NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Hey guys, okay. First Supernatural fic, I know. But don't totally lose faith, I AM a HUGE spn fan. I totally appreciate comments and advice, and you can PM me for a request that I WILL write! :D Review guys, I need to improve, I realise.
CHAPTER ONE
Sam Winchester's stomach growled for the billionth time that night. Hearing the noise, he finally made up his mind to get something to eat. Leaving he and his brother's room and entering the living room, he quietly tiptoed past a snoring Dean and made his way into their cramped kitchen.
His father had been on a hunting trip for the past week, and wouldn't be home for at least another week. That meant dinner was usually snack food or a pizza. And Sam didn't really have a problem with that; it was just the moving part.
If his dad had a new hunt out of the area, they moved. It was simple. New school, new dilapidated house, new 'friends'. But this occasion was particularly annoying, especially because of a group of boys at his school. Sam shuddered at the memory of them, then shoved the thought as far away from him as possible. Just make some soup, he instructed himself, snatching a can of the stuff from the pantry.
Sam opened the can and dumped a clumped mass of noodles, chicken, carrots and peas into a pot. Then he filled it with water and set it to a boil. After a few minutes of sitting a cold, wooden table, Sam got up and silently came into the living room. Dean was sleeping on the patched couch, snoring gently. Maybe I could watch some cartoons with the volume really low, Sam thought, reaching for the remote. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Dean; he'd be in a foul mood then.
Sam clicked on the television. He jumped and went momentarily deaf as the TV blasted on full volume. Dean woke with a start, got hopelessly tangled in the quilt and fell off the couch.
"Holy mother of—" Dean began before realising what the loud sound was. "Sam! The hell are you doin'?"
Sam swallowed nervously.
"Well, I was watching TV. Just, y'know. While I wait for my soup to cook. Sorry." he apologised. All of a sudden, Sam jumped up. "The soup!" he managed to say before sprinting into the kitchen.
The stench of burning filled the room as Sam entered. He skidded in his socks and nearly fell. The pot was seeping smoke and water was trickling over the edges. Dean slowed sauntered in, obviously still half asleep. Sam quickly yanked off the top of the pot and peered inside.
Bits of chicken and carrots were moulded into the bottom of the pot, and the yellow seasoning coated the sides like pollen in spring. Sam turned off the stove completely and threw the pot into the sink angrily.
"Hey, hey, easy tiger." Dean joked. "I'll just order a pizza. We can have soup-making lessons tomorrow night." he suggested, picking up the phone and punching in digits.
Sam retreated to their bed and sighed deeply. It had been a very long week. Thank God today was Thursday and tomorrow was Friday. Touching the bruise on his arm, he pondered the upcoming day. Maybe tomorrow could be different. Just maybe.