Summary- Sam has a secret he's determined to keep hidden but what happens when a hunt goes south and Sam gets hurt and Dean sees the cuts? Ones that weren't caused by any monster?

Dean- Age 17

Sam- Age 14

Warning: This fic is to get my own emotions out! WARNING- This story concerns a VERY sensitive case of self harm! I strictly advice those who don't wish to read such topics and who may be sensitive to it, not read this fic! You have been warned!

A/N- The reason for this fic is because I have issues with self harm. This is just a way for me to vent out those pesky emotions I hate so much. So PLEASE no flaming. If you don't like, don't read.

Will be 2-3 chapters long.

Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or the characters! I only own the plot!

Sam stared at his reflection in the mirror. Truth be told, he looked like hell. His eyes were much too dark, sticking out more noticeable than usual, on his pale skin. There were already signs of a bruise forming under his eye as well. Not to mention his split lip. It was no longer bleeding, having stopped a good hour prior, but there was dried blood over the closed cut and ran down his chin in a sickening scarlet. On his cheek was a small cut.

Sam hated alot of things. He hated spiders- their multiple eyes and eight legs was enough to cause shivers down his spine- and snakes. Yeah, he REALLY loathed them. They could pop out of nowhere and strike just as fast if you weren't careful. Not to mention that time he got bitten by one after falling through an old underground mine entrance. It scared the hell out of Dean but after his brother saw that he was alright, save for the nasty bite, he never let Sam live it down, saying he shouldn't be so clumsy. He hated long car rides. If not for Johns' awful choice of music, it was Dean's rock blaring through the speakers at high volumes, giving him a splitting headache. The worst was being still in one place for too long. His legs always got stiff from the lack of stops and no matter how much he complained it didn't do an ounce of good. Sam hated having to constantly move from place to place and being enrolled in different schools. Sure, he didn't make many friends, isn't like he had time to, and there wasn't a school he liked enough to stay at anyways but everytime he would get used to a school John would decide to leave. Whether it be out of hatred for the town or for another hunt somewhere else. It always came down to packing their things and high tailing it out of town.

Sam REALLY hated alot of things.

There was one thing that topped all the others and that was bullies.

Seriously, did he have a 'kick me, im a nerd' glued to his back? He drew more attention than he needed, or wanted. Being the 'new kid" was always a challenge. Sam had this aura that bullies picked up on making him the perfect target for their torment. Give or take, his knack for correcting the jocks that always got an answer wrong didn't help his situation either. Still, how hard was it to give the definition of Pi (π)?

Sam sighed. His body ached and it wasn't because of the several bruises that no doubt decorated his skin in a mix of blue and yellow. They definitely throbbed and he could feel them but it wasn't what had his body shaking or his hands gripping the side of the crappy sink, in the crappy bathroom, of the equally as crappy motel room.

He felt hopeless. Helpless. Worthless. Unwanted. The thoughts attacked his mind like a deadly plague giving him a sense of despair and self-loathing that always seemed to hit him harder than the jocks ever could. He's had his fair share of beatings. Mostly from training with dad and Dean.

Dean.

Dean was gone with their dad on a possible vampire case somewhere close to town. There were several disappearances in the last few weeks that caught Johns' attention and he wanted to get to it as soon as possible. Dean begged to go since he hasn't been able to be a part of a hunt in awhile- he was itching for some action having been cooped up for too long in the room- and John decided to let him tag along, leaving Sam alone in the hotel room while they took care of it.

Even though Dean had suggested to go, pretty much declared he was going on this one, Sam saw the hesitation and worry in his brothers expression about leaving him alone and offered to stay if Sam wanted him too. To which, Sam shook his head and told Dean to go seeing that they would only be gone half a day. Dean reluctantly left but not before, in a half serious, half playing voice, said;

"We'll be back soon, no longer than a few hours. Try not to get into any trouble while we're gone."

Sam smirked. Yeah. Trouble seemed to find them on a daily basis. It was almost unavoidable. Though, a small part of him wished Dean would have stayed. Of course, he would never admit it. He was already branded a 'wuss' thanks to the stupid bullies and Dean already kicked his ass in every training session they had. A spare usually ended with his face in the ground.

Dean was always careful, though. His brother was strong. Fierce even. Even in in school people knew better than to pick a fight with the older Winchester. Same goes for anyone who messed with his kid brother. It was a bad decision that usually ended in a beating. So, Sam didn't have to worry too much about him when he was on a hunt and whenever they spared Dean was sure not to hurt Sam while at the same time not being completely gentle with him either. It drove him insane how easy Dean went on him and Sam still couldn't get the upper hand in a sparing session.

Why was he so weak?

Why couldn't he be as strong as Dean? Or dad?

Sam closed his eyes as the thoughts invaded his mind unmercifully. It felt as if a hammer was repeatedly being brought down on his chest with as much force it took to drive a nail in the wall. His heart beat more frantically as the pain pulsated through his body. Mental pain. Not physical. Sam wasn't a complete failure, physical pain never really bothered him. Mentally, however, made it feel like his soul was being crushed with every breath he took and if not for the support of the sink he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to stand. The strength was slowly leaving him- making his knees go weak and shaky.

Sam tried not to think about what happened a few hours before but it seemed like that wasn't going to be his luck. The anger was also returning full force with all the other emotions swirling around in his head. Stupid jocks. Sam hated them the most.

••3 hours ago••

It was the end of the day, school was finally letting out. Sam was in the last class of the day- Mr. Burches class and Sam really didn't like the guy. It seemed as if the teacher hated him or found it amusing to only pick on him and no one else but if nothing else Sam enjoyed the lectures. It was reading and literature, one of his favorite courses, and Sam was in the middle of writing a paper on world war ll when the bell rung and echoed throughout the halls and rooms of the school, knocking him from his ravine of thought. He wasn't really keeping track of the time, too absorbed in writing his essay but he was glad that school was out. Sure, he liked school, it took him away from his dads many training sessions and Deans enthusiasm about them, but some days he much rather be at the motel. At least there he could do his homework or write essays where it's more peaceful and quiet.

Sam looked up from his paper and to the clock on the wall. It was two-thirty already? Sighing, he wasted no time putting away his half written essay in his book, then his book bag.

"Okay, class. Make sure you do the essays before Friday. You got three more days to have it done. Dismissed." Mr. Burche exclaimed, standing up from his seat.

The bell subsided and everyone was getting up from their seats, no doubt excited to be going home. Sam wasn't in such a haste to get to the door. There wasn't much to go home to in his case. His dad and Dean were gone and the room was small and cold. It was just another day, one that was like any other.

Sam stood, grabbing his bag just as the last student made it out the door. He threw it over his shoulder before walking to the door where Mr. Burche stopped him by placing a firm hand on his shoulder before he could step one foot out. Sam looked at him with mild annoyance.

"Sam. I hope your essay, this time, is based on true events." Mr. Burche rose a questioning brow.

Sam resisted the urge to give an eye roll in response. Last time an essay was assigned it was to be written about a member of your family and what you think of them. Well, not to say that what Sam wrote was in fact the truth, it would be branded 'crazy' by those who don't know what really lurk in the dark. That, or just the mind of someone's who's imagination is quite vivid. He wrote about Dean and how much he looked up to his brother and why. There were so many reasons and it would take a whole book just to write them, but, Sam realized he should have left out all the information about being hunters. At least, hunters of the supernatural kind and put instead he Dean hunted animals.

He didn't think that one through. Not like it matters, anyone who reads it would just think he's either crazy or a lackey just making up random stories because he's too lazy to actually write something that's true even though it was the truth. It wasn't Sam's fault that most people are oblivious to supernatural creatures. He doesn't have that luxury.

Sam would give anything to just be normal, to not know what's out there in the real world. He wasn't like dad or Dean. His fascination for hunting doesn't run as deeply as theirs and he didn't care about it. What his family does is good. Hunting things. Saving people. The family business. They save lives everyday and that's one thing Sam does care about even if they couldn't save everyone. They still saved some. So he didn't completely despise hunting.

"Yeah. It is." Sam answered shortly.

Mr. Burche eyed him for a moment. "Alright. Three days." He repeated, dropping his hand.

"Yes sir." Sam mumbled and walked out.

Outside, the sun casted a bright golden light down to the earth where it rested on trees, buildings, roads and everything else that was marked in it's path. It's beautiful glow bounced off the cars, reflecting a magnificent ball of light in one specific area to shine like a flash light on a dark night. Even though it was sunny and the sky bared no clouds, it wasn't as hot as it would have seemed. In fact, it was close to sixty degrees out and still felt warmer than it was on a day of seventy degrees.

Sam wasted no time getting down the steps. Usually Dean was there picking him up but today Sam would have to just walk to the motel. It wasn't that long of a distance. A little over a mile at the most and definitely manageable without being driven.

His legs carried him a little more faster than usual. Sam had this uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. It was an instinct that any hunter would have or gain. It was gnawing at him but he didn't know why. From experience, however, Sam learned not to ignore that tinge of urgency that entered his mind. It didn't matter if it was just a small pinch of weariness or full blown panic, if it nagged at him it was an immediate reaction to get away from whatever made his stomach churn.

Sam walked a good ten minutes when that uneasiness turned into alertness. He heard a 'snap' somewhere behind him causing his attention to go on the tall bush like weeds that stood together in a straight line down the walkway. They went on for miles. His eyes narrowed for half a second before he shrugged it off, thinking maybe it was a squirrel or something moving around unseen in the bushes.

It wasn't till he took a few more steps forward that he felt something grab his shirt from behind and pull him back through the bushes. He felt a small prickle on his face when a piece of branch caught his cheek, biting into his skin unkindly and then he felt the hard ground as he was roughly tosses to it like a lifeless rag doll. It knocked the air from his lungs, only for a few seconds. His head bounced off the ground, flooring him with a sense of disorientation as he tried to clear the fog in his head.

"Well, if it isn't the smart ass from fourth period." Even past his dizziness, Sam could make out the voice almost perfectly clear.

Daniel Cane. The guy was known for his lack of knowledge but impressive show of muscle simply because he was stronger than a tank. Canes body was solid and it didn't take a genius to see that one hit from the guy could leave more than a small bruise coating your skin. He wasn't the brightest person on the planet but he did make a reputation for being the class bully. Unfortunately for Sam, since day one Cane had it out for him. He had to wonder if he was a magnet for not only monsters but stupid bullies as well- seeing that every school he goes too there's always someone trying to make his life a living hell.

Sam shook his head and focused his eyes on Daniel, who, was looking down at Sam like he was some kind of insect cowering on the ground floor. Except, Sam wasn't a coward. If anything, he wasn't afraid of some guy who found it amusing to pick on people smaller than him. Sam wasn't some little kid, he was fourteen, but there was no denying the strength difference between him and Daniel, that, he could see clearly. It didn't make a difference. Dean had taught him more than he needed to take care of one person even if he was twice his size.

"It's not my fault you couldn't answer a simple question." Sam smiled and raised up on his elbows, one that matched Dean's cockiness.

He was beginning to think that his brother was rubbing off on him because he eyed Daniel down with ease. There was no fear in his eyes or even the slightest sign of weakness. Sam's expression was calm, daring just like Deans with a cocky grin to match. Yeah, Dean would be proud.

Still, even though he was prepared for the reaction, the sudden right hook to the side of his face caught him by surprise. It was harder than be expected and sent his head sharply to the side. The blow forced him back to the ground. The pain In his cheek was immediate and so was the stars exploding in his vision.

"No one makes me look like a fool." Daniel stated, a harsh tone to his voice and he got closer to Sam. "No one. You'll regret it. My boys here will teach you that lesson."

Sam blinked several times. The black dots slowly started to clear. The pain still vibrated through out his face. It was like he got hit by a car. The force was that hard. He looked around him and for the first time noticed the three other guys. Why hadn't he spotted them before? That was one of dads number one rules: Always be aware of what's around you. There may be more than one threat, never let your guard down. The man drilled it into them since they first started hunting.

Sam seriously should have counted on that. If it's one thing that every bully has in common it's that they don't roll alone. Whether it was because they were too cowardly to do the fighting their selves or didn't want to get dirty when it came to taking care of 'business', he wasn't sure. He doubted that Daniel was a coward. At least, not when it came to handling things himself. He did just punch him after all.

Sam accessed his situation. Okay, four guys all together. The other three weren't as built as the leader. They were average and it didn't look like they carried much muscle. They looked smugly at him, waiting like the good little soldiers they were. It was pathetic.

"What do you want? Mad because I could answer a easy question that you obviously were having trouble grasping?" Sam deadpanned, eyes staring at Daniel with knowing truth and accusation.

Sam inwardly cursed his sarcastic nature. It didn't do him any favors in the long run. If anything it just made situations such as this even more worse.

Daniels expression twisted into one of anger. His hazel orbs burned with aggression at Sam's reply. If Sam was a coward, he would definitely be cowering, the amount of rage in the jocks eyes were enough to make anyone think their position but it didn't scare Sam. He stared back with equal defiance, an action that he's seen Dean perform on multiple occasions. Of course, Sam could never match his brothers confidence, at least not to the fullest.

Daniel grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes and he shook his head. His hand went to his back pocket. "Damn, kid. I gotta say, you definitely have some balls. Too bad I don't take kindly to smart asses that can't seem to shut the hell up. Grab him."

Daniel stood up and in his hand was a switch blade that he flipped open with ease. Sam's eyes went wide at the cruel blade. Its metal shinned with deathly beauty in the sun light, it's image satisfying to most but right now Sam could only see the knifes harsh intentions and he eyed it with weariness. It wanted his blood.

Rough hands grabbed his arms, pulling him up from the ground and onto his feet. One pair of hands twisted his arm back while the other held a firm grip on his shoulder. His arms may have been confined but didn't these jerks realize that even if you couldn't use those your legs were just as effective.

Sam used every ounce of strength in one blow by throwing his head back and hitting the guy right in the face. Sam heard a grunt before he felt the hold on his hands loosen and that was all he needed to twist his body around half way. Using his leg, Sam positioned it behind the guys foot and managed to knock his feet out from under him. Free from the hold, he rounded on the second guy closest to him and sent a sharp upper cut to his chin that knocked him to the ground in both surprise and pain. The guy he head-butted was holding his now broken nose in agony. It sent a notion of pleasure through Sam to see the guy in apparent distress.

The third guy growled, throwing himself at Sam in hopes to land a punch to his face but Sam was quicker. He easily evaded the oncoming hit by side stepping out of the path of his fist. Grabbing the extended arm, he twisted it back hard enough to make it hurt and have the guy fidgetting under his hold. Sam kicked the middle of his leg out causing him to fall to the ground.

Sam was too focused on the three smaller guys that he forget all about Daniel. He regretted it when he felt his collar being grabbed and jerked back. The guy he had pinned fell forward the moment Sam was forced to let go of him by the unexpected pull. If not for the strong support on his shirt he would have completely lost his balance but unfortunately Daniel had him and wasn't letting go.

Arms lapped over his, forcing him into an unwilling state of submission. He couldn't move them, entirely pinned against Daniels chest with his arms being crushed between Daniels. Sam wasn't going anywhere.

Something sharp and threatening dug into the base of his neck. It was piercing into his flesh and he could feel it break skin.

The knife.

"Let go of me!" Sam kicked out, trying his best to try and squirm out of the unbreakable hold that kept him in place, not caring that the knife only kept digging a little deeper into his flesh everytime he moved.

Sam felt something warm and slick start to run down the length of his neck.

It was no use. The effort only left him panting in extortion. His breathing was fast and he felt his body start to lose strength with every attempt to try to free himself.

"I have to admit. You're strong for a little brat." Daniel laughed at Sam's pointless struggling.

The two guys he managed to overtake were back on their feet. One had a bloody nose and looked beyond furious, hatred burning a desire to do harm to say in his narrowed eyes. The other one was brushing off his pants and glared at Sam with just as much loathing. Well at least he could bathe in the satisfaction of pissing them off and giving them a little taste of their own medicine. Even if it was short lived.

"Screw you!" Sam bit back through gritted teeth.

Daniel narrowed his eyes, half annoyed, half angry, at his continued defiance even though the brat was overpowered at the moment. That just won't do. "That confidence won't do you any good." He tightened his arms and Sam felt the pressure.

Sam grunted in pain as his arms were being raised a little higher and being hugged much too tight.

"Im sure my pals here want to give you a little of the pain you gave them back." Daniel mused, nodding to his lackys.

Sam readied himself for whatever they were going to diss out. He didn't allow his composure to falter or his expression to change as the guys walked up to him...

••Now••

Sam touched the small incision on his neck. It wasn't too deep but it bleed enough. His blood had slowly flowed down his skin and was now a dried mess of red. It was sticky and made the wound seem worse than what it was. It coated his skin, sticking out against the pale shade of his flesh.

For once, he was glad Dean wasn't there. His brother was a little more than a bit protective. The jocks would have no chance against a raging Dean Winchester. If it meant swimming an ocean full of terrifying tsunamis and a angry storm, Dean would cross the very depths of hell, to get to anyone who dare hurt his little brother. The word 'mercy' for much too forgiving for them when Dean got a hold of them. His brother could be down right scary when you messed with someone he cared about and any rational thought was lost amongst the wave of rage that clouded Dean's vision. Nothing got past the red that blinded him to reality.

Sighing, Sam grabbed the first aid kit and started tending to his small cuts. He would have to come up with a good lie to how they got there. It was hard enough to get Dean to believe something as stupid as getting a bruise from falling because Dean in fact wasn't stupid and didn't believe Sam most of the time.

The cuts? That would be a little more challenging.

He knew Dean was only looking out for him, worried like any sibling would but it did get on his nerves ninety percent of the time. Still, if the roles were reversed, and sometimes they were, Sam would be the one constantly hovering over Dean.

Sam hissed when the burning effects of alcohol touched the fresh cuts. It's sting was piercing but at the same time felt good. Pain, to him, wasn't a bad thing. If anything it eased away most of the emotional turmoil that he battled with on a daily basis. Sam always found that physical pain always felt more beautiful than the raging emotions swirling around destroying him on the inside.

A certain urge to numb that storm inside him had him wanting to feed the desire to make it stop. He wanted to make it STOP.

After the cuts were cleaned- one having opened back up due to the alcohol being rubbed over it- he put away the kit and walked into the messy room of littered clothes, food wraps and beer cans on the table, bed sheets a pile on the floor. How could anyone let a room get so untidy? He didn't get why his dad and Dean were so hopeless when it came to regular everyday life duties. It wasn't hard to throw a wrapper in the trash or make the beds back.

Sam shook his head. He would have to clean up later. They might enjoy living in a disaster area but he didn't. No thank you. That causes unnecessary problems like roaches or ants. Not to mention the smell of filth.

Sam walked over to his bag and rummaged through his clothes and belongings, such as a toothbrush, a few books and folders, until he found what he was looking for. He grabbed his phone before walking back into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He locked it, a soft 'click' filling the quiet room. Just as he was getting ready to take the cover off the phone, its familiar ring blasted through the speaker causing him to jump in surprise and nearly dropping it.

Highway to hell played out letting Sam know Dean was calling.

Sam hesitated. He wanted, no NEEDED, to get to the razor that rested hidden beneath the cover of his phone. It was the one place he could hide it and not worry about anyone finding it so easily. He doubted dad or Dean would ever mess with his phone making it the most securest place to be.

The ringing stopped. A few seconds later the song played again and this time Sam answered it. If he didn't answer Dean would worry and a worried/paranoid Dean was a bad combination.

"Hey Dean."

"Why didn't you answer the first time?" Deans voice came over the receiver, relief clear in his tone.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I was in he bathroom."

Dean was silent for a moment, probably trying to debate if Sam was lying or not. "You okay?" Concern leaked out in that one question.

Sometimes Sam wondered if Dean had a 'something's wrong with Sammy' sense. "Im fine Dean."

"If you say so. We rapped up the case and we're on our way back. Didn't get in any trouble while we were gone did ya, Sammy?" Dean questioned, Sam didn't have to see him to know he had a raised brow and questioning look.

"It's Sam and no. I haven't, jerk."

Dean's laugh filled Sam's ear. "Better not have. Bitch." He said more seriously, "Just checking on you. Should be an hour before we get there."

Sam smiled fondly at Dean's concern. "Thanks De." Even if it bothered him when Dean could go into complete mother hen mode, it was something he didn't completely hate either.

"See ya in a few." The line went dead indicating that Dean ended the call.

Pushing end, Sam proceeding in taking the white, hard cover off his phone. The razor, wrapped in small thin piece of paper fell out and landed on the floor. He bent down and picked it up before sitting on the edge of the tub. Unbuttoning his pants, he slid the pants half way down until they were comfortably resting against his knees. His legs were naked, un-hidden by clothing to reveal old, as well as new, scars that went in different directions across his fragile skin. Most were healed and were as white as sheets against his thigh. Others, were half healed, red, and more recent than the rest. The newest being a week ago. The area was still red around the edges with some dried blood in the center.

It was a secret that only he knew and for years was his 'hobby'. The feeling of drawing the blade across his skin was, not only a release of tension and built up stress, but a way that he could feel like he was at least in partial control over those emotions. It was hard, a battle that he lost. Every scar told a story but also told him that he allowed it to get the best of him everytime he took the blade and cut into flesh.

But Sam loved the feeling. The way his body seemed to relax as the blade did its job and separated skin, cutting it in two and forcing the layers to part until it was a deep and long cut.

Sam placed the cold metal to his leg. He closed his eyes as his mind was filled with every thought that helped drag the blade across his skin. All the self loathing seemed to give the blade motivation to move.

Worthless.

Helpless.

Weak.

Pathetic.

No good.

Nothing.

The blade bit into his leg easily and unmercifully. Its sharp edges slowly cut the layers of doing that held together and destroying what was under neath. The pain was a curse in the disguise of a blessing as it relieved him of the torturous words, making his body drain of any energy it burned.

Can't do anything right.

A burden.

Waste of space.

Stupid.

His hand froze and the damage was done. He opened his eyes to see that the cut was starting to fill with blood until it finally turned into a raindrop of blood that steadily flowed down the side of his leg. He could feel his body relax as the last bit of tension left his aching muscles. It fascinated him how heavy his body was moments before but was as light as a feather afterwards. It was the one real release he had.

Sam stood up and wiped the blade off, sure to get rid of any small drops of blood that may have been on it. He then wiped away the blood from his leg before using some toilet paper to dab at the cut and get any blood that was still forming. It took a good 5 minutes the wound to completely stop bleeding and he was able to dispose of any evidence of his self inflicted wound by flushing the bloodied paper down the toilet.

Pleased that there was no signs of his sin, Sam pulled his pants back up and stepped out of the bathroom. Walking over to the bed closest to the bathroom, he lazily flopped down on the bed. The exhaustion flooded his body with a sense of tiredness and he suddenly had a difficult time keeping his eyes open. Sam took one deep breath and a few minutes later sleep took him.