I guess that's the last completed story that's still taking a nap in my warm laptop... I've written it a while ago... Teenchesters... actually...
Be careful what you whish for.
The fog caressed the hood of the car... It was dark, no other car was visible... Once or twice a cat crossed the way, slowing down on the save side of the road.
Classic rock was audible in the interior of the car, the driver singing along. The air was thick and the mood felt tense.
The main reason why Dean sang was that he didn't have to talk to his stupid little brother, his blood still boiling. Never before he had backhanded the little dwarf. But the fight they had hours ago, really had spun out of control... Now he was so fucking sorry and their dad would be so dissapointed. Fights in the Winchester family were to solve without violence. But Sam wouldn't tell their father, yet alone because he wouldn't want to tell theri dad the reason for the fight... this little shit.
Dean gave his brother a quick glance, his eyes finding the bruise on his brother's jaw bone. It looked pretty angry and again the guilt hit Dean. He should learn to control himself more.
Sam looked both, mad and sad. Both of them hated that kind of mood between them. Sam was lost in thoughts. He shouldn't have said what he's siad. It had been cruel and a plain lie. He just didn't want to move... again. It sucked, but fighting with Dean sucked even more and they had to move anyway. He didn't know how to apologize, still mad due to his smarting cheek. He wasn't even able to talk, since the music was way too loud and Dean would kill him slowly and painfully if he'd turn the music down. It was Dean's way to tell him to shut up, without saying anything.
'Damn it Dean... don't give me the crap of "He's our father, of course we follow him, when he asks us to..."he doesn't even care whether we've got enough money to live... You know... sometimes I think it would make no fucking difference, if he was dead... sometimes I even wish he was... then we wouldn't have to move so often...'
Sam could still feel the heavy silence that followed and of course the pain in his cheek that made him still wince. Dean hadn't said a word afterwards... he'd just fetched their stuff and left the room, heading to the Impala.
Sometimes I even wish he was...
Dean bit his lip hard. He hadn't thought that Sam hated this life... their father that much. Of course Sam and John butted heads every once in a while, but wihsing that their father was dead was just cruel. Damn it... Sam was 15 years old and he knew how dangerous the hunts could be. He should be glad that their father was still alive.
Suddenly Dean turned the radio off, making Sam squirm in uncomfortable silence. "I think you should stay with Bobby for a while." Dean suggested without any heat in his calm voice. "Probably some time away from us will be pleasent for you."
Sam watched his brother, tears forming in his eyes, mistaking his brother's suggestion for a wish to get rid of him. "Dean... I'm sorry... I shouldn't..."
"Cut it Sam." Dean shook his head. "I'm gonna talk to dad tonight... let him know that I'll give you a ride to Bobby's before I'll catch up with him."
Sam just nodded, laying his head against the cool window. They would probably stop soon for the night. The fog was getting too thick to drive on anyway.
Sam gave a little sigh, his chest feeling way too tight, his heart heavy in his chest. Dean turned back to the road again, watching out for a sign to a motel.
...
The one they'd found was pretty much one of the worst they'd ever stayed in. It made Dean swallowed in pain, guessing that this was just the last thing his brother needed right now... a further reason to get away from his family.
Sam could see those thoughts in his brother's eyes, thinking of a way to protest, but Dean would have none of it. "You take the bed, closest to the door, Sam... the other one is missing a leg." Dean looked over to the tiny couch next to the restroom door. He had two optiones. Sleeping on the destroyed bed and probably falling off it in the middle of the night or sleeping on the couch, with cigarette holes in it and the reek of the toilet embracing the area... okay... he'd take the crappy bed.
"You can have the good bed, Dean... I'm okay with the matress on the floor." Sam tried to give his brother at least that much.
"No... you can take the bed... I'm gonna take a shower." With that Dean was gone, still fully dressed. Sam huffed and sat down on the bed. It was odd to have the bed closest the door. Their dad wouldn't like that. Sam winced at the thought of their dad, feeling regret and sorrow in his guts. He shouldn't have said that. Laying down, he covered his eyes with his hand, thinking of a way to make Dean understand that he hadn't meant it like that. He knew that this was a hard thing to do. It was so much easier for Dean to believe the bad things. And once Sam had said something like that it was hard to convince his brother otherwise. And even though Dean should know that it was just the heat of the moment talking, Dean was still dosappointed.
"I've left you some hot water." Dean entered the room again, glaring at the younger boy. Sam nodded, resisting the urge to make some stupid comment. In the bathroom. Sam undressed and swallowed down the sick feeling raising in his throat, when his bare feet hit the dirty floor. Ugh! 'That's just nasty.' Maybe living with Bobby for a while wouldn't be that bad. But he wanted Dean to join him. He had a right to have some kind of a home for longer than a month, too.
The water really was still warm, hot even. Dean had probably showered with cold water, so Sam could use the hot water. It was just one of the many ways how Dean took care of him. Thinking about it... dad also used cold water, so Dean and Sam could use the hot water. Sighing, Sam let the water run over his head, rinsing his hair. It felt so good.
When the hot water was up and Sam was pretty much dried off, he left the bathroom, finding a empty room. Dean was calling their dad for sure, using the phone in the motel entrance. Laying down, Sam hoped that their father would simply forbid that he'd stay with Bobby.
"So?" Sam asked, when Dean came back.
"He dosn't answer the phone." Dean looked freaked. Their father had given them the number of the motel he was staying in.
"Maybe he's still on the hunt." Sam suggested. "Call Bobby."
"Yeah no shit... I've already called Bobby... he doesn't answer." Dean licked his lip. "Dad told me yesterday that I should call him today evening so we can plan our meeting."
"You don't think that something has happened?" Sam watched his brother.
"Why do you even care?" Dean snapped, before running a hand through his hair, thinking about another way to contact their dad.
"Of course I care." Sam' voice was equally angry.
"Shut up." Dean ordered, facing his little brother. Sam backed away immediately, expecting Dean to hit him again. "You stay here... I'm gonna call some hospitals close to the hunting area." It had to be serious for Dean. Normally they didn't want to contact hospitals.
Sam was tense while he waited for Dean to come back, laying facedown on the bed.
'Be careful what you wish for.' Sam thought frightened. He shouldn't have granted a dumb wiht like that. It made him feel guilty. Of course he was angry with their dad for moving every month, but he loved him nevertheless. This life was just so frustrating and lashing out with words was the only way to get rid of this frustrating, but time he had gone too far. He knew that.
After a few minutes he couldn't wait anymore, standing up to follow his brother, without even thinking about putting on some shoes or a jacket. Dean was talking on the phone, an odd look on his face.
"Dean?" Sam got a grip of his brother's jacket sleeve.
"What does that mean?" Dean's voice broke. "I'm his family."...
"Okay... screw you very much." With that Dean hung up, covering his eyes with his hands.
"Dean?" Sam asked, not knowing whether he really wanted to know. "What happened?"
"They've had an accident..." Dean swallowed. "... dad... dad's... he didn't make it."
Sam couldn't breath. That had to be a mistake. John Winchester wouldn't die. They dad just couldn't be dead... "No... Dean."
"We... we can't go to see him... I forgot that his alias 'Clay Mars' didn't have cildren... I said that I'm his son..." Tears ran down Dean's cheeks. "They didn't believe me... they even thought that I'm the driver of the other car, checking whether dad died..."
"The other driver hit and ran?" Sam's tears fell, too.
"A truck driver... yeah... goddamnit. I should have said that I'm his cousin... FUCK IT." Dean sat down on the dirty pavement, leaning against the telephone booth, blinking the tears away.
The younger Winchester fell to his knees... not able to stand, not able to breath... not even able to cry.
'Be careful what you wish for.'
...
"Sam. I swear I'm gonna backhand you again... and this time I'm not gonna hold back." Dean's voice was close to him, sounding angry and scared at the same time. "SAM WAKE UP!"
Sam shot up blinking. His face was wet and his nose was running.
"What's up? Why are you crying?" Dean looked concerned, wiping Sam's face with a towel.
"Dad..." Sam looked disoriented, trying to push Dean's hand away. "Where is dad?"
"What are you talking about?" Dean chuckled, but stopped when he saw his brohter's freaked look. "Uhm... I left again to call a few hospitals, but there was no need there... I tried dad again and he answered... He's taken a shower before... Bobby's on supply run." Dean watched his little brother. "You fell asleep after I left..."
Sam still looked like he was about to puke his guts out.
"Sammy... you were trashing and turning... you had a bad dream." Dean ruffled Sam's hair.
"How's dad..." Sam's voice was so utterly soft, his eyes begging.
"He's fine... Sammy... I've just talked to him... I told you... he answered the phone a few minutes ago. He's kinda angry and he doesn't want you to go to Bobby's... but he's fine."
"God..." Sam buried his face in his hands, tears of relief beginning to fall. "I'm so sorry for saying what I've said."
"Dream about dad dying?" Dean asked, a smile audible.
"That's not funny Dean." Sam looked up, to glare at his brother.
"What? You don't really expect me to feel sorry for you?" Dean mocked, but squeezed Sam's shoulder gently.
"No... I already know you're an ass." Sam let his head drop against his brother's shoulder, taking a deep breath, getting rid of the sick feeling in hsi stomach.
"Talking about being sorry..." Dean ran his thumb over the bruise he'd caused on Sam's jaw. "I'm sorry for losing it."
"Don't mention any of that ever again." Sam asked, snuggling closer to his brother.
"Yo... I can do that..." Dean smiled.
"So... dad doesn't want me to stay at Bobby's?"
"Nope"
"Good."