Missing Something
Title: Missing Something
Author: imissellenandjo (me! :D)
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: PG-13 for graphics
Genre: AU
Pairings: gen
Spoilers: End of Season 2
Disclaimer: Kripke owns the boys and their suffering. I just twist it new ways.
Summary: Mary wasn't the one who died in the fire.
Word Count: 2,000
Sorry for any mistakes! This was totally unbeta'd! Also, this is my first ever finished fanfic! Woohoo! Anyway, onto the story!
******
A baby's cry fills the two-story white house. A blonde woman (pretty, beautiful even, but worn with many restless nights due to the same child) rolls onto her side mumbling, but still not waking. A little boy (he's four years old with dark blonde hair, green eyes, and a splattering of freckles across his nose) can hear the infant from his room. After a while, he wonders why his brother hasn't stopped crying yet.
Wasn't his mommy supposed to be comforting the child by now? The little boy decides to check on his wailing brother. He quickly tiptoes up the stairs, noticing how his daddy sits in front of the TV, his head tilted to the side and drool slowly seeping of his mouth.
The sight makes the boy giggle and he makes a note to remember to turn off the TV when he goes back to bed. The boy quickly sneaks down the hallway to the nursery, where the door is cracked open just a tiny bit.
He gazes in and sees something he doesn't know how to comprehend. A man stands above his baby brother's crib. Something's dripping down his arm, and as it drips into his brother's mouth, he realizes, it's red.
The boy pushes the nursery door open, and he can't help but realize that it was a mistake as the door creaks mercilessly. The man turns to face him, and he sees two bright yellow eyes staring out at him from the shadows.
"You're not what I was expecting." The man says, and then he smiles.
The little boy feels a sharp pain across his belly and he cries out. Then suddenly, he's on the ceiling, and everything's bright and burning. His brother is screaming below him, and he can feel as his skin begins to sizzle and pop.
His world is filled with pain and burning and the smell of his own skin being charred off him, but soon the pain starts to dull, and his vision begins to tunnel. He watches as his daddy bursts in and sees him.
"Dean!" He shouts. "Mary!" His mommy runs in next, her hair wild, and her eyes wide.
"Dean!" She screams, agony in her voice, tears beginning to trail down her face.
He wants to tell her that it's okay, that the pain isn't nearly as bad as it was before, but he can't seem to make words come out of his mouth. As he feels himself slip away, he watches as his mommy and daddy grab his little brother and rush out of the room.
His mommy stops at the door, and for a second, it seems as if she might dive back into the flames and try to save her other baby too, but then comes a shout of "Mary, hurry!" from his daddy, and his mommy is gone. The last thing he sees is his little brother, coddled in his mommy's arms.
******
It's Sam Winchester's first day of kindergarten. The little curly haired, puppy eyed boy is sent onto the bus by his mommy, as she hands him his lunch and gives him a quick peck on the cheek (to his horror).
Sam can't help but marvel at the giant yellow vehicle as he steps onto it. He looks around, but there seems to be no free seats. Finally, he spots a seat with another boy, far in the back, and he hurries to the spot.
"Can I sit here?" He asks shyly, looking down at his shoes.
"Sure, kid." Says the other boy, and Sam quickly slides into the seat.
The boy he's sitting next to is way older than him - 8 maybe even 9 - and he has spikey dark blonde hair, green eyes, and a splash of freckles across his nose. He wears a pair of ripped jeans, a black t-shirt, a flannel, and a black leather jacket that looks a bit too big.
"I'm Samuel, but I like to be called Sam," he says, turning to face the boy.
"Hi, Sammy," the boy replies, giving Sam a crooked grin.
They don't talk for a while after that, a comfortable silence settling over them as they listen to the buzz of chatter from the other children. Sam notices that the boy never told him his name and, as he turns to ask the boy, he is quickly cut off by the boy's question.
"Are you nervous?" He asks, smiling down kindly at Sam.
Sam looks back down at his shoes and mumbles a quiet "Yeah, I guess." The boy laughs, and then claps Sam on the shoulder.
"You shouldn't be," he tells Sam, "You're probably the smartest out of all of these kids." Sam looks up at the boy.
"Really?" He asks.
"Totally, Sammy." The boy replies, ruffling Sam's hair.
They fall into another easy silence as the bus nears the school. Sam gets off quickly, and turns around to wait for his new friend. After a minute or so, a teacher comes up to shoo him off too class.
As Sam walks away, he can't help but feel as if he's missing something.
******
Sam Winchester sighs as he stares at the clock on the wall to the right of him. He's angry, alternating between glaring at the clock, the TV, and his stupid broken ankle. He had had a soccer game that day and had been dribbling the ball down the field when some dumb kid had tried to tackle the ball from him.
They weren't even allowed to tackle yet! The stupid move had ended up breaking his ankle and him elbowing the other kid as hard as he could as he fell on top of him.
Sam can't help but smile at the memory as he grabs the TV remote, determined to find at least one good thing on the crappy hospital cable. He just passes channel 37 when he hears the door to his room creak open.
He knows it's not his parents. They had left only about 5 minutes ago to eat lunch. Sam looks up to see a boy walking up to his bed. The boy looks to be around 14, has spiked dark blonde hair, green eyes, and a splash of freckles across his nose. He wears ripped jeans, a black t-shirt, a flannel, a black leather jacket, and, around his neck, a weird golden amulet necklace thingy.
“Hi, Sammy,” the boy says, pulling a chair up to his bedside.
“Do I know you?” Sam asks, his eyebrows furrowing.
The boy tilts his head back and laughs, then replies “No, but I know you.” Sam isn’t sure if he should be creeped out by that.
“So,” says the boy (who Sam decides he is now calling Freckles), “I heard you banged yourself up there.”
Sam scowls back down at his ankle and crosses his arms over his chest. It’s all that stupid kid’s fault! And now he can’t play for the next 5 weeks!
“So whose fault was it?” Freckles asks, smiling down at him.
Sam bristles. “The other kid’s,” he says, pouting. Freckles laughs and Sam smiles.
They chat for another half an hour before Freckles says he has to leave. Three hours later Sam’s heading home with his mom and dad.
As Sam leaves the hospital, he can’t help but feel as if he’s missing something.
******
Sam Winchester sits in the very back of the old library on Holliman Street as he clutches as piece of paper to his chest.
Sam,
You are such an asshole! An unpopular nerd
who no one should ever like or even talk to!
I can’t believe I even went out with you! You
are such a loser and a freak!
Don’t ever speak to me again,
Ruby
Sam tries to hold back the tears, but as one leaks out, the rest begin to follow. In fact, after a while, he’s too absorbed in crying that he doesn’t realize the person standing over him until after it’s too late to reclaim his dignity.
Sam watches as the guy who looks to be about 18 crouches down in front of him. He has spiked dark blonde hair, green eyes, and a splash of freckles across his nose. He’s wearing ripped jeans, a black t-shirt, a flannel, a leather jacket, and an odd amulet.
Sam looks down at the floor, ashamed of crying in front of a stranger.
“Hey, Sammy,” the guy says (Freckles, Sam decides to call him), as he sits down Indian style across from him, “what’s wrong?” Sam keeps his head down and stays silent. Freckles frowns.
“You know you can tell me anything, right Sammy?” Sam doesn’t know why, but he believes Freckles. So, he hands over the note.
Freckles quickly reads through the hateful words, then looks up at Sam, scowling.
“What a bitch.” Sam nods and grins a bit.
“You know, none of this is true Sammy. Well, except for the part about you being a nerd,” Freckles says, and dammit all if Sam doesn’t feel better.
“Besides, you can do a lot better than this Ruby chick.” Freckles spits her name with conviction and wrinkles his nose as if he smells something putrid.
Sam smiles and nods. He feels a lot better. He and Freckles talk for a while after that, but eventually he has to go.
As Sam leaves the old library on Holliman Street, he can’t help but feel as if he’s missing something.
******
Sam Winchester stares up at Stanford dorms. He can’t help but praise himself over his accomplishments. Valedictorian, highest SAT, highest PSAT, student council president, school newspaper editor. He ticks them off one by one. Next up, Stanford graduate.
He allows a big, goofy grin to spread across his face as he stares. Suddenly, he hears a voice from behind him.
“Hey, what are you so happy about Sammy?”
Sam turns around to see a man around 22 standing there. He has spiked dark blonde hair, green eyes, and a splash of freckles across his nose. He wears ripped jeans, a black t-shirt, a flannel, a black leather jacket, and a strange amulet.
“Do I know you?” Sam asks, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.
“Still got that bitchface huh, there Sammy?” The man (Freckles, Sam dubs him) laughs.
“Well?” Sam demands, his voice taking on a whining quantity. He knows this guy, he's sure.
“You don’t know me, Sammy. But I know you.”
Sam doesn’t know if he should be freaked or not. He looks at Freckles and his friendly, open grin and decides to not be creeped out. For now anyway.
“So, who are you anyway?” Sam asks.
“I’m... Dean.” Freckles (Dean) says with a moment of hesitation.
Sam’s mind immediately goes to his older brother Dean. The one who died in a fire when he was 6 months old. The one his parents never really got over and who Sam hadn’t even seen a picture of.
“Hi Dean,” he says, and then toes the concrete at the awkward silence.
Finally Dean speaks up.
“I knew you could do it,” he says, smiling proudly at Sam.
“Do what?” Sam asks.
“All this,” Dean continues. “Get to Stanford, be valedictorian, live a normal life.”
Sam raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean a normal life?”
“Nothing, Sammy, nothing. I just mean, I’m really proud of you Sammy.” Dean says.
“Thanks Dean,” Sam smiles, “but don’t call me Sammy.”
“I’ll call you what I want bitch.” Dean says, smiling mockingly at Sam.
“Jerk.”
Sam and Dean talk for a little while longer before Dean has to leave.
“Do me a favor Sammy,” Dean starts, “you go out with that Jessica girl. Oh and never, ever trust another chick named Ruby.”
Sam nods. He's confused by the odd requests, but he doesn't ask any questions. He watches as Dean turns and passed the street corner disappears.
As he walks up to his dorm, Sam can’t help but feel as if he’s missing something.
**finis**