Work Text:
An 18 year-old Sam Winchester was curled up in the back of an almost empty Greyhound bus at 1 A.M. He had nothing with him but a small duffle bag filled with the small amount of things he owned, a portable CD player and headphones he’d stolen from his last school’s lost and found, and a leather bomber jacket that was three sizes too big on him he found at Goodwill.
A U2 song played in his ears at low volume, something about how it was a beautiful day. Sam didn’t agree with the sentiment. He kept replaying the night’s events in his head; John’s patronizing voice and Dean’s face full of regret and disappointment. John telling him that if he left, he would never be welcome back, and Sam replying that he never felt welcome in the first place. Sam shouting, screaming, that he hated him. That he hated his life, hated hunting, hated being dragged all over the country on some quest that John would probably never see the end of.
Sam thought back on Dean, standing in the doorway, unable to say anything. Not as John told Sam he wished he’d never been born, that he was the reason Mary was dead. And not as Sam screamed that he didn’t care about Mary, didn’t care about all the people they’d saved. He just wanted out. He wished he could say that wasn’t completely true, but some selfish part of him wondered.
He reached up and brushed his fingers against the bruise blooming under his left eye. When he’d approached the ticket counter, the woman behind it had seen the dark spot forming on his face, frowned and asked, “Sweetheart, are you alright?” He’d simply nodded, lacking the energy to do anything but.
Now, sitting by himself, his heart ached. This was what he’d always wanted, wasn’t it? So why did he feel so fucking drained? He remembered the way he felt the day his Stanford acceptance letter came, the tears of joy that fell from his eyes because… he did it. After 18 years of feeling trapped, feeling like there was no escape from this life he’d been forced into, he finally dug his way out.
He thought once he finally left he’d feel relieved. But truthfully, he was so scared. He thought he’d have somewhere, someone, to go back to if it all became too much. He thought Dean would tell him, “If you need anything, call me. I can be there in two days’ time, probably less.” But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything. Sam knew that he wouldn’t dare offer help, not with the way John had reacted. It shouldn’t have hurt him as much as it did.
Why couldn’t someone be happy for him? Someone other than the bus driver who congratulated him when he asked why he was headed across the country. Or the motel front desk receptionist who had handed him the large envelope with the Stanford University emblem and told him, “You know what the big envelope means,” with a grin. But the two most prominent people in his life didn’t seem to care. In fact, they resented him for it. He just wanted someone he loved to be proud of him.
He took a shaky breath as the bus pulled into another station. One of the couple other people scattered throughout the vehicle left, making it to her destination it seemed. Sam watched as three new faces boarded. A man who looked no older than 40 took a seat in the front, dressed in a three piece suit and carrying a briefcase. Work trip, Sam thought. Then, a younger girl who was probably just a few years older than him with bloodshot eyes stumbled in next. She sat in the very back, a few rows behind Sam.
The last person that boarded the bus was an older woman, probably around 60 years old. Her graying hair was curly, and she was wearing a long skirt and flowing cardigan. She had on a plethora of necklaces and rings, and her face made her look kind. Sam didn’t think much of her, until she spotted him and took the seat right next to him.
He eyed her warily, not sure what her motive was. She must’ve felt his eyes burning into her, because she told him, “You looked like you could use a friend.” Her voice was soft, it felt like being wrapped up in a warm blanket. She smiled and he made an attempt to smile back. He didn’t think it reached his eyes.
Sam watched as the woman pulled out some kind of notebook and a pencil from her bag. As she opened it, he realized it was a sketchbook. Drawings of things like flowers, people, and even animals adorned the pages. They were beautiful.
She flipped to a page with a drawing of a little girl. The girl had a dandelion in her hand, one of the white fluffy ones. The woman turned her sketchbook towards Sam. “This is my granddaughter,” she told him. “I’m going to see her. She’s a lot older now, but this was her as a kid.”
“She was adorable, ma’am.” Sam didn’t realize how rough his voice was.
“Oh, don’t call me that. Call me Dorothy.”
Sam almost cracked a smile. “She was adorable, Dorothy.”
The woman- Dorothy- did smile.
“Where are you headed?” she asked.
“Um… California. Stanford.”
“Oh, wow. Are you a student?”
Sam nodded.
“Freshman,” he added.
Dorothy’s eyes turned sad. “Where’s your family, honey?”
Sam’s eyes burned. She meant well, he knew that. But it was just another reminder that he was so, so alone.
“They don’t… they’re not crazy about me going. My dad kicked me out.”
God, that was the first time he’d said it out loud. John kicked him out.
“For going to school?” she asked kindly.
He nodded, trying not to call attention to the wetness forming in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, dear. That’s a big accomplishment, you know that right?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“Oh, honey,” she sighed, noticing the tears now silently running down his face. She must’ve also just noticed his black eye. “Did your father do that to you?”
He nodded again and she frowned. He could tell there were things that she wanted to say, but she was holding back. She simply reached up and gently brushed a tear from his cheek. Sam didn’t realize that he was leaning into the touch, but something about her soft, gentle hands made him feel safe.
“Do you have anyone else who can help you? Any other family, friends even?” she asked after she pulled her hand away.
Sam had thought about calling Bobby, asking him to help move in. But South Dakota was far. He didn’t want to bother him. “Not really,” he said quietly.
She pondered for a moment. “You wanna know something? I got pregnant when I was 17. My parents told me that if I didn’t marry the father, they’d disown me. So I married him. I didn’t get to go to college, I raised my daughter and tried to be a perfect wife while my husband went to school. Then, when I was 22, I met a girl named Ruth. We worked the same secretary job. I fell in love with her. She told me she’d run away with me, and so I divorced my husband, took my kid, and we moved into a little apartment in Chicago. My mom and dad didn’t talk to me, but I was happy. Sometimes it takes a little while, but you’ll get there, sweetheart.”
“Did you… were you ever lonely?” he asked shakily.
“All the time, with my husband. Even with my parents. But once I found Ruth, once I had her, I was never lonely. You just have to find that person that will make you feel loved no matter what, and you won’t feel alone. And I know you will.”
Sam was quiet. Dorothy made it sound so easy. He thought that Dean was the person who would love him no matter what, he was his big brother, his protector. He would’ve done anything for him, he thought. So why? Why didn’t he fight for Sam? Why did he just stand there and let John rip him apart like that?
“And something else- what’s your name, hon?” she asked softly.
“Sam.”
“Sam, I am so proud of you.”
Sam’s breath caught in his throat. Tears welled in his eyes and he tried to wipe them away.
“It takes so much strength to leave the only people you’ve ever known. And Stanford? That’s amazing. I just want you to know how much of an accomplishment that is, and to know that I’m proud of you. I know I just met you, Sam. But I know you’ll thrive there.”
“Thank you,” it came out of his mouth a broken whisper, but he hoped Dorothy could tell how sincere it was.
She smiled. “Now get some rest. You look exhausted, sweetheart.”
He stared at her. He felt some kind of warmth in his chest with her presence, and it made him feel… safe. He took off his jacket and balled it up into a makeshift pillow. He rested his head against it on the window, slowly letting the rumble of the bus against pavement lull him to sleep.
When he awoke, it was morning. People had come and gone, and he looked next to him. Dorothy wasn’t there anymore. There was an ache in his heart, the realization that they must’ve passed her stop in the night and he’d never see her again.
When he looked down, there was a piece of paper on her seat. Sam opened it with shaky hands to see a note.
Sam, we’re approaching where I’ll be getting off and I don’t want to wake you up. But I didn’t want to leave you without a goodbye. I enjoyed talking to you, and I hope you have a good rest of your trip. California is beautiful! I know you’ll do great. If I never see you again, just know that there is someone across the country rooting for you. But if you need anything, even if it’s just someone to talk to on a lonely day, I’ve left my landline number at the top of the page. I won’t be home for another week, but after that I’m always available. Be safe, and take care of yourself.
With love, Dorothy.
There was a sketch of a beautiful flower at the bottom of the page. Sam held the paper close to his chest and looked out the window. Some people weren’t all that bad
Maybe he would be okay.