(no subject)

[longsufferingly]

Title: Adventures in Solitude
Author: chash
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam, trying to escape.
Notes: Title and cut text from New Pornographers, "Adventures in Solitude." Companion to Go Places.


i.

The first time Sam ran away, he tried to take Dean with him. He didn't realize that was a mistake until much later.

He'd read The Boxcar Children in school, and that was what gave him the idea. It seemed so idyllic, living in a real home with his brother, off the land, doing odd jobs for money.

It seemed so much better than endless motel rooms and road trips.

Back then, he never planned to leave forever. He figured they'd go back in a few days. But Dean must not have realized that. He cuffed Sam in the ear, told him to never think about leaving again, told him their dad needed them, told him he was being a selfish little bitch.

That night, with his ears ringing a little, he tried to take Dean out of his boxcar. But it never seemed as appealing with his brother gone.


ii.

The next time Sam ran away, he did it by accident.

He was ten, and he got a bad grade on a book report; he'd left it too late, freaked out, made Dean help him even though Dean was no good at school. Dean had, of course. They'd curled up together in the bed they were sharing and Dean read aloud to him, Sam manning the dictionary in case there were any words they didn't know. Dean had tried so hard to help, and Sam had thought--hoped--he would be able to come home and say, Look how well I did, thank you.

But he didn't know what he could say now. He didn't know how to explain to Dean that even after all Dean had done, it hadn't helped. So he just stayed out, unwilling to go home and make Dean sad.

He slept in the alley next to the arcade he'd been hiding in, went to school the next day in dirty clothes and found Dean waiting for him.

"Where were you?" he demanded, slamming Sam against the wall of the school. "What happened?"

His classmates were all around them, staring as they passed, and Sam could feel tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Dean saw them too, relaxed his grip, took Sam by the wrist and pulled him away.

In a diner down the street, Dean bought him a piece of blueberry pie and said, "Talk, Sammy."

"I failed my book report," Sam muttered.

Dean stared at him. "What?"

"I'm sorry!" said Sam. "I don't know what happened."

"Geez, Sam," said Dean, shaking his head. "I don't care about that. It's just school. I thought something got you."

"But you--"

Dean hit him lightly on the side of the head, barely any contact at all. "It was a stupid book anyway. Don't scare me like that again."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

Three days later, Dean took him to the carnival. Sam didn't know if it was a reward or an apology.


iii.

When Sam was fifteen, he got his first girlfriend. Her name was Olivia Barret and she had long, dark hair. He liked kissing her, but he knew she wasn't it. He knew he wasn't in love with her.

But when dad came down one morning and said, "Sam, your brother and I are going to finish this thing off tonight. I want you packed and ready to go in the morning," she became the last straw. It wasn't just her, of course--it was years of moving every few weeks, of living out of hotels and suitcases, of never really having anyone but Dean, and of thinking that couldn't be enough. Thinking that wasn't a life.

"Did you hear me?" his father asked.

"Yes, sir," Sam gritted out.

He was gone by five, with a fake credit card and a back pack.


iv.

Dean found him at the train station and sat down next to him without a word.

Sam finally couldn't take the silence. "Sorry."

"Where were you going?" asked Dean.

Sam held up his ticket.

"Topeka?" snorted Dean. "What the hell's in Topeka?"

Sam shrugged. "I was going to stay there for a few days and then come back here once you stopped looking. Actually finish the school year for once."

"This about that girl?"

"No," said Sam. "It's--I just want to be somewhere, Dean. I want to have a home."

"You have a home," said Dean. "With me and dad."

"A car's not a home, Dean."

"A family is. You know how many people don't have families, Sammy?"

Sam stared at his hands. They'd been growing. How do your hands grow, he wondered. It must be the same as everything else, but he always thought of growing up as only getting taller. How strange would it look if you only grew up, and your hands and arms stayed the same?

"Come on," said Dean. "We're staying til spring break."

Sam blinked. "What?"

Dean smirked at him. "Don't say I never did anything for you, Sammy."


v.

College was the ultimate form of running away from home. If he'd thought Dean would come, he would have asked, but he learned from that first time, from the boxcar in the woods he never came to.

Dean wouldn't leave. And Sam had to.

They hadn't fought about it, and that made it worse. He thought Dean would cuff him in the ear again, but Dean did nothing. Sam was crushed with the weight of things Dean hadn't said to him.

But Dean was waiting by the door, all the same.

"Sam," was all he said.

"Dean?"

He watched Dean's face through a long silence, watched Dean's eyes skirt up his body, watched Dean look away, watched the clench of his fists. He suddenly wanted to call it all off, wanted to burrow down next to Dean and never leave.

But Dean said, "Have fun." Dean said, "Make me proud."

And all Sam could say was, "Yeah." And nothing else he had ever done in his whole life felt as much like running away as stepping past Dean right then did.