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Sam's only ever had Dean. A few great, deserved-better women here and there when he couldn't have his brother with him. And, it sucks that he's realizing this years later, he has never been the favorite of the brothers to pretty much anyone.
Dad liked Dean more, Mom liked Dean more, Cas liked Dean more, Bobby liked Dean more. But Dean also had some of those shitty people, like Crowley, and Cain, and Amara. Even Walt and Kurt could see that Sam was not good.
He thinks it's stupid he compares this anyway, they still love Sam, just not as much as they love Dean. So it shouldn't matter, right? They still care.
It does matter though. To Sam. It mattered so long ago when Sam left the family business to attend college. And it matters now when they suddenly have a time traveling father and a new mother.
It reminds Sam of what he used to think about late at night, debating on what schools to apply to. Reminds him that, even as he grows older, he's unable to shake the obviousness of how unliked he is. Loved, yes, liked, definitive no.
Even Dean doesn't seem to like Sam all that much nowadays. Seems to find his enjoyment out of teasing all the little quirks that are Sam. Seems to solely enjoy Sam's company when Sam's silent or irritated.
And it reminds Sam that these aren't really his parents. Dean was his parent, Bobby was his parent, hell, Jody came the closest to a mom Sam's ever fucking had.
Sam's always felt like an outsider in his own family. Really, this only solidifies it. And solidifies how many of his and Dean's friends, family, acquaintances, whatever, all tolerated Sam, loved him, for Dean's sake. Because Dean's the savior, the hero, the star of the show.
Dean's the one who comes in with the last minute rescue. After Sam has exhausted himself researching and solving it to rush into saving people that he gets himself in danger. Dean's the one who socializes and wins people's hearts while Sam steps back and contents himself as a sidekick. Dean's the one to make people's days brighter with a single smile or a solitary wink, the one to lift them up with motivation and admiration. That's all Dean.
Sam's the researcher, the heavy-on-his-feet, gargantuan of a man none of his immediate relatives are even close to reaching. He's the oddly shaped puzzle piece that doesn't really make sense why it goes there. And Sam had been good with that (okay, maybe not good, but enough). Seriously.
But after everything, all they've been through, Sam finds himself unwelcome in his own home. Finds he has no room in Dean's. Finds his parents seem to really only be there for Dean's benefit.
And he's again a thirteen year old. Wondering why his dad never wants to take him on hunts. Wondering why Bobby will play catch with Dean and laugh but would rather read books and stay quiet with a young Sam. Wondering why he feels so badwrongfuckedup when he hasn't done anything bad, wrong, or fucked up. Wondering why all the praises he gets from teachers on his report card is that he's quiet and a pleasure to have in class.
And it leaves Sam floundering for a grip as he wonders if anything has ever really changed.
...
He's been keeping out of the way. He eats dinner with his family, and will talk to them if they run into each other, but he gives Dean the time he needs with John and Mary.
The library has become a renewed safe haven, though it's always been one for him. He sits in a dark corner, so if anyone comes in they'll miss him if they're focused on whatever they're trying to find. Even so, he doesn't raise his head, acts invested in his literature, so they don't feel obligated to talk to him. If Dean enters, he always greets Sam.
Today's no different, though it is that their mom and dad are with Dean.
"Hey, Sammy." Dean waves absentmindedly, leading their parents to a particular shelf as they look confused then surprised at seeing Sam, who feels like a deer in headlights.
Dean looks through the shelf, frowning for a moment before turning to Sam again. "Sam."
When he looks up, Dean continues.
"Where's the book about all that witchy-occult stuff Rowena had wanted?" Sam turns to the stack of books next to him to make sure he didn't have the title. He frowns when it's not there, looks now at the shelf Dean's in front of, quirks a lip.
"Two shelves over on the right, top."
Dean follows the instructions, lets out a triumphant noise as he finds what he's looking for. "Thanks, Sammy."
"No problem." Sam responds quietly, looking back down to his novel of Norse mythological creatures. Jormunngandr is the current chapter.
"Oh! Sammy, what did you want for dinner?"
"As long as you add a salad, Dean, I'll be fine."
Dean hands the book in his hands to his dad, frowning as he turns back around to walk back into the library to look at his brother. He seems minuscule in the corner, hidden and shut out. The more he looks, the more Dean thinks about these past couple days and how nearly every one Sam's been in here, in the exact same corner.
Dean waves his parents away, doesn't bother to watch them go, and steps up to pull a chair in front of Sam.
Sam looks up, eyes him weirdly and closes his book to pay attention. Dean ignores the warmth that spreads in him at the intention.
He gives Sam a small smile, "How're you holdin' up?"
Sam's brows furrow, "What do you mean?"
"Y'know, with Mom and Dad.."
Sam's nose scrunches and he shrugs his shoulders, dismissing Dean's concern silently. "How about you?"
"I'm okay." Dean presses his lips together and hesitates. "You- I've noticed that you haven't talked to them lately."
Sam smiles a bit, remembering how he'd been worried Dean didn't like him. This is enough proof Dean always will, regardless of how insensitive he may be sometimes.
"What should I say?"
"What's going on in that head of yours?" Dean reiterates, recognizing Sam's avoidant behavior.
Sam sighs, "I... if I say this, you won't tell them, or Cas, or-or anyone?"
Dean frowns again, "'Course, Sammy."
"Don't interrupt, okay?" Sam waits for Dean's nod before taking a deep breath. "They're not- they were never really my parents, Dean."
Dean's mouth opens to object but he quickly snaps it shut, because it's obvious by the look on his face that Sam will never say whatever he's trying to ever again if Dean interrupts now.
"You were my mom, my dad, my brother. You were all of that. And- even if they do see me as their kid, they've never- liked me."
Dean keeps his mouth sealed, knowing whatever Sam's going to say is not something he probably wants to hear. But he asked. Though he can't help the fluttery feeling in his stomach at Sam's observation about him.
"They love me, sure. But they don't know me, they don't like me. It's just like with Bobby. You were always his favorite, it was obvious. It's always obvious when you're the least favorite, man." Sam shrugs, like it's a small thing, not something that is completely changing Dean's view of his little brother and their family.
How long has Sam been thinking like this? Does he think Dean doesn't "like" him too? Dean tries to ignore the little spike of fear that maybe Sam does think like that, and that Sam had heard Bobby's confession to Dean, squashes it knowing that Sam couldn't have. How did Sam just know?
"I'm just- I'm trying not to get in the way, okay? Mom adores you Dean, and you are both so alike. And Dad.. Dad has always liked you. Always put you on a pedestal and basically told me I could never reach it. I'm sorry if you think I'm ignoring them or something. But I just don't see a point in talking to people who don't even want to know me."
"Bobby—"
Sam smiles sadly and cuts him off. He looks at Dean like he's the best thing ever and is innocence personified, and he explains so in depth that Dean just knows there is no changing Sam's mind. And maybe he shouldn't, if this really is the truth. Sam shouldn't be accepting then, he should be upset, furious, and Dean hates that he isn't, or is, just not at the people who deserve it and rather at himself.
"Dean. When I was a kid, and we went to Bobby's, he'd jump at the chance to go play catch with you, or teach you about fixing up a car, or ask you to help in the kitchen. With me, when you and Dad left, he'd leave me to my own devices, cook me my meals, ask me to help him read folklore or help around the house. He'd ask me about you and Dad and how I was doing, but we never hung out like you and him did. Don't get me wrong, I love Bobby like a father, but he never saw me like he saw you."
Dean doesn't know why his chest is heaving, or why he feels like he doesn't actually know anything about Sam. He does know that he now resents Bobby, just a little bit, for how he made Sam feel. But it's clear to Dean that it had never been just Bobby giving Sam that idea.
"Did- were there other people? Like, any of our friends, that made you feel like that?" Dean can't help but query, knows he won't like what he hears.
Sam, for the first time, looks away from Dean. He bites his lip and exhales a couple names.
"Cas, but that makes sense." Sam excuses Cas of making Sam feel this way and Dean hates that he knows why, hates that he had been there every time Cas had made Sam feel like less. "All angels liked you better but that just made sense, too."
Dean's never been religious. And he knows that even if Sam says it makes sense, it hurts more than he's revealing.
"God and His sister liked you more." Sam has a half-smile now. "Charlie liked you better. Ellen and Jo did. Claire and pretty much everyone we've saved."
Sam laughs a little bit and talks quietly, conspiratorially, "You know who likes me more than they like you?" It’s as if that now Sam has a chance to say this stuff, he can’t stop.
Dean gestures a go ahead movement.
"Demons. Becky, Meg, Gabriel, Rowena, Lucifer, Death." Sam chokes a bit on his borderline-hysterical snicker. Dean reels back, feels as if he's been slapped. "Few people that I think actually like us both equally, love us both equally, is Jody, Donna, and Ash."
Sam wipes at his wet eyes and visibly pulls himself together. "So I-I'm not gonna put myself in a situation that will only turn out awkward and stilted, okay? I don't want to- ruin your time with them. You deserve it."
Sam seems earnest, honest. And Dean fucking hates it.
Dean reaches out, can't help himself, needing to let Sam know Dean will always love him the most. He rests his hand on the back of Sam's neck and pulls him closer, foreheads resting together. It's too early for this type of chick-flick but Dean could care less, Sam needs it, or maybe it's Dean that needs the reassurance that Sam knows.
His fingers clip Sam's hair and the stray strands make his knuckles itch, but he grips tight and squeezes his eyes closed so he doesn't really have to acknowledge what he's doing.
"I'm sorry that you feel this way, Sammy. Wish I could change it. And maybe you're right, I don't know. But I'll never put anyone before you, okay? You are still everything to me, man, and that'll never change. And if you ever feel like this again, this- hiding and keeping away, you come to me, okay? You come to me and we'll do what we do best, okay? This is your home, too." Dean squeezes Sam gently and feels rather than sees Sam's nod, feels Sam grip his shoulder tightly, shakily.
Dean opens his eyes to see Sam shuddering in breaths, smiles at how girly his little brother is, and pulls away to give them both space, still allowing to keep the connection of their hands. Sam responds by looking up at him, content and lovey and too much for this time in the day so Dean ruffles Sam's hair and stands.
"I'll see you at dinner?" Sam gives him a small nod without words and Dean gives him one back, goes to start their meal.
Dean's privy to the two shadows that walk away from the entry of the library quickly. He won't say anything, of course not. It's not up to him to decide whether his parents suddenly decide they care about Sam too.