Sam watched you as you walked through the library, rubbing your hand over his shoulders when you passed him. The touch burned his skin, he loves the burn. This is the base of your friendship - lingering touches, flirtatious comments and just being closer than friends should ever be. It’s the perfect balance for you, close to a relationship, yet not so close that Sam would realise just how messed up you are. If he knew that, you wouldn’t be here any more.
“I’m gonna head off to bed” You smiled. Dean nodded. Sam smiled up to you and rubbed his hand over yours before watching you leave the room, towards the bedrooms.
“Dude” Dean said, watching as Sam watched you walk away with a smile covering his face. Dean rolled his eyes when Sam didn’t respond. It’s been going on for months, maybe even a year at this point, Dean’s gone out of his mind and tried to just block it out. Sam gets all dewy eyed whenever you’re around. Dean’s never seen the kid in love this much since he saw Sam with Jess so many years ago.
“Dude!” Dean says again, throwing a screwed up piece of paper to the back of Sam’s head.
“What?” Sam asked, turning to face his brother.
“Tell her already man, you’re killing me and her” Dean exclaimed.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked. He tried to act confused, though he fooled no one.
“You’re like a lovesick puppy. Go tell her how you’re feeling before I do” Dean responds.
“I’m not!” Sam responded.
“Yeah, and I’m going to become a doctor” Dean rolled his eyes, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Sam sighed.
“The friendship me and (Y/N) have is fine as it is” Sam responded, looking pointedly at Dean.
“I don’t love (Y/N), she’s a friend and that’s it” He reiterated. The lie was clear though, to anyone who was in the room. Outside of the room is a different matter.
Walking out of the bathroom, you heard the conversation that Dean and Sam were having. You felt your heart sink. You do have feelings for Sam, how could you not? He’s the sweetest guy, he’s so intelligent, and his looks, they’re the perfect addition. But Sam wouldn’t want you. A wreck from a broken home who can’t get through each week without wanting to die and even going so far as to try to act on it some weeks. Hearing Sam say it though, hearing him say that he doesn’t want to progress the relationship is a killer. With your heart breaking again, you go to your cold, empty bedroom.
Looking around your bedroom, your eyes fall onto the photo of you and your sister beside your bed. You lifted it into your arms. A tear streamed from your cheek, splashing onto the picture frame.
“I’m so sorry, I hope I’m doing right by you” You whispered, voice shaky. You remember the day that she died.
Walking home from high school, you noticed a number of police cars speeding past, with an ambulance not far behind. Your street was full of the flashing lights of the emergency services when you got there. Assuming they were for someone else, you began moving the trash cans to put them back in the garden after they’d been emptied.
“Excuse me, I’m Officer Jason Smith. Are you a resident of this house?” He asked, his eyes following your every move.
“I am. Me, my mom and my sister live here. What’s going on?” You asked.
“There has been an incident” He said. You wanted to say ‘yeah no shit. I can see that dick stain’. Instead, you were more polite.
“Lemme guess. Drugs or abuse were involved” You responded, while moving to put the trash can back where it belonged.
“Yes, your mom is on the way to the station now. Do you have any relatives I can take you too?” He asks.
“Probably. I need to get some stuff from inside though” You said.
“I will escort you through” He said. You nodded and followed him into the house. Sure enough, blood was coating the walls. There was a faint smell of something that you couldn’t identify, possibly rotten eggs. You avoided the blood, thankful that the room was cordoned off with police tape.
“What happened?” You asked.
“We’re not entirely sure. Your mom was seen out on the streets with an axe, when we came here to bring her home, we found the body. She was immediately arrested and an ambulance came to take away your sister” The officer said. You nodded, it didn’t sink in though. It wouldn’t sink in until weeks later, when you were unable to return home because your mom was jailed for 25 years.
Looking to the calendar, you sigh as you realise she is due to be released sometime this year. Here’s praying she doesn’t try to contact me.
Setting the photo back onto the nightstand, you pull your pyjamas from the floor. Pulling your tee over your shoulders, your eyes fall to the scars lining your stomach. Some from hunts, some not from hunts. Dean and Sam don’t suspect anything though. You used the excuse of stretch marks the last time they’d asked, Dean didn’t know any different. Sam made no comment, instead fleeing the room. Dean shrugged at his brothers response.
“The kid’s never seen skin, gotta jack it out” Dean had joked. What neither he, nor you, knew was that Sam had in fact done just that. Sam would never admit how turned on he got at the sight of the slightest bit of your skin. It wasn’t seeing skin though, it was you who did it for him.
You pulled the flannel shirt over your body, hiding from yourself. Next off and tossed aside is your jeans. Your eyes fall to the scars covering your thighs. Thankfully, Dean and Sam have never seen this part of your body. They’ve never seen these scars, these would be harder to explain away. The shorts, you think you stole them from Sam, easily cover your thighs and knees.
Sleep doesn’t find you. It never does. It hasn’t since that day 25 years ago. Even then, it was hard. It’s harder now though. You know the monsters under the bed are real, you know the real cause of your sister’s death was a demon. You know everything that was only ever talked of in fairy tales and nightmares is real. It’s all real, and if not for you and a handful of others around the states, they would be causing mayhem more often than not.
You hear Dean going to bed, his bedroom is next door to yours after all. It must be close to midnight, if not later. The clock in your bedroom doesn’t work, you keep making note to change the batteries, but much like sleep, you never get around to it. Before long, Dean’s snores can be heard in your room and you’re going insane.