Fic: Home for Christmas (Supernatural) 1/4
Title: Home for Christmas
Characters: Sam, Bobby
Chapter Word Count: 896
Rating: R
Warnings: Descriptions of rape and sexual events of a semi-graphic nature
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own.
Summary: Based on the OhSam Triple Play prompt: Sioux Falls/Bobby/Sexual Assault. Sam just needed a place to lie low for a while. Bobby's salvage yard was the only place he could think of where he thought he'd be welcome.
Bobby had just settled into a much needed night of leisure on his couch with a finger of whiskey and baseball on the television when there was a creak on his front porch followed by a gentle knock. He glanced out the window. It was pitch black and snowing balls out there. Nobody in their right minds would be out in this mess. If this was another bout of church do-gooders, he’d give them a piece of his mind.
On the couch next to him. Rumsfeld lifted his head and sniffed. No howling, meant it was at least someone the dumb dog knew and judging by the rate his tale was going, someone he liked. He gave a single yip, before bounding off the couch towards the door, leaving Bobby scrambling to hold onto his drink.
The knock came again, louder this time. Bobby heaved himself to his feet, groaning and grumbling the whole way to the front door. He grabbed the shotgun he kept next to the coat stand, cocked it, and cracked the door so that Rummy wouldn’t go running out in the snow.
Whoever he might have expected, it wasn’t Sam Winchester.
The boy was at least a foot taller than he had been the last time Bobby saw him, although it took him a minute to see it the way he was hunched against the wind, and thin as a rail. He was also in light canvas sneakers and a coat that had been patched over at least three times too many. He had a single bag slung over his shoulder.
“Sam?” Bobby said, sure he was seeing things.
“Hey, Bobby,” He said. He offered a smile that never quite reached his eyes. “Sorry to show up unannounced, but I needed somewhere to crash for the night. I was hoping…”
“Hell, boy. Get in before you freeze to death. What were you thinking, showing up in South Dakota in December without a real coat?”
Sam chuckled and stepped into the hallway. Bobby kept a careful eye as he stepped over the salt line, but the boy didn’t even flinch. Instead he knelt and greeted Rumsfeld who was jumping up and making a scene like he was a puppy again. When Sam straightened up, Bobby handed him his silver plated flask and watched as he sipped the holy water. When he was through, he handed the flask back and stood there staring at the floor.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, quietly. “Is it okay if I stay with you?”
“Course it is, ya idjit. I’m not going to toss you out in the snow. Take off those wet shoes and I’ll see if there’s still coffee in the kitchen.”
When Sam finally did shuffle into the kitchen, he seemed even smaller than he had standing on the porch. He had dark circles under his eyes and the coloring of a ghost. He sat down at the table and sort of curled in on himself, cradling his coffee in his hands for the warmth. Rummy laid down across his feet, like the attention whore he was.
“Not that I’m not pleased to see you,” Bobby said, sitting down across from him with his own cup of coffee, “But I figured you’d be living it up out in California. Got to be a damn sight warmer down that way.”
Sam’s smile looked more like a grimace. “We’re on winter break. I just needed to get out for a while. Clear my head, you know?”
Bobby shrugged. “Okay.” They lapsed into silence and Bobby watched as Sam just stared into his coffee. For lack of anything better to say, he asked, “How’s it going out there? Classes okay? Making friends?”
This time Sam really did smile. He even met Bobby’s eye. “Yeah. I’m pre-law. I’ve been working really hard and it’s all starting to come together.” Sam blushed and looked down into his mug again. “I even met a girl.”
“That so,” Bobby said.
“Yeah. Her name’s Jessica. We met at the shop where I work. I think I might really love her, Bobby.”
“Really? Sounds like you’re doing pretty good for yourself.”
“Yeah,” Sam’s face fell and he went back to nursing his coffee. He seemed to conduct some sort of internal debate before he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Bobby. I know I’m not much company. It’s been a really long day. Would it be okay if I turned in?”
“’Course. The usual room’s free. Haven’t changed the sheets in ages. Might be a little dusty, but it’s a bed.”
“Thanks. It’s perfect.” Sam rose, setting his mug on the table, coffee practically untouched. “Any way you could not tell Dean I’m here?”
Bobby blinked. He hadn’t even considered calling either of the other Winchesters. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Sam relaxed, some of the tension falling from his shoulders. “Thanks, Bobby. Night.”
“Night, Sam.”
Sam shuffled out under Bobby’s watchful gaze. Something wasn’t right with that boy. Rummy whined from his spot on the floor. He was staring after Sam and glancing at Bobby as if expecting him to do something. “I ain’t got a clue,” he told the mutt.
Rumsfeld, apparently not satisfied with that answer, jumped up and chased after the boy. Bobby was left staring after both of them, all thoughts of a quiet night of baseball forgotten.
Chapter 2 >>>
Characters: Sam, Bobby
Chapter Word Count: 896
Rating: R
Warnings: Descriptions of rape and sexual events of a semi-graphic nature
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own.
Summary: Based on the OhSam Triple Play prompt: Sioux Falls/Bobby/Sexual Assault. Sam just needed a place to lie low for a while. Bobby's salvage yard was the only place he could think of where he thought he'd be welcome.
Bobby had just settled into a much needed night of leisure on his couch with a finger of whiskey and baseball on the television when there was a creak on his front porch followed by a gentle knock. He glanced out the window. It was pitch black and snowing balls out there. Nobody in their right minds would be out in this mess. If this was another bout of church do-gooders, he’d give them a piece of his mind.
On the couch next to him. Rumsfeld lifted his head and sniffed. No howling, meant it was at least someone the dumb dog knew and judging by the rate his tale was going, someone he liked. He gave a single yip, before bounding off the couch towards the door, leaving Bobby scrambling to hold onto his drink.
The knock came again, louder this time. Bobby heaved himself to his feet, groaning and grumbling the whole way to the front door. He grabbed the shotgun he kept next to the coat stand, cocked it, and cracked the door so that Rummy wouldn’t go running out in the snow.
Whoever he might have expected, it wasn’t Sam Winchester.
The boy was at least a foot taller than he had been the last time Bobby saw him, although it took him a minute to see it the way he was hunched against the wind, and thin as a rail. He was also in light canvas sneakers and a coat that had been patched over at least three times too many. He had a single bag slung over his shoulder.
“Sam?” Bobby said, sure he was seeing things.
“Hey, Bobby,” He said. He offered a smile that never quite reached his eyes. “Sorry to show up unannounced, but I needed somewhere to crash for the night. I was hoping…”
“Hell, boy. Get in before you freeze to death. What were you thinking, showing up in South Dakota in December without a real coat?”
Sam chuckled and stepped into the hallway. Bobby kept a careful eye as he stepped over the salt line, but the boy didn’t even flinch. Instead he knelt and greeted Rumsfeld who was jumping up and making a scene like he was a puppy again. When Sam straightened up, Bobby handed him his silver plated flask and watched as he sipped the holy water. When he was through, he handed the flask back and stood there staring at the floor.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, quietly. “Is it okay if I stay with you?”
“Course it is, ya idjit. I’m not going to toss you out in the snow. Take off those wet shoes and I’ll see if there’s still coffee in the kitchen.”
When Sam finally did shuffle into the kitchen, he seemed even smaller than he had standing on the porch. He had dark circles under his eyes and the coloring of a ghost. He sat down at the table and sort of curled in on himself, cradling his coffee in his hands for the warmth. Rummy laid down across his feet, like the attention whore he was.
“Not that I’m not pleased to see you,” Bobby said, sitting down across from him with his own cup of coffee, “But I figured you’d be living it up out in California. Got to be a damn sight warmer down that way.”
Sam’s smile looked more like a grimace. “We’re on winter break. I just needed to get out for a while. Clear my head, you know?”
Bobby shrugged. “Okay.” They lapsed into silence and Bobby watched as Sam just stared into his coffee. For lack of anything better to say, he asked, “How’s it going out there? Classes okay? Making friends?”
This time Sam really did smile. He even met Bobby’s eye. “Yeah. I’m pre-law. I’ve been working really hard and it’s all starting to come together.” Sam blushed and looked down into his mug again. “I even met a girl.”
“That so,” Bobby said.
“Yeah. Her name’s Jessica. We met at the shop where I work. I think I might really love her, Bobby.”
“Really? Sounds like you’re doing pretty good for yourself.”
“Yeah,” Sam’s face fell and he went back to nursing his coffee. He seemed to conduct some sort of internal debate before he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Bobby. I know I’m not much company. It’s been a really long day. Would it be okay if I turned in?”
“’Course. The usual room’s free. Haven’t changed the sheets in ages. Might be a little dusty, but it’s a bed.”
“Thanks. It’s perfect.” Sam rose, setting his mug on the table, coffee practically untouched. “Any way you could not tell Dean I’m here?”
Bobby blinked. He hadn’t even considered calling either of the other Winchesters. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Sam relaxed, some of the tension falling from his shoulders. “Thanks, Bobby. Night.”
“Night, Sam.”
Sam shuffled out under Bobby’s watchful gaze. Something wasn’t right with that boy. Rummy whined from his spot on the floor. He was staring after Sam and glancing at Bobby as if expecting him to do something. “I ain’t got a clue,” he told the mutt.
Rumsfeld, apparently not satisfied with that answer, jumped up and chased after the boy. Bobby was left staring after both of them, all thoughts of a quiet night of baseball forgotten.
Chapter 2 >>>