Title: Green Eyed Monster
Summary: Sam has a hard time accepting the fact that he is no longer his brother's sole center of attention when Dean becomes friends with the son of their Dad's current hunting partner. Soon the unresolved tension between the boys starts to escalate. Pre-series. Gen. Jealous!Sam. Protective!BigBro!Dean
Warning: Rated T for bad language and explicit descriptions of violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Author's notes: Couldn't resist another pre-series work. Dean is 17/18, Sam is 13.
"Dean," John called his eldest from where he was bent over the trunk of the Impala, rifling through the contents without looking up. "C'mere for a second."
Listening to his son's approaching footsteps, John straightened up, wiping the smudges of gun oil from his calloused fingers with an old rag and throwing the lid closed.
"What's up?" Dean asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where the Jackson boy was waiting for him- John having interrupted the incessant chatter of the two teenagers much to both their annoyance.
It wasn't often that Dean got along so well with someone out of their small circle of friends and family. Most of the time, when they breezed through yet another town, Dean was too busy chasing tail or researching their newest case to try and make any new friends. But this was different.
Mark was the son of one of John's hunting partners and just so happened to be in Dean's age, sharing his eldest's passion for classic cars, rock music and most importantly- his enthusiasm for hunting which of course lead to an instant connections between the boys.
Unfortunately it also meant that Dean was slacking on the job- too busy exchanging stories about the latest Wendigo hunt to notice the way Sam had stalked off to their motel room with a broody expression on his face about half an hour ago.
"Where's your brother?" John asked, knowing fair and well where Sam was but trying to find out whether Dean had paid attention.
"Inside?" Dean hazarded, scratching the back of his neck.
"That a question or an answer?" John questioned, thread of steel lacing the words. Then he sighed, deflating a little and telling himself not to be too hard on the boy. After all, Dean deserved a break every once in a while.
It was just that he had become so used to the boys taking care of each other-having each other's back- that it had been a long while since he's had to do the job himself.
"He's inside… sulking. I want you to get him out of his funk before we go, you hear? We're leaving in twenty and I can't have him distracted on the job."
Dean didn't look too enthusiastic about his task of having to get a moody fourteen-year-old ready for a hunt, but he didn't let his dismay show for long, face smoothing out into obedient compliance.
"Yessir," he murmured, kicking at a pebble on the ground before moving back towards Mark and bumping shoulders with the slightly smaller, stockier boy.
"Teenage boys, huh?" Jackson senior chuckled in a gruff voice, slinging his own duffle over a shoulder and dumping it in the back of his beat-up truck. "Ain't nothing like 'em…"
Jackson was a good man. Had lost his own wife to a non-supernatural cause- cancer or something… John had never dared to ask for the details. He was a little gruff around the edges, swearing like a sailor and still relatively new to the business, but quick on the uptake and a wicked shot if John has seen any.
They've been on several successful hunts together, but this was the first time they were taking the boys along, having met a day early in one of Bobby's vacated wooden cabins at the edge of town just so the kids could get acquainted. Dean and Mark have hit it off immediately, all playful banter and macho mannerism while John and Tom have discussed the hunt- concocting a strategy and distributing roles within their group.
Sam had been deeply engulfed in one of his English books, trying to block it all out and dissociate himself from the scene.
John had noticed that something was up with his youngest, could tell that it was more than just the annoyance that came from having to go on a hunt when all he really wanted to do was bury his nose in school work.
But then again Sam had always been hard to understand for John. Dean was much better at it- could read Sam like a book and get into his mindset quite easily despite all their differences.
"Yeah…" John sighed, watching Mark and Dean as they disappeared in the motel room, probably trying to work on Sam with combined forces. "Easy for you to say… you only have one."
Tom laughed, clapping his shoulder amicably. "Believe me Mark's more than a handful on his best day. Been thinking about giving him up for adoption a couple of times already…"
John snorted. Yeah right.
He might not have known Tom for long, but from the way he kept gloating about his boy and kept throwing him proud glances from aside whenever he thought Mark wasn't looking it wasn't hard to tell how fond he was of his kid. Of the man he turned into.
John knew the feeling.
His boys were growing up so fast, but they were smart and capable already, loyal to a default and they had their hearts in the right spot. Sometimes John looked at them and could barely believe his eyes- could barely believe how strong and pure and brave they turned out to be in a world so filled with darkness and evil.
"You're full of it," John chuckled deep in his throat, feeling some of the tension ease from his shoulders.
"Not even kidding," Tom insisted, shaking his head, lips thinning out a little as he remembered something. "Two weeks ago some old fling called him, claiming to be pregnant. Gave me the fucking scare of my life."
John swallowed, thinking about Dean and his endless string of unattached one-night-stands. He'd be lying if he said the thought of having a grandchild out there somewhere without them knowing hadn't at least crossed his mind once or twice before.
John really, really hoped his son was careful when sleeping around because the very last thing they ever needed was baby Winchester on their hands. And knowing his eldest, John was well aware that Dean would never leave a girl alone with his kid- would never completely abandon her with the burden of having to raise his offspring when there was something he could do about it. Not with the way Dean worshipped family.
His heart was too big for that, even if he didn't see himself that way- or hadn't realized it yet.
So yeah- Dean needed to be careful.
Or John would kick his ass.
But so far- he had been wrapping it up quite well- apparently.
Mark on the other hand… well- not so much.
"What happened?" John frowned, sounding genuinely concerned. It was hard enough having to worry about two teenage boys, but having to protect a young mother and baby on top of that- it was unthinkable. John really didn't want to imagine what Tom must have felt like, being in that position.
"It wasn't his… God knows who knocked that girl up… Should have seen Mark when he found out, guy was so relieved he started dry heaving in the parking lot of the hospital… I could have kicked his ass from here to China for doing something so stupid."
John shook his head, imagining the scene and feeling a sting of empathy for Mark… and that girl.
Teenagers could be rash sometimes. They got caught up in a tangle of emotions and hormones and did stupid shit without thinking it through first. Hell, John had made his own fair share of mistakes when he was eighteen.
But of course that wasn't an excuse.
Especially in their line of work it was important to keep a clear head- stay focused and most importantly- not to get attached to anybody. Unless they were family, that was.
It was a tough life. But it was worth it, being who they were- doing what they did.
They were making the world a better place.
And sometimes that was all that really matterd.
"Dean never done anythin' stupid like that?"
John snorted, raising both of his eyebrows. "You kidding me? I've dragged his sorry ass out the CBGB in Manhattan once… drunk to the gills and hanging out with a crowd twice his age and three times as scary. Told me he hated me afterwards…"
And to hell with it, but that one still stung.
Sure, Dean had apologized for it once he was sober and clear-minded enough to realize what a huge fucking mistake he had made- how dangerous it had been to get himself incapacitated when he was surrounded by druggies and punks and what not…
But it had still hurt to hear his son say that.
And he would never be able to forget the surge of fear that had overcome him when he found Dean almost passed out in that seedy joint- young and vulnerable and alone.
"Ouch," Tom sympathized, straightening the battered cap on his head. "No wonder they get along so well, huh?"
"I guess…" John agreed, shooting an impatient look towards the motel room door, wondering what took the boys so long.
"Bet you're not having the same trouble with your younger one, huh? Stan seems like a quiet one to me… barely heard him say a word all day yesterday. He always like that?"
"Sam… his name's Sam," John corrected easily, not taking offense in the slip-up. Sam had been uncharacteristically bitchy the night before- shooting glowers at all of them and barely talking at all unless John asked him a direct question. No wonder Thomas hadn't remembered the kid's name after Sam had behaved like a grumpy six-year-old and spent most of the night hidden behind one of his stupid classic literature books.
"And no. He's not much like his brother. He's… a little more on the emotional side, sharp like a tool, but too soft for this kind of work. I'm trying to toughen him up but somehow—"
"It ain't that easy, huh?"
John almost laughed. "You have no idea."
Tom nodded, looking like he understood, though John doubted he got the extent of Sam's complexity from such a brief conversation.
It was the last thing either of them said for a while.
"C'mon squirt," Dean chucked a long-sleeved shirt at his little brother's head and grabbed Sam's duffle from the floor, starting to carelessly pack it with Sam's clothes. "Dad said to get ready in twenty and you haven't even got dressed yet."
"Why can't I just sit this one out?" Sam shot back grumpily, jerking the shirt from his head and getting up from where his school papers were spread out on the kitchen counter. "I'm having an English test next Tuesday that I need to study for."
"Dude," Mark threw in from the side. "You'd rather spend the day cramming than to go on a Rugaru Hunt? Are you out of your mind?"
"Nobody asked you," Sam gave back in a clipped tone, pulling the long-sleeved shirt over his head and mussing a hand through his tousled bangs.
Dean rolled his eyes and exchanged a look with his new buddy, continuing to pack Sam's duffle.
"Untwist your panties, Samantha. Dad said you have to come and that's that. You wanna fight him on it- you're on your own. I've had enough of your bitching for one day."
"Big surprise," Sam murmured, letting out a long exhale before giving in and starting to pack his school work away. "It's not like you're ever on my side."
Dean's shoulders tensed and his movement stilled mid-packing. His eyes narrowed to small slots of anger as he took in his brother's words. "Never on your side?" he repeated incredulously, turning halfway backwards to meet Sam's stare. "I'm never on your fucking side, Sam? How about you think first before you say shit like that, huh?"
"But it's true!" Sam beckoned, dropping his school bag on the ground next to his twin bed, hands balled into fists by his side and chest heaving with angry little puffs of air.
Mark stood next to them awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable getting caught up in the middle of their fight.
"You're always following dad around like he's your drill sergeant and doing everything he asks you to. You don't even care that I'm gonna fail my class if I miss this exam as long as you still get to go on your precious hunt—"
"That's bull and you know it!" Dean cut him off, chucking the crammed duffel at Sam's chest and watching his younger brother stagger a few steps back under the weight and momentum of the bag.
"You know I've tried to talk dad out of it, but he wouldn't budge. There's only so much I can do, alright? Besides, we're probably not gonna stick around until Tuesday anyways, so how about you quit being a girl and grow up for once?"
"Fine," Sam sneered, eyes narrowed in rage and frustration as he slung the duffle over his shoulder and grabbed his other bag from beside the bed. "You and Mark go chat it up and have fun. I'm driving with Dad's truck."
Dean blinked when the door fell into lock, leaving him and Mark behind in the motel room.
"What's up with him?" Mark asked after a second had passed.
Dean's jaw was locked, muscle twitching.
Sam never EVER chose to drive in Dad's truck.
Ever since Dean had gotten the keys to the Impala, his brother had always opted to join Dean on the passenger seat of the classic Chevy car instead of going with his father.
"Hell if I know… must be PMS'ing or somethin'."
Mark snorted with laughter and the tension was broken. "How in the world do you deal with this every day? The kid needs to get his head out of his ass and man up…"
"Yeah…"
It bothered Dean a bit to have Mark talk that way about his brother… after all he didn't usually let anybody get away with talking shit about his family.
But with the way Sam had behaved just now… Dean couldn't really hold Mark's words against him.
Dean was sick and tired of tending to the kid's every need if he got so little in return.
No, this time, Sammy was on his own.
The drive to the case was filled with tension.
John couldn't remember ever having driven Sam anywhere in his truck- not since Dean got the Impala, but here they were- a moody teenager on the passenger seat with a dog-eared and battered looking version of 'How to kill a mockingbird' in his hands.
It wasn't exactly like John didn't want his son driving with him, it had just never really come up- what with the boys being so close and Dean always taking Sam to his soccer practices and friends' houses…
The fact that Sam had now willingly flung his bags into the trunk of John's truck instead of the Impala was reason enough to worry- but the brooding pout on Sam's face was confirming his suspicion that something must have happened in that motel room- that his boys must have had some sort of fight in his absence.
Just great.
Exactly what they needed before a hunt.
Unresolved tension and a whole lot of pent-up emotion distracting his boys from the task at hand.
John bit his lower lip, trying to quench his own frustration.
They had crossed the city limit when he finally decided to break the silence. "Give it a rest, Sam," he sighed, knowing his next words were probably going to provoke yet another argument. "I need your head in the game for this, alright? You can finish your book when we get back."
Sam turned the page without looking up, face scrunched up in concentration, "I need to get this done until Tuesday."
John felt his annoyance flair at the teenager's moody response and before he knew what he was doing he had reached over and snatched the book from Sam's fingers.
"Hey!" Sam protested, eyes widening in shock and hands fumbling to retrieve the novel from his father's grasp, but John had already cranked the window and tossed the thin booklet out of the driving car.
"What the hell did you do that for?! I needed that!"
"Should have thought about that before you ignored an order," John gave back, watching the book hit the road in a flutter of pages on the stretch of road displayed in the rearview mirror.
Sam huffed, nostrils flaring and cheeks reddening with rage. "I'm not Dean! I will never be following you around like your personal lapdog!"
"Nice Sam," John shot back, pushing the gas and tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Does Dean know that's how you think of him? I'm sure he'd love to hear that…"
John knew his words had hit home when Sam averted his gaze, eyes shimmering with a strange kind of hurt John couldn't pinpoint.
His youngest looked a lost and miserable, skin stretched tight over his features and eyes alit with aching loneliness.
"Dean's off being best buddies with Mark," Sam mumbled after a beat of tense silence, shoulders hanging low and head tipped forward. "Finally found someone who shares his love for Busty Asian Beauties and decapitating Vampires. I don't think he cares about what I think right now."
There we go… mystery solved.
John could have slapped himself for not having figured it out sooner.
"You're jealous," he said with a hint of wonder in his tone, eyebrows slightly raised as if to dare Sam to deny it.
"What?" Sam had never been one to ignore a challenge. "No I'm not. That's ridiculous."
"Yes you are," John stated, shaking his head. "Your brother made a friend and you're begrudging him that. I can't believe you."
"It's not like that!" Sam snapped, crossing his arms in front of his chest like a petulant toddler. "You're getting it all mixed up."
"That's what you were fighting over, wasn't it? Back at the motel?"
Sam snorted, lips pressed together and face tight with anger.
He didn't say anything, just stared out of the window.
"I expect you to talk things out with your brother and apologize when all of this is over, you hear me?"
Sam gaped at his father, eyes sparking with defiance. "Apologize for what? You don't even know what happened! You just always automatically assume that I'm at fault, don't you?"
"I'm through discussing this with you, Sam. Whatever got a stick up your ass needs to wait until this hunt is over. I can't have you distracted on the job because of an immature hissy fit you throw over some stupid English paper. You're gonna get someone killed if you don't get your head in the game right freaking now, you understand me?"
John knew the exact second he had gone too far- felt the moment he had overstepped the invisible line and gone from being authoritative and parenting to cruel.
Sam's angry glower turned into a grimace of hurt and disbelief. "You think I'm gonna get someone killed?" he whispered, voice taking on a pleading quality.
Begging him to deny what he'd just said- asking him to take it all back.
John swallowed drily, continuing to stare out of the windshield and ignored the way his youngest looked at him.
His heart told him to give in, to go soft on the kid- to at least keep some of the broken piles of their father-son-relationship intact.
But his brain told him something else- conjured up images of his sons- hurt, injured, bleeding… dying.
He couldn't let it happen.
He could deal with it if they hated him, but he would never watch them die.
Never.
"I think it's a possibility. If you're not focused on the job- if you're too distracted to pay proper attention you could get yourself injured… or someone else. You know Dean would step in front of you if—"
"Dad!" Sam looked mortified- utterly disgusted at his father's words- at the meaning behind them- the picture they painted in his youngest's mind.
John sighed, feeling like a tool.
He didn't like to use one of his boys against the other, but it was one of the few things that instantly worked on Sam when all else failed and he was desperate.
"Just… just be careful tonight, alright? Remember your positions, watch your steps, aim at the head and don't hesitate if you get a clear shot, you hear me?"
"Yes, sir," Sam bit out from behind clenched teeth, eyes glistening in the dull gleam of the sunset and John couldn't help but bristle at the way Sam made it sound like 'Fuck you'.
It wasn't the same as the "I hate you" Dean had spat at him on that fateful night in New York, but given the fact that Dean had been drunk off his ass at the time and Sam wasn't, John felt the words hit him just as hard.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, scratching his stubble absentmindedly and letting out a heavy breath before flooring the gas pedal.
"So Tom and I are gonna be on the advance. Dean and Mark- you'll have Sammy in your team—" John explained as he distributed flare guns among the group, disregarding Dean's annoyed eye roll and Sam's lack of protest at the use of his loathed nickname.
Mark grimaced, seemingly unhappy about the break down of groups and jabbed an elbow into Dean's side, conspiratorially whispering something into the blond teenager's ear that sent them both snickering.
John was tempted to ignore their childish behavior and get the strategizing done with when he noticed the flicker of hurt that crossed Sam's expression and the way his youngest shrank back against John's side, shoulders slumping with rejection at his brother's laughter.
And John felt a little out of his element here- knowing Dean didn't mean anything by it and yet angry at his oldest for unsuspectingly adding even more fuel to his little brother's raging fire of jealousy.
"Something you want to share with the class, Mark?" John snapped, anger flaring up to new life in his chest at the irresponsible behavior of the two older teenagers.
Slowly but surely he was beginning to think that bringing the boys along hadn't been the best idea he's ever come up with.
Mark inclined his head to the side, chin jutted out daringly and in the sudden tension that filled the air John could have heard a needle dropping.
Thomas shifted uneasily next to his son's side, ready to interfere, but John held up a hand to silence him. "You have something to say, say it. Don't hold back on my account, boy."
John had the creeping suspicion that for all his macho-attitude Tom wasn't much of an authoritative father for his son. And it wasn't bis place to be judging- god knew John had his fair share of trouble keeping his own boys in line- especially with the way Sam was fighting him every step along the way- but at least his sons knew when to hold their tongues.
Mark on the other hand? Boy never got the memo.
"Not a big fan of your strategy,'s all…" Mark shrugged nonchalantly, almost as if he was talking about the weather.
John locked his jaw in anger- cheek muscle twitching with the urge to scream.
"Well, tough luck," he gave back after a moment of silence, forcing his voice to stay calm as he held the teenager's defiant gaze. "My hunt, my strategy. If you don't like it, you're out."
Mark shot him a glower, but didn't say anything else and John looked at him for just a little while longer in silent warning before reverting his attention back to the arsenal of weapons he had laid out on the ground.
"So if there's no other remarks—" John paused with a pointed look towards Mark- "I'll go through the plan once again. Like I said- Tom and me on the advance, the three of you giving us cover- Dean, I'll need you on the lookout okay? You're good at long distance, but I need you to make your shots count. Can't have that thing running amok if you miss…"
Dean nodded obediently, eyes glimmering with pride at John's casual compliment on his shooting skills. John's chest ached a little at the way his eldest was practically soaking in the rare moments of fatherly attention he was given- especially knowing Dean deserved so much more than that- but the moment was broken just as quickly as it had come.
"Sammy and Mark you'll have Dean's back, give him cover. Watch out for fast movements and keep your ears wide open. Remember to always have your flare guns ready. Fire's practically the only thing that's gonna help you kill these fuckers."
John really fucking hoped it wouldn't come to that, but you never knew.
He and Tom had purposefully located their sons' vantage point pretty far away from where they'd spotted the Rugaru the first time, not wanting them to be in the direct line of fire. But there were plenty of things that could go wrong on a hunt and John wanted his boys to be ready in case something unexpected happened.
Rugaru hunts usually went over smoothly and on a difficulty level of 0-10 John would say they were a straight five.
Not too hard.
But still hard enough to challenge the kids.
To ease them into the business.
Manageable.
Dean could probably handle this one by himself already, but John wasn't ready to let his oldest go on a hunt by himself just yet.
"So, any questions?" John asked, strapping a Beretta to his belt and watching Thomas do the same with his old army revolver. For a second, John contemplated asking the other hunter what he was thinking bringing such a measly gun to a hunt, but then he dropped the issue, figuring Tom would have his reasons.
He had to remind himself that Tom was still relatively inexperienced when it came to hunting- practically a greenhorn.
Which wasn't the most reassuring thought in the world.
And maybe bringing the Jacksons along really hadn't been his brightest idea.
John sighed and closed his eyes.
No sense wallowing over past decisions. They were gonna be just fine.
Rugaru hunts were easy, after all.
A gust of wind breezed through the tree crowns above their heads, making John shiver with a fearful sense of foreboding rather than with cold he should have been feeling.
His heart clenched oddly in his chest when he watched Sam's long auburn hair getting whipped around by the force of nature and catching at the corners of his lips.
"You need a haircut," he muttered under his breath, brushing the tousled strands back from Sam's face before he could stop himself. Sam stared up at him, too shocked by the unexpected gesture of affection to protest against his father's touch.
But then his usual bitchy self too over control and Sam snapped out of his reverie, shoving his father's hands off with an annoyed eye roll. "Whatever, can we go now and get this over with?"
John sighed and the moment was broken.
They all grabbed their gear and looked about ready to start, when John waved his oldest over to the side of their camp. "Dean, a word?"
"What is it?" Dean asked as soon as they were out of earshot, looking puzzled.
"I thought I told you to get your brother out of his funk?"
"I did."
John raised an eyebrow. "By getting into a fight with him?"
Dean snorted, looking affronted. "You are aware that he spent the past couple of hours on the passenger side in your truck, right? If anything you're the one who got him into even more of a funk than he was in before. "
"Don't get smart with me, Dean," John growled warningly, not liking his son's tone of voice and the implication behind his words. He sure as hell hadn't started this conversation to get a lecture from his oldest.
"Look I'm sorry, what do you want me to say here, dad?" Dean sighed, backpedaling. "You should have left Sammy at the motel if you were worried about him getting distracted on the job. Now he's acting like a brat and there's nothing we can do about it."
John locked his jaw, not liking the fact that Dean so carelessly disregarded the fact that his little brother was posing a threat to the hunt by being too emotional and not thinking clearly. Maybe Dean hadn't even noticed his brother's uncharacteristic behavior, but knowing his eldest that was unlikely.
The teenager could read his youngest too well for that- hell, Dean sometimes knew things about the kid when he hadn't realized them himself, like noticing the tell-tale signs of Sam getting sick when he wasn't outwardly showing any symptoms.
Call it motherly instinct or whatever, but Dean ALWAYS knew when something was up with Sam.
So chances were higher for the teen to be pissed off at Sam for something rash the kid had thrown at him during their fight than for him to not have realized how off his brother was behaving- even for a pubescent thirteen-year-old with mood-swings that could put a woman in menopause to shame.
Letting out a heavy breath, John shot his oldest a meaningful look before asking his next question, choosing his words carefully to let Dean know how important it was for him to answer truthfully.
"Dean, I need your honest opinion on this. Do you think your brother's up for this hunt, yes or no? Because if you don't then I'll just make him wait in the car— but I can't have him hurt because of some stupid fight you two had—"
Dean was insulted by his father's question. "You seriously think I'd let my guard down around him just because we butted heads?"
John rolled his eyes at his son's exaggeration and protective streak. Trust Dean to twist his words around when John needed it the least.
Knowing he needed to tread lightly around his oldest where Sammy's safety was concerned, John deflated a little, softening his voice and feature.
"No, of course not. I know you always have your brother's back, but if his head isn't in the game it could become dangerous for both of you, so tell me- is he up for this or not?"
Dean deflated a little, shoulders falling beneath John's old leather jacket. He took a second to contemplate his options before letting out a long exhale. "He's fine, sir… I'll set him straight."
John nodded, clapping his eldest on the back. "Good. I trust your judgment, son. Just keep an eye on him, alright?"
Dean's eyes flashed with a fiery spark and John couldn't help but feel even more insecure than he had before his talk with his eldest.
"I always do."
Sam was kicking at a pebble on the ground, listlessly watching it bounce and slither across the muddy earth, when Mark bumped his shoulder, drawing his attention away from where his father and brother were whispering secretively on the far side of their camp.
"Ready for some action, midget?"
Mark reached out to ruffle his hair, but Sam pulled away just in time to doge the other boy's hand. "Knock it off, Mark," he spat out, words coming out harsher than he'd meant for them to sound.
Mark's lips thinned out into an annoyed scowl at the blow-off. "Well… aren't you a prissy little bitch…" he snorted and Sam bristled at the comment, fingers balling up into fists by his side.
Hunting buddy or not—Mark didn't have the right to talk to him that way. Sure, Dean called him bitch sometimes, but he never said it degradingly or with anything else but brotherly affection. This was different. Mark was trying to rile him up on purpose.
And Sam told himself not to lower himself down to Mark's level, to show maturity by ignoring Mark's comment, but the teenager's next words hit right home, packing a punch that sent him reeling.
"No wonder, your brother can't stand your guts," Mark says in a voice low enough only to be heard by the two of them. "You're like a fucking milestone around the guy's neck."
On any other day- under any other circumstances Sam might have had to composure to put Mark in his place, but with his emotional walls already down from Dean's lack of support and his dad's earlier words in the car ride the younger Winchester felt his eyes well up to his absolute shame and horror.
Mark saw the tell-tale shimmer of tears before Sam had a chance to hide them or look away and there was no mistaking the gleeful tone in the older boy's voice when he snorted out a muttered breath of disgust. "Freaking loser…"
They were both so lost in the moment that they didn't even notice John's and Dean's approaching footsteps and as a consequence Sam was startled when his brother clamped a palm down on the back of his neck.
"You guys ready to get going?" Dean fell silent almost instantly, sensing the tension between his new friend and younger brother and looking down to meet his brother's gaze. "Hey, Sammy what—"
Sam yanked his shoulder out of Dean's grasp, stumbling back a few steps in his hurry to get away. "Don't touch me!"
Lashing out in anger to mask his hurt, Sam could feel the exact moment when Dean's concern morphed into annoyance.
"Fine," his older brother ground out, shouldering their dad's rifle and pushing past Sam, Mark falling in place beside him as they strode forward side by side.
Sam watched them through a blurry vision, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat.
Somehow he felt like he'd just made everything worse.
After about half an hour of tension-filled trekking through the woods, Mark finally declared he had to take a piss.
"Are you kidding me?" Sam hissed, eyes sparking with incredulity. "We've only left the camp site about thirty minutes ago. Couldn't you have dealt with business before that?"
"Hey, Dean?" Mark asked, back already turned as he moved further away from them, ignoring Sam's bitching and taking up a wide stance behind one of the trees. "Your brother always such a smartass?"
Dean rolled his eyes when Sam shot him an insulted look, chin jutted out as if to dare his big brother to answer that question.
Still angry from their earlier fight, Dean just shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Most of the time, yeah…" he conceded quietly and Sam had to look away to hide the pain he was sure must be reflected in his eyes.
On any other day- under any other circumstances- Dean would have kicked anybody's ass for talking shit about him.
But maybe Mark had been right- maybe Dean was just fed up with him and no longer wanted to put up with his pain-in-the-ass little brother.
Maybe Sam really just was an annoying milestone around his brother's neck, weighing him down.
Sam gulped and turned to look away at the sound of Mark's zipper coming undone, stalking off to walk down the path they'd been taking earlier.
"Stay within sight," Dean ordered under his breath, sounding exasperating like a mother talking to a disobedient toddler. "Sammy. Get back here, dad told us to stick together."
His tone was more urgent now and Sam felt the urge to kick his foot against the next tree trunk in anger and frustration.
He was about to shoot back a grumpy response when both of them suddenly stopped dead in their tracks upon hearing a loud rustle of leaves somewhere to their right.
Sam went rigid almost instantly because whatever had caused that sound wasn't just the wind. It had been too fast for that. Too loud.
One look at his older brother was enough to confirm is suspicion. Dean had noticed it too, eyes wide and unblinking as he continued to stare at the spot where the sound had come from.
"Mark?" Dean whispered, twisting around to send a frantic look over his shoulder, looking for the familiar outline of the other teenager's back and not finding it where it had been just seconds ago.
It had been twenty-five- maybe thirty meters away from where they were currently rooted to the ground like deer caught in headlights.
It took Sam a second to notice that Dean had crossed over to him, palm displayed protectively against his chest- pushing him back for his own safety and Sam heart clenched at the gesture, feeling oddly reassured by the fact that his brother was still watching out for him despite their earlier fight.
"You think—" Sam started whispering, but didn't get to finish his sentence when Dean clamped shaking fingers over his mouth, effectively shutting him up.
The older teenager's gaze was still fixated somewhere to their right, staring off into the distance completely undeterred by Sam's words, his free hand was holding a finger pressed against his lips in a silent prompt for silence.
Sam's heart threatened to beat right out of his chest as he stared up at his big brother, instinctively looking for guidance and protection.
Dean let go of him once he had made sure he got the message and Sam reached out to clutch his older brother's jacket with his shaking fingers.
The rustling started up again, louder this time, moving faster, coming closer.
"Dean!" Sam urged desperately, tugging at his brother's arm.
Something was wrong- this wasn't supposed to happen.
The Rugaru shouldn't even be anywhere near them right now- they hadn't even reached their position yet.
And there had been no traces in the muddy earth.
No footprints or scrub marks or streaks of blood smeared across the ground.
Sam knew it because he'd been paying attention.
"Dean–" Sam stammered wide-eyed, fumbling for his gun.
"Get behind me!" Dean yanked Sam back by the collar of his shirt, taking up a protective stance in front of him as he threw the rifle to the ground and ripped his gun from the back of his jeans.
He tried to aim at that thing but it was nothing but a blur of movement and sound in the darkness.
"Shit- I don't have a clear shot—" Dean hissed, voice cracking nervously as he stumbled back, pushing Sam further away from the danger. "MARK! Answer me, goddamnit!"
"Dean—" Sam tried once more, stumbling over a fallen tree branch in his haste to get away and nearly falling to the ground in the process. Dean's hand shot out to grab his wrist, catching him just in time to prevent the downfall, left arm still outstretched and aimed at the woods.
Sam's breathing sped up, as he tried to catch a glimpse of the monster from behind Dean's back, clenching and unclenching the worn-out material of his brother's leather jacket with his hands.
But the patch of trees and bushes in front of them no longer rustled with movement. Everything was deadly still for a moment and Dean took a daring step forward, aim unwavering as he moved closer.
Sam heart constricted with fear,, blood pumping through his veins and rushing to his ears.
Dean tensed up, back muscles twitching as his fingers clamped down on the trigger, ready to shoot and that was when Sam heard it.
Movement coming from behind him this time.
Too close, too fast, right fucking there—rightthererightthere….
"Sammy behind you!" Dean yelled and Sam whirled around just in time to see a dark figure rise up from the shadows, dark wormy skin, rotten teeth fletched in predatory anticipation and eyes leering dangerously down at him.
Sam's mind was spinning, his mouth dropped open in absolute horror as he fumbled hectically with his flare gun, trying to yank it from his belt but then the monster started laughing, deep, throaty hackles rumbling up from its stomach.
The world came to a sudden halt and everything around him turned into slow-motion.
Sam blinked, heart missing a beat as he took a double-take on the so-called 'Rugaru' and felt a glimmer of recognition ignite in his chest at the familiar features that were looming over him.
Mark's dark brown mob of hair peaked out from the bushes and there was mud smeared across the skin of his face, which in combination with the darkness had made his skin look like the one of a Rugarus's.
Sam was shaking all over, every fiber of his body trembling in shock and disbelief when the teenager gave himself away.
Mark straightened up from behind the bushes, brushing dirt from his jacket as if nothing happened.
"God you should have seen your fucking face—" he snorted gleefully, visibly proud of his achievement and Sam continued to blink up at him from behind a curtain of tousled bangs, still too shaken to fully comprehend what had just happened.
Apparently Dean was quicker to recover from his own shock.
"You son of a bitch!" the older Winchester growled, grabbing Mark by the lapels of his jacket to slam him up against the nearest tree trunk. "You think that shit you just pulled was funny? You think it's fun to almost get your fucking brains blown out, you stupid piece of shit?!"
Sam flinched back from the thunderous sound of his brother's voice.
He couldn't remember ever having seen Dean so pissed.
Mark's eyes were blown wide in shock at Dean's outrageous reaction- their noses only inches apart as Dean pressed his forearm against the other boy's neck, almost totally shutting off the guy's air supply as he continued to yell into his face.
"I had my finger on the fucking trigger- ready to pull- what the fuck would I've done if I killed you only to find out you were messing around! What would Sammy have done if he shot you by fucking accident, huh! You ever thought about that before you pulled your little prank?!"
Sam swallowed uneasily, still shaking all over as he watched the scene unfold, his legs trembling under the weight of his body- barely able to support him.
"Dean—" he breathed out in a quivering voice, but hearing his tone crack with emotion only seemed to enrage Dean more as he jostled Mark roughly by the shoulders, slamming him back against the tree with murderous intent. "You stupid sonofabitch!"
"Fuck, man—" Mark rasped, trying to rip himself free from Dean's restraining hold and finding that the older boy's grasp only ended up getting tighter in the process of his struggling.
"I just wanted to teach the little freak a lesson… Almost pissed his fucking pants when he saw me, didn't you Sammy?" Mark spat out over Dean's shoulder at Sam who was staring at them, eyes wide and filled to the brim but unblinking- somehow oddly detached from the whole scene.
And apparently that was the straw that broke the camel's back- or in Dean's case the needle that plopped his bubble of patience like a party balloon.
Dean roared- fucking roared –as he landed a flat handed punch to Mark's throat with brutal aim.
Sam felt sick at the sight, instantly recognizing the move for the lethal attack it was- an old army move their dad had taught them in case they needed to make short work of an enemy in close combat.
His brother wasn't trying to hurt Mark.
He was incapacitating him.
Neutralizing the threat.
A tiny half-gasp of pain left Mark's mouth when all the breath was knocked from his lungs in one swoop, but Dean didn't give him any time to recover. The second punch was aimed for the face, bones cracking audibly beneath his knuckles as he landed a sharp right hook on the boy's nose, breaking it in the process.
"Dean, stop it!" Sam's voice filtered through the red haze of rage in Dean's mind, pleading for his big brother to stop his attack and it was only then that Dean finally let go of the bloody mess Mark now was and took a step back from the boy's swaying form.
Mark dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, wheezing for air, blood trickling from his swollen nose and Sam drove both of his shaking hands through his messy hair, wondering how their night could have gone from pretty fucking bad to spectacularly catastrophic within a matter of ten minutes.
Their dad was off somewhere with Thomas- the Rugaru was still on the loose and if Sam had to guess he'd say that Dean had just caused Matt's airways to collapse.
That had to be a record of screw-ups, even for Winchester standards.
"You okay?" Dean asked Sam in a shaken voice, dropping down on one knee and reaching out to clasp Sam's trembling chin with his bruised and blood-smeared fingers. "Let me look at you."
"I'm fine," Sam brushed his brother's hands off despite the residing effects of shock and fear that course through his body. His wide, unblinking eyes were still fixated on the unsteady rise and fall of Mark's chest as he struggled to drag in air through his collapsed airways.
"What did you do?" Sam uttered breathlessly, feeling panic rise up in his chest at the thought that Mark was going to need medical attention.
Real medical attention and not just some hastily thrown-on bandages and a mouthful of Whisky to take the edge off.
"What the hell did you do, Dean?"
Instead of answering his question, Dean's mouth thinned out into a grim line.
"He'll live…" he said, making it sound as if that was something regrettable. "Just in a world of pain right now."
"But—"
"I'm gonna call dad," Dean cut him off, hand already sifting through his jacket in search of his cell phone. "Blow this whole thing off."
"But the hunt—"
"Someone else can do it," Dean's features were laced with a determination that held no room for arguments.
Sam had never seen him so angry before. So utterly out of character.
Dean never left a hunt unfinished.
Never turned his back on a case when there was even the slightest chance that he could finish it up himself.
It was scary to see this version of his brother- so much darker than the one he knew and loved.
"'m sorry, Dean—I shouldn't have—" He wasn't even sure what he was trying to apologize for, but the urge to make it up to his brother- to somehow make things alright between them was quickly overcoming his rationality.
Before Sam even got the chance to finish his broken apology, Dean pulled him in for a fierce hug.
"Shut up, Sam… Jesus, I thought—" Dean's voice caught in his throat as he buried his nose in Sam's hair and clutched at the back of the kid's shirt, squeezing him tight enough to leave bruises. "I didn't know… god, if I'd known he would do anything like that— I'd have never—Jesus for a second I thought y-you were seriously gonna get hurt and then when I realized—"
Dean was rambling, the words spilling from his mouth in a frantic rush and yet he was making perfect sense to Sam, every single one of his own fears represented in his brother's tone and words. Sam hugged Dean back and it should have felt weird to have such a strong reaction to a prank, but it didn't.
In their line of work, one mistake was all it took to get them killed.
Every hunt was potentially deadly and emotions were usually running high because of that- now to think that they could have very easily been attacked by the real deal instead of Mark was one thing- but to realize that they had both come very close to almost shooting a human being, was something entirely different.
Not that Mark wouldn't have deserved it for what he'd done… but still.
And then there was the fighting- Sam didn't want to imagine what he'd have done if something had happened to Dean tonight and the last words they had exchanged were the ones of a heated fight.
It was unimaginable.
Sam clutched harder at Dean's back, squeezing his eyes shut as his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him.
He hated this.
All of it.
He hated going on hunts at night instead of getting to do school word like normal kids. Hated knowing how to hit a target from 30 feet away and how to take a gun apart and put it back together and how to kill about any monster in existence and how to dig up graves at the cemetery.
He hated knowing the kind of soul-gripping fear that overcame him whenever his dad and brother were out there at night, possibly never coming back and making him an orphan.
He just wanted to have a normal life.
Just wanted to have a home and go to school and enjoy the knowledge that he wasn't gonna get his guts ripped out before his twentieth birthday.
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the night and Sam felt his brother tense against him. Faster than the speed of light, Dean had his gun cocked, arm stretched out over Sam's shoulder and aimed at the potential source of danger.
But what stepped out of the shadows wasn't the Rugaru.
It was their father.
There was a beat of silence, then Dean shakily lowered his aim, his other arm dropping from around Sam's shoulders as he straightened up from the ground.
"Dad…" Sam whispered shakily, relieved to see his father in one piece.
Their dad looked from the wheezing, blood-smeared, boy on the ground over at Dean and then at Sam, visibly shaken by what he saw. His hair was a wild mess, clothes rumpled and flare gun clutched in his own unwavering grip.
"What the hell happened here?" he demanded breathlessly, falling to his knees beside Mark and gently lifting the boy's head up to elevate his breathing.
Dean looked down at the injured teenager, eyes slowly wandering from the guy's heaving chest to his own busted knuckles as if he couldn't really believe what he'd done here.
"Dean. Answer me goddamnit!" John snapped and Sam sniffed as he took a step closer to his older brother, giving and drawing comfort at the same time.
"Did you do this to him?"
"He got what he deserved," Dean spoke calmly, not a trace of regret in his voice.
And that's when Thomas suddenly appeared in the clearing, wild gaze instantly drawn to his son's curled up form on the ground.
Sam shuddered and Dean squeezed his shoulder in reassurance.
Shit was about to hit the fan.
The car ride back was strained with silence.
John had insisted for both of his sons to drive with him- not wanting Dean to get behind the wheel of the Impala when he was emotionally distraught after the events of the night. He had given Bobby a quick call, asking the grouchy mechanic to tow the Impala for them and get it someplace safe until they were able to retrieve it.
And as if the fact that they had left the Impala behind (even if it was just for a day or two) wasn't already enough indication as to how fucked up their whole day had been- they had the tension-filled silence to further underline that point.
Dean had opted to sit in the backseat with Sam- the two of them practically attached by the hip ever since the whole fiasco with Mark had happened.
John was sporting a few bruises himself, one particularly vicious punch to his face having already swollen his left eye shut completely from where Tom's wedding ring had cut into the sharp bone of his eye socket.
Their fight had been short but brutal- with Thomas being too angry to make his punches count and John being too quick on his feet for the slightly stockier hunter to hold up with.
After all was said and done, they had hiked back to the camp, cleared tables and waited for John's cell to get reception before calling an ambulance, reporting a bear attack with two injured victims.
Anonymously.
By the time they had heard the sirens howl, John was already flooring the gas pedal on their way back to the motel.
As it turned out, John and Thomas had found the Rugaru quite early on and lit the fucker up with fire before Mark ever had the glorious idea to pull his prank on them.
Dean was glad the case was taken care of, but at the moment he didn't really care all that much about whether the Rugaru was dead or not.
"I'm not going to apologize," Dean calmly stated when they reached the city limit, startling both John and Sam out of their respective trail of thoughts.
Dean's expression was blank. Completely unreadable, but there was a thread of determination in his voice that couldn't be overheard.
"He got us all in danger- attacked Sam from behind—" Dean emphasized the last word, stressing the point because who the fuck did something like that? Trying to scare a freaking thirteen-year-old by sneaking up and just—
"I don't remember asking you for an apology," John gave back easily, sounding almost nonchalant. Sam wasn't fooled into thinking their dad would let them get off that easily.
"You can congratulate yourselves for the double amount of workout for the next 2 months. 5 AM every day before school and a 4-miles run before you go to bed. And not a word of complaint or I'll add an extra month to that, you hear me?"
Sam suppressed the urge to groan out loud.
He had known their punishment for this one would suck, but two whole months? That was like a life sentence in boot camp Winchester.
"I asked if you understood," John pressed, sending them a glower over the rearview mirror.
"Yes sir…" they said at the same time, sounding about as enthusiastic as convicts walking up to the gallows.
"Good," John griped back, sounding pissed. "Now you're gonna listen to me because I'm only going to say this once. I don't care what the hell happened back there and how it all escalated so quickly- but if anything like that EVER happens again, it was gonna be the last fucking time I ever take you along on a hunt with me."
There was a brief pause, then John continued.
"Sam, you're almost fourteen. Your brother's allowed to make friends of his own without having to deal with your hissy fits, you got that? There's no need to be jealous over family. It's not like Dean will stop being your brother just because he occasionally hangs out with other kids his age… And Dean—I trust you to have better judgment than to become chummy with an asshole like Mark, you understand?"
The second round of "yessir's" was more demure than the one before, John's words hitting right home and making them both realize how stupidly they had acted.
Sam for once didn't stop to point out how none of it would have happened if it wasn't for John's bad judgment- given that he was the one to introduce them to the Jacksons in the first place.
Something told him that this probably wasn't the best time to start another argument with their father.
John pulled up in the parking lot of the motel and cut the engine, before getting out of the truck.
Sam moved to follow their dad out when Dean held him back by wrapping his fingers around Sam's wrist, knowing this was probably their last shot at having a private talk before they would spend the rest of the night cooped up in the motel room with their father.
"So you acting like a brat today… was it really because you were jealous?"
Sam bit his lip, swallowing uncomfortably at the straight-forward question. "No… I wasn't—"
"Sammy."
Sam's gaze dropped and he shuddered, unable to look his brother in the eye. "It's not… I don't begrudge you for having friends—it's not that."
"Then what?" Dean gently pushed, trying to understand what had caused his brother's bitchy attitude earlier that day.
"Mark just said something…" Sam sighed, feeling stupid by how riled up the words had made him- by how much they had hurt him. "He said—" he halted looking up to meet his brother's verdant gaze. "He said that I was a… a milestone around your neck, dragging you down."
Dean looked incredulous. "And you believed that shit?"
"You and him hit it off from the start—"
"So what, dude?" Dean pressed, raising both eyebrows as he shot Sam an annoyed glower. "You think just because I can have a decent conversation with another guy, I'm just gonna up and leave your sorry ass?"
"No…" Sam whined, huffing at the way his brother twisted his words around. "But you gotta admit that we don't exactly have a lot in common and—"
"And nothing, Sam," Dean cut him off in a voice that booked no room for discussion. "You're my little brother, alright? Nobody's ever going to live up to that- especially not some stupid idiot like Mark, okay? Just because we're not into the same stuff, doesn't mean I don't like hanging out with you and just because I watch out for you, doesn't mean you're a burden."
Sam swallowed thickly, eyes burning.
He sniffed and Dean playfully bumped his shoulder, breaking the moment. "Don't get all weepy on me now, Samantha or I might just take that last part back."
Sam saw the teasing remark for the affectionate declaration of love that it was and bowed his head, hiding his teary gaze behind a curtain of bangs as he snorted out a watery laugh, feeling the exhaustion and strain from the day's events finally dropping off his shoulders. "Jerk."
"Bitch," Dean grinned, the response instant and heartfelt and for the first time in hours Sam felt like everything was going to be alright.
The End.
So given how close the boys are, I always figured there must have been some form of jealousy going on whenever one of them made friends or became attached to somebody, but unfortunately there are very few GEN fics with that focus/theme, so I figured I'd write my own story in that regard. I meant for this to be more of a hurt!Sam story in the beginning, but somehow it just wouldn't turn out the way I wanted it to... I still hope you enjoyed the story- even though it developed a life of its own and turned out a little different than my usual stuff. Please drop me a note if you can spare the time! Always love to hear your insights :D