They ate dinner in relative silence, broken only by the background noise of some funniest video show, which neither boy dared look at while at the table.
Dad didn't ask if their homework was done or quiz them on the vulnerabilities of a dozen different supernatural creatures.
They should have known something was up.
Dad put his empty bottle and paper plate in the trash, dropped his fork in the sink, and grabbed another beer from the fridge. He came back to the table, watching as Sam shoveled down his third plate of spaghetti and Dean worked on his second.
Finally he put the half finished beer on the table and looked at his younger son. "Sam, you're going with me in the morning."
"Where?" Sam frowned.
"Wraith making trouble up in New Hampshire." Dad folded his arms. "Should be a two to three day job at most."
"I can't go!" Sam protested. "The field trip is Thursday and Friday morning. We have to be at school to meet the bus at 6am."
"I said," Dad growled. "A two to three day job. We'll be back by Wednesday night."
"And what if we're not?" Sam argued. "When do your jobs ever wrap up on time?"
"Well then you'll miss the trip!" Dad thundered. "I never went to Colonial Williamsburg, and it hasn't killed me yet!"
"But my history teacher went to a lot of trouble to get me added at the last minute!" Sam continued.
"You said it would be good for him to go." Dean pointed out. "Lots of ghost stories around there, lots of lore."
He was ignored.
"And Dean ... " Sam trailed off, wide eyed, realizing he had said too much.
"Dean what?" Dad asked, looking from one son to the other.
Sam defiantly looked his father in the eye. "Dean went to a lot of trouble to get the money for me to go."
"You told me that you didn't have to pay." Dad snapped.
"I didn't," Sam smirked. "Because Dean paid for it."
"Where did you get the money?" Dad roared at his older son.
"Where do you get your money?" Sam shouted back at the same time Dean shrugged and said "I did some hustling for it."
"Well, I hate it for you," Dad's voice dropped to a normal tone, which was more frightening than when he shouted. "But you have to go with me. I need backup for this job, and your brother has already missed nine days of school this semester. He misses another day, and he fails the year!"
The statement hung in the air for a moment as all of the Winchesters asorbed what Dad really meant.
The fact that Dean would fail the 12th grade wasn't the issue. He had failed the 9th grade for the same reason, but Uncle Bobby had managed to create a false set of school transcripts so that when he enrolled in school the following fall, his records showed that Dean had passed the grade and even made the honor roll.
The problem was that Child Protective Services tended to snoop around when a kid missed too many days of school.
Sam's jaw clenched, his lips clamped shut, and his fingers curled at his sides as he tried not to cry.
"I'll go," Dean said softly.
"Dean," Dad's voice was raised again. "Did you not just hear what I said? You can't miss any more days this semester."
"I won't go back after." Dean shrugged.
"What?" Sam breathed.
"I'll just drop out." Dean answered. "Then I can go on hunts whenever you need me. Sam's big enough to stay home alone some."
"Dean, you're less than two months from graduating!" Sam protested.
"So what?" Dean shrugged again. "A high school diploma and a dollar will get me a lousy cup of coffee at most truck stops. I'm sure I won't be the first person to ever drop out this close to graduation."
"Are you sure about this, son?" Dad asked with a look as close to admiration as he ever gave his older son.
"Yeah," Dean nodded.
"Don't!" Sam choked out.
"It'll be fine, Sammy." Dean smiled, but didn't quite meet his brother's eyes.
Sam shoved past his father and brother and stomped out the front door.
Dad walked out ten minutes later to stand over Sam, who was perched on the trunk lid of the Impala.
"You're not off the hook about lying to me about the money for the field trip." He announced.
"Didn't figure I was." Sam snarked.
"Don't give me this crap." Dad barked. "Your brother is sacrificing twelve years of going to school so you can go on a damned field trip."
"Whose fault is it that he's missed nine days already?" Sam reminded his father. "It wasn't my ass he was saving from a rawhead."
"You know what?" Dad snapped. "Maybe it was! You don't get it, Sam. Every one of these creatures that we kill, we're saving innocent people. You don't know that one day that rawhead wouldn't have come for you! Or for your wife or one of your kids! Dean gets it. He knows what we're doing is important. It should be important to you too! One of those things killed your mother. Or did you forget that?"
"Is that how you sugar coat it?" Sam retorted. "You tell yourself that you're saving innocent women and children, but the fact is that you're just out there taking your revenge on every creature you can find, because you can't find the one that matters."
Dad didn't answer for several minutes, but when he did, his voice held none of venom that Sam's had. He sounded almost regretful. "You honestly have no idea what your brother is sacrificing for you, dropping out of school. It wouldn't kill you to make his bed and do his chores for the next few weeks."
"If you didn't drag us all over the country to fight monsters, he wouldn't have to give up anything." Sam snapped back. "He's doing this to keep you from taking on a wraith alone."
"You heard what I said." the growl returned to Dad's voice. "Don't screw this up."
"I hate you." Sam spat.
"I know." Dad answered as he turned and went back into the house.
