Can something as simple as learning to drive form a wedge between the Winchesters? Sam is 15 (not quite 16), Dean just turned 20.
This is a oneshot fic for the boards on supernatural (dot) tv for crazy4jared. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes, sadly, are my own.
I know it's been sometime since I put anything out, but my muse has been shot. I hope this one isn't disappointing as there is no limp Sammy. (sadly!)
Reviews are always love!
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The slamming of the door echoed throughout the current headquarters of the hunting family of the Winchesters, causing the eldest son to jump from his spot slouched on the couch watching some sit-com that didn't really interest him as much as provide background noise while he cleaned their cache of weapons.
He counted to three before the door flung open then reslammed with as much (if not more) force than it had the first time.
"Don't you walk away from me, Sam!"
Dean Winchester, while he tried to be the buffer between his father (his hero) and his kid brother (the boy he vowed to always protect) knew when to keep his nose clean, and this was one of those times … so he sank lower on the sagging couch, wishing he could just fall into the cushions and get lost like that change you swore was in your pocket the day before, but vanished as mysteriously as that other black sock you put in the dryer.
"Just forget it dad! It's not like you're ever going to trust me!"
"You nearly wrecked the truck. So when am I supposed to trust you? After you've killed us both?"
"Because you were screaming in my ear!"
"You had the radio up too loud."
Dean would later swear he could feel the steam radiating from his younger brother's ears, and not for the first time he tried to practice the ancient art of Zen … and become one with the cushion.
"Just … forget it. I'll never learn to drive! Not with Mr. Perfectionist sitting beside me!"
"Damn it Sam, you…"
But the slam of the bedroom door ended John Winchester's rant, though the anger he felt at his youngest son permeated the room like a thick fog to suffocate everything in its path, and Dean just ducked lower, hoping to not be noticed.
"What in the hell am I supposed to do with him?"
No such luck!
Turning to peek over the back of the couch, Dean glanced to his dad to gauge him, and in that slow voice you use when you aren't sure of what kind of reaction you'll get, Dean said those four damning words.
"I could teach him."
John Winchester turned to stare as if his oldest had grown three heads and needed to be hunted!
"What?"
"Well, you know damn well that you and Sam mesh about as well as ghosts and rock salt."
"We aren't that bad!"
Dean gave him that arched brow are you shitting me look and John Winchester shook his head.
"He needs to trust me, Dean."
"He does trust you dad."
"Not like he trusts you."
Dean puffed with pride, but then quickly deflated at the look on his father's face. While John and Sam had butted heads since Sam was about thirteen, Dean knew that his father very much wanted to find that connection with Sam … just as he was quite aware that the feeling was mutual.
"Fine … I won't teach him to drive."
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Sam sat sullenly in the chair as his father checked the weapons for the third time, Dean at his side, rechecking everything John had already packed.
"Dean…"
"Just making sure you have everything."
"I've been doing this since Sam was still in diapers."
"Yeah, well, it's not like he potty trained easily. Remember that time we were at the mall and …"
The look the youngest Winchester shot his brother should have killed him instantly (if looks could kill) and Dean just gave him that big brother, cheesy grin.
"Come on Sammy, don't get your panties in a bunch."
"It's Sam."
"Yeah, ok, Sammy."
Sam glowered, though Dean only gave him a grin before his attention was once again riveted to his father's packing.
"I should be going with you."
"Can't, Sam can't miss school."
"I don't need a babysitter you know."
"Dad, it's Thursday, he'd only be missing two days and …" That said as if Sam hadn't spoken at all, but Sam was used to being shut out of decisions when it came to his father and brother.
"I should be back by Monday."
"But dad …"
"Check all the salt lines, lock the doors and windows."
"Dad…"
John grabbed up his duffle and turned to his eldest.
"Look Dean, it's a simple hunt, and I need you here. I've left plenty of money in the emergency change stash, and if anything happens, call Pastor Jim."
He wanted to argue, to make his father see he needed him, but with the look on John's face, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, "Yes, Sir."
John grinned and clapped him on the shoulder before glancing over at the last act of love Mary gave them and inwardly sighed.
"Mind your brother, Sammy."
Sam looked up at his father's tone and offered a fleeting smile. "Yes, Sir."
John gave his own smile back before he walked out the door, the rumble of his truck heard moments later.
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"So … "
Sam shrugged his shoulder but didn't look up, he knew what was coming. Knew it as well as he knew that he was the prime directive of the Winchester family of three.
"I've been thinking … "
Inwardly he groaned, but said nothing, just kept his nose buried in the book he was currently reading. Those had to be the worst three words (four if you counted so) that came from Dean Winchester's mouth in the history of the world. And, so Sam, being the smart one of the family, pretended he didn't hear anything.
That is until the tapping started.
Dean always did know how to get to him, and while Sam's determination was strong (hell, he could out stubborn a wall!), Dean's was stronger. And finally Sam lowered the book and just glared.
"…That you've been geekboy long enough, and need some fun in your life Sammy!"
Sam rolled his eyes and tried picking up the book again, only to have it snatched away.
"Dean, will you stop? I'm trying to study and …"
"It's Friday, Sam!"
"Yeah, and your point?"
"Come on Sam, live a little."
"You go."
"No can do, Sam, dad would kill me!"
"Like he's even going to find out."
"On the off chance that something happens, I'm not risking it."
"Dean…"
"Come on Sammy, please…"
Sam might have mastered the puppy dog eyes, but Dean had this look he could give his brother (reserved for emergencies only!) that had his younger brother crumbling. Like now.
"I'll get the keys!"
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The bar was crowded, so Sam sat in the corner with his book blocking his view of the drunks and pick up artists. At least mostly. There were the occasional glances to search for his brother, but once Dean was spotted and diagnosed as all right, the book would come back up again.
That is until Dean stumbled over and flopped in the seat across from him. The book lowered, and one look to his brother and Sam knew their evening was over. Dean had no doubt won his game of pool, along with a few phone numbers. Numbers he might not call on tonight since he had his kid brother as tag along, but he would before the Winchesters left this one horse town.
"Sammy … I don't think I can drive."
Sam paused in his reaching for the passenger door of the Impala and glanced to Dean with an incredulous look. Glancing up, he sighed, and then looked back to his older brother.
"You're kidding … right?"
"No, Sam, I'm not. I had some … I don't even remember the name of the drink, but it screamed, and it had to do with sex."
The youngest Winchester rolled his eyes and sighed. It being late February in New England, the air was beyond chilled, it was downright frigid, and Sam wasn't looking forward to walking the three miles back to their hotel room.
"Great … just … great."
Before he had a chance to even go on his little brother tirade, the keys to the Impala came sailing at his head; quick reflexes bringing his hand up to snatch them midair before they pegged him between the eyes.
"You drive us."
"What? Dean, I don't even have my license."
"I'm not leaving my baby here!"
"Oh but you'll trust me to drive her?"
"Damn right! Cause if you put one scratch on her, I'll kill you."
Sam rolled his eyes and just stared at his older brother, but as Dean moved around to the passenger side with that stubborn look on his face, it left him no choice but to move to the driver's side of the Impala for the first time other than starting it once for a quick get away when he was twelve.
"You sure about this?"
"Start the car."
With shaking hands the key was turned, bringing the rumble of the Impala to life. Sam Winchester was a bundle of nerves as he glanced in his rearview and put the car in drive to pull it from the parking space. Easing the classic car out and to the drive that would lead them to the road, he glanced left, then right, and as he pulled out into traffic, the easy tone of his brother filtered into ears that had seemed to drone everything else out.
"Easy, Sammy, give it a little gas."
A breath was let out, and his foot eased down onto the pedal, though despite the calm beside him, beads of sweat broke out on his brow.
"That's it, you got it…"
The words followed him the three miles back to the motel, and as the signal was put on to turn into the motel parking lot, his brother's deep voice broke his own reverie.
"Keep going, once more around."
"What? I thought you were drunk."
With a grin, Dean sank lower in the passenger seat. "I am Sammy; the purr of my baby is the only thing keeping me from puking!"
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"That was great Sam! If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were practicing while I was away."
Dean was once again settled on the couch, a bag of peanut M&M's sitting beside him as he worked on dismantling one of their revolvers to clean it.
"Yeah right, the only car here was the Impala, and Dean barely lets me ride in it, much less drive it."
John chuckled and Sam gave him a smile that had been missing for a few weeks. It brought a melancholy smile of his own as he watched his youngest; realizing for the first time that he was growing up … yet looked so innocent.
"I'm gonna go study, I have a big test tomorrow."
"Yeah, okay."
The door to Sam's room closed a moment later, though John continued to stare at the closed door before turning to gaze at his eldest, who seemed intent on cleaning their cache of weaponry.
"Hey Dean …"
"Yeah, dad?"
"You didn't … take Sam driving did you?"
With a snort, Dean turned his head and gave John an incredulous look.
"I barely let you drive it anymore dad, are you kidding?"
John shook his head and nodded. "I should have known."
As John Winchester turned for the kitchen and some much needed coffee, Dean turned back to the revolver he'd been working on and grinned … a devilish grin enough to make the yellow-eyed demon take notice.
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