Summary: What would happen if Sam didn't leave for school
Disclaimer: Yeah I don't own them.
Author's Note: Ok, so I don't have Internet at school...Do you know how awful that is? It's the most boring thing in the world, and then the TV channels that I watch don't have any sound. This is my own personal hell! The good side of this, since there is actually nothing to do in my room, maybe I'll actually finish one of my stories these days. Nah, no I won't, I'll just start more. What was I thinking? If anyone is ever in the big city, feel free to come put me out of my misery. Please. I NEED THE INTERNET.
Who Are You
By Cailin
"If you walk out that door, don't you ever walk back in." John said with an eerily calm voice.
He turned back around to the book he had been consulting before the battle had begun.
Sam's mouth dropped opened. Had his father really just said that? In all the scenarios he'd run though his head, this one had never arisen. Don't come back? Was he really saying that?
"You're, you're joking..."
"You heard me! If you leave, you're done! You're gone for good! You don't get to come and go as you please!" John yelled, his finger in Sam's face, his calm collective gone.
"Dad-" Sam and Johns head quickly turned toward the doorway, where Dean had finally decided to join the conversation.
"Stay out of it Dean." John ordered in an angry voice.
"But Dad," tried again "Go to your room!" John exploded "It's bad enough that I have one son who doesn't give a damn
about what I tell him, I won't have another!" Dean stood in the doorway for a moment trying to make eye contact with his baby brother, but Sam turned his head away, looking toward the kitchen. "NOW!" His father bellowed. He turned quickly on his heels, and they listened as his footsteps were cut off with a loud slam of the bedroom door. John sat back down in his armchair his elbows against his knees and his face in his hands. Sam saw rather then heard the sigh that ran threw Johns body. "Where did I go wrong with you?" He quietly asked himself.
Sam looked away from his father, not thinking he would be able to hold his tears at bay. Most parents would have been thrilled about their son getting a full ride to an Ivy League school. But his father had never been like most parents, and he never would be.
His eyes stopped roaming on the picture frame resting on the bookcase. Nestled between rows of text on banshees and skin walkers, smiling back at him, a cruel reminder of how things could of been. A glimpse of a life he had no knowledge of.
Standing beneath the shade of a giant oak, stood the man that Sam had heard stories of but couldn't remember, no mater how hard he tried. The man had his arm around his wife who was holding one of his sons. His other boy was nestled in the crook of his arm and he was leaning down and placing a kiss a top of a young Sam's baldhead. His father.
They may have had the same appearance, but they were to different men. Sam's eyes traveled back and forth between the haggard run down version and the light, young, care free one. Finally the question he had been asking himself for years slipped out into the strained silence.
"Who are you?" Sam's tight voice asked as he stared at his father. John's angry eyes shot up to his son face, as he stood again. The resounding punch could be heard through the whole house and the soft click of a door opening at the other end of the hallway made the two men step back from each other. His father had spanked him once, when he was very little and had almost run in front of an on coming car, but he had never physically hurt Sam or Dean because he was angry. Sam just kept his eyes locked ahead as he backed away toward the doorway. "Who are you?" Sam asked again.
"Samual I'm so-" John started but stopped as Sam fled the living room.
Once John heard the bedroom door lock he made his way to Dean's room and pushed the slightly ajar door open. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand folded between his legs, his head hung. He stood to attention when his father entered. His eyes weary.
"I'm leaving on a hunt. I'll be back later. There's money for food in the drawer..." John paused looking over his shoulder to the closed door, then back at Dean. "If he needs a ride to the bus station, take him."
"You didn't mean it, right?" Dean dared to ask.
"Damn straight I did. If he wants to leave then we don't need him." John said making his way toward the front door. Dean quietly followed behind him, "Yes we do." Dean said softly.
"Not anymore we don't." He answered picking up his bag that was already packed and waiting for him by the door. "I'll be back." And with that he was gone.
Dean stood at the front door trying to figure out if he should give his brother a few moments to cool down before he tried to talk to him, or if should not give chance to make any decisions. He opted for the latter.
"Sammy?" Dean asked knocking lightly on the door. He waited a moment, listening for Sam to make his way to the door. When he didn't hear anything he tried again. "Come on, Sammy." He said pounding a little harder. "Don't make me bust the door open." He threatened, knowing that he would never do it, not wanting to be the one who was on his father's bad side. "Sammy, just come out and talk to me...At least let me know your alive in there. Sammy, please..." With a sigh Dean turned and made his way into the kitchen
Dean had tried again later that night, trying to coax his brother out with food, but still didn't receive any reply, so leaving his door open, he went to bed. When his alarm went of the next morning Dean rolled out of bed with a groan. Going threw his morning routine as quickly as possible, Dean padded barefoot down the hallway to stand in front of Sam's. He rapped his knuckles lightly on the door,
"How you doing in there?" This time instead of the usually silence that Sam had been giving him, he heard a loud crash of something being thrown against the door.
"Sammy."
"I can't do this Dean." Sam's broken voice met him.
"Do what?"
"I hate it here!!" Sam screamed, another object crashed against the door.
"Sammy, let me in. Please?" Dean pleaded. He was the big brother, he was suppose the be able to fix this.
"NO!" There was an explosion of noise behind the door, and Dean could just imagine the things taking place on the other side.
"I feel helpless out here. Please." Dean leaned against the wall and slid down to sit, with his back against the door.
"I- I try so god damn- hard." Sam's cried, his hand placed on the chair that he had jammed under the door knob, he wanted to let his brother in but the truth was, he knew that if his brother was there with him he would lose it. What little composure he was able to maintain would be gone. "I just- I just want him- to be proud of me. I just want-" Sam couldn't finish his sentence and buried his face in his hands, holding his breath.
"He is proud of you Sammy. He just-"
"No!" Sammy interrupted. "He's not, he's not proud. He said he wasn't." Sam answered, sitting down against the door, unknowingly a mirror image of his brother. "I don't know what to do Dean. I don't know what to do!" His voice was almost hysterical as he began to rock back and forth, Dean could hear the soft creek of the old floorboards and the soft thump of this back against the wall.
"I'm proud of you Sammy. I always have been." Dean said softly.
"Dean?"
"What?" Dean asked turning his ear toward the door.
"I'm proud of you too." Dean let out a throaty laugh. Leave it to his brother, to try and make him feel better, when he was the one being ripped apart. Dean leaned his head back against the wall, waiting silently.
"When you're ready, I'll still be here."
"'Kay," was the only reply he got.
At around four, Dean made his way from the kitchen to Sam's room. There had been sparse conversation between the two of them, with Sam keeping his door firmly closed.
"Are you ready yet?" Dean asked. "The bus leaves in an hour, and it's going to take about 45 minutes to get the station," he explained.
"I'm not going."
"Sammy, don't listen to-"
"I'm not going."
"He's just mad right n-"
"I"M NOT GOING!"
"Why not?"
"It cost to much."
"Bull shit!" Dean yelled a little irritated with his brothers' behavior. "You got a full ride. You said it covered everything."
"Not everything is about money." Sam said softly. And for the rest of the day the room was silent.
