Dean-23 years old
Sam-17 years old
NOT BROTHERS!!
Sam's POVī
OK, so this story starts 6 years ago when he came to Stanford High School to teach my auto shop. Dean Winchester. God was he gorgeous; only 23 years old and fresh out of college. I still sigh blissfully when I think of him, he was what made me finally realize, or maybe it was accept, the fact that I was gay. I always wondered and there was sometimes I would question my sexuality in the locker room during gym. It was not "love at first sight", in fact he bugged the hell out of me when I first met him. I wanted to strangle him and his stupid smirk for the longest time; in fact my best friend had to hold onto me when I was so close to punching him in the face. That cocky smirk and those idiot smart remarks basically set me off all the time, which was strange because no one could ever get under my skin like that.
See I grew up abused both verbally and physically so I am used to people trying to, and sometimes accomplish, in getting me to snap. I live with my drunken father and his new wife that was half his age; he is not really my father, he adopted me with his first wife Jenna. Jenna died though in a tragic car accident that I was in but survived magically. 'Dad' or Charley as I call him blamed me for his wife's death and that's when the beatings and the drinking came.
I am a straight 'A' student who was as you could say a "goody two shoes", who all the teachers adored and practically everyone in the school loved. I was in the school newspaper and was the top editor; all my articles ended up front page. Three years ago you would never guess that I was this kind of person; you see I let the abuse control me and I became addicted to drinking myself. I would never go to school and other than home I was at the local bar with some friends who were in the same position as me. We had a great time just drinking and doing drugs, stealing cars and sometimes fighting. Of course I would never be the one fighting, I was small for my age as I was malnourished, but I did pack a good punch.
There was this crash though, when I was 14 years old, and two of my friends were killed instantly and the other is still in a coma at this very moment. I guess I woke up and saw what I was doing for the first time, so I got myself back into school and started to study extra hard, and I went to the counselor to get help with my addictions. The counselor, Bobby Singer, became my most trusted friend and the father I always wished I could have. He found out about the abuse 5 months into my sessions when I came in with a black eye for the third time in 3 months. He interrogated me until I broke down, tears streaming, as I told him everything. He wanted to report it but I begged him not to; that I was fine and only a few years till I graduated and left for good.
He was reluctant but I practically fell apart in his lap trying to get him not to say a thing that he finally agreed. To this day he still tries to convince me to say something, but I never do; I guess in some way I wanted to stand up for him as he is my father in some twisted way. Even through the abuse I never felt so good like before I was wasting my life and I was quitting early on.
Now it is the second semester of my senior year and I was taking auto shop. I woke up, ignoring the sharp pain in my chest and the huge headache. Charley did a number on me that was for sure; I got up slowly, limping to the dresser to find a clean outfit. Achingly I got ready for the day, quietly as I could not to wake up the "beast" or the "bitch" that lay next to him. I went to the bathroom only to see a pale boy, with a huge blue and black ring covering his eye, a busted lip and a message in his eyes that screamed "Help me!"
I ignored it, I've seen it so many times; I got to work on brushing my teeth and my hair. I was at school by 8:00 am, and I was at my locker, surrounded by friends by 8:05 am. Classes went by normal until 6th period when I was in auto shop. The teacher was late, 5 minuets late, and when he came in there was an air of attitude and smugness around him. The guy looked young, early 20's young, and he had a smirk on his gorgeous face-wait gorgeous?? He stopped in the front of the room, leaning on the desk.
"Hi, my name is Dean Winchester, but none of this Mr. crap, I will be called Dean only." Dean said to everyone but for some reason his eyes were on me, I felt uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed but I could not tell why. I shifted uncomfortably, that smirk grating my nerves. I tried my hardest not to glare at the bastard. Damn was this going to be a hard year!