Sam Winchester
Mr. Wyatt
English
Period 3
10/12/96
Family Memory Essay
Last summer I went to Oklahoma with my dad and my brother Dean. Dad had been looking for a job for a while, so when his friend Bobby called with news about this one, Dean and I were packed into the Impala like always, and we started driving. I fell asleep somewhere in New Mexico - we were coming from Oregon - and when I woke up, it was three in the morning and Dean was whispering, "I can drive, Dad, if you want."
Dad let out a breath. I saw his eyes flick up into the rearview mirror to look at me. I pretended to still be sleeping. "Yeah, alright," he said. "Just remember what I taught you 'bout her: Nice and easy. Don't go too fast."
Dean nodded, and he and Dad switched places. I'd never seen Dad let Dean drive the Impala before, but I always saw the way Dean looked at it - kind of like the way he looks at girls, sometimes. I thought that maybe Dad let Dean drive a lot, when I was asleep. I couldn't figure out why it mattered.
About an hour later, Dad was sleeping in the passenger seat and Dean turned onto a road that was smoother than the bumpy one we'd been on. "I know you're awake, Sammy," he said.
"So?" I asked.
Dean shrugged. He started wearing Dad's old jacket back in June. You could tell he thought he looked amazing in it, but I thought it made him look kind of like a kid playing dress-up. Dean wanted to be just like Dad. I smiled to myself, shaking my head.
"And stop calling me Sammy," I added, ten seconds too late.
Dean scoffed.
"I'll be fifteen soon," I reminded him. "Call me Sam."
"Dude, you just turned fourteen like nine seconds ago," Dean said, turning the car onto a new road that had real streetlights.
"Two months," I said.
Dean made a weird face in the mirror. "Yeah, I know your friggin' birthday, Sam."
We were quiet for a while, as Dad snored slightly and shifted around in his seat. "Dean? How come we can't stop off at a motel?"
"We gotta get to Oklahoma before tomorrow night," he said. "It'll be the full moon. I was listening to Dad talk with Bobby. It's a werewolf, so it's best if we take him out on the first night, so he has less of a chance to kill."
"Right." I paused. "And by 'we,' you mean..."
Dean shrugged his leathery shoulders. "Me and Dad, I guess. I dunno. How many Winchesters does it take to kill a werewolf?" he joked.
I didn't laugh. I was secretly kind of relieved. Not that I wasn't a great shot or anything, because I was. I learned to shoot when I was six and a half. "Do you have bullets ready, or do you want me to make 'em when we get there?"
Dean's reflection in the rearview mirror smiled a little. "I think we got enough left over from that chick in Jersey. Damn, that was one feisty wolf-girl."
I smiled vaguely, remembering. I hadn't been much of a help that fight - I'd sprained my wrist the week before when we'd gone after this mountain spirit in Nevada. I just helped make the bullets. We had to go to three pawn shops before we could find silver pure enough to make the bullets out of - that's the only way werewolves can be killed. "Yeah," I agreed, not really remembering what it was I was agreeing with.
Dean gave a little chuckle. "Go back to sleep, Sammy."
My eyes fell shut of their own accord. "It's Sam," I mumbled. Dean just laughed quietly and continued driving. When I next awoke, it was nine in the morning and Dad was driving again.
"Sammy's up," he said brightly - or about as brightly as Dad ever was these days. Dad had been really on-edge lately - more so than usual, even. I asked Dean what was up with him, and Dean just got that look on his face that told me he knew, but wasn't going to tell me. "Seems the same as always, dunnhe?"
I rubbed my eyes. "Where are we?"
"Elk City," Dad said. "Oklahoma. We should be in Enid by noon. Then we'll have time to get everything together, get some food and rest before tonight."
"I love this song!" Dean turned up the radio and started singing along. "Flash before my eyes! Now it's time to die! Burning in my brain! I can feel the - what?" he stopped, looking at Dad, who was chuckling slightly, trying to turn it into a cough. I grinned. Only Dean could make Dad behave like a normal human being, as far as I'd ever noticed. Sometimes, when Dean was like this, all crazy and young and like an 18-year-old was supposed to be, Dad's smile-wrinkles showed and he laughed, and he looked happy,less like a hunter and more like a father.
Dad shook his head and grinned, meeting my eyes in the rearview as I grinned back. "Nothin', Dean." He winked at me.
I really liked this side of my father. I rarely saw it.
By the time we reached Enid, my stomach was rumbling and, I assumed, so was Dean's, because he kept complaining like always. Dean had the biggest appetite of anyone I knew. Considering I knew two people, that wasn't very difficult, I supposed, but compared to me and Dad, Dean was like a vacuum cleaner. "Dad can we stop? Son of a - I'm starved.What I wouldn't give for a freakin' bacon cheeseburger. Do you ever get so hungry you just start looking at cows on the side of the road and they turn into freakin' cheeseburgers? Son of a bitch. I'm starving."
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. "Dean," my father said, and his voice was serious. My face fell. "We're stopping soon. Do you think you can control yourself until then?"
"Yes, sir." Dean cleared his throat, turning the radio down another notch and sitting up straight in his seat.
I watched the scene outside the window never change. I'd seen most of the country in my fourteen years - over half of it was grass and cows. Dad finally pulled up at a little diner, the kind with red-and-white gingham curtains and dark wooden tables. "Thank god," Dean breathed, jumping out of the car the second Dad took the keys out.
We ate, which was quiet except for Dean making noises at his hamburger that he usually reserved for the shower. Dad was back to his usual self, not looking the least bit amused by Dean's antics. Dean stopped mid-bite and looked from me to Dad, then back to me. Slowly, he swallowed, and lowered his burger. "So how are we going to take this guy out?" he asked Dad in a low voice.
Dad nodded sharply. "We're going to keep an eye on him for a while. When he goes to bed, we break into his house and we stop him. Werewolves are strong, and they're not predictable like spirits. I don't think there's any safety in having a set routine for taking this one out. We'll all just have to go in there and get it done. Planning isn't really an option when we're dealing with something spontaneous."
"All?" I found myself repeating.
Dad's head swiveled slowly to look at me. "Yes, Sam, I thought you should join us."
Dean looked solemn, but a little bit proud, if I was reading him right. With that in mind, I nodded. "Yes, sir."
That night was warm. Mosquitoes whined around our heads as we waited, leaning against the side of the Impala. Dean killed about five with his large, clapping hands, which earned him about five hard glares. I met his eyes, a good foot or so above the top of my head, and he gave a short little nod that told me he was trying to be professional. Of course he was. Dean was Daddy's perfect little soldier.
We watched as the werewolf turned his lights out. Dad nodded at us, and we got our guns ready, beginning our silent trek up his front steps. Dean quickly picked the lock on the front door, and we stepped inside. The house only had one floor, and when Dad found the werewolf's bedroom, he gave a short, quiet whistle. Dean and I went to him. "Get ready," Dad hissed through the darkness. I couldn't see his face, but just behind him there was a patch of shimmering moonlight on the floor from the window. Behind that was the door. "On three. One. Two. Three."
He opened the werewolf's door. The man was still a man, just barely asleep in his bed. The wise option would be to shoot him now, before he changed. But Dad was looking at my brother and I, and as Dean and I looked at each other, I knew that neither of us could do it. We'd killed tons of monsters before - spirits, pagan gods, zombies, and other werewolves. But something about killing a man, even though you knew - you knew - he was a monster... my 18-year-old brother couldn't do it. And neither could I.
Dad set his jaw and shifted his gaze and gun to the sleeping man. This is it,I thought. Dad's just gonna shoot this guy.He almost did, too. But then, out of nowhere, the light in the window seemed to shine brighter, and the man in the bed was not a man anymore. I realized he had changed. He leapt up and knocked the gun out of my father's hands. A shot went off against the wall. The werewolf pounced on Dad, taking him to the ground. "Sam!" Dean shouted. "I can't shoot him, I might shoot Dad. How's your angle?"
My angle was perfect. My aim was better. With a single, terrifying howl, the werewolf collapsed, my silver bullet now living in the center of his dying heart. There was a moment where nobody moved, nobody spoke. I think they were secretly a little shocked that their little Sammy just shot the guy. I lowered my gun. Then, slowly, the room came to life again. Dean clapped me on the back and shot me a, "Nice one, Sammy!" and Dad pushed the dead werewolf away from him, dusting himself off. He gave me a rare smile. "Very good, Sam."
I smiled slightly, nodding. We made our way back to the Impala, where Dean promptly began blasting Metallica again, and Dad just shook his head and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel along with the beat. With the full moon in the sky and Enid, Oklahoma in the rearview mirror, my family and I drove away.
A/N: I dunno about this. It's my first for SPN, and it's not that good, not really up to my standards that I have set for myself, but I like it enough to post it, so. Yeah. I dunno. It's four pages, a page longer than the teacher assigned in the episode, but Sam's just a kissass like that? Haha. Okay. Anyway. Let me know what you think, especially characterization-wise. I tried so hard to keep them in character, but I dunno if it worked as well as I had hoped. Review?