For those of you who have read my earlier stories, I've mentioned this already, but I just wanted to say it again. This story is inspired by a lot of conversations with (mostly) dljensengirl88 over John and his relationships with his sons and why they are the way they are and what's really behind them. I knew my next story was going to be mostly John-centric (though my Dean girl-ness will probably shine through) and show his taking care of his sons. What I didn't know was exactly what plotline to use. Either way it would be rather whumpy, but one of the two ideas I had it narrowed down to was really, really dark and I opted away from it, both because it was darker and because it was a much larger endeavor. I might reboot that one eventually, which will end me up with two essentially identical stories, but I feel they both have their own merits and whatnot. Anyway, this one was the one I decided to do for now. All mythology is totally made up. I thought I might research an actual monster and try to fit this story into it… but it just never really fit with the story I was trying to write. Hopefully, the logic will be sound anyway.

I don't know how often I will be updating. At the moment, I'm right in the middle of a story I plan to really work at and get published – not to mention AP tests are starting soon. I'll try to keep it going (especially since I know how it ends) fairly regularly, but I'll be honest. The less reviews there are, the slower I'll be, since I feel like the sloppier my writing/ideas are, the less reviews I get. I'll still finish, of course, but I just wanted to mention that. Anyway, that all aside, on with the show!

Also, Dean is 19, Sam is 15. So… after Sam's a teen but before the Stanford drama.

Disclaimer: Please. I don't own Supernatural.

Sam was sulking.

Ever since he'd turned about thirteen, that was almost a given. John tried his best to ignore his youngest in the backseat. He wanted to say something about how Sam would like it in this new place, how the school had an awesome debate team (was Sam still involved in that?) or how he'd once helped the landlady with a poltergeist a few years ago and they would have an actual house to live in for once, but he had no doubt that efforts to placate his youngest would only end up with another fight between them.

They had only had their last one a few hours ago, throwing them into a stifling silence. Dean occasionally tried to crack a joke, but even he had stopped a while ago, settling for occasionally peeking in the rearview mirror to see if Sam was still holding up, still moderately alright as he slumped against the window, glaring at the world around them, as though blaming it for sliding away from them, putting more distance between them and their latest temporary home.

John had said some bad things to his son, he knew, but he could hardly remember what they were or what he and Sam had really been fighting about. Everything with Sam just turned into a haze of fury. Hell, if anyone asked him where Dean had even been during that fight, he couldn't have answered.

"We'll be there soon," he said gruffly.

"Thank god," Dean said loudly. "I'm starving." He looked back at Sam subtly, but all he got for his efforts was another round of dark mutterings. He swallowed and sank back into his seat, fighting not to show his misery.

"We'll be staying in a real nice house," John offered, but that had just as little effect as Dean's prodding. "And a great school, I hear."

"That we'll be leaving," Sam gritted out under his breath.

John swallowed down his annoyance at Sam's stubborn melancholy. He wished Sam would just see what they were fighting against, why he kept following after it – to save people, to keep themsafe. He let out an exasperated breath. "Give it a try, Sam," he said, as patiently as he could. "You never know what could happen."