Week 3
"Hey, where are you going, Sam?"
"Off for a run," the younger man says briefly. It's been three months since Sam's graduation, and nothing really changed, for good anyways, if it didn't change for bad.
"Dad said we are going to train tonight. You shouldn't wear yourself out before we even get there," Dean argues, a little edge of worry in his voice. Sam is now constantly going for runs. He disappears for hours and comes back, sweat trickling from his curls, flushed cheeks, and a still indifferent expression on his face.
"Won't be long. I need the work-out. Somehow I gotta cover up for the fast food we are eating, dude," Sam laughs drily before turning to the door and making his leave.
And in fact Sam even stopped to argue about most of the foods, what he used to do more than often. Sam always was for the healthy foods, but he would only rarely get his way. Okay, when they were in a restaurant and could pick, Sam would still go with a healthy menu nevertheless, but he didn't lose a word about a greasy burger either. The only one to actually appreciate it is John of course. When he comes home and finds yet another folder in whatever color on the nightstand, with information for possible next gigs, he leans back in his chair as he settles down and skims through the pages with a soft grin on his face. Sam is getting a praise more often now, still not enough, so Dean thinks, but it means a lot for a man like John Winchester to actually praise someone. The father doesn't seem to care for the cause of Sam's sudden make-over, but is obviously happy about it. He even told Dean that Sam is finally getting where he is supposed to be. The older son said nothing to that because Dean is totally against Sam's changes. They are not for good, and that especially since he is no longer the little geek brother Dean loves so much. Of course, Sam is a really smart boy his age, always was, and that didn't change, but the curiosity vanished from his face when he now drowns himself in either studies or research for the hunts. That childish curiosity Dean loved so much, it simply disappeared. Sam looks… somber and sober when he does research now. Dean catches him doing it ever so often. The older brother spent nights pretending to sleep just to see Sam get up in all silence and starting on the research, hundreds of websites passing his eyes so fast that Dean is fully convinced his head would explode from the overflow of information. However, even if he realizes all those things, no one beside him really seems to care. Of course Sam is totally for this, he is the one doing it after all, and John… John probably couldn't be any happier that Sam is finally falling into line, without complaints, without talking back, without… without being Sammy anymore. And that is what is really bothering Dean. Their father doesn't even seem to realize that Sam is giving up on himself, only to become some sort of robot, and that John actually appreciates that his baby boy is shoved back into the minds of everyone to leave just an empty shell of a formerly happy and childishly giggling Sammy. But no matter how hard Dean tried to convince their father of the fact that something is off about the youngest family member, John just gave a snort and said that they should better be thankful for Sam's change. It would make him a better hunter and now there was finally peace at home, so John had said. Inside his mind, Dean just told himself to go with all the peace right to hell. Dean doesn't want the peace. He wants the little and big arguments back. He wants Sam's never-ending bitching back, the roll of his eyes, he wants to fight with Sam about first shower, everything.
Dean gets up from his bed. Suddenly he feels the urge to go after Sam, find out what he is doing all this time. Sure, Sam will run, but is he really doing only this the entire time? Dean is still having a hard time believing it. So he grabs an old baseball cap from John's duffel. He is pretty certain that Sam wouldn't recognize it as such because John never wears it. Dean only knows it is there because John used to wear it back when Mary was still alive and they were playing catch in the garden. The older teen shakes off the unpleasant feelings, puts on the cap and sunglasses, puts on a plain white shirt and jeans before he walks out the door. He can't take the Impala. Sam would recognize just the sound of the engine from miles away. So Dean actually has to catch up with Sam and then go on with interrogation. He gets on the road, knowing that Sam would turn right because Dean saw him running that way the other day, and Sam likes to run the same course, look if he has improved, at least he does now. Dean sets off and he has to admit after the first mile or two that he really needs a few more runs. Their dad let him do sparring and shooting for the most part lately, and no long running sessions. The older teen starts to feel the ache in the sides, which means he really has to get going on that. Sam is still not in sight, which means that the little sucker got faster again. Dean fumes for a little while before speeding up another time. It's a challenge now, for him anyways. He won't allow Sam to get away with being better in something Dean used to beat him at. After some time he finally catches sight of a figure in the distance. Dean runs up till the man is actually in sight and it turns out to be Sam. The older brother stops in his tracks and retreats to a nearby tree on the other side of the road. Thank God they got a forest running along the street. Otherwise Dean wouldn't have cover or would have had to hide in the roadside ditch, and that sucks, he knows.
He and Sam had to hide there for about three hours because of a bunch of witches that were after them after burning down their house. Who could have known that they would lose their father in the forest and had to hide in that muddy stinking pit for a felt eternity until their dad finally got them, telling he killed the bitches. They were still pretty much kids back then. Today the two know how to handle such things, but back then they didn't, and that meant they had to protect themselves, most importantly. Both boys were over with scratches and mud when John got them, because of stupid dead brushes with thorns and Sam actually had a couple of nasty cuts from a rusty barbwire that was in his back and he couldn't move because the bitches were so close they would have realized the noises. Dean, back then, was still utterly impressed that the young boy hadn't whined once because that must have hurt like hell.
Well, now Dean has a tree to cover him up and that is way better than the ditch. And he has perfect view on the younger man, who is doing what exactly? Oh yeah, kissing the pavement – pushups, as normal people call it – apparently with just one hand. He probably did a couple, but his posture is still tight, exactly the way it is supposed to be. Only Sam's rhythmic breathing lies above the heavy silence on that hot day. After some time Sam gets up, wipes the sweat off of his face, taking a few deep breaths, before he goes down another time. But this time he doesn't do pushups, no, instead his feet lift up high in the air, his long legs making a perfect line, only supported by his hands, handstand. It's not the usual standard, but certainly a good training for balance and strength. And Dean is visibly impressed at how long Sam can maintain the posture, even with the face as red as a tomato and sweat standing in his eyes like tears. After some time Sam finally allows himself a break and stands back up, shaking his now numb wrists. Sam is doing training, okay, but Dean had just told him that they were going to be doing the exact same thing once John gets back, and after that, so Dean knows, you want nothing but your bed and simply die. To do such exercise even before getting started, that's suicidal. He is snapped out of his thoughts, though, once Sam walks up to the forest himself. Dean thinks about running, but realizes Sam coming right back out with a – heavy – stub, about his height and carefully positions it. Then the younger sibling goes over to the ditch, swiftly jumps over and then takes out… yeah, a couple of knives. Dean didn't even see his brother taking them. And then, after making sure no one is on the road, of course Sam is always careful about such things, he throws the first knife all the way across the ditch and the road over to the stub. The knife misses the target only by a few inches and lands in the ground, the blade almost disappearing completely in the mud, which means Sam surely had some force within that throw. Impressive, that's all Dean can think of. However, he is startled when he hears Sam growling under his breath, gritting his teeth in frustration, before he puts the other knives to the ground and then… he runs over to the ditch, jumps, but this time he rather rolls over it, just to land solidly on the ground, rolling over his side, which surely hurt like hell. It's a maneuver you do when you are desperately trying to get away from the enemy. You do it, but you don't want to, especially not over old glass bottles, barbwire and whatever crap is down there if you miss your target by just a bit. However, Sam actually does it for a training. He gets up, shakes off most of the dust before walking up to the stub and retrieves the knife with a grim expression on his face. Dean would have been proud of himself for being that close on first try, but Sam is utterly angry at himself, seemingly. After that he jumps – normally – back over the ditch and starts anew. Sam misses the target two more times, always doing one hell of a killer roll over the ditch to get the knives back, but after that he hits the stub head-on, again and again and again. Once the boy is seemingly satisfied with his work, after a lot of throws, he jumps over the ditch a last time, walks up to the stub and gets out all the knives. He puts them safely aside and then he starts to kick and punch a tree, a rather rough method, since he has no protection for his skin on, no bandages or anything, and hitting a tree is not exactly a sandbag with nice smooth leather on it. However, Sam is a smart boy. He only kicks with the foot so that the shoes are still between his skin and the bark and when he punches, he is using the heel of the hand. It looks rather weird for an outsider to do that, but it's actually a position commonly used in Asian martial arts, so Dean knows. After that Sam is seemingly satisfied with his work and gathers his knife. Dean knows that he has to get going now, otherwise he'll be racing back to the motel, and that would be a little too suspicious. He has to be there before Sam, needs time to change, catch his breath, greet him, and then tackle the subject. So Dean starts to run for it, always looking behind him to be sure Sam doesn't catch up with him. Thankfully he comes in first, and still no Sam in sight. He changes quickly, even manages to get washed off to cover up for the sweaty smell on his skin, store dad's baseball cap back in his duffel, and sit back down on the bed. That is when Sam makes his appearance, sweating, taking deep breaths, and to Dean's very advantage, over with dust and even a few cuts. Jackpot!
"Hey," Sam says briefly before walking up the fridge to get a water bottle to sip some of it, not too much at a time. He is really good at controlling himself, Dean thinks at that moment. Others, or more, he, would have emptied the whole damn thing in one gulp after such a run and such a training.
"Hey, so how was the run?" Dean asks as casually as he can afford.
"Good, weather is nice and the road was empty," Sam says drily.
"And you sure you didn't have to jump into a ditch or something coz you got cuts all over and dust on your clothes, dude?" Dean shoots back. He expects somewhat shock on Sam's face, anything, but his mimic remains indifferent. Instead, the younger man opens the fridge another time, gets another bottle of water, and walks up to his bed. In the motion he throws the bottle over to Dean. Then Sam sits down on the mattress.
"Thought you needed some after the hustle back to the motel," Sam snorts, glancing Dean right in the eye for a moment. Dean is totally caught off guard at first. He was so sure Sam didn't see him. Realizing that Dean is not going to respond to what Sam just said the younger hunter just carries on.
"I'm a hunter just like you, Dean. You really think I suck that bad not to realize someone tailing me? Dude, I am not a rookie anymore. Of course I knew you were up behind that tree to my left. I knew you were following me since you walked up about half a mile behind me. No one was on that road and you can hear a fly farting. Of course I heard your gasping like you're about to pass out and the sound of the sneakers you like to wear for running when they make contact with the pavement. If that wasn't proof enough… you are still flushed like a girl on her first date… and your sneakers are out for one, you use them for running alone for two, and they have that red dirt underneath that you can only find near that area for three. So? Don't you wanna take a sip?" Sam retorts sourly. Dean surely didn't expect Sam to find out… that fast. He thought a few times that Sam might have realized someone around, but it sounds as if he knew all along.
"Okay, okay, I admit, I went after you, alright? That's not against the law," Dean says angrily. Sam chuckles softly as he gets out of his shoes.
"And we don't care for what is against the law anyways…," the younger man smirks.
"What I was trying to say… and I already said it: I am worried about you, Sam. You are changing and… you are not a bit like you used to be. You're being scary," Dean admits in all honesty. Usually he could get Sam that way. Sam is not so much into mind-games. With being straight-up honest you normally have better chances with the youngest Winchester because Sam's nature has always been a very genuine one, and that is probably not going to change, hopefully.
"Because I train more?" he asks with a somewhat frown.
"Because of everything. And sure as hell I don't like your methods at some point, Sam. Doing a killer roll over a freakin' roadside ditch where you can surely get all kinds of diseases is not the way dad trains us," Dean says rather angrily.
"I need the training and I decide for myself. I am good at this and if I practice it, it isn't going to be a killer roll anymore. It is helpful to be good and effective at that," Sam responds drily.
"But you did it as punishment," Dean retorts with a snort.
"Huh?" the younger man frowns.
"I know you did it to punish yourself, Sam. When you missed the target, you did the friggin' jump! You shouldn't punish yourself, dude! That's not good on your… mental health," Dean argues.
"I am not… anyways, dad lets me run extra-miles and everything, too. Nothing's wrong about that either, right?" Sam counters.
"That's different," Dean sighs.
"How? Why is that different from what I am doing? Really, can't you make up your mind? I am doing everything exactly according to schedule and still you're… you're the one to bitch over it! I don't get it, seriously, dude. What do you want, Dean? What do you want me to be like that you're finally done giving me shit over this? Huh?!" Sam shouts furiously, slowly rising from his seat.
"I… I don't want you to be like anything I want. I want you to be the person you want to be, Sam," Dean says with all the credibility he can gather. Sam glances at him for a moment, standing, staring at a spot only he can see.
"I want to be a better me, no loser anymore, one who lives in the real world, in the here and now and doesn't always hang with the head in the clouds. I want to be… a hunter, like you, like dad… I want to be the hunter I am supposed to be, but… oh, forget it! I'll grab a shower now," the younger sibling whispers before turning to the bathroom and making his leave for yet another cold shower. Dean just sits on his bed, water bottle loosely in his hand. Dean never saw Sam that sad, that… lost. And he is pretty damn sure this is because of him and their dad. However, most importantly, Dean has to fix this. Sammy needs to return to this family. And the big brother is so going to make sure that they stay in a city next time, with no chance of jumping over roadside ditches.
