Special Thanks to my beta reader Warr2654. She's the best.
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Prologue
Thursday June 3, 1998 Knowles, Oklahoma
It was early, earlier than normally Dean liked to be awake. He threw his duffle bag in the back seat of the Impala. He was looking forward to seeing Pastor Jim. The last time Dean had seen him, Dad and Sam were with him. They had all stayed at Jim's house up in Minnesota for a month last summer. Jim and his dad worked well together on hunts. Probably because his father would listen to Jim. John owed a bulk of his knowledge of the supernatural to the man. Jim had told John the truth about what was out there. Jim made him believe it, assured him that he wasn't crazy. Jim had unwittingly led John down the path he had followed from then on.
John would have gone to help Jim, but he still had a hunt to finish before heading to Nebraska for the summer. There was some creature killing people in the woods a few towns over. John said he didn't like the idea of Dean hunting without him but Jim needed help or he wouldn't have called. So while Dean was going to hunt with Jim in Minnesota, John would finish up here. Then he and Sam would head to the cabin outside Butte. They would train for the summer. John could find hunts anywhere so he didn't mind staying in one place for a couple months. The supernatural was everywhere.
"You leaving?" Dean looked up as Sam appeared at his side.
"I'm about to. I was gonna come in and make sure you were awake first." Dean shut the back door of the car and turned to face his brother. "Listen Sam, Dad is really serious about this summer. You're in for a busy couple months."
Sam rolled his eyes. "I know Dean. Ever since my birthday, that's all I hear from him. 'Sam you're fifteen you should be hunting already.' 'Sam don't you think you're too old to take so long sharpening those knives.' 'Sam, Dean could do this when he was twelve.'
Dean scoffed. "He just wants you to be prepared. He's looking out for you. You need to stop putting off your training. How are you gonna help us if you can't shoot? "
"I can shoot!" Sam glared at Dean.
Dean gave Sam a look before continuing. "Come on Sam, I know you think Dad's harsh, but he's doing his best. If you wouldn't argue with him all the time things would be easier."
"So it's all my fault?" Sam scowled. '
It was Dean who rolled his eyes now. "Just try to get along with him while I'm gone. Do what he asks, it's for your own good."
Sam's scowl dissipated as he shifted on his feet staring at the ground. When he looked up again, it was to fix his puppy dog gaze on Dean.
"How long do you think you'll be gone?"
Dean smiled. His little brother always hated it when he left. Hell, Dean hated it himself. He knew John loved Sam and would take care of him, but it was Dean's job. He looked out for Sammy. He worried that his dad was making Sam grow up too fast. He was barely fifteen and already he knew more about what was out there than most people ever would. Most kids his age would be messing around or going on vacation for the summer. Sam would be training to fight monsters that grown men would run away from. It wasn't fair but it was their life.
"The hunt is up near White Bear Lake, Minnesota. It's a couple hours from Blue Earth- Jim thinks it's a poltergeist."
Sam smirked. "A poltergeist? Like in the movie?"
Dean continued as if Sam hadn't said anything. "If that's what it is, I figure it should take about a week to track it down and kill it. I should get to Jim's tomorrow. So I'm guessing everything should be wrapped up in less than two weeks. You and Dad should be set up in Nebraska by then and I'll meet you there. Alright?"
"Yeah." Sam nodded looking disheartened.
"At least you get to finish school before the move. You're lucky dad found that hunt or we would have been out of here weeks ago. That's good huh?" Dean nudged, trying to lighten the mood before he had to leave.
"I'm counting my blessings." Sam joked grinning at him.
"Don't forget to count me. I'm like a gift from God." Dean pointed at himself, shooting Sam a lopsided grin.
Sam laughed and shook his head. "Whoever told you that hasn't heard you singing in the shower."
Dean put a hand over his heart as if wounded. "Sammy I thought you loved my singing!"
"Yeah love when it's over." Sam teased.
Dean rustled his brothers hair as the smile he had been fighting broke out. "Go grab your backpack. I'll drive you to school on my way out of town." Sam beamed and Dean chuckled to himself. Sam would be fine. What could go wrong in two weeks?
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Chapter One
Sam was asleep lying face down on his bed in the room he had been sharing with Dean before he left. The presence of another was his first indication that something was off, he could feel someone in the room with him. Sam groggily turned his head towards the door, only to be met by the heavy stench of alcohol burning his nose. His eyes shot open to land on the face of his father.
John's eyes seemed to shine in the moonlight flowing through the window. He was sitting in a chair, pulled up directly next to Sam sprawled on the bed. He had a beer in his hand which he had been raising to his lips when Sam opened his eyes. It hung suspended in the air as John stared vacantly at him.
Sam took a minute to assess what he was seeing and determine if he was dreaming. His father exhaled again. The breath washed across his face causing him to wince, assuring him he was awake. Sam never had dreams that smelled this repugnant.
Suddenly his dad extended his right hand smoothing it down the side of Sam's face, letting out a hushing murmur. Sam was not soothed. In fact he was bewildered by his father's behavior.
"Dad?" Sam began,
The hand that had been brushing over his hair swiftly clenched around the back of his neck, pressing down forcefully into the pillow. "Shhh Sammy, I'm thinking."
Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest and in his throat. Just as suddenly his father released him, once again stroking his hair lovingly and staring at him vacantly.
Under no circumstance was this normal. When he was sick, Dean took care of him. Injured- Dean. Nightmare- Dean. Just want to talk or complain- Dean. His father loved him, Sam knew that, but John was a serious man and not overly affectionate in general. He had hunts to find, monsters to kill, credit card applications to forge. All while still looking for whatever killed Mom. He was a busy man. John protected the family and Dean watched after Sam. It worked out for the most part, but Dean wasn't here now.
Sam turned onto his side slowly, shifting his head so he could see the room more clearly. It was dark, long before dawn. The moon was high in the sky, providing the only light in the room. His dad looked drunk. Not fall down, can't speak english drunk, but foggy introverted drunk. He had been out hunting tonight. Maybe it hadn't gone well, that could explain the strange behavior. Took out period, added comma.
Sam licked his lips. "Dad did something hap-"
His father's hand clamped roughly over his mouth with more force than his neck. His teeth scraped against his lips from the pressure. "I said quiet Sam. That's an order." Once again the hand was abruptly removed. John leaned back in his chair taking a drink of his beer without taking his eyes of Sam.
Sam waited. He waited for his dad to speak. To leave. To stop freaking staring at him, but none of those things happened. His dad was like a statue. His eyes fixed almost unblinkingly. He thought about going back to sleep but gave up on the idea. There was no way he could sleep with someone watching him like this. He toyed with the idea of pulling the blankets up over his head to block his dads view, but eventually he decided that he was way too old to hide under the covers especially from his dad.
He estimated he had woken up about half an hour ago. The clock was behind him and he decided against turning over to check. He would wait ten more minutes Sam decided, hoping his dad would finish thinking and go to bed. Counting the seconds gave him something to do in the mean time. He welcomed the distraction.
Eventually he had counted to six-hundred. The silence was oppressive as the numbers that had been marching through his head came to an end love the imagery!. His dad still hadn't moved except to take slow swigs of his beer. Sam resolved that it was time to stop lying around. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up, throwing his blankets down. Sitting up he swung his feet off the bed, so he was facing his father knee to knee. Sam reached out to light the lamp on the bedside table, hoping the glow would be less unsettling than the light if the moon.
"Dad you're freaking me out!" It came out quietly under his breath, as his fingers brushed the lamp cord. He was half speaking to himself. He never pulled the cord.
Sam was thrown onto his back by the force of a backhand to the right side of his face. He heard the crash of breaking glass and knew it was the beer as his father's newly emptied left hand clenched the collar of his shirt holding him in place.
He wasn't given time to recover from the first blow. As soon as he registered the burning in his right cheek he was struck again, this time from the left. His dad held him down slapping him, snapping his head back and forth from the alternating open palm and back of his hand. It hurt, a lot. It was different from the pain of skinning his knee or twisting an ankle. It burned, it burned right down to his heart combined sentences. He fought back tears of pain threatening to slip through his lashes. His father stopped slapping him and instead gripped his chin tight, forcing his face left than right, appraising the work he had done. Humiliation crept in; Sam felt he would choke on the tears that clogged his throat. Against his will, tears finally leaked out of the corners of his eyes and tracked wet lines down his flushed cheeks.
His father sighed at the sight, releasing his grip on Sam's chin and moving back to pick up the chair that had toppled backwards. He shoved the broken remnants of the beer aside with his boot pulling the chair as close as possible to the bed and sat back down, assuming the same innocuous positing he had started in, minus the beer. Sam had yet to move from his prone position, his feet still hanging off the bed and his head a good foot away from the pillow. He kept his eyes locked on his father.
"Sam your training really begins this summer, starting this weekend. This was a test. A very simple test, and you failed. All you had to do was be quiet."
His father's words washed over him and kept him just as immobile as the fear of making noise. This was all a test?. He tried to stay as still as possible. Which was not very still given the way his heart was pumping. His lungs burned as they struggled to pull in air while Sam fought them trying not to breathe. His father wanted him to be quiet and his breathing was coming out in gasps that seemed incredibly loud in the small room. He wished Dean was here. This wouldn't be happening if Dean was here.
"It was such a simple order. Silence can be pivotal in hunting. How can you be trusted to hunt with me and Dean? The orders I give protect you and your brother. Dean followed my orders to take you out of the house the night your Mother died. If he had questioned me you would both be dead. What don't you understand? The orders I give you could be the difference between life and death. Your life. My life. Dean's life. Are you willing to risk Dean's life with your constant questioning?" His father stopped and stared at him.
Sam still hadn't moved. He was trying very hard to be quiet, but now his dad seemed to want him to answer this question. He shook his head hoping that was sufficient and quiet. Apparently it was because his father smiled for the first time since Sam had woken up.
"Then you are going to have to try harder. You have to be better." His father said it as if this was a normal conversation about not reaching one's potential and trying their best.
Sam nodded emphatically, trying to silently assure his father that he would do better at whatever it was his father thought he was doing so wrong.
His dad stood up suddenly again and Sam bit his lip to keep himself from telling his dad to stay away. His dad didn't hit him again, instead Sam found himself grasped by the shoulders and guided into a normal sleeping position on his side with his head and feet at the appropriate ends. His dad pulled the blankets up and covered him, something Sam could remember his dad doing since he was six.
His dad went back to sitting in his chair, leaning forward and staring into his eyes again. "Go to sleep." It was said softly and Sam found he was relieved to snap his eyes closed at his father's order. With his eyes closed maybe he could sort this all out. He could tell himself none of it had happened. He could pretend Dean was here. Dean could explain it to him. His ears were still ringing from earlier.
Sam was startled out of his musing by the touch of his father's hand once again petting over his hair. It was so gentle that he found himself fight back tears- tears that threatened to suffocate him if he wouldn't release them. He didn't understand. Something had changed and he didn't know what it was. His father was still stroking his hair. Sam was so tired. Probably because he kept holding his breath. He couldn't think anymore, all his energy focused on controlling his breathing and staying still. He didn't feel like he was getting any air, but he was afraid to make any more noise. Maybe this is what it feels like to drown.
Sam felt himself falling asleep or maybe passing out. He couldn't bring himself to care either way. He told himself Dean was the one next to him and when he opened his eyes next he would see Dean's face. But when he opened his eyes next it was morning and he was alone.
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