Sam Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likely_evil) wrote2009-01-27 01:29 pm
likely_evil) wrote2009-01-27 01:29 pm
The Write Place - 7 Times You Bled
1.
Sammy was a chubby toddler, just turned four and enjoying the playground that Dean had taken him to. There were slides and swings and a tunnel and everything! He wiggled out of his brother's grip the second they got there, running to join the other kids in the sandbox.
"Hey, be careful," Dean shouted after his brother, then took up a position on a bench to watch his brother. He looked over his shoulder a moment to see a group of kids his age playing stickball. He bit his lip, then looked at Sammy again.
There's enough Mom's around Dean figured. He got up and ran over to join them, planning on having some fun of his own.
Sammy was having fun on the slide and went to the top, looking where Dean was. He saw his brother watching him and waved, then went DOWN! Whee!
When he got to the bottom, however, the kid who had been behind him didn't wait for him to stand up, and instead slid right into him, hitting Sammy in the back while their heads collided. Sammy went face first into the sand and rocks. One of the mothers jumped up instantly to run to the little boy who had been behind Sammy.
Sitting on the sand, Sammy looked at his skinned hands, then just started to cry. Dean, who was on the other side of the field, knew Sammy's crying instantly and tossed the bat to another kid. "Sorry, kid brother," he apologized, then jumped the small fence that kept the field apart from the kiddie area.
Dean was instantly at Sammy's side, looking his brother over from top to bottom. "It's ok, Sammy, I'm here. You can stop crying now."
Sammy didn't stop, but instead flung his arms around his brother's neck. The mother looked down at them, her own son sniffling beside her. "Joey's really sorry, sweetie. He didn't knew you weren't done sliding yet."
"It's ok, ma'am," Dean said as he stood up, Sammy in his arms. "I think it's time for his nap anyway."
Dean carried Sammy all the way back to the motel they were staying at, then washed out both his scabby hands and put big band aids on them. Later Sammy snuggled into Dean's lap while he read him a fairy tale to take a nap, staring at the band aids and smiling because he knew Dean would always take care of him when he got hurt.
2.
Sam stood on a stool in the bathroom, looking in the mirror as his tongue wiggled a loose tooth. It was going to fall out any minute now, he knew it.
"Stop playing with that thing," the 11 year old Dean shouted from his chair in the main room. He was trying to watch TV, but he kept looking over the back of the chair at his brother.
"But ith it fallz out, I can get a quarter for znack at zkool." Already missing one of his front teeth, the almost 7 year old was talking with a bad lisp that Dean loved to make fun of. "They haz zour candy thiz week!" He looked back at his brother, twisting the stool up onto two legs and smiling at him.
"Great idea, Sammy. Use your tooth fairy money to buy something to make the rest of your teeth rot." Dean smirked though, and discretely checked his pockets to make sure he had a quarter in case he needed it tonight.
There was a crash behind him and Dean quickly looked over the top of the chair. Sam was on the ground, the stool having fallen to the side and tossing the baby Winchester to the ground. He watched as Sam pushed himself up, and bit his lip with the small pool of blood on the ground where Sam's face had just been.
"Itz out!" Sam said in triumph, holding up the now removed baby tooth in his bloody hand.
Dean rolled his eyes and got up. "The tooth fairy doesn't give extra for bad landings. Come on, let's wash the blood out of your mouth, klutz."
3.
It was at the end of a hunt where three old witches had really gone hard after the Winchester clan when the three men broke up the circle. Now licking their wounds, Sam sat in the back of the Impala while Dean was applying some antiseptic to his neck cut.
"She got you good, Sammy," Dean smirked. "Just because you're a bean pole now doesn't mean you can't duck."
"Shut up." Sam leaned his head against the doorframe, letting Dean finish. He was 15 now, no longer the innocent little kid.
"You gonna whine about every little cut you get, cause if you are, I might have to start pawning you off on Dad more." Dean was smiling, actually smiling because he had enjoyed the hunt.
"Dean, I don't want to be doing this the rest of my life," Sam stated, looking at his brother sadly.
"What do you mean you don't want to do this? This job is awesome! Where else you gonna be a real hero? I don't see you joining the military."
"Maybe I don't want to be a hero." Sam winced as the next cut Dean took care of burned a bit with the peroxide. "Maybe I just want to be normal."
Dean looked Sam in the eye. "Listen, it's not always going to be like this. Once we find the demon that killed mom..."
"And what if we never do?" Dean pursed his lips, and Sam just stared his brother down. "I'm not going to be a hunter, Dean. I promise you that. I've got good grades, and I want to go to college."
"Dad's not going to like that."
"I don't care." Sam pushed away from his brother as the last cut was cleaned out, and he put his shirt back on. "I just don't want this anymore." He pulled the door shut and stretched out in the backseat to get some sleep while Dean drove them on to meet up with their father somewhere far away from Salem.
4.
"Dad?"
It was so hard to keep his eyes open. His head hurt, he tasted the blood in his mouth, and he really wanted to sleep. But they were running, and he needed to wake up and move. However, even if he could, the frame of the Impala and shifted enough to pin him in place.
"Dad?" Sam turned his head to look at his father, who was unconscious beside him. No... they had spent almost a year now trying to find him. No, his father wasn't dead...
"Dean?" His eyes went to the rearview, and then squinted shut. His brother looked horrible in the back, and Sam couldn't even move to get to him. To help check over his injuries like Dean had done to Sam so many times growing up.
No. He's not dead. He can't be dead. Dean was his brother. His hero. Dean wouldn't die, not if he had something to say about it.
"DEAN!"
5.
He remembered the blinding pain. Sinking to his knees. Hearing Dean scream his name and wrapping his arms around him. There had to be blood but Sam couldn't feel a thing. he was just so tired.
So tired.
Dean was talking to him. Holding his head that Sam just couldn't support any longer. Yelling at him in words that Sam didn't understand anymore.
So tired.
Then Dean held him close and Sam felt his head rest on Dean's shoulder. Safe. He was safe in these arms. He was always safe there. Anytime he was hurt, Dean always came running. He made the pain go away. He stopped the hurting.
Dean protected him. So Sam knew that he could close his eyes and go to sleep right there.
So tired.
6.
"She shot me."
"Yes, Sam, I know. I'm the one cleaning out the bullet wound, remember?"
"What kind of person goes around and just shoots someone like that. It wasn't like she even cared. She just... shot me."
"Alright, Captain Repetitive. I get the point." Dean pulled the bullet from his brother's shoulder finally with a muffled scream from the younger Winchester. "There. All better. Looks like you're lucks changing back to normal."
"Yeah, thanks. I really enjoy pain and blood loss." Sam poured some of the vodka over the bleeding hole, then took a sip as Dean went to get the stitch kit.
"You know, Sammy, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually liked that."
"Why the hell would I enjoy getting shot?" Sam gave his brother a look.
"Just saying. It's not often I see someone get a hard on from a gunshot." Dean smirked as Sam looked quickly to his lap, then glared at his brother. Dean laughed and started to stitch the wound. "So either it was the gunshot... or the girl who shot you."
"I hate you," Sam muttered, taking another sip of the vodka.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
7.
He was sitting on the ground, holding his head in pain. Ruby knelt down in front of him, her hand grabbing his chin roughly and looking him over.
"It'll get easier," she told him gently. "I promise. You just have to get used to it."
"Used to it." Sam scoffed, running his sleeve under his nose. He looked at the blood there, then lifted his eyes to look at Ruby. "Sure."
Ruby rolled her eyes and got up, holding a hand down to him. "I have some pills in my bag. Let's take care of the body, then we'll fix you up."
"Dean used to take care of me first, then worry about the body," Sam pointed out.
"Yeah, well I'm not Dean if you haven't noticed. I'm not going to baby you. Now get off your ass and help me. I can't break the circle so I can't grab the guy."
Sam groaned, shifting to lay on a different part of the ground. He took his knife and scratched away a break in the trap, then just lay there a moment while Ruby left to find the shovel, some salt and gasoline.
No, she wasn't Dean. She was just what he had now. But soon, Sam would be with Dean again. And then he'd be ok again.
Sammy was a chubby toddler, just turned four and enjoying the playground that Dean had taken him to. There were slides and swings and a tunnel and everything! He wiggled out of his brother's grip the second they got there, running to join the other kids in the sandbox.
"Hey, be careful," Dean shouted after his brother, then took up a position on a bench to watch his brother. He looked over his shoulder a moment to see a group of kids his age playing stickball. He bit his lip, then looked at Sammy again.
There's enough Mom's around Dean figured. He got up and ran over to join them, planning on having some fun of his own.
Sammy was having fun on the slide and went to the top, looking where Dean was. He saw his brother watching him and waved, then went DOWN! Whee!
When he got to the bottom, however, the kid who had been behind him didn't wait for him to stand up, and instead slid right into him, hitting Sammy in the back while their heads collided. Sammy went face first into the sand and rocks. One of the mothers jumped up instantly to run to the little boy who had been behind Sammy.
Sitting on the sand, Sammy looked at his skinned hands, then just started to cry. Dean, who was on the other side of the field, knew Sammy's crying instantly and tossed the bat to another kid. "Sorry, kid brother," he apologized, then jumped the small fence that kept the field apart from the kiddie area.
Dean was instantly at Sammy's side, looking his brother over from top to bottom. "It's ok, Sammy, I'm here. You can stop crying now."
Sammy didn't stop, but instead flung his arms around his brother's neck. The mother looked down at them, her own son sniffling beside her. "Joey's really sorry, sweetie. He didn't knew you weren't done sliding yet."
"It's ok, ma'am," Dean said as he stood up, Sammy in his arms. "I think it's time for his nap anyway."
Dean carried Sammy all the way back to the motel they were staying at, then washed out both his scabby hands and put big band aids on them. Later Sammy snuggled into Dean's lap while he read him a fairy tale to take a nap, staring at the band aids and smiling because he knew Dean would always take care of him when he got hurt.
2.
Sam stood on a stool in the bathroom, looking in the mirror as his tongue wiggled a loose tooth. It was going to fall out any minute now, he knew it.
"Stop playing with that thing," the 11 year old Dean shouted from his chair in the main room. He was trying to watch TV, but he kept looking over the back of the chair at his brother.
"But ith it fallz out, I can get a quarter for znack at zkool." Already missing one of his front teeth, the almost 7 year old was talking with a bad lisp that Dean loved to make fun of. "They haz zour candy thiz week!" He looked back at his brother, twisting the stool up onto two legs and smiling at him.
"Great idea, Sammy. Use your tooth fairy money to buy something to make the rest of your teeth rot." Dean smirked though, and discretely checked his pockets to make sure he had a quarter in case he needed it tonight.
There was a crash behind him and Dean quickly looked over the top of the chair. Sam was on the ground, the stool having fallen to the side and tossing the baby Winchester to the ground. He watched as Sam pushed himself up, and bit his lip with the small pool of blood on the ground where Sam's face had just been.
"Itz out!" Sam said in triumph, holding up the now removed baby tooth in his bloody hand.
Dean rolled his eyes and got up. "The tooth fairy doesn't give extra for bad landings. Come on, let's wash the blood out of your mouth, klutz."
3.
It was at the end of a hunt where three old witches had really gone hard after the Winchester clan when the three men broke up the circle. Now licking their wounds, Sam sat in the back of the Impala while Dean was applying some antiseptic to his neck cut.
"She got you good, Sammy," Dean smirked. "Just because you're a bean pole now doesn't mean you can't duck."
"Shut up." Sam leaned his head against the doorframe, letting Dean finish. He was 15 now, no longer the innocent little kid.
"You gonna whine about every little cut you get, cause if you are, I might have to start pawning you off on Dad more." Dean was smiling, actually smiling because he had enjoyed the hunt.
"Dean, I don't want to be doing this the rest of my life," Sam stated, looking at his brother sadly.
"What do you mean you don't want to do this? This job is awesome! Where else you gonna be a real hero? I don't see you joining the military."
"Maybe I don't want to be a hero." Sam winced as the next cut Dean took care of burned a bit with the peroxide. "Maybe I just want to be normal."
Dean looked Sam in the eye. "Listen, it's not always going to be like this. Once we find the demon that killed mom..."
"And what if we never do?" Dean pursed his lips, and Sam just stared his brother down. "I'm not going to be a hunter, Dean. I promise you that. I've got good grades, and I want to go to college."
"Dad's not going to like that."
"I don't care." Sam pushed away from his brother as the last cut was cleaned out, and he put his shirt back on. "I just don't want this anymore." He pulled the door shut and stretched out in the backseat to get some sleep while Dean drove them on to meet up with their father somewhere far away from Salem.
4.
"Dad?"
It was so hard to keep his eyes open. His head hurt, he tasted the blood in his mouth, and he really wanted to sleep. But they were running, and he needed to wake up and move. However, even if he could, the frame of the Impala and shifted enough to pin him in place.
"Dad?" Sam turned his head to look at his father, who was unconscious beside him. No... they had spent almost a year now trying to find him. No, his father wasn't dead...
"Dean?" His eyes went to the rearview, and then squinted shut. His brother looked horrible in the back, and Sam couldn't even move to get to him. To help check over his injuries like Dean had done to Sam so many times growing up.
No. He's not dead. He can't be dead. Dean was his brother. His hero. Dean wouldn't die, not if he had something to say about it.
"DEAN!"
5.
He remembered the blinding pain. Sinking to his knees. Hearing Dean scream his name and wrapping his arms around him. There had to be blood but Sam couldn't feel a thing. he was just so tired.
So tired.
Dean was talking to him. Holding his head that Sam just couldn't support any longer. Yelling at him in words that Sam didn't understand anymore.
So tired.
Then Dean held him close and Sam felt his head rest on Dean's shoulder. Safe. He was safe in these arms. He was always safe there. Anytime he was hurt, Dean always came running. He made the pain go away. He stopped the hurting.
Dean protected him. So Sam knew that he could close his eyes and go to sleep right there.
So tired.
6.
"She shot me."
"Yes, Sam, I know. I'm the one cleaning out the bullet wound, remember?"
"What kind of person goes around and just shoots someone like that. It wasn't like she even cared. She just... shot me."
"Alright, Captain Repetitive. I get the point." Dean pulled the bullet from his brother's shoulder finally with a muffled scream from the younger Winchester. "There. All better. Looks like you're lucks changing back to normal."
"Yeah, thanks. I really enjoy pain and blood loss." Sam poured some of the vodka over the bleeding hole, then took a sip as Dean went to get the stitch kit.
"You know, Sammy, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually liked that."
"Why the hell would I enjoy getting shot?" Sam gave his brother a look.
"Just saying. It's not often I see someone get a hard on from a gunshot." Dean smirked as Sam looked quickly to his lap, then glared at his brother. Dean laughed and started to stitch the wound. "So either it was the gunshot... or the girl who shot you."
"I hate you," Sam muttered, taking another sip of the vodka.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
7.
He was sitting on the ground, holding his head in pain. Ruby knelt down in front of him, her hand grabbing his chin roughly and looking him over.
"It'll get easier," she told him gently. "I promise. You just have to get used to it."
"Used to it." Sam scoffed, running his sleeve under his nose. He looked at the blood there, then lifted his eyes to look at Ruby. "Sure."
Ruby rolled her eyes and got up, holding a hand down to him. "I have some pills in my bag. Let's take care of the body, then we'll fix you up."
"Dean used to take care of me first, then worry about the body," Sam pointed out.
"Yeah, well I'm not Dean if you haven't noticed. I'm not going to baby you. Now get off your ass and help me. I can't break the circle so I can't grab the guy."
Sam groaned, shifting to lay on a different part of the ground. He took his knife and scratched away a break in the trap, then just lay there a moment while Ruby left to find the shovel, some salt and gasoline.
No, she wasn't Dean. She was just what he had now. But soon, Sam would be with Dean again. And then he'd be ok again.