The Adventures of Sam Winchester
Title comes from the book The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
Requested by anon
Prompt: AU - Abusive!John. Sam always took the hits for Dean without his little brother even knowing. After meeting up with John, Sam's reluctance to help their father out on a case leads to an argument between the Winchester brothers. As things get heated, the truth slips out.
Sam is 22 and Dean is 18 in this story.
In the flashback, Sam is 10 and Dean is 6.
Sat at the wheel of the Impala, Sam was trying not to explode. Dean had lost the argument over who was driving, with Sam stating that the car was his first so therefore he gets to drive. He had also won the choice of music argument too, through using his usual comeback of 'driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole', so the sound of Pearl Jam was playing through the Impala. Not that either Winchester could hear it. Since meeting up with their father, the brothers had done nothing but argue on the drive to the motel that he had given them the address for. They had received a text earlier that day saying that something big was going down and that he needed their help to take it down, which obviously meant that Dean rushed into Daddy's little soldier mode and made them shag ass to the co-ordinates he'd attached to the text.
"...I mean the guy's just trying to do the best he can in an impossible situation..." Dean continued, Sam having zoned out a couple of minutes ago at the sound of his little brother's speech in defense of their father.
Not once had he seen his brother actually question anything their Dad had said. Dean would always just fall into line and do what Dad told him to do without complaint. Sam hated it when conversations like this would come up because Dean would never understand why he felt the way he did towards their Dad. Why Sam hated seeing the man, hated being around him. And the same topic would always come up every time. 'Stanford'. Dean would never understand the significance of Stanford. How going there saved him. He only knew the bare bones of the story. The false story. The story that their father told. The story that Sam also told him so that he wouldn't find out the truth. Because the truth would break him. Would break him. The truth would end the bond that Dean and their Dad had. Dean would never be able to look at their Dad the same. Wouldn't trust him. Wouldn't want to see him. And Sam didn't want that to happen, because he loved his little brother, and he didn't want him and their Dad to fall out because of him.
"Sam?!" Dean shouted. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Do you want me to honestly answer that?" Sam asked.
Dean rolled his eyes as he slumped back against the window, elbow rested on the door. "You're a right dick sometimes...you know that?"
Sam ignored the jab.
But Dean was unrelenting. "But seriously, Sam..." Dean leaned forward again. "What is it with you and Dad? Why do you two fight so much?"
"It's a long story, Dean." Sam answered.
"Stop saying that! That is the only answer you and Dad ever give me!" Dean shouted. "I don't want to talk about it, Dean! It's between me and your brother, Dean! It's a long story, Dean!" He mimicked.
Sam didn't say anything.
"And you wonder why I'm Dad's favourite." Dean munbled under his breath.
Anger flaring, Sam pulled off onto the dirt at the side of the road before cutting the engine and getting of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.
Dean furrowed an eyebrow before getting out the car himself.
It was clear that Sam was trying to keep himself calm.
"Sam?..." Dean approached with a softer tone.
Sam shook his head.
"Sam, I didn't mean..." Dean began.
"No...that's exactly what you meant, and you know it was." Sam stated.
"Okay...fine..." Dean's tone raised. "Yeah, I am Dad's favourite, but maybe if you hadn't of ditched us for Stanford, you might still be Dad's favourite."
"Right..." Sam scoffed. "You say that like I was ever Dad's favourite. Like he ever gave a shit about me."
"That's bullshit!" Dean shouted.
"Is it?!" Sam retorted.
"Yes! You're acting a kid who's moaning because he's not getting enough attention!"
"I don't care about the attention, Dean! I care about how he treated me!" Sam shouted before his eyes widened in realisation of what he had just said.
Dean furrowed an eyebrow. "Sam?..." It was then that he saw the petrified look on his older brother's face and instantly knew something was wrong. "Hey..." He closed the gap between him and his brother. "Whatever it is...you can tell me." Dean stated softly.
"I can't..." Sam stated in a weak tone.
"Yes you can." Dean reassured. "You're safe...no one can hurt you. And I wouldn't let them. I can protect you...but not you if you don't sell me what's wrong."
"You don't understand, Dean." Sam was close to tears.
"Then help me to...Something is seriously eating away at you, man...I wanna' help."
"I can't..." Sam looked down.
"Why not?" Dean asked.
"Because it's not fair on you." Sam answered.
Before Dean had a chance to say anything in response, Sam's phone began to ring.
"You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago!" The gruff voice at the other end of the phone stated sternly.
"We had to stop for gas." Sam lied. "Look we're not far out..."
"People are dying, Sam...Now get your ass into gear and get over here now! Am I making myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir." Sam replied.
"Good, now hurry up." John hung up.
Sam, who had been biting his tongue through the whole conversation, breathed an angry breath before walking off back to the Impala and climbing in, throwing his phone onto the dashboard.
"What did he say?" Dean asked as he too got into the car.
"Same old, same old." Sam responded before he drove off.
Arriving at the co-ordinates John had given them, Sam noticed their father's truck and parked up beside it.
"So did he tell you where he was?" Dean asked, climbing out of the car and walking round to the trunk.
"What do you think?" Sam asked, dryly.
"I was just askin'." Dean stated before rolling his eyes and opening the weapons cache. "Jeez." He mumbled quietly under his breath so Sam wouldn't hear.
As Sam walked round to the trunk, Dean turned to him.
"So what do we need?" He asked.
"He didn't say." Sam took his phone out of his pocket and dialled John's number.
"Sam. Are you here yet?" Came a blunt response.
"Yeah we're at the co-ordinates. What are we hunting?" Sam asked.
"Got some unfinished business for you to take care of." John stated.
Sam furrowed an eyebrow. "What?"
"The shtriga that you nearly let kill your brother..." He paused.
Sam's eyes widened.
Dean furrowed an eyebrow at how pale his older brother had become in a matter of seconds. "Sam?" He spoke up. "Sam, what is it?"
"I..." Sam began, but didn't know what else to say.
"Pack up and get into the woods. And I swear to god you better not screw this up again!" John stated. "You hear me?!" He asked aggressively.
"Yes, Sir." Sam answered in a weak tone before he hung up.
Dean walked over to Sam. "Hey..." He began softly. "Are you alright?" Dean placed a hand on his older brother's arm before his eyes widened. "You're shaking."
Sam pulled his arm away from Dean's grip. "I'm fine...I'm fine..." He walked over to the trunk once again before pulling out a metal case. "And I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants me to finish the job."
"What are we hunting?" Dean asked.
"Shtriga." Sam answered as he opened the case.
"Consecrated iron rounds?" Dean furrowed an eyebrow. "What is this thing? A ghost?"
Sam shook his head. "It's kind of...like a kind of witch. They're Albanian, but legends about them date back to Ancient Rome. They feed of Spiritus Vitae. 'Breath of Life'. Kind of like your life force or essence. Shtriga's takes your vitality, and then your immune system goes to Hell, pneumonia takes hold. Shtriga's can feed on anyone, but they prefer children. Probably because they have stronger life force." He explained. "Consecrated iron rounds are the only things that can kill em' cause' Shtrigas are invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and Man."
Dean furrowed an eyebrow. "Wait...How the hell do you know so much about this thing? Cause' I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal."
"Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about 11, 12 years ago. You were there. You don't remember?" Sam asked.
"No." Dean paused. "So wait, this..."
"Right. You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?" Dean asked.
"But if Dad went after it why is it still breathing air?"
"Cause it got away." Sam answered.
"Got away?" Dean almost smirked.
"Yeah Dean, it happens." Stated Sam in a tone that showed he was clearly starting to get frustrated.
"Not very often."
"Well I don't know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn't have his wheaties that morning." Sam shrugged.
"What else do you remember?"
"Nothin'. I was a kid all right?" Stated Sam.
"Sam..." Dean just looked at his older brother, knowing that something about this hunt was clearly bothering him. The shaking still hadn't subsided which was clear as he watched Sam attempt to load the guns with the iron rounds. Stepping forward, he took the guns from his brother and loaded them himself.
"Thanks." Sam smiled slightly. "We need to get moving cause' if this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance." He grabbed one of the guns off Dean before closing the cache lid and the trunk.
"Woah, woah, Sam..." Dean stepped in front of his brother. "Are you sure you're up for this?"
Sam nodded. "Dad did not send me here to walk away."
Dean furrowed an eyebrow. "Send you here? He didn't send you here...he sent us here." He stated.
"This isn't about you, Dean. I'm the one who screwed up, all right. It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me." Sam shouted before his tone became softer and he scrubbed a hand down his face.
"What are you saying, Sam?" Dean paused. "How is it your fault?"
There was a long pause before Dean eventually spoke up again with a sigh. "Sam. You've been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on."
"Fort Douglas, Wisconsin. It was our third night in this crap room and I was climbing the walls. Man, I needed to get some air. You were asleep in the bedroom, so I went out. Locked the door behind me and went out to the arcade in the lobby of the motel. I was only gone for like twenty minutes, but when I came back, the light was on in the bedroom, and there was this..." Sam paused as he tried to compose himself. "Thing leaning over you on the bed, it was draining you, so I grabbed my gun, but I didn't know what to do. I panicked, and then Dad came bursting through the door screaming for me to get down, and then he shot the thing. He winged it, but it managed to get away. Dad spent the night calming you down and trying to get you back to sleep. I didn't sleep the night, I just kept vigil outside the door to make sure nothing else would get to you..." He explained before lowering his head in shame.
"What did Dad say to you?" Dean asked.
"He asked me what happened, so I told him that I'd gone out." Sam scoffed. "He didn't take that very well." He winced.
Dean noticed. "Sam..."
Sam looked up at him brother.
"What happened after?"
Sam's silence told Dean everything.
"He hit you, didn't he?"
"Don't get mad at him." Sam quickly defended. "He was right. Dad gave me an order and I didn't listen, and I almost got you killed. Then after that night, Dad never spoke about it again, and I obviously didn't ask. But he...ah...he looked at me different, you know? Which was worse. Not that I blame him."
"You were just a kid." Dean stated softly.
"Don't. Don't." He shook his head. "Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it." Sam explained.
Dean gave his older brother a reassuring smile. "Sam...what did Dad do?"
"After he'd managed to get you back to sleep, Dad went out. I tried to ask him where he was going, but I got told where to shove it. When he came back, he was drunk, and he said some stuff."
The door opened as John stumbled in.
Sam was on his feet in seconds from his position on the floor where he had been leaning back against the door of the bedroom. "Dad?"
"What are you still doing up?" John asked.
"Couldn't sleep." Sam answered.
"Worried you were gonna' let your brother nearly get killed again?"
"I never meant for any of this to happen." Sam was trying to keep his emotions at bay as he looked over at his father.
"But it did happen, Sam." John stated. "Dean nearly died because of you...Your little brother."
"I know." Sam nodded. "I'm sorry..."
"It's not good enough, Sam." John walked closer to his eldest. "Sometimes I wonder whether you're even mine. I mean you're useless. Completely useless. You can't even keep your little brother safe!"
"I'm sorry..." Sam whimpered in response.
"Stop. Saying. You're. Sorry!" John shouted as he slapped his eldest across the face causing him to fall backwards onto the floor of the motel room.
Sam's eyes widened as he put a hand to his now stinging cheek. A tear trickled down his face.
"Don't you dare start crying, Sam!" He warned sternly. "Why is it that you have so little respect for me that you would just ignore an order I had given you and go out? I directly told you not to leave this room, and you disobeyed me!"
"Dad...please..." Sam whimpered once again.
"You're no son of mine!" John landed a kick to his eldest's stomach.
Sam curled up into a ball, wrapping his arms around his stomach to try and defend his small body from his father's blows. Tears were running down his cheeks now as he called out in pain each time the boot made contact with his skin.
Once he had finished, John shook his head. "I'm ashamed to call you a Winchester sometimes." He walked off.
Sam didn't move from the position he was in as pain flared up in his chest at every attempt to even do something as simple as sit up, so he slumped back against the floor, and finally let his emotions out.
Dean felt sick as he looked at the sheer emotion on his older brother's face as he explained what their father had been capable of all those years ago. "I'm gonna' kill him!" He snarled in anger as he shook his head.
"Dean..." Sam began.
"Don't even try and defend him!" Dean stated sternly. "The man kicked the shit out of you, and you're still jumping to his defense."
"But it was my fault." Sam stated.
"It wasn't your fault!" Dean shouted. "I mean for fuck sake, how old were you that night?"
"Ten." Sam answered.
Dean's eyes widened as he scoffed. "Ten...You were ten years old, Sam! I know that Dad made you feel like this was all your fault, but it wasn't. None of it was, and you need to understand that."
"Sam..." Dean interrupted. "It's not your fault. You have to believe me when I say that."
A tear trickled down Sam's cheek.
Dean's heart wrenched as he watched his older brother's mask crumble. Closing the gap between his older brother and himself, Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him closer into a tight embrace.
And that's when Sam broke down, letting all of the emotions that he had kept locked away over the years out as he cried on his brother's shoulder.
"It's okay..." Dean reassured. "It's okay..."
When Sam had stopped crying, Dean pulled away and smiled softly at him. "What do you say we ditch and go find ourselves another hunt?"
Sam smiled and nodded. "I'd like that."
As Sam's phone began to ring with their Dad's name as the caller ID, both brothers stared at the phone.
Picking it up, Dean threw it against the tree causing it to smash into thousands of small pieces. He then turned back to Sam. "We'll buy you a new one." He smiled.
Getting into the Impala, the two Winchester brothers drove off, AC/DC blaring in search of something else that needed ganking.