchen after they left and didn't know what else to do but get his pack and go to school. He knew the bus stop must be at the end of the drive or somewhere close. He found a jacket and walked out of the house and down the driveway.

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The ride on the school bus took forty minutes since it had to drive around to pick up the students that lived on the outskirts of town. Sam felt like everyone was looking at him as he had found a seat and could hear whispers behind him. He heard someone say something about his Dad being the town drunk and his brother always stayed in trouble with the cops. He went to the middle of the bus and found a seat alone. He shrunk in on himself and tried to ignore the other students.

When they pulled into the parking lot for the school and the bus stopped to unload the students, Sam waited for all the others to get off. He noticed how neatly dressed most of them were in designer clothes and looked down at his patched, hand me down clothes. Now he knew why they all treated him differently. He was the poor kid who got free meals and wore tattered clothes. The other students thought they were better than him because they had more material things than him. He never judged others by what they had and didn't let this bother him now. He was just as good as they were, no matter what he wore.

Sam walked by himself into the school and went down the hall to what he hoped was his locker. He sighed with relief when he tried the combination and it opened. That meant that his classes should be the same too and swapped out books to head to homeroom and then to his first class. Before he got to homeroom, Sam remembered that he got a free breakfast and was hungry. He headed toward the cafeteria and joined the other students to get a meal. Sam felt embarrassed about this, but hunger won out. After finishing the meal, Sam hurried to homeroom to start his day.

spn

Sam's last period was study hall, and he got a pass to go to the library. He wanted to see what he could find out about his Mom's death and do some research on hunts that his Dad had done. Sam went to the information desk to see how to access local papers from the year he was born. He was led to a back room that had shelves of boxes with newspapers stored in them. He went down the rows until he found 1983 and pulled the box down to take to a table. He was going to start with his date of birth and check a week's worth of papers going forward and if that didn't pan out, he would look on Mary's date of death, November 2, 1983 and work backwards. Hopefully, he could find something before he had to leave school.

When none of the May papers had anything, Sam started looking for papers that would cover his Mom's date of death, November 2, 1983. He started skimming the first one but didn't find anything. On the third paper, a few pages in, he found an article of a house fire and started reading it. It stated an electric fire claimed the life of local resident, Mary Winchester, when she saved her son from a fire in his nursey. She succumbed to smoke inhalation and died at the hospital. It stated that it was believed the fire originated from a faulty baby monitor. Sam sat back seeing now why Dean blamed him for their Mom's death. She saved him from the fire and died doing it. Now he knew why Dean hated him so.

It seemed the fire had destroyed most of the house and Sam figured that must have been hard on them financially and he thought they both blamed him for all the bad that had happened. He was a constant reminder of what they had lost. His Dad had turned to drinking to dull the pain and Dean began a degenerate and bully.

Sam put the papers back in the box and the box on the shelf. He wandered toward the door as his mind whirled in different directions. The library had a couple of computers and he sat down at one to figure out how to use it. He found a browser and tried to find anything on a hunt that might have made the news. It took him twenty minutes to find something, but it wasn't good news. Everyone that Sam knew had survived, their Dad had saved them, were listed as dead. John wasn't a hunter so anyone he had saved in his other life were dead now.

There was one other thing Sam wanted to try and left the library to find the pay phone. He fed money into it and punched in a number he had memorized by heart. He listened to it ring twice before a buzzing and ringing sounded and then a message that the number was disconnected. Sam hung up the phone feeling dejected and discouraged. He had tried to call Singer Salvage Yard to talk to Bobby, hoping he could help him. Sam had never felt so alone as he did right now. He headed to his locker to get his books since school would be out in a few minutes. He headed to where the buses were parked and searched for the one that would take him back to the bus stop and then he would walk to the house.

Being early to the bus allowed Sam to get a seat at the front of the bus away from the other students. No one offered to sit with him and that was okay with him. He was one of the last kids to be dropped off and trudged up the hill to the driveway of the house. Sam let himself into the hot house and took his bookbag to the bedroom. He looked around at the dirty clothes tossed randomly around by Dean and huffed angerly as he bent to pick them up and put as many as he could in his clothes basket until it was full. He had seen a laundry mat while riding the bus back home. It was less than two miles from the house in a small strip mall.

Sam stripped both bunkbeds and used a pillowcase to stuff them in. He went to his father's bedroom and stood at the doorway, afraid to go in. Drawing in a deep breath, Sam pushed the door open and turned on the light. He saw an unmade bed, dresser, and two piles of dirty clothes at the foot of the bed. The room smelled of beer and body odor that made him hold his breath as he quickly gathered the clothes and took them out in the hall.

After looking through the cabinets, Sam finally found the coffee can that had quarters in it for the laundry. He found laundry detergent under the sink to take with him. He filled his pockets with coins and went looking for something to carry the clothes in to get them to the laundry mat. Sam found an old rusty red wagon sitting at the side of the house and loaded the clothes onto it. He started walking toward the road, pulling the wagon behind him, being careful to not turn it over as the wheels squeaked loudly. It was back breaking, and he was exhausted by the time he got to the paved road where it was easier to pull the wagon.

He was lucky the laundry mat was almost empty and divided the clothes between three washers, inserted the quarters and started them washing. Sam took a seat on a hard, plastic chair and waited for the clothes to wash so he could transfer them to dryers. He kept an eye on an older man that kept looking at him. Sam got a funny feeling about him and made sure to stay away from him. It took nearly two hours before they were dry and ready to fold. He stacked everything neatly in the wagon and began his journey home.

The sound of a car engine drew close to Sam as he walked down the side of the road. He didn't look up until it pulled abreast of him and rolled slowly along as he walked.

"Hey kid, need a ride?" the man from the laundry mat asked him.

"No thank you, I'm fine," Sam replied trying to ignore him.

"Awe come on kid, it's gotta be hot out there."

Sam didn't respond to him as he clutched the knife in his jacket pocket. He was lucky he had it on him when he left the motel. He hoped the man would leave him alone and he wouldn't have to fight him.

A horn blew at him and Sam turned to see Dean pull up in his truck and stop. The man looked behind him and took off before Dean could get out. He waited as Sam put the clothes and wagon in the back of the truck and climb into the cab. Dean didn't say anything to him as he drove to the house and didn't offer to help Sam get them out and carry them inside. Sam divided the clothes and left Dean's and his father's clothes on their beds. He put his clothes away in the dresser and made up his bed before stopping for a moment to rest.

Not thinking anything about it, Sam pulled the last soda from the fridge and opened it, taking several sips before suddenly being slapped hard across the face, knocking him back against the counter. He still had a grip on the soda, but it was ripped from his hand by Dean.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean yelled at him. "That was my soda, and you know better than to take my things." He took the soda and stalked toward the bedroom cussing under his breath at Sam.

Sam leveraged himself back up with the help of the counter and rubbed his cheek as tears filled his eyes. He couldn't believe Dean had hit him. Was this how his life would have been if John had not found out about what killed Mary and what was out there in the dark? Would this be how John and Dean would turn out, not being hunters? Sam pushed himself from the counter and went outside to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to find a way back to his reality and his family.

A/N: Sam is finding normal life in this world not to his liking. He has to find a way home. One more chapter to go and this short will be over. I hope you enjoyed the short ride. Reviews would make my day. NC