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verucasalt123I apologize, but I'm about to spam your flist with the comment fics I've written in the past couple weeks. Please forgive me.
Prompt: I'm in the mood for sad Teen!chester sam.
Birthday's weren't an occasion for celebration in the Winchester house, and neither boy complained. But for Dean's 16th birthday, he got the Impala. For Dean's 17th, he got a really nice rifle he'd been looking at, again off hunting with John. Etc. Sam's 16th birthday. All he wanted was for his brother to come home. Same for his 17th. Cue Sam's 18th birthday. He's never held the attention from their father against Dean, and he's been happy for his brother when he gets something he really loves. Like the Impala. But someone else notices. Bobby, Pastor Jim, Caleb, author's choice. And when Sam does something stupid, crazy, (again, author's choice- trouble with cops, maybe hurt) that requires John's attention, this person reminds John that it is Sam's birthday, and since John has chosen to celebrate Dean's and not Sam's he's lucky whatever Sam did is all he did. Just lots of guilty John and Dean for basically ignoring Sam in his later teen years.
Sam didn't like it, but he knew it to be a fact. Dean's birthday was important. It was an occasion to be celebrated, especially since Dean first got old enough to go out on real hunts with their dad. Sam was thrilled when his father and brother returned from a hunt a week after Dean's 16th birthday and found out John had given Dean the car he loved so much. Dean made a special point of taking his little brother for joyrides, just because he could, and that was really nice. Sam loved his time with Dean, the time they got to spend just the two of them.
But as the years went by, it became clear that even when Sam was old enough to back them up on hunts, his own birthday wasn't ever going to be a big deal. First of all, even at 16 and 17, he was still just considered backup. Never part of the main action, never having a role to play except looking out or jumping in if there was an emergency. Probably because he wasn't half the hunter Dean was, even had been at Sam's age, and no one was going to pretend he was.
Sam spent his 16th birthday alone, crying into a bowl of store-brand corn flakes and watching M*A*S*H reruns.
On his 17th birthday, he got a call from Bobby (who he never called Uncle Bobby anymore but still thought it and had to stop himself from saying it most of the time). Sam said he was just enjoying the peace and quiet, laughing as he related that it was nice having the shitty rented apartment to himself, what better gift could he ask for?
That night he didn't cry, he just listened to music as loud as he could stand it and drank his brother's stash of nasty Kentucky Bourbon until he passed out. His hangover was long forgotten before anyone showed back up with half-hearted 'sorry I missed your birthday, kiddo' bullshit.
But the next year was different. He'd been hiding his acceptance letter from Stanford for a month, taking it out now and again to read it over and over. There was a party a few blocks away, and Sam headed there to avoid spending yet another birthday alone.
When he was offered some funky tea, he wrinkled his nose, but his friends told him it would get him hella high, so he gulped it all down in one shot. For a little while, he felt good, silly, he laughed a lot, thinking he'd never noticed how most things looked so strangely flat before.
Eventually, though, without realizing it, he'd wandered outside alone and had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there. The disorientation scared the shit out of him, so he did the only thing he could think of - called Bobby.
Bobby was fucking furious. He'd barely understood anything Sam had said, the boy was clearly under the influence of something stronger than beer or pot. But he was too far away to haul his ass out of whatever the hell he'd done, so he dialed John Winchester in a rage.
"Where in the name of Christ are you, Johnny?"
"Headed back to our place. Dean is with me, we just finished up a-"
"How far out?" Bobby asked, cutting him off.
"An hour or so, maybe. What's wrong?"
"Sam's high as a fucking kite, has no idea where he is, and just called me babbling about how he finally figured out a way to celebrate his birthday without any of his family around. Why the hell are you out on a hunt? It's his 18th birthday, dumbass! I seem to remember Dean's being kind of a big deal. But you leave Sam home alone for his?"
For once, John was shocked into silence. But that was just fine, because Bobby wasn't done. "I called Sam for his birthday last year and he was alone. Do you even think about it? Do you not remember it? Or is it just not very important to you?" The anger in his voice was almost palpable, even over the phone. "You've got two sons, John. Quit being such a dick and get your ass home."
The line went dead and John related the conversation to Dean. He moved the accelerator up as high as he could, but neither of them spoke. They were both too caught up in the fact that Bobby was right. Neither of them made a big deal of Sam's birthday these past couple of years. Dean and John were bonding over the hunt and leaving Sam behind as a result.
They'd been so stupid, so fucking stupid. Sam meant the world to them, to Dean and John both, and they were too busy internally berating themselves for being such assholes to talk much for the rest of the trip. No way they were going to fix this with a cake or some presents.
Dean found Sam easily once they got back to the little town that had been their home base, and he didn't have it in him to chastise his little brother for doing drugs and wandering off. Even John felt so damn guilty after realizing what they'd done these past couple of years that he just hugged Sam and said he was sorry before sending him off to bed.
No matter how hard they tried, neither of them got a chance to properly make it all up to him before Sam left the both of them behind. There was nothing that could have shocked them into understanding how they'd made Sam feel until they watched him walk away.
Prompt: I'm in the mood for sad Teen!chester sam.
Birthday's weren't an occasion for celebration in the Winchester house, and neither boy complained. But for Dean's 16th birthday, he got the Impala. For Dean's 17th, he got a really nice rifle he'd been looking at, again off hunting with John. Etc. Sam's 16th birthday. All he wanted was for his brother to come home. Same for his 17th. Cue Sam's 18th birthday. He's never held the attention from their father against Dean, and he's been happy for his brother when he gets something he really loves. Like the Impala. But someone else notices. Bobby, Pastor Jim, Caleb, author's choice. And when Sam does something stupid, crazy, (again, author's choice- trouble with cops, maybe hurt) that requires John's attention, this person reminds John that it is Sam's birthday, and since John has chosen to celebrate Dean's and not Sam's he's lucky whatever Sam did is all he did. Just lots of guilty John and Dean for basically ignoring Sam in his later teen years.
Sam didn't like it, but he knew it to be a fact. Dean's birthday was important. It was an occasion to be celebrated, especially since Dean first got old enough to go out on real hunts with their dad. Sam was thrilled when his father and brother returned from a hunt a week after Dean's 16th birthday and found out John had given Dean the car he loved so much. Dean made a special point of taking his little brother for joyrides, just because he could, and that was really nice. Sam loved his time with Dean, the time they got to spend just the two of them.
But as the years went by, it became clear that even when Sam was old enough to back them up on hunts, his own birthday wasn't ever going to be a big deal. First of all, even at 16 and 17, he was still just considered backup. Never part of the main action, never having a role to play except looking out or jumping in if there was an emergency. Probably because he wasn't half the hunter Dean was, even had been at Sam's age, and no one was going to pretend he was.
Sam spent his 16th birthday alone, crying into a bowl of store-brand corn flakes and watching M*A*S*H reruns.
On his 17th birthday, he got a call from Bobby (who he never called Uncle Bobby anymore but still thought it and had to stop himself from saying it most of the time). Sam said he was just enjoying the peace and quiet, laughing as he related that it was nice having the shitty rented apartment to himself, what better gift could he ask for?
That night he didn't cry, he just listened to music as loud as he could stand it and drank his brother's stash of nasty Kentucky Bourbon until he passed out. His hangover was long forgotten before anyone showed back up with half-hearted 'sorry I missed your birthday, kiddo' bullshit.
But the next year was different. He'd been hiding his acceptance letter from Stanford for a month, taking it out now and again to read it over and over. There was a party a few blocks away, and Sam headed there to avoid spending yet another birthday alone.
When he was offered some funky tea, he wrinkled his nose, but his friends told him it would get him hella high, so he gulped it all down in one shot. For a little while, he felt good, silly, he laughed a lot, thinking he'd never noticed how most things looked so strangely flat before.
Eventually, though, without realizing it, he'd wandered outside alone and had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there. The disorientation scared the shit out of him, so he did the only thing he could think of - called Bobby.
Bobby was fucking furious. He'd barely understood anything Sam had said, the boy was clearly under the influence of something stronger than beer or pot. But he was too far away to haul his ass out of whatever the hell he'd done, so he dialed John Winchester in a rage.
"Where in the name of Christ are you, Johnny?"
"Headed back to our place. Dean is with me, we just finished up a-"
"How far out?" Bobby asked, cutting him off.
"An hour or so, maybe. What's wrong?"
"Sam's high as a fucking kite, has no idea where he is, and just called me babbling about how he finally figured out a way to celebrate his birthday without any of his family around. Why the hell are you out on a hunt? It's his 18th birthday, dumbass! I seem to remember Dean's being kind of a big deal. But you leave Sam home alone for his?"
For once, John was shocked into silence. But that was just fine, because Bobby wasn't done. "I called Sam for his birthday last year and he was alone. Do you even think about it? Do you not remember it? Or is it just not very important to you?" The anger in his voice was almost palpable, even over the phone. "You've got two sons, John. Quit being such a dick and get your ass home."
The line went dead and John related the conversation to Dean. He moved the accelerator up as high as he could, but neither of them spoke. They were both too caught up in the fact that Bobby was right. Neither of them made a big deal of Sam's birthday these past couple of years. Dean and John were bonding over the hunt and leaving Sam behind as a result.
They'd been so stupid, so fucking stupid. Sam meant the world to them, to Dean and John both, and they were too busy internally berating themselves for being such assholes to talk much for the rest of the trip. No way they were going to fix this with a cake or some presents.
Dean found Sam easily once they got back to the little town that had been their home base, and he didn't have it in him to chastise his little brother for doing drugs and wandering off. Even John felt so damn guilty after realizing what they'd done these past couple of years that he just hugged Sam and said he was sorry before sending him off to bed.
No matter how hard they tried, neither of them got a chance to properly make it all up to him before Sam left the both of them behind. There was nothing that could have shocked them into understanding how they'd made Sam feel until they watched him walk away.
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