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Sam grew up with fast food burgers, frozen foods, and canned goods. Even the few times he managed to run away, he had to live off corner store food because he hadn’t brought much cash.
But when he got into Stanford, it was a new start. At least he wanted it to be. He had gotten a full scholarship, and lived in the school dorms for a while. Money was still a problem however, so he still fed off fast food. Near the campus was a café where they sold small fruit salads in these tall plastic cups, which became his dinner for a long time.
Even after he got a small part time job, he spent most of his money of school equipment. And so it was only after he started being with Jessica, months after he came at Stanford, that he first had a real homemade meal. Which, Jess didn’t believe at first.
Sure he’s had a few actually meals in the past, mainly when he managed to stay at a friend’s house, but that was rare, and had happened maybe once or twice.
“You’ve never had a homemade salad? Like, actually?” She said with a smirk, amused at the revelation. She knew Sam didn’t grow up in the most normal conditions, but she had assumed he'd have at least that minimum. Sam sat at the table near her and shrugged.
“I always grew up on fast food and precooked meals.” Her smile faltered for just half a second, but enough for Sam to notice.
“Alright. Well, I’m making supper then.”
Even as kids, Sam always preferred salads and healthy options if they were in the menus. Eating greasy burgers and other fast foods made him sick. Whenever he ate anything alike, it made him feel gross.
Sam hated the look of concern that Jess wore, but he couldn’t help it. This might’ve been in the best meals he ever ate. He ate at least four full bowls. He’d probably regret it later when his stomach would yell at him for overeating, but it was too good.
Jess had introduced Sam to a bunch of vegan and vegetarian foods, which he fell in love with. Now, whenever he ate anything that you’d get from any passing fast foods, his stomach turned. He felt gross, full, it took away any appetite he had.
When he and Dean sat in a diner on their way to Jericho, it all felt too familiar. The old diner in the middle of nowhere, the smell of grease and fast food filled his nose, and made his stomach turn. Another part of hunting he hadn’t missed.
Dean, ever true to himself, picked a cheeseburger with nothing but greasy meat. Sam him, picked whatever looked remotely healthy. Some salad with ‘fresh ingredients'. Not nearly as good as what he would eat back at Stanford.
Sam looked up during their meal and huffed that sounded like a laugh, but his furrowed eyebrows betrayed concern. His brother had never been much of a big eater. More times than not, back when they were kids, whenever they went to fast foods, he’d eat half his burger and food, only to eat the rest later or another day.
But now, his brother was biting into the burger as if it’s the first meal he’d had in months. Sam looked down at his plate a moment before clearing his throat and looking back up to Dean.
“Hungry much?” He asked hiding his concern under a playful tone and smile. Dean shrugged.
“It’s a good burger.” He replied so simply. Sam nodded softly, but didn’t press further.
It didn’t take long for Sam to realize Dean always ate like that. As if he had an insatiable appetite. At one point, Sam just shrugged. Guess Dean’s eating habits had changed. It happened growing up.
It took Sam an embarrassingly long time to piece it together.
“I’m starving.” Dean said, getting from his bed, pushing some papers on the ground in the same time. Sam scoffed.
“Dude, it’s like not even 2pm. We stopped at a diner on the way here barely an hour ago.” Sam said with a small smile.
“Yeah? So?” He said crossing his arms defensively. There was a pause and Dean moved towards the door and his jacket. Sam frowned a moment, looking at Dean.
“You were never hungry.” He said quietly, realization slow in his mind.
“What?” Dean asked confused. He put on his jacket and looked back at him.
“When we were kids. I have never heard you say you were hungry.” Dean’s expression changed and he looked away a moment.
“What can I say, I wasn’t much of a big eater back then.” He tried to deflect with a small smile.
“Dean,” Sam started, but couldn’t seem to find the words for a good moment. “Were you…” Sam paused again. Dean bit his lip looking down, and headed to the door.
“I’ll be at the diner.” He said more seriously. He left and closed the door before Sam could protest.
Sam didn’t know where he went, but Dean came back two hours later. Just as Sam was about to call him, the door opened.
“It’s a damn kitsune.” He said hanging his vest on the coat hanger besides the door. Sam frowned.
“What? But all the victim’s brain were intact."
“So were their hearts. But here, I asked around, apparently there’s this local legend. A woman discovered her lover was cheating on her. So, she confronted him in the casino where the other woman worked. They had a fight, girl falls off the second floor, and dies. Now, she haunts the casino and goes home with any man that says ‘yes' and kills them.” Sam huffed and opened his laptop.
“Okay, but why a kitsune? That sounds pretty cut and dry vengeful spirit.” Sam asked, looking for the women’s death report, news article,
“Yeah, well apparently, some people say there’s never been a single death in that casino.” Sam hummed.
“I mean, I can’t find anything.”
“And here comes the best part. Legend says at night, you can sometimes see the woman lurking around, with the shadow of a fox.” Sam looked up at Dean.
“The old tales of Kitsunes. Foxes who turn into women to trick men.” Dean nodded, reaching for a beer in the mini fridge. “But why’s it killing if not to feed?” Dean paused, shrugged, and sat down to sip his beer. Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. There was a moment of silence, and Sam put his laptop away, closing it. He turned around on his chair to look at him. “Hey, Dean, about earlier.” Dean huffed.
“There’s nothing to say.” He said more quietly, looking down at his drink.
“No, I think there’s plenty to say. Dean,” he sight. “I didn’t know.” He finally settled on, looking down at his hands.
“Its fine. You couldn’t have.”
“No. It’s not fine Dean. You shouldn’t have-… how much.” He said quietly, looking at him.
“What?” Dean asked, with a smile and a chuckle.
“How many times did you not eat so that I could.” Dean bit his lip and looked away.
“Sammy-"
“Dean. How many times.” He asked sternly. He needed to know. Dean looked at him a moment.
“I don’t know. Couple times. When we were low on cash.” Sam huffed, looking away. Sam wasn’t dumb. Even if both John and Dean had moments where they acted like he was. Or pretended maybe. He remembered vaguely one time where Dean asked John for more money when he said he'll be gone a while. He remembered hearing yelling, and seeing Dean with a bruising cheek, said he got it earlier and Sam just didn’t notice.
He remembered waking up in the middle of the night, or maybe it was just that early, and Dean came into the room, hair in a mess and looking absolutely exhausted. Hearing him take a shower. A few nights, he could hear him vomiting. And on some occasions, choking sobs. He’d then literally crumble into his bed. Sam would wake up the next morning, ask about the bruises on his brother’s body, to which he'd just deflect, or straight up yell at him to stop asking questions.
He remembered Dean making him some boxed food, and complaining about it and how he wanted to eat something else, while Dean stood in the corner distracting himself with anything else while Sam ate.
How could he not have seen it before? Just how much Dean had sacrificed for him. It made him sick to his stomach.
Sam didn’t comment the next time he noticed Dean eating a burger with hunger.
Dean made sure to buy Sam some fruit salad at their next stop when the last diner didn’t have any good healthy options.
And neither talked about it further.