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He was four years old.
One minute he's being tucked into his bed and kissed on the forehead by his mother, the next he's out on the street crying, holding his one-year-old brother, watching the house burn to the ground before him.
And just as quickly, two parents became none.
Dad told him he needed to help take care of Sam now that they're mother wasn't able to. Told him that he couldn't do it alone and that Sam's going to need his big brother. So, he wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded his head, making a silent promise to protect Sam with everything he had.
And so he did.
For years, he would skip meals and steal food just so Sam had something to eat. The kid never knew, and he liked to keep it that way. The less Sam knew, the better. Dad barely left them enough money to last a week when he went on his hunts. Didn't matter if he was gone for two days or thirty. It was always the same twenty bucks and promises that this would be the last time.
It never was.
By eleven, he had become good enough at pool that he began scamming people for a little extra cash. Nobody actually knew how young he was, nor batted an eye at an eleven-year-old in a bar. All they saw was a mature teenager, and as long as he didn't touch the booze, nobody cared. Not that he let that stop him from stealing a couple of bottles now and again for dad to drink when he came back tired.
Sam started asking more questions, too. You know how seven year olds are, always questioning the world. Sam kept asking where mom was and where dad had gone off to, and he just couldn't bring himself to tell Sam the truth. So he told Sam that mom died giving birth to him and that dad was out working his part-time job. It was a scenario that he had come up with in his head six years ago. Something that let him believe that his life was normal despite it being far from that.
And Sam believed him every time.
On top of all that dad had begun to bring him on his hunts, leaving Sam alone in the motel room. He learned the horrors of the world first hand cutting heads off vampires and burning corpses with salt and Zippo lighters. He saw things that would make any eleven-year-old terrified, but not him. He bit it down and acted tough. He had to. Dad quickly turned into Sir when talking to him, and his life became “shoot first, ask questions later.”
After his third hunt that year, he learned why dad loved his drinks. He even started stealing some for himself.
Once Sam turned eight, it got increasingly harder to lie to him about eating. His brother had caught him skipping meals more times than he liked, and the usual “I already ate” or “I'm not hungry” wasn't cutting it anymore. Sam wouldn't eat anything unless he ate with him. Even went as far as making sure their plates had equal portions. As much as he hated his brother's stubbornness, he couldn't help but be proud. It was proof that at least one of them would turn out okay.
But that was short-lived.
Six months after his eighth birthday, dad decided that Sam was old enough to learn the family business and the truth about his mother. He tried to protest against it, claiming that Sam was too young to be killing things, but dad wasn't having it. He yelled saying, “You were younger than him when I brought you in” and “A son who doesn't know how to shoot a gun or kill a vamp is no son of mine” then threatened to send Sam away to live somewhere else because he didn't do a good enough job at preparing him. So, he bit his tongue and nodded in fear that he would lose the one thing that was keeping him going. He learned that's the safest thing to do. Never talk back and just nod.
Sam got stuck with research. The kid couldn't shoot well enough for dad, and that was fine. He didn't want Sam anywhere near this mess, and research was about as far away as he could get. Everything was as good as it could be.
Until Sam turned eighteen and wanted to go to college.
“I got accepted to Stanford. I leave in three days,” Sam said cautiously, like he's navigating a minefield.
Dean just sits there in the front seat of the Impala, staring at his little brother in the moonlight, screaming at himself in his head to just tell him congratulations and that it's okay to leave, but he can't. No words come out.
Sam sighs. “Dean, I-”
He puts a hand up, and Sam stops talking. “No. Save it for dad. He's the one you have to deal with. Not me.”
It's not that he isn't happy for Sam. All he ever wanted was for him to live a normal life. One Dean couldn't have himself. But Sam would be leaving him behind. The only constant in his life would just…disappear. Something inside Dean started to hurt.
Just as Sam opened his mouth, dad opened the driver's door and slid in. He handed Dean the 6-pack and a single pack of jerky before putting on his seat belt and starting the car.
“Dad, I have something I need to tell you.”
“What is it, Sam?” He said as he put it into gear and peeled out of the Gas-N-Sip heading towards St. Louis. They had only stopped because dad had run out of beer a mile and a half ago.
“I'm leaving for college in three days.”
As soon as the words come out of Sam's mouth, dad slams on the brakes, causing Dean to brace himself on the dashboard. Dad had stopped the car in the middle of the road.
He slowly turns around to face Sam, not caring that there is a car honking behind him. “What did you say?”
“I'm leaving for college in three days. Stanford,” Sam said with his chin held high and fire in his eyes.
Dean's yelling “Yeah! You tell him Sammy!” in his head as he contorts his face into one of disapproval. He doesn't want his dad to see just how proud of him he is.
“And why would you want to go to college? You've got everything you need right here.”
The honking behind them grows more irritated.
“Sir, maybe we should pull to the side of the road?” Dean suggested cautiously. He knows how his dad gets when he's mad at something, and he'd really like to not escalate the situation.
His dad snaps his head to Dean, eyes wide. Then, he hears the honking behind him and huffs as he turns to move the car to the side of the road.
As soon as the tires hit dirt and completely stop, dad turns completely around in his seat.
“You're just going to abandon us? Abandon the cause for some…some college degree?”
“I'm not abandoning you and the cause. I'm going to pursue my dreams.”
“Your dreams should be catching your mother's killer, not wasting years of your life getting a useless degree!”
Dean flinches. He's always hated their fights. Ever since Sam turned thirteen, he had gotten rebellious. He would constantly fight dad over things. Anything from motel conditions to using Dean as bait was fair game.
“It's not useless!”
“What are you going for, Sam?” Dean asks, not caring about the look his dad is giving him.
“Law. I'm going to become a lawyer.”
“A lawyer? Why in God's name do you want to be a lawyer?”
“Well, Dad, knowing the law can help with the family business.”
Dean knows Sam's just trying to defuse the conversation, but he can also tell that his brother isn't lying. And it's actually a smart idea. With all the illegal things they do daily, it would be nice to have someone on their side who knows all the loopholes.
“It doesn't matter if you're going to be the damn president. You're still abandoning your family for some stupid dream when you should be helping us!”
Sam sighs. “For the last time, I'm not abandoning you. I'm helping you!”
“You're not helping your mother.”
Dean stares wide-eyed at his father as Sam chuckles in the back seat.
“I'm helping her more than you are!”
“Sam.” Dean tries to get Sam to stop talking. He's going down a road that has never led anywhere good.
“You're out here hunting for a yellow-eyed man that doesn't exist! For seventeen years!-”
“-Sam.” Dean tries again, this time a little louder. But it doesn't work. Sam continues to shout.
“You dropped your kids at shitty motel after shitty motel alone with no money for years! Dean had to steal! He had to grift people for money! He didn't even eat! He had to give me his food to make sure I didn't starve to death!”
“I ate,” Dean lies, voice quiet. Sam's right, though. And he still skips meals today. He had gotten so used to not eating that it's just become second nature to him now.
“What are you trying to say?” Dad's voice goes low, and Dean freezes. Whatever happens next is never good. Usually, it's vamps on the receiving end.
“Do you think that mom would've wanted this? For Dean to starve himself to provide for me and to be both my parents while you were off looking for a man that doesn't exist? Do you really think she would have wanted this?”
The car goes silent as Sam's words sink in. He knew his brother hated their dad, but he never knew just how much. Dean can't believe that his brother actually said it. They've talked about it once, years ago, when their dad left them behind on a hunt. How he's trying, but doing it the wrong way. Asked what mom would think of their lives if she were alive.
“Get out.”
Sam's eyes widened at the same time that Dean's did.
“What?” Sam asked, voice steady and confident.
“Get. Out.”
Sam's eyes flick to Dean's before he nods his head. “Fine.”
“Once you step out that door, don't ever think about coming back.”
Sam's hand is on the door handle as he turns back and looks at Dean, his eyes apologetic. He remembers making that silent promise seventeen years ago to protect Sam with everything he had, so he just nods his head. Screams fill his mind as Sam opens the door and steps out, closing it behind him with a slam. As soon as he hears the door shut, his dad's driving away, and Dean feels something break deep inside.
“Can you believe your brother? Picking college over family. What is he thinking, abandoning us like that?”
“He had a point about becoming a lawyer, though,” Dean says quietly as he looks out the window. Sam's gone and Dean's alone. He knew this day would come—hoped even—but still. Dean's alone now with only his mind as his companion.
“You're not trying to defend him, are you?”
Dean holds his breath, then turns his head and shakes it. “No, Sir.”
“Good. You were always the smart one in this family.”
Dean gives his father a fake smile, knowing that's a lie, before turning his head to look back out at the empty field illuminated in the moonlight and for the first time in seventeen years, he lets tears roll down his face.