Chapter Two: Someone Who Cares
Dean looked helplessly at Bobby for a moment as the older man began to clear the table but his surrogate uncle offered no answers.
Shaking his head, Dean slid his plate on top of his brother's and handed them both to Bobby.
"What do you need in town?" Dean asked curiously.
Bobby shrugged, "Parts for a car I've gotta work on. Nuthin' special."
The young man nodded and Bobby saw his eyes dart to the huddled form of his brother underneath the table, "I'll only be a half-hour or so."
"Alright," Dean said. He didn't know what he was going to do if Sam refused to move. His brother couldn't stay in the kitchen the whole day.
Dean followed Bobby to the door, told him what he could pick up for Sam and promised not to push his brother.
"Just act like everything's normal," Bobby suggested, "If Sam sees nothing's going to happen, he might just come out on his own."
Dean nodded, slightly annoyed that the veteran hunter was telling him how to take care of his own brother.
"I think I can handle it, Bobby," Dean grumbled.
Bobby frowned at the younger man, "Don't get smart with me, boy. This ain't a game."
"I know that!" Dean growled back, "It's not like I'm having the time of my life right now!"
"Would you lower the volume, you idjit," Bobby hissed, aware that Sam was only in the other room and could certainly hear them arguing.
Dean's face paled as he realized he'd nearly been yelling, "Aw shit."
Bobby shook his head, "Calm down before you go back into the kitchen."
The younger man swiped a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.
"I won't be gone long," Bobby told Dean as he slipped out the door, looking back once before climbing into the cab of his old pickup truck.
SPN
Sam washed the small amount of dishes leftover in the sink. His father would be home soon and cleaning up the kitchen had been the one thing John had told him to do. The water was icy cold- the house that they were renting was just one cockroach infestation shy of being condemned- but Sam didn't mind. He was glad that there was running water, whatever temperature. Sam looked out the window as he did his chore, grimacing at the burnt grass covering the postage stamp-sized lawn as he waited for his father's 1967 Chevy Impala to pull into the cracked driveway.
Across the street a group of little kids were running around in a sprinkler, shouting and laughing as they jumped and skidded in the muddy grass.
Sighing, Sam turned to set a plate in the drying tray and startled when a car door slammed shut. John was back. The plate slipped from Sam's wet fingers and smashed in the sink.
"Fuck," Sam cursed and scrambled to gather up the pieces before his father could see.
The front door creaked open and Sam froze, knowing he'd be caught if he made a dash towards the garbage can.
Tears already pricking in the corners of his eyes, Sam gripped the edge of the sink with white knuckles as his father entered the kitchen, probably looking for a beer.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" John snapped as he crossed to the humming refridgerator.
"Nu-nothing," Sam stammered and winced; now his father was sure to know something was wrong.
"What have you got there?" John asked and stomped toward his son.
"Pl-please," Sam began and tensed when his father placed a hand on the back of his neck.
John didn't even say anything. He just shoved his boy's head down, into the soapy dishwater still in the sink.
Sam didn't have time to take a breath and when he did, he got a lungful of bitter-tasting water. His hands scrabbled for purchase at this edge of the sink, trying to gain leverage and lift his head but his father was too strong. Minutes passed and growing lightheaded, Sam stopped struggling and felt his body go limp, too weak to fight.
This is it, Sam told himself, Dad's finally had enough of-
Sam gasped for air as John pulled his head up. Releasing his son, John stepped around the boy to the fridge and grabbed himself a beer.
Sam hit the floor and pressed his back against the cupboard doors. Wiping soaking bangs away from his burning eyes, Sam squinted at his father as John twisted open his bottle of beer and strolled into the den as though nothing had happened.
Coughing, Sam drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. He shivered, knowing that he should finish the dishes and throw out the broken plate before his father came back into the kitchen, but he just couldn't find the strength to move. Tears mixing with the water dripping down Sam's face, he laid his cheek against his kneecap and wished he could do something right for a change.
W
Sam stared at Dean's denim-clad legs as his brother washed the dishes. He could hear him humming 'Smoke on the Water' over the splash of sudsy water and the clink of cutlery and plates. Sam might as well have been invisible for all the notice he received. Sam told himself that Dean was his brother and he'd never hurt him but still he didn't move. John was his father and that hadn't stopped him.
The boy sniffed sadly and froze when his brother turned around.
No, Sam thought in panic, I'm sorry! Please!
Sam's eyes grew wide as Dean moved towards the table, dish cloth in one hand.
Scooting away from the threat, Sam let out a frightened whimper.
Dean though, apparently hadn't heard and wiped the table with the cloth, brushing the crumbs into his free hand before dropping them into the empty side of the sink.
The drain gurgled noisily as Dean let the water out and left the dishes in the rack to dry off.
Sam's heart was beating like a jackhammer in his chest and his eyes followed Dean as his brother left the kitchen and walked into the den and sat down on the couch.
The boy heard the television turn on and the garbled sounds as his brother channel surfed.
Sam recalled many a night when his father would return from a hunt and watch TV for hours, drinking beer after beer. Sam remained underneath the table, warily eyeing his brother's form as Dean leaned back against the couch cushions and guffawed at something funny he was watching.
SPN
Bobby knew something was wrong as soon as he pulled up the drive. Dean was sitting on the porch steps with his head in his hands and a sorrowful expression on his face.
"Balls," Bobby muttered to himself as he opened the creaky door of his pickup, grabbed the grocery bags from the passenger seat and slid out.
The grizzled hunter paused only long enough to slam the truck's door shut and approached the younger man.
"Dean, boy, what happened?" He asked and the teen looked up at him as if suddenly realizing he was there.
"Sam hasn't moved," Dean answered sadly.
Bobby raised his eyes to the sky for a moment, "This ain't gonna fix itself in an afternoon ya idjit."
Dean nodded and wiped surreptitiously at his eyes, "I did what you suggested but it didn't work… I just can't stand to see Sammy like that… he's terrified, Bobby!"
"Okay," the older hunter sighed, "Let's see if we can't coax your brother out of his shell a little bit."
Dean nodded and stood, following his surrogate uncle inside.
Bobby didn't go into the kitchen but the den. He set the bags on the coffee table and spoke loudly to Dean.
"I got Sam some new clothes," he rustled the plastic bag as he pulled out a half dozen pairs of jeans.
"They look like they'd be Sam's size," Bobby continued and unfolded a pair to show Dean.
The younger man smiled, catching on to what Bobby was doing.
"Did you get Sammy any shirts?" Dean asked.
"Of course I did! Look!" Bobby pulled out two dozen shirts. Six t-shirts ranging in colour form dark brown to forest green to navy blue to white. The other half-dozen were long-sleeved plaid button-ups that would match the t-shirts.
"Sam's gonna love these," Dean said honestly and mouthed 'thank you' to the older man.
"That ain't all," Bobby winked, "I got Sam a little treat."
Dean smiled when the veteran hunter pulled a king-sized Oh Henry chocolate bar from the bag.
Both men couldn't help grin when they heard the sounds of moment coming from the kitchen- the scuff of shoes on linoleum and the rasp of fabric- and turned to see Sam watching them warily from the doorway.
"Wanna see what Bobby got ya?" Dean asked as though Sam hadn't been spending the past hour huddled underneath the kitchen table.
Sam narrowed his eyes as though he thought his brother might be tricking him before he stepped into the den.
"You really got all this for me?" Sam asked Bobby and the grizzled hunter nodded.
Sam gripped the elbow of his right arm with his left hand, "Does that mean you're not angry at me?"
Bobby nodded, "You've done nothing wrong, son."
Sam bit his lip and nodded once. He took a cautious step forward and Bobby held out the chocolate bar.
Bobby watched with a bleeding heart as Sam snatched the candy from him and held it as though he wasn't sure what to do with it once he had it.
"Go on," Bobby encouraged, "Enjoy."
Sam's expression turned confused, "Don't you want me to wait 'til after dinner?"
Bobby waved a hand, "Nah, you only live once so why not enjoy the little things while you can."
Sam didn't react for a moment before mumbling a quick 'thank you' to the older man and took off down the hall.
"Sam-" Dean began but Bobby grabbed his arm.
"Let him be, Dean," Bobby cautioned.
Dean stared at his friend in outrage for a moment before nodding.
"I just want him to know that everything's going to be okay," Dean muttered, "I just want him to know that I'm not going to hurt him."
"That's exactly what you're doing, Dean," Bobby assured the younger man, "But Sam's been through a hell of a lot and he's likely still got John in his head so we have to move slowly."
"Yeah, okay," Dean agreed, "I'll take these up to our room and put them away for Sam."
Bobby nodded in approval.
Dean had reached the bottom of the steps before Bobby stopped him, "Catch."
Bobby tossed a regular-sized Snickers bar at the younger man and Dean grabbed it from the air with ease.
"Make sure Sam doesn't see you eating it," Bobby advised and Dean nodded, slipping the candy bar into the back pocket of his jeans.
Chuckling to himself, Bobby went into the kitchen and put away the air-dried dishes. The house was very quiet but it wasn't bad… it was more comforting and Bobby knew that- for now at least- both Winchesters were content in their own way.
Author's Note:
1. Chapter title comes from a song of the same name by Three Days Grace.
2. Thanks to cold kagome, reannablue, sarah, Souless666, BranchSuper, Samstruck, miss-behave0308, SPN Mum, L.A.H.H, help789, Liza Halliwell, SLPikachu, AlxM, and rohopretender for reviewing.
3. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favourited or is following.
4. Please leave a review! They keep me warm as the snow piles up outside!