SUMMARY FOR CHAPTER THREE: Dean (13), Sammy (8); The boys are left to fend for themselves now when their father hunts without them. Dean proves that he will do anything to keep Sammy fed and safe. Sammy proves that he only ever needs Dean to be happy.
Dean and Sam were alone, truly alone. For the first time that Sam could recall, he and Dean were on their own. Dean, however, swore up and down that their father had left them by themselves lots of times before to go hunting, but Sam just looked at his brother with that 'you are so lying to me' look on his face and didn't believe a word of it.
The boys were once again hold up in a dodgy motel room. It was like every other motel that they had ever stayed in with their father. The room had cheesy, ugly décor and a tiny kitchen with a table and four chairs that looked as though they had been around to see World War II come and go. The bed linens were the same cheap, worn sheets and blankets as in every motel they'd ever stayed in. And Sam couldn't help but wonder absently if there was a warehouse somewhere where all the motels in the world went to order the most harsh, scratchy, uncomfortable sheets and pillowcases known to man.
But Sam never complained to Dean, it wasn't Dean's fault the way they had to live, and he certainly never complained to their father. Sam knew that their dad couldn't have cared less where his sons slept. But Dean, though the elder never said as much, Sam knew that Dean wanted better for them. Dean always tried his best to give Sam everything he possibly could when their dad was away. It was almost as if Dean was trying to make up to Sam for their parentless, nomadic lifestyle. So the older Sam got, the more he had to be conscious of what he said around Dean, taking care to be content with what they had and not 'wish out loud' for things he knew they could never get.
Whenever Sam truly needed something, or even when Sam really wanted something, Dean always came through for him. Sam, however, never asked Dean where he got the money they needed. He just assumed that it was left to them by their dad or earned by Dean somehow. Though John did usually leave them some cash, it was never more than twenty dollars or so, not nearly enough for two growing boys to live on for days or weeks at a time.
Dean was fully aware, in the times that their father left them alone, that he had to save as much money as he could because. Most times John would give them some idea as to where he was going and how long he would be gone. This time, however, John had not been so forthcoming, nor had John left them with any of the stolen credit cards upon which they lived. John had only said that he was meeting up with some other hunters one state over to take out a nest of vampires. Dean had wanted to go with his father, but didn't let that fact be known. He would never leave his Sammy alone, unprotected, to fend for himself. Dean just purposed in his mind that he would just have to be a frugal as possible with their money until their dad returned.
Sam, however, had other thoughts. He had no idea how much money they had to live on but Sam wanted pizza for supper that first night alone. "C'mon, Dean," Sam pleaded, his eyes big and shining as he looked up at his big brother from the old chair next to the chipped dining table. "Pizza would be sooooooo good," Sammy groaned, rubbing his empty stomach. Sam's t-shirt rode up to give Dean a good long look at the soft, pale skin surrounding Sammy's little 'outie' belly-button. "Oh Dean, just think about all that melted cheese. Yummy! Please?" Sammy batted his too long eyelashes, his bottom lip poking out just a bit as he waited for Dean's response.
Of course Dean could never resist the little twerp. "Jesus I'm whipped," Dean mumbled as he turned away from his brother. Sam just gazed at him with a puzzled look on his face. Dean knew that Sam had no idea what 'whipped' meant and he fully aimed to keep it that way as long as possible. "Ok, Sammy," Dean sighed as he gave in. "We'll have pizza tonight. Just don't eat it all cause we'll need breakfast in the morning." Sammy grinned and jumped up to hug his brother tightly. Dean squeezed Sammy back just as tightly, breathing in the scent that was, for Dean, distinctly Sam and home, before he pushed Sammy back, putting some space between them. "I mean it," Dean said. "Don't eat it all tonight." Sammy nodded his head and crossed his heart with one hand in a promise to save some for their breakfast.
A little while later, after Dean had placed the call for take away pizza, the piping hot, cheesy goodness arrived. Sammy was beside himself over the treat, bouncing up and down on his chair and clapping as Dean paid the delivery guy. Dean stuck the change in the pocket of his jeans and brought the box to the table. The brothers had nothing but tap water in their glasses to drink, but with the hot pizza it might as well have been champagne. They were eating good tonight.
There were no plates on the table. Each boy just grabbed a slice straight from the box. Sam's eyes rolled back in his head with the first greasy, gooey bite. The hot cheese burned the roof of his mouth but he didn't care one bit. That pizza was the best thing he had tasted in such a long time. Sam finished his slice off in record time, noticing that Dean, however, had barely picked at his own slice. Sam reached for another, woofing it down as well, and had finished that one too long before Dean had finished his first slice. "Don't 'cha like it, Dean?" Sam asked, grease dribbling down his chin as he talked.
"Mmm, sure, Sammy," Dean said, looking at the rapidly dwindling box in the middle of the table. "I'm just not that hungry I guess. You go on and take my other slice," he said, retrieving a napkin that had come along with the pizza to wipe the grease from his little brother's chin.
"You sure, Dean?" Sam asked in astonishment when Dean finished wiping his chin. He blushed a bit because he should have realized he needed to wipe his own chin. Dean shouldn't have had to do it for him. He was getting too old for his big brother to have to do little things like that, take care of him like that. But as he looked back and forth between Dean and the pizza, Sam couldn't believe that Dean was passing up his part of the cheesy goodness.
"Yeah," Dean sighed when his stomach gave a bit of a hungry rumble. "You're too skinny as it is, kid. Go ahead. Eat up. I'm gonna grab a shower before bed," Dean said, leaving Sam at the table to finish up.
Sam snatched Dean's other slice and ate it with as much gusto as he had his own two pieces. He was sorely tempted to grab a fourth slice but he remembered the promise he'd made to Dean to save some for breakfast. So when he finished Dean's slice, Sam closed the lid of the pizza box and sat it on the counter looking forward to cold pizza for breakfast.
In the bathroom, Dean waited for the shower water to get hot as he slipped off his jeans and t-shirt. His underwear was the last thing to go before he climbed under the sad excuse for a shower sprayer. The water was lukewarm at best, but it was better than nothing. Dean was so hungry that he wondered if he'd be able to get to sleep at all that night. He stood under the shower and drank as much of the warm water as his undernourished belly could hold. At least there would be something in his hollow tummy now and maybe, just maybe, he would be able to get some sleep without hunger pains tonight.
Dean didn't have to give up his food to Sammy very often. He had known that they really couldn't afford to get the pizza that Sammy had wanted tonight. But he would give up anything, anytime, for his brother. Though Dean would never admit it, Sammy's smile, or his pleading eyes, melted Dean's heart every time, and Dean would do anything, give up anything, to make his little brother happy.
When Dean finally emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his narrow hips, Sammy was sneaking into Dean's sack of clothes to grab an old t-shirt of Dean's. "Busted!" Dean said with a laugh, grabbing his little brother while the t-shirt was still over Sam's head. "That's my shirt an' you darn-well know it, kid," Dean scolded. "Now gimme!"
"No, Dean, please…" Sam whined. "I like to sleep in it. It's soft and…and…it smells like you." Sammy said so quietly that Dean was sure he had heard his brother wrong. But Sammy blushed to the roots of his hair. He couldn't believe he'd actually admitted that deep, dark secret to Dean. And the look on Dean's face was absolute shock. "I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said. He was mortified, first of all for having been caught taking Dean's shirt without asking Dean's permission, and then for admitting such a secret to Dean. So Sammy's eyes began to moisten with unshed tears as he started trying to take the shirt off as fast as he could.
"No," Dean said. It was only one word but it spoke an entire volume to Sam. Dean pulled his t-shirt down over Sammy's head and smoothed it down over his brother's gangly arms. The shirt was too big for Sammy of course, hanging all the way to the tops of Sammy's thighs. But neither brother seemed to notice or care.
Though Dean had precious few clothes of his own, the thought that Sam wanted to wear something of his to obviously feel closer to his big brother, just flat put Dean's head in a spin. That Sam wanted to wear the shirt, one of Dean's favorites that he wore often, because it smelled like him, made Dean's chest feel tight. "'S ok, Sammy," Dean said quietly, ruffling the younger's soft, wavy hair before lifting Sammy's chin, forcing the younger's eyes to meet his own. "You can wear it anytime you want to."
Then, out of the blue, Dean felt little arms go around his waist and the scent of Sam permeate his nose. Sam was hugging Dean so tightly, the elder thought that he might just have bruises in the morning and that was just fine with him. Dean's arms curled around Sam to gently squeeze him back. "Go brush your teeth and then come to bed," Dean said, glad that Sam obeyed and went to the bathroom before Dean's stomach rumbled again. It wouldn't do for Sam to know that Dean was going to bed hungry. He never wanted Sam to worry about anything, least of all him.
Sleep didn't come easy for Dean that night. Sammy had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, snuggled up to Dean for warmth in the cold bed. Outside it was getting colder and the heater in their room was sort of hit or miss and it seemed to be missing tonight. Dean knew that all they had left of dad's twenty bucks was about five dollars and some change. That wouldn't last them at all, especially if dad was gone past tomorrow, which Dean was quite sure he would be. Their father was never gone less than three or four days.
Dean was wracking his brain for a way to get some more money and fast. He couldn't get a job, he just wasn't old enough and he didn't even have a fake ID. He knew there were people out there who would pay him for things that he didn't even want to think about, much less do, but he also knew that he wouldn't allow Sammy to be hungry or cold either if there was anything he could do to prevent it. He would just have to see if he could hustle up anyone who would pay him for some of those things he would try to forget about later.
So Dean climbed gingerly out of bed, careful not to wake Sammy. He dragged on jeans, a t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt, then an old jacket of his dad's, before donning his socks and shoes. He crept over to the door and slipped out quietly, being careful to step over the unbroken salt line in front of the door. It was a little before midnight and the night air was cold, crisp and clean. Dean shivered a little, then pulled the hood of the sweatshirt up over his head and tugged the old jacket closer around him.
He made his way out of the motel parking lot, down the street to a bar. There were plenty of cars in the parking lot and plenty of people coming and going. Dean backed up to the front of the building by the corner and stood with one leg propped up on the building. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans and his pelvis was a bit thrust out, as if on display. It was the quintessential stance of one who wanted to be solicited for the evening.
Fortunately, Dean didn't have to wait long in the cold night air. An older man, probably in his late thirties or early forties, sidled casually up to Dean checking the boy out. "Hey boy," the man said putting his hands on the building by each side of Dean's face. Dean could smell the whiskey on the man's breath as he spoke again. "You lookin' for someone to make yer night, boy?" Dean just grinned up at the loser and took one hand out of his pocket, placing it on the man's groin, rubbing and taking note of the half-hard bulge beneath.
"You got the money, daddy," Dean said with a little rub of his hand. "And I'll be all kinds of good to you." The boy batted his long eyelashes and turned his bright green eyes and cute freckled nose up to the man who couldn't seem to ask Dean 'how much' fast enough. "Twenty for my hands," Dean said, giving the man's still-clothed cock a small squeeze. Dean's voice was husky with just a tinge of fear. "Or fifty for the best mouth you'll ever have."
Dean's tongue slipped out from between his full lips before he smiled at the man. He was hating himself on the inside because of what he had to do that night. He couldn't bring himself to hate his father for forcing him into this situation and he certainly wouldn't hate Sammy. No, the blame for the happenings of this night fell solidly upon Dean's own shoulders and he hated himself all the more.
"What if I want more than hands or mouth, boy?" The man asked, trying to kiss Dean's throat. "How much for this sweet ass of yours?" He asked as he grabbed and groped Dean's round little butt cheeks.
Dean froze. There was no way he was going there. Not at thirteen goddamn years old he wasn't. No way! "Sorry, man," Dean said, shaking his head. "That's not for sale at any price. Shake or swallow, that's all I'm offering."
Surprisingly, though the man seemed disappointed, he agreed to Dean's terms for a blow job and even paid in advance. The man moved them around the corner into the darkened alleyway alongside the bar. Dean unzipped the man's jeans and pulled out a smallish, although already hard, dick. Dean gave the little thing a tug or two as an enticement before going to his knees and taking the man into his mouth. Dean didn't let his mind dwell on what he was doing. It was all for Sammy. His Sammy couldn't go hungry. His Sammy had to be warm, fed and happy. His Sammy was worth it all.
When it was over, Dean didn't swallow. He ran away and spat into the first bush he came to. As Dean made it back to the motel and climbed back into bed with Sammy, he tried not to think about what he'd just done. Somehow Dean knew that although this was the first time he'd ever done anything like this, for money or otherwise, it wouldn't be the last time that he was forced to sell himself. John was sure to leave them alone more and more and likely without funds again. But Dean knew that he would always do whatever it took to take care of Sammy, no matter what. He just prayed that Sammy never found out.