"YOU WILL LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU!"
John Winchester was bellowing as he flew into the Motel room he shared with his two sons. Dean had smashed the door open a second before him, red faced and furious. His hands were balled into two fists that shook as he refused to acknowledge his father.
Sam Winchester's attention had been ripped away from the school books that were spread out over the room's cheap, wood effect table by the volume of his father and brother's voices. Their hunt had only been a local one, a simple salt and burn one town over. At 12 years old Sam was still too young in his father's eyes to come along if there was any risk at all and to be honest he was happy about it. He preferred his school books by far even if the solitude only left him space to worry about his family.
THIS was unusual though, Dad and Dean had always been thick as thieves with HIM the odd one out. He sat, eyes wide with shock at the blazing row before him.
Dean had paused momentarily at his father's words, his eyes toward the bathroom door, the motel room's only refuge. Then, without speaking he wheeled around, failing to even acknowledge his little brother's presence and stormed out at a pace that was if anything, faster than he'd entered with.
John's eyes flared wider still as he yelled after the 16 year old.
"YOU COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW MISTER!"
The only response that was audible from inside the room was a muffled noise that sounded as though it was most likely a hearty.
"Fuck you!"
John lingered in the door way, eyes wide and face red, his mouth open as if ready for words that were failing to come.
Sam broke the silence softly, his quiet voice piercing the tension.
"Dad...?What...?"
John turned sharply to face his younger son, a hand still gripping the door frame.
"NOT NOW SAM!" He barked.
Closing his eyes tightly he took a long steadying breath. Upon opening them, his complexion had slowly begun to regain a more normal colour. Stepping away from the door and toward Sam he clasped the boy on the shoulder in a gesture of reassurance, speaking again.
"I'm sorry buddy."
With a further exhausted breath he fell down into the chair next to Sam, the force of the motion causing the cheap furniture's joints to almost buckle. John's grip momentarily tightened around his son's shoulder then fell away, his hand slapping down on the mud stained knee of his jeans.
"It's not your fault."
He paused, head shaking and looking away, back to the door.
"I don't know what's up with your brother lately."
The next morning, early with his father finally sound asleep, John's large frame collapsed in what past for the room's lone "easy chair." Sam was woken by a thud outside the window. The room still in twilight he glanced over to Dean's unoccupied bed then moved quietly to to confirm his suspicions as to the noise's origin. Suspicions which were duly confirmed by the sight of Dean slumped against the outer wall staring away into the distance. Silently retrieving his jacket Sam made his way to the door carefully pulling it open and stepping outside.
With sleepy eyes Dean looked up at his little brother.
"Hey Sammy..." He acknowledged.
"Hey." Sam replied flopping down next to him.
Both Winchesters stared out, past their father's car, into the Motel parking lot and toward interstate 135 beyond. His gaze remaining dead ahead as Dean began to speak.
"Sorry 'bout that." Where his only words.
Dean had been withdrawn lately and it worried Sam. All his life Dean rather than their father had been the one constant in his life. John some times spent weeks away without word, finally returning from a hunt beaten and bruised only to demand a new, tougher training regime for his son's. Sam loved his Dad, however hard that could be at times but Dean was the one he relied on. Last night was only the most recent and extreme form of weird behaviour from his big brother lately and he didn't know what to do about it.
After another lengthy pause the view out to I-135 seemed to loose it's appeal. Dean reached inside his jacket pocket and retrieved two candy bars, finally looking down at Sam he smiled and ruffled his little brother's hair.
"So, breakfast?" He asked, the cold expression he had been wearing gone, hidden behind a familiar grin.
Sam knew whatever this was, it wasn't over but for now, for his own sake and for Dean's he nodded accepting the candy bar. An explanation would have to wait for another time.
"Sure." He replied smiling back.