Fanfic - SPN: Abandonment (PG-13, Gen: Sam)
Title: Abandonment
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester
Prompt: "028-Disappointed" for 100moods, challenge table here. "Finding yourself " from April 17, 2007, at 365wprompts. "012-'Don't Stay' by Linkin Park" for samw_mrperfect at dramaticmuses.
Word Count: ~1725 words.
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Warnings/Spoilers: Gen. Angst. Character study. Pre-series. Vague spoilers for the "Pilot" and "Scarecrow".
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing.
Summary: He had plans and he tried to make them understand.
Beta: traffic_west
Soundtrack: "Don't Stay" by Linkin Park (from the Meteora Album) (lyrics).
Dicks Sporting Goods
He'd thought about leaving without saying anything, just walking away, as if that would somehow be easier. He knew they would hunt him down, though, thinking he'd been stolen away, coerced or drugged or injured or something. So he'd just decided to try to have a reasonable conversation. He knew it wouldn't be that. It never was anymore, if it ever had been. But, he planned to try, at least.
When his father came sludging into the cabin through the mud after a half-day of odd jobs during the spring of his senior year, Sam was ready. His back was straight against the frame of the seat and he had his information handy in the likely case of interrogation. Dean was a few feet away heating up things in the kitchen, likely to hear but unlikely to intervene, and last weekend's hunt had gone pretty well, leaving most everyone intact and in moods that were far better than horrible. It was about as good as Sam was ever going to get, and he knew that.
He swallowed, breath shallow, but he set his shoulders back, a mark of his determination, and spoke without hesitating. "Hey Dad, I was kind of hoping that I could talk to you about something."
His dad looked wary, eyes squinting up a bit, but he nodded slowly and sank into the seat across the table from his son. "Okay, Sam. Shoot."
"I want to go to college."
His father angled his head, shifting from one side to the other. "Well … honestly, I expected that you might want to do that someday. So … if you want to start putting a little money to the side, that would be okay. Then when we catch the thing that killed your mother, you can maybe take some classes, distance education or whatever."
Sam shook his head as he took a deep breath, preparing to take the plunge into what very well might not even be the deep end, but, instead, a mirage over skull-splitting cement. "I want to go full-time and … I want to go this fall."
Sam watched his dad make a face like he smelled something awful and didn't know where it was coming from. "You know that's not possible, Sam. We don't have that kind of money and you don't have that kind of time." He blinked at Sam like the conversation was ridiculous. "As soon as you graduate you'll be hitting the road with me and your brother. You know that."
Something flipped in his gut and Sam immediately knew that his own mind had already been made. "No. I won't." He gazed down at the pile of papers in his hands for a moment then pushed them to the middle of the table, waving a hand at them as he looked pointedly at his father. "I already have offers, Dad, scholarships even, from half a dozen schools. I'm talking Ivy League and stuff here." He leaned back in his chair, shoulders pumping up once. "I can't pass that up. They won't be handing out stuff like this when I've been out of school for long. It doesn't work like that."
His father hardly glanced at the letters and pamphlets lying between them before shrugging slowly. There was a flicker of understanding and Sam almost thought he'd defy his pattern for once and see reason, but then his eyes set hard, lips tight over his teeth. "I'm sorry, but we need to focus on the big hunt here, Sam. And it's too dangerous for you to be out there on your own. You know that."
Sam huffed and felt his eyebrows bunch together, tight. "I really don't know that, actually. You drag me and Dean- ..."
"Hey! Leave me out of it." Dean tossed the comment in with a tired voice set against the soft woosh of the refrigerator opening.
Sam barely acknowledged Dean's words, continuing his thought without pause. "You drag us into all kinds of dangerous situations with all the hunting we do. How could this be even half that dangerous?"
His father's voice boomed out, utterly incredulous, as his brows angled inward. "What?! Have you lost it, Sam? We're stronger and safer together. That's not even a question. And if I can save some other families while keeping this one safe, then that's what I'm going to do."
Sam rolled his eyes a little as he looked away, nearly immune to the same old arguments, but he heard his dad sigh, exhaustedly, and he held his tongue, hoping, likely in vain, for a change of heart. "I can understand what you're trying to do here, Sam, I can, but you'll just have to make do with whatever programs are available when things are ... safer ... when you can really take the time to work on more education. The hunt has to come first, though. That's just reality, Sam. So, you won't have the time to do college things."
"But I will have the time." Sam turned back to his dad, forehead creasing until a headache began to set in as he tried to figure out how this could be so drastically different from the way they'd been living, so difficult for his father to allow. "I can catch up with you guys on weekends and over holidays and for three months every summer, just like always."
Sam knew it wouldn't be ideal, but he was willing to compromise if it would get his dad on board with things. The truth was that he wanted out of hunting entirely, but that wasn't going to happen if his dad had anything to say about it, and it wasn't like he didn't want to avenge his mother's death. He just didn't think that particular drive should be one that consumed everything else until all of them had nothing but each other and the hunt.
College wasn't just an excuse to get away from full-time hunting for the better part of four more years. It was a way to make sure that he had options laid out for when the hunting was done, paths that didn't include hustling and shooting things, endless aliases and credit card scams, ways of living that were legitimate and normal and safe. Why his family wouldn't get behind that, he just couldn't understand.
"I've been going to school all along and helping out when I can. Why can't I just keep doing that?"
"No. That's not what we're doing, Sam. We've been holding back, staying in some places too long for years, trying to give you a chance to finish school and get all those honors you're always aiming for. And ... you did well, alright? But in June, you're done, so ... " His father gestured explosively, face flushed with ire. "That's it, Sam. You can go back to school when we know that thing is dead. Period. End of discussion."
Sam knew that wasn't remotely the end, but Dean walked in with the food just then, banging it onto the table artlessly as he slid into his chair, not-so-subtly halting another argument before it turned into a screaming match. Sam glanced at Dean to see if there'd be any cavalry coming in on this one, but, just as usual, Dean was defaulting to their father's side of things. So Sam just nodded slowly, jaw tight, and snatched up the batch of college information, storming off to his room and ignoring his father's yells to get his ass back to the table.
It always went like that. Once, twice a week for a month, he tried. Then he just stopped. He talked to his counselor about options, rustled up some cash from hidden corners, and pleaded with the admissions people at all the places with scholarships. By the time Sam was walking across a stage in a cap and gown, he already had a dorm room, a roommate, a work-study position, a grant for summer classes, and a bus ticket out of town.
For the whole week after graduation, they were packing up their rented abode, and he tried to talk to Dean. He said he thought he might head off to college even if Dad didn't like it, said maybe Dean should come with him - lots of colleges around and hunts too. Dean just kept shutting him down. He didn't want to hear about Sam leaving the family when they needed him, or just leaving the family at all. Sam even tried to talk to his father, but it didn't get him even one step further to compromise, let alone acceptance of his imagined college plans. Every mention of higher education just pushed them further apart, agitating them both more and more.
No one thought that he'd actually do it, though. No matter how intensely he spoke about it, and no matter how loud the arguments got, they just assumed that he'd eventually give in and give up, see their side of things, that he'd bow down and duck out, grumbling, but relenting in the end, just like he'd done so many times in all the years before then. But he was done bowing to the Winchester brand of irrational authority. He knew what he needed to do and what he wanted to do and he was going to do just that, with or without their approval.
So when he walked out of his room, bags in hand, that next Saturday morning and said that he was leaving, heading to Stanford University, to start his college life, there were words, all of them hurled, hard, like spears, but all his defenses were already up. He just blinked goodbye to his brother and put his father's shouts behind him, stalking out the door for what his dad made sure to let him know would be the last damn time.
And it might have seemed like it was easy, but leaving wasn't even one tenth as easy as Sam wanted it to look on the outside. Inside, his heart was shot full of holes and bleeding out, thinking that they were really done with him, because even after everything, he'd wanted to be independent, to have a chance at a life that was normal and safe, but he'd always hoped that he wouldn't have to live it all alone.
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester
Prompt: "028-Disappointed" for 100moods, challenge table here. "Finding yourself " from April 17, 2007, at 365wprompts. "012-'Don't Stay' by Linkin Park" for samw_mrperfect at dramaticmuses.
Word Count: ~1725 words.
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Warnings/Spoilers: Gen. Angst. Character study. Pre-series. Vague spoilers for the "Pilot" and "Scarecrow".
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing.
Summary: He had plans and he tried to make them understand.
Beta: traffic_west
Soundtrack: "Don't Stay" by Linkin Park (from the Meteora Album) (lyrics).
Dicks Sporting Goods
He'd thought about leaving without saying anything, just walking away, as if that would somehow be easier. He knew they would hunt him down, though, thinking he'd been stolen away, coerced or drugged or injured or something. So he'd just decided to try to have a reasonable conversation. He knew it wouldn't be that. It never was anymore, if it ever had been. But, he planned to try, at least.
When his father came sludging into the cabin through the mud after a half-day of odd jobs during the spring of his senior year, Sam was ready. His back was straight against the frame of the seat and he had his information handy in the likely case of interrogation. Dean was a few feet away heating up things in the kitchen, likely to hear but unlikely to intervene, and last weekend's hunt had gone pretty well, leaving most everyone intact and in moods that were far better than horrible. It was about as good as Sam was ever going to get, and he knew that.
He swallowed, breath shallow, but he set his shoulders back, a mark of his determination, and spoke without hesitating. "Hey Dad, I was kind of hoping that I could talk to you about something."
His dad looked wary, eyes squinting up a bit, but he nodded slowly and sank into the seat across the table from his son. "Okay, Sam. Shoot."
"I want to go to college."
His father angled his head, shifting from one side to the other. "Well … honestly, I expected that you might want to do that someday. So … if you want to start putting a little money to the side, that would be okay. Then when we catch the thing that killed your mother, you can maybe take some classes, distance education or whatever."
Sam shook his head as he took a deep breath, preparing to take the plunge into what very well might not even be the deep end, but, instead, a mirage over skull-splitting cement. "I want to go full-time and … I want to go this fall."
Sam watched his dad make a face like he smelled something awful and didn't know where it was coming from. "You know that's not possible, Sam. We don't have that kind of money and you don't have that kind of time." He blinked at Sam like the conversation was ridiculous. "As soon as you graduate you'll be hitting the road with me and your brother. You know that."
Something flipped in his gut and Sam immediately knew that his own mind had already been made. "No. I won't." He gazed down at the pile of papers in his hands for a moment then pushed them to the middle of the table, waving a hand at them as he looked pointedly at his father. "I already have offers, Dad, scholarships even, from half a dozen schools. I'm talking Ivy League and stuff here." He leaned back in his chair, shoulders pumping up once. "I can't pass that up. They won't be handing out stuff like this when I've been out of school for long. It doesn't work like that."
His father hardly glanced at the letters and pamphlets lying between them before shrugging slowly. There was a flicker of understanding and Sam almost thought he'd defy his pattern for once and see reason, but then his eyes set hard, lips tight over his teeth. "I'm sorry, but we need to focus on the big hunt here, Sam. And it's too dangerous for you to be out there on your own. You know that."
Sam huffed and felt his eyebrows bunch together, tight. "I really don't know that, actually. You drag me and Dean- ..."
"Hey! Leave me out of it." Dean tossed the comment in with a tired voice set against the soft woosh of the refrigerator opening.
Sam barely acknowledged Dean's words, continuing his thought without pause. "You drag us into all kinds of dangerous situations with all the hunting we do. How could this be even half that dangerous?"
His father's voice boomed out, utterly incredulous, as his brows angled inward. "What?! Have you lost it, Sam? We're stronger and safer together. That's not even a question. And if I can save some other families while keeping this one safe, then that's what I'm going to do."
Sam rolled his eyes a little as he looked away, nearly immune to the same old arguments, but he heard his dad sigh, exhaustedly, and he held his tongue, hoping, likely in vain, for a change of heart. "I can understand what you're trying to do here, Sam, I can, but you'll just have to make do with whatever programs are available when things are ... safer ... when you can really take the time to work on more education. The hunt has to come first, though. That's just reality, Sam. So, you won't have the time to do college things."
"But I will have the time." Sam turned back to his dad, forehead creasing until a headache began to set in as he tried to figure out how this could be so drastically different from the way they'd been living, so difficult for his father to allow. "I can catch up with you guys on weekends and over holidays and for three months every summer, just like always."
Sam knew it wouldn't be ideal, but he was willing to compromise if it would get his dad on board with things. The truth was that he wanted out of hunting entirely, but that wasn't going to happen if his dad had anything to say about it, and it wasn't like he didn't want to avenge his mother's death. He just didn't think that particular drive should be one that consumed everything else until all of them had nothing but each other and the hunt.
College wasn't just an excuse to get away from full-time hunting for the better part of four more years. It was a way to make sure that he had options laid out for when the hunting was done, paths that didn't include hustling and shooting things, endless aliases and credit card scams, ways of living that were legitimate and normal and safe. Why his family wouldn't get behind that, he just couldn't understand.
"I've been going to school all along and helping out when I can. Why can't I just keep doing that?"
"No. That's not what we're doing, Sam. We've been holding back, staying in some places too long for years, trying to give you a chance to finish school and get all those honors you're always aiming for. And ... you did well, alright? But in June, you're done, so ... " His father gestured explosively, face flushed with ire. "That's it, Sam. You can go back to school when we know that thing is dead. Period. End of discussion."
Sam knew that wasn't remotely the end, but Dean walked in with the food just then, banging it onto the table artlessly as he slid into his chair, not-so-subtly halting another argument before it turned into a screaming match. Sam glanced at Dean to see if there'd be any cavalry coming in on this one, but, just as usual, Dean was defaulting to their father's side of things. So Sam just nodded slowly, jaw tight, and snatched up the batch of college information, storming off to his room and ignoring his father's yells to get his ass back to the table.
It always went like that. Once, twice a week for a month, he tried. Then he just stopped. He talked to his counselor about options, rustled up some cash from hidden corners, and pleaded with the admissions people at all the places with scholarships. By the time Sam was walking across a stage in a cap and gown, he already had a dorm room, a roommate, a work-study position, a grant for summer classes, and a bus ticket out of town.
For the whole week after graduation, they were packing up their rented abode, and he tried to talk to Dean. He said he thought he might head off to college even if Dad didn't like it, said maybe Dean should come with him - lots of colleges around and hunts too. Dean just kept shutting him down. He didn't want to hear about Sam leaving the family when they needed him, or just leaving the family at all. Sam even tried to talk to his father, but it didn't get him even one step further to compromise, let alone acceptance of his imagined college plans. Every mention of higher education just pushed them further apart, agitating them both more and more.
No one thought that he'd actually do it, though. No matter how intensely he spoke about it, and no matter how loud the arguments got, they just assumed that he'd eventually give in and give up, see their side of things, that he'd bow down and duck out, grumbling, but relenting in the end, just like he'd done so many times in all the years before then. But he was done bowing to the Winchester brand of irrational authority. He knew what he needed to do and what he wanted to do and he was going to do just that, with or without their approval.
So when he walked out of his room, bags in hand, that next Saturday morning and said that he was leaving, heading to Stanford University, to start his college life, there were words, all of them hurled, hard, like spears, but all his defenses were already up. He just blinked goodbye to his brother and put his father's shouts behind him, stalking out the door for what his dad made sure to let him know would be the last damn time.
And it might have seemed like it was easy, but leaving wasn't even one tenth as easy as Sam wanted it to look on the outside. Inside, his heart was shot full of holes and bleeding out, thinking that they were really done with him, because even after everything, he'd wanted to be independent, to have a chance at a life that was normal and safe, but he'd always hoped that he wouldn't have to live it all alone.