The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
- Robert Frost
Chapter One
Sam Winchester bowed his head as he reached into his locker to grab his backpack from its hook. All around him were the sounds of excited high shcoolers laughing, yelling, and chatting as they emptied from their last period classes into the hallways. The students of Westville High School were more raucous and energetic this afternoon because the last of the gritty, grey-tinged snow had finally melted in the warming blowing up from California and the shoots of early flowers were poking up through the softening earth. Spring had finally begun in Washington State.
Sam felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped in alarm, tearing the top strap of his backpack and dropping it on his feet.
"Damn it," he grumbled and bent down to pick up the pack.
"Sorry," Brett apologized as Sam straightened, eyeing his backpack warily.
"It's okay, it's old anyway," Sam muttered and zipped the pack up before slinging one strap over his shoulder, "What's up?"
Brett glanced down, suddenly shy.
"What?" Sam asked again. He glanced over his shoulder. The hallway was nearly empty now and he knew Dean was waiting for him outside.
"I… well," Brett began, looking up at Sam, his cheeks suddenly tinged with red, "I thought you might like this."
Brett shoved a worn, dog-eared book into Sam's hands. Looking down, Sam saw it was a book of poetry.
He looked up at his friend, confused.
"What's this for?"
Brett smiled, his cheeks turning a darker shade of red.
"You were the only one who actually listened to Mrs. Rosenblatt today in class," Brett told Sam, "If it wasn't for you she would have just droned on and on but you made English interesting for once."
Sam shrugged and put the book into his backpack.
"Listen," Sam turned to the other boy, "I have to go; my brother's waiting for me."
Brett smiled. Sam closed his locker and headed out to where Dean was waiting, just as he knew he would be, leaning against the driver's side door of the Impala, arms crossed.
"What took you so long?" Dean griped and opened the door.
"I was talking with Brett," Sam dropped into the passenger's seat and set his backpack on his lap.
Dean snorted as he turned the key in the ignition.
"What's so funny?" Sam asked.
"I think that Brett kid has a crush on you, Sammy," Dean smirked.
Sam shook his head, "We're just friends!"
"Sure," Dean argued as he backed the car up out of its parking spot and began driving out of the parking lot, "Keep telling yourself that."
W
On the way back to the motel, Dean stopped at a fast-food place and bought them some dinner.
"Is Dad back yet?" Sam asked as he shoved his backpack onto the floor of the car and held onto the greasy paper bag of takeout on his lap instead.
Dean shook his head. Sam let out a sigh of relief.
"So," Dean spoke without taking his eyes off the road, "How was school?"
Sam gladly changed to subject. He told his older brother all he'd learned that day even though Dean probably thought it was boring as hell- but he never complained- until they pulled into their parking space at the motel. Once Dean unlocked the door Sam hurried inside to get a start on his homework.
W
Sam didn't even look up when the motel room's door opened and John Winchester stepped inside. It was late- dark out- and both brothers were relaxing; Dean in front of the television and Sam looking through the book Brett had given him.
John surveyed the scene and stepped up to his youngest son.
Sam's grip on his book tightened and he forced himself not to look up even though he could smell the alcohol fumes wafting from his father's person.
"Dad," Dean said from across the room, his voice taking on an oh shit tone.
"What are you doing?" John asked Sam, his words slurring ever so slightly.
Sam lifted his gaze to his father's face, telling himself to remain calm.
"Reading," he replied.
John's eyes narrowed, "I can see that. Why? Why aren't you and your brother training?"
"Dad-" Dean began but stopped when John raised a hand to silence him.
"I asked your brother," their father said without looking at his eldest.
"It's dark out?" Sam said lamely.
"It's dark out," John repeated in a mocking tone, "And when do monsters like to come out?"
Sam felt his eyes suddenly sting with water.
"They come out at night," Sam muttered.
"Good job!" John praised sarcastically, "Then why don't you get your ass outside and train?"
"Dad, it's not like this motel is empty," Dean was finally able to speak up, "We don't want to attract attention."
John turned his head slowly to look at Dean. Sam could practically hear the gears in his Dad's brain turning. Dean was right, of course. They could go out and train but in doing so they would be sure to have more than one person ask what they were doing.
John grumbled to himself and returned his attention to Sam.
"What's this garbage you're reading?" he reached out and grabbed the book from Sam's hand.
"It's not mine! It's a friend's book!" Sam reached to take the book back as John flipped through the pages.
"Poetry? Poetry!" Sam's father exclaimed as though he'd been caught reading pornography instead.
"It's Brett's book!" Sam tried again but that was the wrong thing to say.
John took the book in both hands and tore it in half, right down the spine. Sam stared at his father in disbelief as the pages fluttered down onto the stained carpet.
"I don't want you reading this trash anymore and I don't want you talking to that kid again until we leave," John growled, leaning down so that he was face-to-face with his son. Sam nearly retched at the smell of alcohol and grease on his father's breath.
"Do you understand me?"
Sam didn't respond for a moment, he was simply trying to focus on breathing through his mouth as best he could.
"Do you understand me?" John snapped.
"Dad!" Dean exclaimed.
"Shut up!" John growled.
Sam sighed, "I understand."
John straightened and turned, grinding the loose pages of the poetry book into the floor as he did so, and left the motel room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Author's Note:
Hello everyone! I am back from my hiatus. I am feeling much better and today I felt like getting back into writing. I have a new story idea and I hope I will see it through.
For anyone wondering, no, I have not given up on my other works-in-progress but I am going to move slowly. Even though I have been feeling better, I have not really recovered my desire to write completely. I thought I was start out with this story; something I plan to be only 4 or five chapters and see how I feel.
I would like to thank everyone for their support and patience during these past couple of months. A special thanks goes out, as well, to mandancie for reading this first chapter.
Please, as always, leave a kind review if you want to see what happens next.
