Warnings: So this is my first fic that I have ever let anyone read so I’m nervous about it. Also massive thanks to the great @mariekoukie6661 for being the beta for this as well as making the banner for the piece. This is the first part and expect massive amounts of Sam fluff and all around supportive older brother Dean.
Sam had never been one to go out of his way to get noticed. It was always easier to just lay low, that way there were less questions and no connections. If there were connections, that just meant that someone ended up getting hurt. Most of the time it was Sam. When you lose a parent in a way that Sam did, it was hard to not let that weigh you down. Sure he was too young to remember his mom but that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel responsible for what had happened and John Winchester definitely let him know that it was Sam’s fault every chance he got. Usually with whichever drink of choice that was handy that week.
Dean was the only constant he ever had. It was usually a new motel each week. Occasionally they could find a house to squat in but that was more dangerous because the police could get involved and that meant more questions than they knew how to make up answers for.
It had been a whole lot easier to hide before his growth spurt. It’s kind of hard to ignore a new kid when he’s six feet tall and all legs. During his life he never really had the chance to get close to people. He was afraid the moment that he made a connection would be when John said at dinner that the job was done and that it was time to move on. There had been a few when he was younger but it’s a lot easier to make friends when they don’t know to question where you had come from.
Sam found the way that it was best for him to learn was to decide to go somewhere else. Books became his safe place. With reading he could go anywhere. He wasn’t John Wincesters’ kid or whatever their last name was that week. He hadn’t been responsible for his mother's death. He was a knight that was able to rescue the princess and save the day. He was able to be who he really was. A brave young man who was beginning to turn into a strong man full of compassion, character and confidence. The only thing that he didn’t like about it was when he didn’t get to return the books when they left town. His fines were probably excessive but thankfully they had never had a hunting trip in the same place.
As a junior at six feet he was kind of hard to miss in the hallway between classes. Most of the desks were too small for his long legs. He did his work, kept his head down and tried not to ask too many questions. That all changed when he met Y/N.
They took AP Chemistry together. Sam didn’t speak but Y/N went out of her way to try to bring him into a conversation. Whether it was just asking about his weekend or if he knew when a specific homework assignment was due, she always went out of her way to make him feel comfortable. It was getting closer to the end of the year and all Sam’s classes were beginning to wrap up.
“Are you doing anything on Friday night?” Y/N asked on Monday before class started.
Sam thought about it as he got out his homework from over the weekend and everything he would need for class.
“Probably what I do every Friday night.” Sam replied.
It didn’t matter how much advice that Dean tried to give him about girls, he was always awkward and never knew what to say.
“So cold pizza and homework.” She said with a smirk.
Her brown eyes twinkled in the class light when she answered.
“Not all of us have a social life, y/n. Why do you want to know anyway?” Sam responded.
….
“No reason”
Sam crossed his arms. “You always have a reason Y/N. I’ve known you for almost a month and there is alway something behind what you’re asking. So spill”
“I have an extra ticket to prom and wanted to know if you wanted to come with me.”
“I thought that you were going with Stephanie.”
“She found a date and I don’t want to go by myself.We had planned on going with just a group of us girls. Slowly everyone else kept getting asked and I didn’t want to be the needy friend who said they couldn’t go if they didn’t go with me.
“Is that what it is?”
“What?”
“A date?” Sam said with a slight crack in his voice.
“Not if you don’t want it to be.” She said softly.
“What time do I need to pick you up?”
“Well the dance starts at eight so I guess at six. I know for sure that my mom will want to take an annoying amount of pictures and that my dad will try to give you the speech about how you better respect me so he doesn’t have to come after you with one of his shotguns.”
Sam smiled as he thought, If your dad only knew he’d be a lot more scared about you coming with me. “Okay sounds like a plan.”
Class, open your books to page 357 as we talk about how ultimately everything in the world around us can be linked back to a chemical reaction.
Sam ran into the motel room after school completely out of breath.
“Dean, I don’t know what to do there’s this girl, her name is Y/N. She’s the most beautiful girl, I’ve ever seen and I can’t help but act like a fool around her. She’s kind and smart and funny and somehow I agreed to take her to prom this weekend and I don’t know what to do.”
“Slow down Sammy. I understood literally none of that. Take a deep breath and start from the beginning.
“What am I supposed to do Dean? I don’t have a suite, I don’t have a car, and I don’t have any money. What am I supposed to do?!?!?!”
Summary: Canon!Verse fic about what life was like for Sam during the time between when he was admitted to Stanford and when he left for school.
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer
Word Count: 2340 (including lyrics)
Warnings: Cursing, Angst
A/N: This was inspired by the Bon Jovi song “It’s My Life” and written for @d-s-winchester’s 4K celebration/Bon Jovi Challenge. I had been thinking about a fic focusing on this time in Sam’s life and then this challenge came up and I felt like the song just framed it perfectly.
It’s My Life -
“Sammy!”
Sam winced at the nickname but it was Dad, there wasn’t much he could do about it besides respond. He turned to face his father where he stood in the motel doorway, his phone in hand. “Yeah Dad?”
“Bobby wants to talk to you,” his dad replied.
Sam hopped up off the bed he had been sitting on, placing his book carefully on the nightstand. It was an old book, somewhat fragile, and one he had borrowed from Pastor Jim. He wanted to return it to him in the same condition in which it had been loaned.
Sam crossed the room, grabbing a key from the table as he passed and took his dad’s phone before stepping outside into the cool evening air.
“Don’t wander far, son,” his dad commanded.
Sam nodded as he brought the phone to his ear, the door shutting behind him. “Hey Bobby, what’s up?” Sam asked.
“There’s an envelope came in the mail for you, Sam,” Bobby told him and Sam held his breath.
The older man’s voice was rough and Sam couldn’t detect any kind of emotion from the man. For all Sam knew, Bobby had already told his dad this news and Sam would be in for a shouting match once he went back into the motel room.
“It’s a pretty big one, thick,” Bobby was saying and Sam started to let himself get excited; those were good adjectives to hear. “It’s from Stanford University. Why would Stanford University be sending you mail at my place?” He asked Sam, but the boy could tell that Bobby already knew that answer.
“Open it for me, Bobby,” Sam replied quickly, not wanting his dad or brother to come out side looking for him before he knew for sure, “please.”
Sam waited, listening to the muffled sounds of Bobby shifting the phone so he could use both hands to open the envelope. He heard paper tear and then the shuffle of pages as Bobby worked his way through the envelope, all while Sam tried to restrain himself from rushing the man. Finally Bobby’s voice sounded through the phone again.
“Dear Samuel,” Bobby read. “Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to the Stanford University Class of 2006…”
Bobby was still reading but Sam didn’t hear much of it after that. He had done it; he’d gotten into college. He’d gotten into an Ivy League college. He could get out of the hunting life and start fresh, lead a safe, normal life as a lawyer - still helping people but not putting his ass on the line to do it. Maybe he’d even meet a girl, get married, have kids, and assure them there are no monsters in their closet rather than gifting them with a handgun for under their pillow.
“You still with me Sam?” Bobby asked, pulling the boy from his thoughts.
“What, uh, yeah. Yeah, I‘m still here, Bobby,” Sam replied, reality flooding back in. He had applied to Stanford on a whim. Even after getting accepted, he could never afford to attend the school.
As if he was reading Sam’s mind, Bobby shuffled through the pages again. “One of these papers says they’re offering you a full academic scholarship,” he told Sam, his voice still gruff and straightforward.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered and Bobby let out a soft chuckle. It was really going to happen, or it could happen if that was really what Sam wanted. “Did… did you tell my dad?” he asked Bobby, his voice quiet. It wasn’t a conversation that Sam was looking forward to having. His dad had already told Sam more than once that he should give up on his dream of college and embrace the life of a hunter. Bobby, on the other hand, had been the one to play catch with Sam, the one who had taught him how to cook a few things, the one who had quizzed him on history and math instead of on supernatural lore. That was why he had used Bobby’s address to apply to Stanford. Well, that and the fact that Bobby didn’t move from one cheap motel to the next.
“I didn’t,” Bobby responded solemnly. “That’s your story to tell, Sam.”
Sam nodded wordlessly, knowing that Bobby couldn’t see him.
“And it’s a story I’d tell sooner rather than later. Secrets don’t do any good in any kind of life but especially in our line of work.”
Sam nodded again, this time forcing out a “Yeah, Bobby. And thanks.” He started walking back toward the motel room saying his goodbyes to the older hunter. Just as he was about to hang up and enter the room again, Bobby stopped him.
“And Sam?”
“Yeah, Bobby?”
“I’m proud of you, boy.”
Bobby didn’t wait for a response, hanging up as soon as the words had left his mouth.
This ain't a song for the broken-hearted
No silent prayer for the faith-departed
I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd
You're gonna hear my voice
When I shout it out loud
Sam was riding in his usual seat in the Impala. His dad was driving and Dean was riding shotgun while Sam was sprawled out in the back seat, his nose buried in the required summer reading book that would be discussed during Stanford’s freshman orientation.
Bobby had read through the entire packet that Stanford had sent Sam and gifted the youngest Winchester the book the last time John and the boys were in South Dakota. Sam had read through the papers at least three times on the first night of that visit, the admission letter even more often. He waited until everyone was asleep on the second night and then filled out the paperwork that needed to get sent back to the university. He still hadn’t told his dad or brother about his plan to attend college; he had wanted to live in the happiness and excitement of the moment for as long as possible and he knew Dean and his dad were going to be pissed.
Now, though… Now that Sam’s commitment letter and financial aid and scholarship forms were in the hands of the United States Postal Service and on their way to California, he knew he needed to share the news. Sam took a deep breath a, steeling himself, before looking up from his book. He cleared his throat and forced his body to relax.
“I’m going to college. This fall.”
The car was quiet apart from Sam’s voice and the hum of the engine. Dean’s body had stiffened at Sam’s words and the youngest Winchester knew his brother wanted to say something but Dean was looking to their father for example, following his lead. John Winchester gave no indication that he had even heard his younger son’s words and, as the silence grew longer and more uncomfortable, Sam filled it with a babbling explanation.
“So, uh, yeah. I applied last fall. I had saved up some money and took the SAT when we were at Bobby’s for a month in September,” Sam said, filling the void. “I got a 1583, almost a perfect score, and so I looked at a couple of applications but I could really only afford one application fee so I picked one of the schools and sent in my application.”
Sam knew he was rambling but his dad still wasn’t responding and he couldn’t make his mouth stop.
“So I got in. To… to Stanford. It’s a really good school, just as good as Ivy League. They, um, they’re in California. So, I’m going to move out there in August. I’m studying pre-law; I want to be a lawyer. I want to help people, still but not... not like this. So I’m going to Stanford this fall.”
Sam finally forced himself to stop talking and the silence in the car was deafening. Finally, John spoke.
“No, you’re not.”
Sam watched as his dad reached over and turned on the radio, flipping through stations until he found something that wasn’t mostly static. Sam wrinkled his nose but bit his tongue as the country music filled the Impala.
The conversation was over before it had even really began but this wasn’t the first time that Sam and his dad hadn’t seen eye to eye and the boy knew that a shouting match was still to come. John would raise his voice and tell him he couldn’t afford school and Sam would yell back at his dad, telling him about the scholarship his grades and SAT scores had earned. Sam knew his dad would eventually shout something about family being the most important thing, how he was doing all of this for them. The yelling would continue between them until one of them stormed out of the room.
This is for the ones who stood their ground
It's for Tommy and Gina who never backed down
Tomorrow's getting harder, make no mistake
Luck ain't enough
You've got to make your own breaks
The fight had happened, just as Sam had expected. Sam had been the one to leave, which hadn’t particularly been a surprise. It was a rainy night with thunder booming overhead so all three of the men were trapped inside of their motel room. Sam was finishing up the summer reading assignment and Sam had answered carelessly when Dean had asked him what he was working on.
“I thought this matter was settled,” John had said.
“It is, sir,” Sam replied, his voice as cold as he dared to make it, “I’m going to Stanford in the fall.”
That was when the shouting had begun.
In the end, his dad had brought up his mother’s death, like he so often did when he fought with his younger son, and Sam had seen red. He was tired of a woman of whom he had no real memory haunting his every step, like it was somehow his fault that his mom had died that night. “You really think this is the life she would have wanted for us?” Sam had seethed before he wrenched the door open and walked out into the night, taking refuge from the storm in the Impala.
It was clear that his dad once again had decided that they were done with this “fantasy,” as he had called it so Sam was extra quiet and careful about his college preparations. He knew he would need to purchase most of his dorm supplies once he arrived in California so he saved what little he could, making lists and budgets, researching where he could shop once he moved, and hustling a couple of extra games of darts or pool to pad his pockets when he didn’t think Dean was paying attention.
About a month into this new pattern, Dean pulled Sam aside while their dad was on a case.
“What are you doing, Sam?” his brother asked.
Sam didn’t want another fight so he decided to play dumb, telling Dean that he didn’t know what his brother was talking about.
“Cut the shit, Sammy, I’m not blind,” Dean snapped but then his voice grew quiet. “You’re still planning on leaving.” He was fighting to keep the sadness out of his voice but Sam knew his brother better than anyone and he could hear it. “Just, don’t, ok? Don’t leave.” The ‘me’ was left unspoken but Sam heard it all the same.
Sam already knew that leaving his brother behind was going to be the hardest part of this whole endeavor. Dean had practically raised Sam from the time he was an infant and part of him had hoped that Dean might take this opportunity to get out, too; maybe settle down with a nice girl and live a safe life. He had known that hope was a long shot but he still couldn’t stop it from invading from time to time.
But this, this unspoken plea… It was more than Sam had bargained for and he almost agreed, almost gave it all up for his brother. He was about to do it - agree to stay - when their dad stomped through the door. It must have been a rough hunt because John was drunk; usually that meant more people had died before their dad could catch the monster. The sight alone was enough to remind Sam of everything he hated about the hunting life and as his father crashed face first onto one of the motel beds, Sam’s resolve only strengthened.
You better stand tall when they're calling you out
Don't bend, don't break, baby, don't back down
“If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back.”
His dad’s words stung but Sam couldn’t give up now. His dream was in reach; a normal life was so close he could practically taste it. Sam looked his dad in the eye, resenting the man for the life he had been raised to lead and for every potential home and friend that had been taken away from him, but mostly for forcing him to make this choice between his future and his family.
Sam’s eyes slid over his dad’s shoulder to where Dean was standing. He tried to hold his brother’s gaze, to communicate a silent good bye, but Dean’s eyes fell to the ground.
Sam pursed his lips and nodded curtly. ‘So, that’s how it’s going to be, then,’ Sam thought to himself. He squared his shoulders and fished his cell phone out of his pocket before tossing it onto the table in the motel room’s kitchenette. Sam’s eyes flicked towards Dean one more time before meeting his dad’s glare.
“Thanks for all your support,” Sam deadpanned.
With those words, Sam turned on his heel and walked through the door.
It's my life
And it's now or never
I ain't gonna live forever
I just want to live while I'm alive
It's my life
My heart is like an open highway
Like Frankie said
I did it my way
I just want to live while I'm alive
It's my life
If you would like to be added (or removed) from any of my personal tag lists, please send an ask and let me know! <3
ALL THE TAGS! (forevers): @deathtonormalcy56 @supernaturalyobsessed @roxy-davenport @sumara62 @ginamsmith @gallifreyansass
Summary: High School!AU. You’re forced, much to your chagrin, to look after the new kid. A friendship forms that eventually leads to more. Based on this imagine
Words: 1,338
Sam x Reader
Warnings: none
Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>
Ever since your first day of freshman year, you’d hated high school. In your opinion, it was a waste of time.
Sure, you’d get your diploma at the end of it, but in your mind, it was four years of dullness to get there.
You were three and a half years in when something finally changed that opinion.
You took your seat in Chemistry and pulled your papers out of your backpack, ready for the boredom that Dr. Walsh insisted on putting you through every lesson. The only saving grace was the fact that you could sit on your own for the hour – no annoying wannabe gangsters to piss you off.
Walsh called you to the front just as you were settled down.
You groaned as you walked to find out what he wanted to see you about
“Less of that please, Y/N,” he said and you rolled your eyes, “I need to ask a favour.”
“What is it?” you asked, folding your arms.
“I need you to look after the new kid. Winchester. Sam,” he told you, “You’re the only one with a spare seat next to you.”
“What?” you protested, “No. Someone else can look after him.”
“Y/N, it’s got to be you,” he insisted, not backing down, “His transferred grades show that he’s on par with your level of intelligence, and I know you like a challenge.”
“No,” you shook your head, “I’m not gonna babysit some new kid just because I’m not simple as shit.”
“Language,” Dr. Walsh chastised, “And you’re going to have to get rid of your superiority complex at some point.
“Whatever,” you sighed, “I’m not doing it.”
“What?” a voice came from behind you, “Why? What’s wrong with me?”
You spun around and lost your objection in your throat when you saw him. He was tall, at least six foot already, with floppy golden hair that looked too soft and a gorgeous tan. His eyes… they were a mystery in themselves, so many colours moulding together to make one beautiful hazel.
“Oh,” you whispered, your voice an octave higher than usual. You cleared your throat and tried again, “N-nothing. You can- I mean- I sit over there.”
You nodded towards your seat.
You heard your teacher smirk and glared at him.
“I take it that’s a yes then?” he asked, innocently.
You nodded, not trusting your voice as you lead the new kid over to your seat.
“Sorry to be such an inconvenience,” Sam said bitterly as he sat down next to you.
A blush rose on your cheeks, “No, it’s fine.”
“I thought you didn’t want to babysit me?” he asked, raising an unimpressed eyebrow in your direction.
You laughed awkwardly, “Well… I didn’t mean it.”
“Whatever,” he sighed, “Don’t worry, I won’t bother you. I did this topic at my last school. You can just pretend I’m not here.”
“That might be a bit difficult,” you mumbled to yourself.
Sam ended up being in all of your classes that day, which was probably why Dr. Walsh was so insistent that you were the one to look after him.
After the initial… misunderstanding… the two of you began to talk and get to know one another.
It turned out that this was already his second school of the semester, and you were only just into February.
“Try not to get too attached,” he joked on the way out from English, your last class of the day, “I’ll be leaving soon.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” you smiled, laughing slightly, “This was the first day of high school I didn’t absolutely hate.”
He laughed, looking at you inquisitively, “You don’t have many friends, do you?”
You shrugged, blushing awkwardly, “Not really, no. I don’t see the point.”
Sam had the same inquisitive look on his face as you reached the front of the school.
A black Chevy Impala was pulled up right at the bottom of the steps, holding up traffic. When the driver noticed the two of you walking out, he honked the horn.
“You know him?” you asked, laughing.
“That’s my brother,” he sighed, shaking his head, “Bit of a dick.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you grinned, “Look, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Math with Wainwright first thing. You’re in for a treat.”
“Can’t wait,” he rolled his eyes, “See you later.”
You walked over to your own car as Sam got into his.
“She’s cute,” Dean commented, watching you walk away, “She looks smart. Nice body. Your type.”
“Shut up,” Sam mumbled, closing the door, “She’s alright, I guess.”
“You gonna get on that?” he asked, pulling away and flipping off the people that were honking their horns behind him.
When Sam didn’t reply, his brother punched his shoulder.
“What?” he grumbled.
“You gonna make a move?”
Sam rolled his eyes, “We’re not all man sluts, Dean.”
“If you don’t go for it, I will.”
“What?” Sam blanched, “Dude, no! You can’t!”
Dean smirked to himself, “So you do.”
“Shut up, jerk.”
“Bitch.”
Mid-March came around, and Sam was still going to your high school.
You began to enjoy going to school more, and all of your teachers noticed the change in your behaviour. Your grades improved further, your friendship with Sam helping the two of you to get the best out of each other.
It was a Wednesday afternoon when you were sat at a bench, going over some work from the last class.
You were tired of waiting for him to make a move, so you shut the book and shifted on the bench seat to face him.
“Wha-?”
“I like you, Sam,” you told him, plainly.
“You do?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you nodded, “You’re smart, you’re funny. Not to mention, gorgeous. And I like you.”
He shook his head, “Y/N, I could be moving town any minute. I never know how long I’ll be staying in one place.”
“I don’t care,” you smiled.
“Really?” he smiled back.
“Really really,” you chuckled, “So, if you wanna make out…”
Sam leant in and kissed you, chastely at first, but he was encouraged by your hands on his neck to deepen it. His tongue traced your lip, and you parted your mouth, letting him in and loving every second of it.
His hand carded into your hair, holding the back of your head still, and you groaned at the possessiveness of the gesture.
You broke apart at the sound of the Impala’s horn.
“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips.
You grinned, “That was hot.”
He grinned back, packing up his stuff into his bag.
You did the same, looking up when you heard the car door open and close.
“Shit,” Sam sighed, “Look, just ignore him.”
You grinned up at him, “He can’t be that bad.”
“Hey, Sammy,” Dean called, walking towards you with a knowing glint in his eye.
“Why get out of the car?” Sam asked, shrugging on his backpack.
“Coming to meet the missus,” he grinned, offering you his hand to shake, “I’m Dean.”
“Y/N,” you replied, accepting the gesture, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Likewise,” he told you, giving you a once over with his eyes.
“Hey,” Sam interrupted, “Eyes front, jerk.”
Dean grinned at him, “Is she coming back to the motel?”
You blushed at the question, but he continued anyway.
“I can leave the two of you for a bit, Dad won’t be back for ages.”
“Shut up, Dean,” Sam insisted, and one look at him showed you he was blushing too.
Dean was still grinning, and he turned to you, “So, you coming?”
“Not today,” you told him, dropping your voice to a whisper, “I like to make them wait a bit.”
“That’s hot,” Dean winked, stepping away and walking back to the car, “Hurry up, Sammy.”
Sam turned to you, blushing, “I’m so sorry about him.”
You laughed slightly, “It’s fine. He was nice.”
Sam rolled his eyes, “Sure.”
He leaned down and kissed you again.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
You nodded, pecking his lips quickly, “See you tomorrow.”
