There are some things Sam Winchester doesn’t want you to know…
Title: There are some things Sam Winchester doesn’t want you to know…
Author: ZanneS
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG (limited bad language)
Characters: Sam
Summary: There are some things Sam Winchester doesn’t want you to know - an introspective look at Sam.
Author's Notes: Thanks to
gestaltrose for beta-ing! Sam confused her in this and I have to admit he confuses me, too. I get him on the show and I love the big lug, but when I try to write him, he turns into a whiny bitch. Why, Sam, why? Kripke owns Sam, whiny bitchiness and all. This is a companion and almost a direct mirror to There are some things Dean Winchester doesn't want you to know....
There are some things Sam Winchester doesn’t want you to know….
Sam Winchester doesn’t like bars. Seems obvious, but not for the reasons you’d think. He doesn’t like bars because of what they do to his brother. Ever since they were old enough to pass, he’s seen how Dean changes when he enters a bar, how he acts once that door opens and he steps inside. It’s like he’s pulling on a mask - a fun loving, beer drinking, pool playing man about town that draws the uninitiated to him like flies to honey. That’s not his brother, not the brother he knows, and he’s not sure he likes him very much.
He’s afraid, one day, that guy in the bar will be the one to follow him home.
When he started college, Sam Winchester wanted to be a doctor. He still wanted to save people, but in a more conventional way. In one of his first classes, he walked into the room to find a dead body laid out on a gurney in the front of the room. He automatically reached for his pocket and when he realized what he was looking for, he turned and walked right back out the door, tossing the lighter into the trashcan outside.
He knew he couldn’t be a healer when his first instinct was to destroy.
Sam Winchester could have been a damn good fighter. He would have picked up a weapon and figured out how to use it within minutes, mastering fighting techniques with barely a hitch in breath. But, as a child, he knew that competence was rewarded with absence; he saw how his father left Dean alone once he learned what he needed to. So he became an expert at being average, just good enough to not get in trouble, but bad enough to need extra help. John taught him in the beginning, but when he got older, Dean became his teacher. He resented the switch at first, but soon realized it worked to his advantage because now he had Dean all to himself; he had never liked sharing and he always had to share dad with his job.
It was the most important lesson that he ever learned from John Winchester, and he doesn’t realize how well he’s fooled everyone, including himself.
At Stanford, Sam Winchester actually had a job. It was only part-time at the school bookstore and came as part of his scholarship, offering the opportunity to earn extra spending money to those who might need it. He got a discount on books and supplies, free coffee from the break room, and he met Jess while ringing up her purchase. It was a great place to work, with nice people, and it filled his pockets with much needed cash.
He hated every second of it.
Sam Winchester was going to be a father, once - or, at least, he thought he was. Jess told him she was two weeks late and they sat nervously on the bed as they waited for those endless minutes to tick by. It was negative, thank God, and they celebrated with pizza and beer. He nearly left her later that night, but guilt kept him from walking out the door. He just didn’t want to start another screwed up family.
One week later, she was dead.
In the middle of the night, Sam Winchester hears classical music as he dreams. For a while, he wondered when his brain turned into a musical, but he figured it out one night when pretending to sleep seemed a better option than arguing. He’s gotten even better at feigning sleep and can sometimes go hours listening to the soft strains of Bach and Tchaikovsky spilling from the speakers. He knows something must be bothering his brother when he hears it, but he never asks.
Sometimes, he feels he really understands Dean at these moments in the dark when Dean thinks he’s sleeping; it’s when they communicate best.
Sam Winchester doesn’t really like blondes. He prefers a sleek brunette, bordering on black, whose hair makes her skin gleam white in the darkness. He went out with Jess because he was lonely and she had a wide smile he wasn’t used to seeing given so freely. He wanted to see more of it, to see if people could really be that happy. They slept together on their third date and as he lay in the darkness beside her, her disappointingly sun-gold skin hardly gleaming at all, he decided he couldn’t date her anymore. Then she wheezed through her nose in her sleep and Sam smiled, curling up beside her to have a night blissfully free of dreams.
He never made the connection, but Dean makes the same sound when he’s sleeping.
At every gas station and mini-mart they stop at, Sam Winchester buys a drink. Doesn’t matter what it is - water, Coke, Gatorade, Diet Pepsi - as long as it comes in a plastic bottle. Dean thinks he’s afraid of spilling in the car and appreciates his thoughtfulness. All he cares about is the plastic cap that he rolls around his fingers, twisting endlessly on-and-off as the miles roll by.
If his hands are busy, he doesn’t have to think so much about where he and Dean might be going.
Sam Winchester loves his brother more than anything else in the world. He’s never been able to say it to Dean, long ago learning that admitting to such feelings out loud was an anathema to the Winchester men. Hearing it only meant someone was close to dying, or had been sometime very recently. Those words always seemed to be an indicator that dad or Dean felt they had fucked up and almost gotten him, or themselves, killed. It’s hard to revel on the meaning of those words when they’ve always been so overshadowed by darker things.
Saying it now would be admitting Dean will be dead in a year and he can’t admit that, not yet.
There’s a lot about Sam Winchester that you don’t know. He’s good at keeping secrets…especially his own.
Author: ZanneS
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG (limited bad language)
Characters: Sam
Summary: There are some things Sam Winchester doesn’t want you to know - an introspective look at Sam.
Author's Notes: Thanks to
gestaltrose for beta-ing! Sam confused her in this and I have to admit he confuses me, too. I get him on the show and I love the big lug, but when I try to write him, he turns into a whiny bitch. Why, Sam, why? Kripke owns Sam, whiny bitchiness and all. This is a companion and almost a direct mirror to There are some things Dean Winchester doesn't want you to know....
There are some things Sam Winchester doesn’t want you to know….
Sam Winchester doesn’t like bars. Seems obvious, but not for the reasons you’d think. He doesn’t like bars because of what they do to his brother. Ever since they were old enough to pass, he’s seen how Dean changes when he enters a bar, how he acts once that door opens and he steps inside. It’s like he’s pulling on a mask - a fun loving, beer drinking, pool playing man about town that draws the uninitiated to him like flies to honey. That’s not his brother, not the brother he knows, and he’s not sure he likes him very much.
He’s afraid, one day, that guy in the bar will be the one to follow him home.
When he started college, Sam Winchester wanted to be a doctor. He still wanted to save people, but in a more conventional way. In one of his first classes, he walked into the room to find a dead body laid out on a gurney in the front of the room. He automatically reached for his pocket and when he realized what he was looking for, he turned and walked right back out the door, tossing the lighter into the trashcan outside.
He knew he couldn’t be a healer when his first instinct was to destroy.
Sam Winchester could have been a damn good fighter. He would have picked up a weapon and figured out how to use it within minutes, mastering fighting techniques with barely a hitch in breath. But, as a child, he knew that competence was rewarded with absence; he saw how his father left Dean alone once he learned what he needed to. So he became an expert at being average, just good enough to not get in trouble, but bad enough to need extra help. John taught him in the beginning, but when he got older, Dean became his teacher. He resented the switch at first, but soon realized it worked to his advantage because now he had Dean all to himself; he had never liked sharing and he always had to share dad with his job.
It was the most important lesson that he ever learned from John Winchester, and he doesn’t realize how well he’s fooled everyone, including himself.
At Stanford, Sam Winchester actually had a job. It was only part-time at the school bookstore and came as part of his scholarship, offering the opportunity to earn extra spending money to those who might need it. He got a discount on books and supplies, free coffee from the break room, and he met Jess while ringing up her purchase. It was a great place to work, with nice people, and it filled his pockets with much needed cash.
He hated every second of it.
Sam Winchester was going to be a father, once - or, at least, he thought he was. Jess told him she was two weeks late and they sat nervously on the bed as they waited for those endless minutes to tick by. It was negative, thank God, and they celebrated with pizza and beer. He nearly left her later that night, but guilt kept him from walking out the door. He just didn’t want to start another screwed up family.
One week later, she was dead.
In the middle of the night, Sam Winchester hears classical music as he dreams. For a while, he wondered when his brain turned into a musical, but he figured it out one night when pretending to sleep seemed a better option than arguing. He’s gotten even better at feigning sleep and can sometimes go hours listening to the soft strains of Bach and Tchaikovsky spilling from the speakers. He knows something must be bothering his brother when he hears it, but he never asks.
Sometimes, he feels he really understands Dean at these moments in the dark when Dean thinks he’s sleeping; it’s when they communicate best.
Sam Winchester doesn’t really like blondes. He prefers a sleek brunette, bordering on black, whose hair makes her skin gleam white in the darkness. He went out with Jess because he was lonely and she had a wide smile he wasn’t used to seeing given so freely. He wanted to see more of it, to see if people could really be that happy. They slept together on their third date and as he lay in the darkness beside her, her disappointingly sun-gold skin hardly gleaming at all, he decided he couldn’t date her anymore. Then she wheezed through her nose in her sleep and Sam smiled, curling up beside her to have a night blissfully free of dreams.
He never made the connection, but Dean makes the same sound when he’s sleeping.
At every gas station and mini-mart they stop at, Sam Winchester buys a drink. Doesn’t matter what it is - water, Coke, Gatorade, Diet Pepsi - as long as it comes in a plastic bottle. Dean thinks he’s afraid of spilling in the car and appreciates his thoughtfulness. All he cares about is the plastic cap that he rolls around his fingers, twisting endlessly on-and-off as the miles roll by.
If his hands are busy, he doesn’t have to think so much about where he and Dean might be going.
Sam Winchester loves his brother more than anything else in the world. He’s never been able to say it to Dean, long ago learning that admitting to such feelings out loud was an anathema to the Winchester men. Hearing it only meant someone was close to dying, or had been sometime very recently. Those words always seemed to be an indicator that dad or Dean felt they had fucked up and almost gotten him, or themselves, killed. It’s hard to revel on the meaning of those words when they’ve always been so overshadowed by darker things.
Saying it now would be admitting Dean will be dead in a year and he can’t admit that, not yet.
There’s a lot about Sam Winchester that you don’t know. He’s good at keeping secrets…especially his own.