Summary: Sam doesn't fail things. Ever. Even if he's sick. Or "finding" Dean again. Or changing sexes. Nothing stops Sam. Well, mostly nothing stops Sam.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to the CW, WB, Kripke Enterprises and associated writers.
Original Story: Five Times Sam (almost) failed a school exam, and why by clex_monkie89
Notes: (to be added later)
The first day and a half is pretty sweet.
Sam hasn't gotten laid on a regular basis since he left Dean, and it's high freaking time to start again by the time Dean ends up in his dorm room.
“I've got...” Sam can see the red glare of the numbers beside his bed when Dean's mouth engulfs him. He should have left twenty minutes ago. If he wants to keep his scholarship he's actually going to have to ace the exam.
Fuck it. There'd be other tests.
Sam lets Dean do his thing, and pretends he isn't staring at the numbers and worrying. Dean, suddenly higher up than Sam realizes, bites his shoulder and Sam finally closes his eyes. Finally manages to relax.
Half a bottle of Jagger and by the time he manages to wake up, Sam's missed his second exam. Sam freaks, can't quite manage to get a plan together. Dean smacks him three times before it actually bruises enough to look like Sam was mugged.
As Dean pulls his arm back for a punch, Sam mentally tallies them in his head.
Dean's owed him a few sucker punches since he left for Stanford. At this point, though, Sam's probably still in the red. Even with the eye swelling closed, he's got to admit that two days of straight fucking was almost worth it.
Except for when they almost got caught in the shower. Exhibitionist or not, Sam has this thing where he doesn't want to have to check every time he bends over for the soap.
Sam watches John pace for a day after he meets with his teacher. There's something about Mrs. Sptasic that gets that reaction from everyone, so even in fifth grade he's positive it's actually just that she's possessed.
The teacher didn't help – all snotty authority, and obsessed with not hearing her students ask for help. And Sam's not entirely sure anyone in his class actually passed that test.
It's not a big deal. He doesn't understand the math but John is still pace, pace, pacing about it and even Dean can't get him to calm down.
Sam knows, even at eleven, that some people don't do the jobs they're supposed to. He hates Mrs. Spatsic with a passion he reserves for werewolves and broken shotguns, so when he finds out she was fired he's glad that she isn't coming back.
Her leaving doesn't stop the pace, pace, pacing from John, though, and the next time there's a hunt Dean and Sam stare at each other after the Impala peels off, trying to pretend they know John won't do something stupid.
Sam sits in the hard plastic chair and tries not to throw any of the magazines.
He wants to pace. Wants to rant and rave and scream.
Dean – stubborn son of a bitch that he was – jumped in front of him. Jumped because Sam hadn't been paying attention. Dean was getting fourteen stitches across his chest because Sam had been staring in horrified fascination as some psycho ghost disemboweled herself.
Dean's been in surgery for the last hour.
Sam's missing a test at school and can't care.
It's not like his English teacher could fail him. He's the only one in the class who actually understands how to write a sentence. Afterall, Latin does come in handy sometimes.
The doctor comes out, and Sam almost passes out when he says Dean will be fine.
Words like “heal eventually” and “no stress” mean he's going to be that sonofabitch's gopher for weeks.
Sam is totally going to pound the idiot for jumping in front of him.
The lethargy doesn't leave.
It's the first thing he notices. Sam can't be bothered to really care. The mono sucks, but it's just something else to deal with.
Everyone is healthy and Sam is going to get better. He knows he is.
He's just tired.
When the fever comes it makes things worse. His eyes stick together with grit. He feels warm, then freezing, then warm again and god does he ever hate being sick.
When it starts to really get bad he starts seeing things. The lights change. He can't tell where he is but he sees Dean, once when he knows Dean can't be there. Dean doesn't look right, can't look right with the wings but it's right in his mind. Sam thinks he actually looks like he should for once.
Sam pushes weakly at John when he tests his temperature. Around John is dark-ash, but there's a lightness behind it. Sam plays with it, giggles a bit and can see John getting more nervous. Feels the concern seeping through as he gets hauled to the hospital.
All the nurses and doctors are faceless. They shiv through him, ignoring his body and treating feelings he doesn't have. Sam shudders, and can't find ground with all the machines around.
Sam sees his dad and his brother, wings of light surrounding them, staring in confusion at his text books and thinks he's hallucinating.
His homework for over a month is done when he wakes up, and if the handwriting changes a bit no one questions it.
The paper finishes itself and Sam stares at the clock with such a ridiculous set of unease it hurts.
He feels like that kid on Buffy. Oz or whatever. Always waiting with the countdown for the change – waiting to cage himself up.
He knows he could stop, just out and out stop, and at least call Dean. They'd want to hear about it. Want to deal with the freaking switch together.
Dean (the asshole) had even sent tampons in the last letter. A reminder, of sorts.
Sam snorts, and pauses. There's no real reason for him to hide this time. It's been years, and no one has caught them at it yet.
And no one would question a Samantha Winchester if her name said “Sam,” really. The T.A.'s wouldn't know him from a her, so be damned. He was going.
When he wakes up, Sam has tits and a body he can't help but want to keep sometimes. He's got a better rack than his brother, anyways (it's true – they compared one year at the bar and Sam won). He pulls on his way too big clothes and grabs the paper.
Class is a huge first-year anthro course. No one would ever notice another chick in that class, and if anyone notices another --
“I've never seen you here...” Jess' voice. It had to be Jess.
Sam turns, a happy smile on his face. “Uh...I'm just dropping off my boyfriend's paper.”
Jess laughs a bit. “Don't worry. Most of us don't attend regularly, anyways. Who's your --” Jess looks at the name on the paper, and Sam curses himself.
It takes Sam three years to convince Jess that it really, really was him that day. And only about three minutes for her to realize the bonus.
Somedays, Sam Winchester does love pixies. Days with things like “multiple orgasms” and fucking until the sun comes up until he gets his dick back.
Then they can start again.
Yeah. Those days, Sam Winchester fucking loves pixies.