We're 18 and Crazy 》Sastiel AU

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"Get your ass up, Sam!"

Sam growled as his covers were ripped off of him. He opened his eyes to come face to face with his sperm doner, John Winchester, aka, his father. "Leave me alone," he muttered irritatedly. He closed his eyes and turned over, facing away from him.

"Son, you got two seconds to get your ass out of this bed." John hissed at his younger son.

Sam opened his eyes and groaned loudly. He got out of his bed and stormed to his bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He hated John with a passion. It wasn't always like that, but after his mom died, John changed. He started drinking more, hitting Sam, yelling at him, and doing other things to him. He even blamed Sam for his mother's death. Another thing he'd always do was tell Sam that, "he should be more like Dean," "Dean didn't kill his own mother," and "You're just a pussy. Dean is a real man."

To Sam, he wasn't a father. Just an old, lazy drunk who favors his older brother over him.

Sam took his time in the bathroom, less than eager to get to school. He huffed when his brother, Dean, yelled for him to hurry up, using that God awful nickname for him, Sammy. Sam had told him to stop using that name for him, but Dean never listened. Anytime he saw Sam at school, he always would say, "Hey Sammy!" Or "'Sup Sammy!" At home, he'd always ask Sammy to go do something for him. When Sam questioned him on it, Dean responded with, "Cause you're my Sammy and I love ya."

Sam left the bathroom, adjusting the beanie on his head. He sat down and put on his converse, before standing and grabbing his booksack off the floor and throwing it over his shoulder. He shuffled out of his room, closing the door behind him. He paused and patted his pocket, checking for something, before nodding and walking downstairs.

Dean was in the kitchen with their father when Sam walked in. "'Mornin Sammy!" He said with a grin.

As much as Sam tried, he couldn't resist the small smile that appeared on his face. "Hey Dean," he uttered softly.

"Hurry up and eat so we can get to school," Dean said, pointing to a plate on the table.

Sam sat down at his brothers command and started to eat. He had a lot more respect for his brother than for his father. He never blamed his brother for anything that John did to him. And, he never got mad at the fact that John liked Dean more than him. His brother took care of him when John didn't. On the nights he would cry over his mother, Dean was there for him. He would take Sam into his room and lay with him, calming him down, whereas John would just tell him to, "shut the fuck up and man up."

Sam finished his breakfast and went to put his fork and plate in the sink, making note to wash the dishes that were piling up when he got home. He grabbed his bag as Dean grabbed his car keys. He started to follow his brother out the house, but John grabbed his forearm, stopping him.

"My room. Tonight. Understand?"

"Whatever..." Sam muttered, yanking his arm away from John and leaving the house.

He climbed into the passenger seat of his brothers '67 Impala, and put his bag on the floor, between his legs.

Dean started the car and backed out the driveway, turning up the music. Bon Jovi started blasting through the car, making Sam roll his eyes. "Bon Jovi?" He asked over the music.

"Hey, Bon Jovi always gets a pass!"

Sam chuckled and shook his head. He settled into his seat and looked out the window, watching the the scenery go by.

They made it to school in less than 10 minutes. Dean parked the car and lowered the music before turning off the car. He looked over at Sam and gave him a small smile. "I'll see you at lunch, alright Sammy? What do you want me to go get?"

Sam raised his eyebrow at Dean. "What, you sneakin out again?"

"Duh. What else would I do?"

"Tsk. Just surprise me then, I guess." Sam mumbled as he grabbed his bag and stepped out the car. He shut the door behind him and started walking into the school.

"Bye Sammy!"

Sam felt his cheeks up as people turned to look at him. He glanced down and hurried inside. When he felt his cheeks cool off, he lifted his head again, putting on his bitch face. He walked to his locker, passing by one that was over-decorated for someone's birthday. Thank God I don't have friends like that. He thought as he got to his locker. He unlocked it and threw his stuff in, getting his books for his first hour class.

If you look at Sam, you would think he could care less about his grades, but that's not true at all. Sam's grades were the most important thing to him, well, grades and his brother. He wouldn't ever let his grades suffer. He gets straight A's in all his classes and his teachers love him. They ignore the way he looks on the outside unlike everyone else.

He closed his locker and yawned, before looking at his phone for the time. He had about 15 minutes before he had to get to class, so he decided to do something he likes to call, 'wake and bake a few minutes late.'

He walked to the bathroom, then shook his head. Too many people coming in and out... He changed directions and went to the other place he thought of, the library.

He opened the door and went in, letting it shut softly behind him. He went to the aisle farthest from the door and the tables and sat down against a shelf. With a grin on his face, he took the already rolled joint out of his pocket and his lighter. He put the joint between his lips and raised the lighter to it. He lit it and inhaled deeply, putting the lighter down beside him. He placed the joint between his fingers and lowered it, letting out a few smoke rings before taking another puff.

Sam found weed very pleasing. It let him escape to his own little world of peace and serenity for a while. While he was high, he would usually imagine his mother being alive, John taking her place.

After a few minutes, he let another set of smoke rings roll off his lips, smiling a little. He noticed a figure out the corner of his eyes and immediately frowned and turned his head, seeing a boy who looked around his age standing there. "What? You gonna snitch on me?" He sneered as he took the joint from his lips and put it out on his arm, the pain not phasing him at all. He took in the boy's appearance and noticed him to be Castiel Novak. The little shits name and face was all over the school.

"No. Why would I?" Castiel asked him softly.

Sam rolled his eyes and stood, gathering his stuff. "I know how you Novaks are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Humph." Sam walked off, not answering his question. The little prick had ruined his high and had pissed him off.

He stormed out the library and walked down the hall, going to look for a new smoking place.

Fuck you, Castiel Novak.