Sam had slept through the rest of the day after they had returned from the facility. His bed feeling a billion times more comfortable than the one he had been assigned there. Wrapped in his red blanket, Sam had fallen asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. The next day hadn't been any better for Sam. It consisted of mainly Mary and John explaining to him that he could talk to them and Dean basically ignoring him.
The aroma of Mary's cooking drifting into his room was what awoke him the morning after, also awakening his stomach in the process. It began to grumble ferociously, clearly deciding that it did actually want food. Sam had found himself unable to eat most days back at the facility due to his stomach simply throwing up anything he had forced down. He'd put this down to the shitty food he had been served there, and apparently had been right judging by his stomachs reaction to home cooked food.
Wincing slightly as he pushed himself upright, Sam found himself feeling stronger than he did yesterday. Actually managing to get to his feet unaided, Sam gingerly took his steps slow, gauging just how much strength he had before agreeing on a good pace. Grabbing his blue zip up hoodie, which had once been Dean's, he threw it on, thankful of the fact that the thing was still too big on him meaning that the sleeves hung down over his wrists, hiding the bandages. He then opened the door walking down the hallway. Making his way downstairs, Sam held onto the banister, pain flaring up slightly in his wrists as he did so, but Sam ignored it.
Mary walked into the corridor from the kitchen, spatula in hand to see who was coming down the stairs. Upon seeing that it was Sam, a beaming smile appeared on her face before she calmed it down. "Sam."
"Hey, Mary." He responded with a smile.
"You're just in time." Mary motioned towards the kitchen. "I was just gonna' have John come up to see if you fancied some lunch."
"Yes please." Sam answered.
"Good, there's plenty." Mary smile once again. "You good?" Clearly referring to whether he was alright walking.
"Yeah." He nodded in response. "I'm good."
Mary turned and walked back into the kitchen, over to her pans.
Sam took a seat at the table.
Dean walked into the kitchen and almost did a double take as he saw his brother. He glanced at Mary who smiled at him in response before turning back to Sam and sitting down too. "Hey."
"Hey, Dean." Sam answered, hands in his lap. The position was a bit painful, but Sam found it to be a better idea than resting them on the table which he knew would probably upset Mary, John and Dean if the bandages did stick out slightly from his sleeves.
"Here you go." Mary dished some scrambled egg onto his plate before walking around to Dean and doing the same.
"Thanks." Both brothers acknowledged.
There was a stack of toast on a blue polka dot plate in the middle of the table, but it was slightly out of Sam's reach and he didn't want to ask Dean. Instead he hesitantly picked up his fork, not moving the sleeve down from his wrist so he ended up just holding it through the hoodie fabric. He pushed the contents of his plate around a bit with his fork before picking up a piece of scrambled egg and eating it. Sam ignored the grease that accompanied the egg and instead simply relished in the taste. His brother would always tease him about his eating habits. To Dean choosing a salad over something such as a steak or burger was sacrilege, but Sam liked it. Greasy food always left him feeling a bit queasy and so he tended to avoid it. Today however, he would eat anything. Anything that wasn't hospital food would taste like heaven.
Sam noticed the Dean's uncomfortable demeanour. He looked ready to run a mile when given half a chance, and Sam winced at that.
Mary must have noticed this too as she shot Dean a glare before motioning to the food on his plate.
It was then that Dean dropped his fork onto his plate causing it to clatter before he stormed up from the table and out of the room.
"Dean!" Mary shouted after him, getting up too. "Dean!" Sam heard her continue as she walked off down the corridor.
Sam suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore. Placing his fork down, he pushed the plate away before getting up. It was then that he noticed something on the counter. Picking up the stack of letters, he noticed the facility's stamp on the corner of one of them in red ink. Grabbing the letter from the pile, he placed the rest of them back down before making his way out of the kitchen door. Running through the endless fields of golden hay, Sam stopped as he came to a tall tree at the far edge of the field and sat down amongst the roots. Ripping open the envelope, he skimmed through the letter before his eyes widened.
"Shit!" He cursed tearfully. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" Sam kicked at the dirt underfoot before pulling his knees up to his chest, and burying his head down amongst them as he began to cry. He couldn't feel more stupid as he sat and sobbed, but he didn't care.
"So, Sam..." The doctor began. "Why are you here?"
"I don't know."
"Come on, Sam, talking about it will help. I just need you be truthful with me and I can try and help you."
The doctor nodded. He was an older man with grey hair and tortoise shell, round rimmed glasses on a black cord round his neck. He occasionally kept putting them on to make notes before allowing them to hang free. "I believe that everyone can be helped, they just need a little push in the right direction."
"So you've managed to help everyone you've been assigned then?" Sam asked.
The doctor paused for a few seconds, twiddling his thumbs before he looked back up at Sam. "No...no I haven't. I wish I could have, but some people...they won't accept help until it's too late."
Sam regretted asking the question as he witnessed how much it had seemed to have upset the doctor.
"So..." The doctor regained his trail of thought. "I want to talk to you about your past." He put his glasses on before picking up a folder and flicking through it. "Sam Harris..."
"Winchester..." Sam corrected him.
"That's not what it says here." The doctor explained.
He shrugged. "It's Winchester."
"Okay." The doctor nodded. "So Mary and John, they adopted you?"
The doctor was silent for a few seconds as he read through the files. "Mary and John Winchester have never officially adopted you, therefore you are still legally Sam Harris. Tell me Sam, why have you taken their surname?"
"I like them more than the Harris'."
The doctor was clearly annoyed by Sam's short, smart ass answers but kept going regardless. "Says here that you were also subject to child abuse and homelessness when you were younger too. That must have been hard on you at such a young age. Is there anything you would like to say about that?"
"No." Sam answered simply.
"Also says here that your older brother Dean took the brunt of it, but you weren't unscathed either. Tell me Sam, and I want you to know that anything we discuss will never go any further than this room, did Dean ever hit you?"
Anger reaching boiling point, Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Don't you dare!" He growled. "He is nothing like them!"
"So why haven't have you been adopted?" The doctor followed up. "You have been living with the Winchesters for over 4 years and you brother Dean is over the legal age. Both of them could adopt you if they wanted."
"They don't need to." Sam answered, still furious at the asshole for suggesting that Dean abused him.
"And your arm and stomach. You came in here covered in bruises, wrapped in bandages and favouring your left arm." He accused.
"It happened at school."
"Sam, I know that you may think that you have to protect them because they're your family, but if they're hurting you, you have to tell someone."
"I want to leave now." Sam stated.
The doctor sighed. "Fine, we'll pick up with this tomorrow."
Sam got up from the couch he had been sat upon and walked out of the Doctor's office, slamming the door behind him.
"Sam..." Sam looked up immediately to see John stood in front of him. He sniffled and quickly wiped away tears with the material of his hoodie sleeve as he stuffed the letter into his back pocket. "I'm sorry for running out." Sam apologized.
"It's okay, we're not angry."
"You're not?" Sam asked softly.
John shook his head before sitting down next to his youngest. "Dean's not angry with you either."
"He is...he hates me."
"I think we both know that's not true." John attempted to reassure.
"He doesn't talk to me anymore."
"I think he's just struggling to deal with everything at the minute...just like you are. And you're both as stubborn as each other so that really doesn't help." John smirked.
Sam smirked too. "D'you think he just needs some time?"
John nodded. It was times like this that always made Sam seem so much older and wiser than his years. The pure selflessness the boy possessed made him so special, and yet so vulnerable because of it. It clearly hurt Sam when those he loved were sad, and seemed to presume it to be automatically because of him. Looking at his little boy's expression, he saw nothing but guilt and dejection. "If you ever want to talk, we'll be here...you know that right?" He explained softly.
Sam nodded. "I know."
John smiled but it disappeared quickly as he witnessed Sam once again shut down any attempt to talk about how he was feeling or what had happened back in the facility. John didn't want to hear about his time in there anymore than Sam wanted to talk about it, but he had to be strong and be the adult in the situation. If his boy found himself wanting to get something off his chest, he would be there, regardless of how much it would hurt. "You left your breakfast back there, you still hungry?"
Sam was going to say no, but his stomach betrayed him, grumbling lightly.
"I'll take that as a yes." John stood up from the roots of the tree. "You coming back?"
Sam didn't say anything, only nodded in response before getting to his feet too. A few seconds later though, he felt as if he had to say something. "I'm sorry about wasting food."
"You don't have to apologize for that, Sam." John reassured, ruffling his hair.
Sam smirked as John messed his hair up before gently swatting his hand away.
"Let's get back."
That night, Sam couldn't sleep. Lying in bed, he just couldn't get settled. One minute he was too warm, the next he was too cold. Opting to simply use the blanket, he kicked the duvet onto the floor before throwing the red blanket over himself. It was then that he heard a soft sound. Furrowing an eyebrow at the sound, he clambered out of bed, leaving the blanket behind on the mattress and quietly crossed the room, opening the door before pulling it almost closed behind him. Walking down the hallway towards the sound, Sam stepped softly to not allow for the old wooden floorboards to creek loudly underfoot and wake up the house. Reaching the source which was Mary and John's bedroom, Sam peered round the slight opening of the door to see Mary in John's arms as they lay on the bed. Mary was crying and John was gently comforting her.
"It's okay..." He reassured softly. "He's back now, and everything's going to be okay." John took a deep breath. "Try and get some sleep."
Mary nodded weakly before burying herself into John's chest.
John wrapped a protective arm around her before pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Sam walked off back down the hallway to the spare bedroom. Walking inside, he closed the door behind him before picking up the phone and sitting down on the floor. The curled, white wire luckily stretched all the way down. Dialing a number, Sam waited for an answer.
"Hello?" Answered a gruff, tired voice.
Sam took a deep breath before speaking. "Hey, Bobby."
"Sam?" Bobby asked with a confused tone. "It's bin' awhile since I last heard from you."
"Sorry about that. There's been a lot happening." Sam apologized.
"No need for apologies, Sam, we're past that."
"There are reason why you're calling at 1AM, boy?"
"Yeah...I need your help." Bobby noted the change in Sam's tone. "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate cause' you don't ask people for money, but I don't have any other options right now."
"Sam...what's going on? You alright boy?" Bobby asked in a concerned tone.
"I'm fine, Bobby." Sam reassured. "It's just...I was in the hospital for a bit and they need the money to cover the medical bills and we don't have it. I know we don't, so I hid the bill." He paused. "They can't pay it, Bobby. John and Mary would never admit it but they're struggling with money. I can't burden them with that on top of everything, not when it was my fault I was in there in the first place."
"No you're right, forget it. I can't ask that of you. I'm sorry..."
"Sam, don't you dare hang up that phone on me!" Bobby warned.
Sam did as he was told and stayed on the line.
"Two grand." Sam answered. "But I can work. Earn it from you. I won't just take it off anyone. Give me jobs to do and I'll do every last one. I'll pull my weight and help out around the salvage yard."
"Sam, you don't have to. You're family, boy."
"You're welcome. I'll bring the money round tomorrow."
"If you could not tell Mary and John, I would really appreciate it." Sam admitted with a soft voice.
"Sam, they're gonna' find out sometime."
"I know, but by that time it will be paid and there will be nothing to worry about."
"Okay, kid, I'll back your play, but the Winchester's aren't gonna' be happy when they find out."
"Let's just hope they don't find out." He paused. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Bye, Bobby." Sam hung up before walking off back to bed.