The Lost Boys
Walking through the front gates, all eyes turned to Sam. Dressed in a white t-shirt and tatty jeans with a dirty burgundy jacket, Sam kept his head lowered as he hid behind his long, floppy brown hair which hung down over his eyes. The cut on his lip and the black and purple bruises under his eye were just two of many things Sam was trying to hide that day. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone noticed, but then again, no one really cared. To them, he was just the mysterious freak who no one talks to. The one everyone knows gets smacked around by his Dad. Cradling his arm around his middle, Sam tried to fight through the pain as he kept walking.
Entering the main school building was always hard for him. With large groups of students flocking around in the corridors beside their lockers just waiting to shout comments or take a swing themselves. Because Sam wasn't gonna' swing back. He would just take it, because that's what he was used to. A group of girls began giggling as he walked past. The social destroyers. The ones that have a rumour circulating in around three minutes max if you did or said anything they didn't like. Isn't school amazing?
Sam ignored them all and entered the classroom. Again, everyone stared as Sam walked down the aisle to sit at the back desk. This had very much become his place in the classroom as no one occupied the seat beside him and everyone else was at least three desks in front. He didn't know why the space was necessary, but then again, he didn't really care.
Sitting down, Sam noticed a group of guys at the front looking in the direction of his wrist. His sleeve had moved up slightly revealing dark red bruises left from his father's iron grip. Sam's cheeks reddened slightly in embarrassment before he quickly pulled the fabric down to hide the marks.
Mrs Norton walked in followed by what appeared to be a new kid. Dressed in a long, brown leather jacket with jeans, a black t-shirt with a light blue plaid shirt over it, and dark brown boots, the guy was tall with quiffed-ish brown hair and green eyes. His cheeks were lightly freckled and he didn't seem to lack confidence.
"Class, this is Dean Winchester." Mrs Norton introduced before looking up at him. "Is there anything you would like to tell the class about yourself, Dean?"
"Not really, sugar." He quipped with a cheeky smirk.
Mrs Norton rolled her eyes, clearing having dealt with many Deans throughout her teaching career. "Sit down."
As Sam watched him walk down the aisle of the classroom, he prayed that he wasn't going to sit near him. But he did. That was of course after furrowing an eyebrow at the distance between Sam and the rest of the kids in the class.
Dean looked at the kid he was sitting next to. Long, messy brown hair covering green eyes. Just like Sammy's.
Stop it, Dean, it's not like Sammy's.
Leaning back in his chair, Sam winced as even the slightest movement aggravated his throbbing ribs. Holding back a whimper, Sam tried to hide his discomfort.
"Sam?" Spoke up Mrs Norton, and Dean winced at the name she had just spoken.
It just had to be that name didn't it?
Sam looked up and over at her. She was stood at the front of the classroom.
"Can I assign you to show Dean around the school?"
He nodded, hiding his reluctance.
"Good." She nodded with a smile.
When the bell eventually rang to signal the end of homeroom, Sam stood up from his chair gingerly before gently putting the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
Dean, who had been watching as the kid got up, couldn't ignore the alarm bells that were ringing in his head at the sight of him. He had been hunting for as long as he could remember, and he knew the signs of someone who was hurt. The kid however was more than that. He was someone who was hurt and pretending to not be. There were clues littered across him. The way his left arm never moved more than three or four centimetres away from his chest, the way the kid looked as if he'd gone a few days without a good meal, and the way his lip was split. A split like that required force, and Dean guessed that it came from a fist rather than a fall. Who was this kid, and why was he the only one who seemed to be giving a shit about him?
The other kids had already cleared off out of the room leaving only him and Sam. Sam had walked off ahead and was now walking through the door out into the corridor. Dean managed to catch up to him in a couple of seconds due to the kid's slow pace.
Sam glanced to him and offered a brief smile. "We've got PSHE."
Dean rolled his eyes with a sulk gaining a smirk from Sam as he did. "You don't like it either, huh?" He asked.
Sam shook his head.
"I don't think anyone does." Dean replied as they walked into the classroom Sam had led them inside. Sam and him took their seats at a desk at the back of the room. Dean notes that this seemed to be the kid's favourite place.
A tutor cleared his throat before standing up from his desk and walking over to a whiteboard at the front of the room. "Today we have a guest in to speak to you about something very important. Now it's quite a tough subject matter in which we're going to discuss so if any of you just want to step out during it that's completely fine. You don't need to ask either, you can just leave. Anyway..." He turned to a blonde woman who was sat in a chair at the side of the room. "This is Louise Walker."
"Thank you." She nodded before switching places with the tutor at the front. "Yeah, so I'm here today to talk about abuse and how you can report it if you ever find yourself in the position, or if you witness it. We will be talking about the procedures involved with the reporting and also looking at the signs of abuse and how you can help prevent it by noticing these vital clues."
Dean glanced at the kid to offer a witty comment but noticed instead just how pale the kid had turned.
"Hey..." He whispered softly. "You okay? You don't look so good, buddy."
Sam quickly nodded in reply. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Dean let it slide for now while the blonde chick continued her lecture. It was when she assigned them into partners that he decided that he should probably try to find out what was wrong. "Seriously, dude, are you okay?"
Sam nodded. "I'm fine, honestly." But he wasn't meeting his eyes anymore. Sam once again seemed to be hiding away behind his fringe.
The blonde chick walked over. "So, what have you got down then?" She asked before looking at their blank sheet of paper. "Nothing, so I suggest you start writing otherwise you're not going to have anything to present."
"Present?!" Sam's tone rose quickly. The result wasn't loud, but there was something hidden in there that didn't sit well with Dean.
The blonde chick nodded. "Yep, so I would put some signs down." She then walked off.
"Ughh, I hate presenting." Dean moaned.
Sam didn't say anything.
After a further five or so minutes, the blonde chick walked back to the front. "Right then, that should have been enough time." She looked around the class. "Hmm..." Her eyes quickly found Sam and Dean. "Right then, you two at the back. Can you come up here and share your views please?"
Dean was as reluctance as Sam when they walked to the front. Various students in the class sniggered as they did. Sam could see them pointing and making comments to each other as they laughed.
"Haha, faggot and the new kid." One of them shouted.
Dean glanced back at Sam who had retreated back a few steps, now behind him. He saw the red blush of embarrassment on his cheeks and the way in which he seemed to be climbing further and further back into his shell as the kid taunting continued.
"Oy, faggot!" One of them began. "Is that why your Mom left?"
The tutors attempts to silence the class weren't working.
"Is she deady?" Another mocked in a babyish tone while the others laughed.
Dean's fist clenched into a hard fist as he stepped forward to beat the shit out of the kids who were making Sam feel like shit, but he was beaten to it...by Sam.
Sam snarled in anger as he stormed over to the kid who had made the last comment and grabbed him by the neck, shoving him backwards off his chair so that they both fell to the floor, Sam pinning him down. "You know nothing about me!" He screamed. The tutor was trying, but ultimately failing, to pull Sam off the other kid.
Dean rushed over and knelt down beside Sam. "Sam...Sam...look at me...look at me..." He began softly. "It's not worth it...he's not worth it..."
Sam stopped and turned to look at Dean. And that's when Dean could see the tears in Sam's eyes. Looking away, Sam gave the kid one last shove before standing up and running off out of the classroom.
Dean ran off after him.
Noticing that his knuckle was bleeding, Sam shoved it into his pocket. Realising that Dean had followed him, Sam spoke up in the strongest tone he could muster. "I appreciate what you did back there, but I wouldn't suggest doing it again for multiple reasons."
"And what are they?" Dean asked in curiosity.
"Well for one, those lot aren't the kind of people you want to have as enemies, and two, you're gonna' get a nicknames if you're seen with me."
"They can go screw themselves for all I care." Dean stated. "And I could take 'em so I'm not worried in that department."
Sam turned slightly to glance at Dean before returning his gaze back to the ground. "Why do you care? You don't even know me."
"True, but I'm not the sort of person to just stand there and watch some dickturds rip a guy to shreds."
Sam scoffed and shook his head, kicking a rock across the grass in anger. "They don't know what they're talking about." Sam said under his breath.
"Then tell me." Dean replied. "Tell me what's really going on. Set the record straight." Looking at the kid, he looked so angry and yet so sad. Dean hated to continue, but he knew it was in the kid's best interest to talk about it. "They said something about your Mom."
Sam turned in an instant, a burning anger in his eyes. "She has nothing to do with anything!" He shouted before realising he'd raised his voice and ducking his head. "Sorry."
Dean shook his head. "Don't be."
Sam took a breath to calm himself down, then seemed to take a few more before he spoke up again. "She died...a couple of years back..." He explained. "I uhh..." Sam lowered his head for a few seconds before sorta' meeting Dean's gaze again. "I guess I just struggled to deal with it I suppose..."
"I would be worried if you managed to." Dean offered, smiling softly in reassurance before he sat down on the grass and took a box of cigarettes out of the pocket of his leather jacket. Sliding one out of the packet and putting it in his mouth, he then offered one to Sam. Despite initially showing reluctance, Sam took one from the box too. Dean flicked the wheel a few times before a flame appeared. Sam lit his cigarette from it before Dean did the same with his.
Flopping down onto the ground, Sam lay on his back as he took the cigarette between his index and middle finger, moving it away from his mouth. Blowing the smoke slowly out through half closed lips, he watched as the small clouds dispersed in the air.
Dean flopped down beside him, taking a drag from his cigarette before blowing out the smoke. He glanced at Sam a few times before exhaling deeply and turning his head to the side to look at the kid. "I lost my Mom too."
Sam did the same so that he was looking at Dean. "I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago." Dean added.
"Doesn't make it any easier." Sam offered a reassuring smile.
Dean nodded before looking closer at Sam's black eye. "They do that?"
Dean motioned to his eye.
Sam shook his head. "Self-inflicted." He then corrected it. "Not like that, I mean I'm clumsy. Fell down the stairs, ended up landing funny and smacking my head off the side table at the bottom."
"Yeah." Sam nodded.
"You get those ribs looked at?"
"What?" Sam furrowed an eyebrow.
"Nothing...One of the things those kids called you..." Dean quickly changed the subject.
"I hate that word...but yeah."
"What about it?" Sam asked.
"Are you gay or are they just being cruel? Not that they're not being cruel even if you are..." Dean added.
Sam didn't respond for a few seconds, but then nodded. There was an expression that Dean quickly realised to be worry on the kid's face.
"Don't worry, I'm fine with it." Dean explained. "Not that you need my approval anyway."
Sam's eyes widened. "Really?!"
Dean smirked. "That shocking?"
"Oh, umm, I didn't mean..." Sam panicked.
"Hey, it's okay." Dean reassured with a smile. "Honestly, I couldn't give a shit about sexual preference."
"It's just...you just look like a quarterback type."
"Not everyone who plays sports is a douche." Dean smirked.
"Never said that, I just mean that here, you don't see many that aren't, like at all..."
"I might try out for the team just to prove your little theory wrong." Dean grinned cockily.
"You would probably get a spot as well." Sam smirked before taking another drag of the cigarette.
"You look too innocent to be doing that." Dean stated.
"What, even with a black eye?"
"Even with a black eye." He nodded.
The two lay in silence for a seconds before Sam broke it. "Hey, Dean..." He pressed his cigarette butt into the ground to extinguish it fully before tossing it away.
Dean took one last drag before doing the same. "Yeah?"
"What you were gonna' do back there...thanks for that."
"What did I do?" Dean asked.
"I saw you. You were ready to punch those kids' lights out 'cause of what they were saying. It sounds bad, but I appreciate that." Sam smiled softly. "No one's ever been prepared to do that for me before."
Dean smiled too. "I would have done it for anyone."
"I know." Sam nodded.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You seem like the heroic type."
"I'm not." Dean shook his head.
"You also seem like the type to sell yourself short." Sam added.
Dean went to reply, but was cut short by the sound of the bell ringing to signal the start of lunch. "We could go out for lunch, I have my car." He then noticed the expression of worry that had now replaced the smile on Sam's face. Dean was sure he could also make out a hint of embarrassment. He'd picked up on it from the moment he first laid eyes on the kid back in homeroom. The way the kid looked too skinny and pale. The fact that he looked like it had been a while since he'd last eaten. Dean hated to make presumptions, but the first guess that came to mind was that the kid could have some kind of eating disorder. Would probably explain his 'clumsiness'. Maybe he more passed out down the stairs rather than fell.
"I would, but I uhh..." Sam stumbled for words. "I don't have any money on me."
"I'll pay, my treat."
Sam's eyes widened slightly. "No, I mean, I couldn't."
"Why?" Dean asked.
"Well, it's your money."
"Exactly. And with my money, we're gonna' get some crappy food." He smiled.
"Why would you do that?" Sam asked, his tone reflective of the fact that he must of accepted that he wasn't going to win his argument. It was almost heartbreaking for Dean to hear just how confused Sam was by him offering to buy him something as inexpensive as some crappy food from a diner. It was almost as if Sam felt that he didn't deserve it.
Because I let my little brother down, and I refuse to let you down too.
Dean shrugged. "Guess you caught me on a generous day." He smirked.
Sam smiled, and honestly it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He got up and briefly brushed himself off to remove the grass that had become stuck on his clothes from lying down before motioning with his head towards the parking lot.
Sam got up too and followed him.
Reaching the parking lot, Dean pulled out his keys.
"Which one's yours?" Sam asked.
"This one's my baby." Dean stated, walking over to the Impala and unlocking her.
"This..." Sam began, standing a few steps back to admire the car in front of him. "This is your car?"
Dean nodded with pride. "Come on, I'm starving." He opened the door and climbed into the drivers seat.
"Me too." Sam spoke silently under his breath before also getting into the car.