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The air in the truck was suffocating. It hung heavy and dense. Neither Sam nor Bobby talked, creating an awkward silence that increased the tension building in the 's fingers itched to open the window, to get some fresh air. Instead he settled for picking at a loose string on his jeans.
The silence stretched the entire drive. The air grew more constricting by the minute. Sam nearly sighed in relief when he saw the Winchester house of the week. A sense of tiredness overcame him, and he wanted nothing more then to go to sleep for a long time, but then his father's face, red from yelling, entered his mind. He gritted his teeth in frustration. He would prove himself this time. He had to.
The truck pulled into the driveway, and before Bobby had time to turn it off, Sam was rushing to the front door. Sam got the door unlocked and disappeared into the house, and Bobby knew this was going to be harder then he had thought.
He slowly got out of the truck and made his way to the house. He tried to come up with excuses to delay Sam's training, and came up with a good one: food. Sam had to be hungry, he hadn't eaten in a few hours.
Bobby entered the house, and looked around. The house was decent, better then the last few he knew the Winchesters had stayed in. He found the kitchen and looked for the pots and pans, and just as he found them Sam entered the kitchen.
Sam was already outfitted in sweats and t-shirt, carrying a gun. He didn't look at Bobby when he tried to go out the back door. Bobby sidestepped him before he could go any further. "Do you want any food boy?"
"No." Sam's one word answer sound cruel and gave him the message, to leave him alone, but Bobby couldn't do that.
"You gotta be hungry. When was the last time you ate?"
"I'm not hungry." Sam tried to step around Bobby, only to be blocked again.
"When was the last time you ate Sam?" Bobby's frustration was apparent, and the question came out harsh.
"I dunno a few hours before the hunt." Sam's voice came out a little more then a whisper.
"What am I going to do with your daddy? It's settled then you'll eat and then you can train." Sam winced at this plan, and Bobby sighed. "What's the problem?"
"We never eat before training."
"What's that suppose to mean? You always eat then train at my house."
"Yeah, at your house, everywhere else Dad makes us train, then we can have dinner."
"But why?" Bobby asked suspiciously.
"I think it makes Dad feel as though he has an incentive to make us do better."
Bobby felt anger rising in him, he was seriously thinking of shooting John. 'Damn it John, you can't train your children like dogs, giving them treats and food after they've done good.' Bobby thought. He then made up his mind; next time he saw Winchester he would fill his ass with buckshot.
"Well I'm the adult here, so this is my house, and I say you eat before you train." Sam's face clearly told his unhappiness of the order. "How about you stretch and warm up while I cook, and then come eat, before doing the rest of your training?" Sam grunted his acknowledgment and went outside, leaving Bobby even more confused.
John couldn't stop pacing the room. He stop trying to figure out if it was out anger or worry. He just paced. Dean still had yet to wake up, and even though the doctor said that this was normal, John felt concerned.
His hands scrubbed his face. What was he going to do with Sam? How could he screw up so badly that it made Dean pay the price? Irritation took hold of his pacing now. He decided Sam could forget this being a summer vacation, this was going to be hunter boot camp.
John was so in his own little world of anger, that he didn't realize that Dean had awoken. All Dean wanted was pain killers. He opened his eyes and was momentary confused. It looked like he was in a hospital room. Why... his eyes fell on John. The way that he moved suggested anger.
The previous hunting trip came in a rush of memories, and Dean only wanted to know one thing, "Where's Sammy."
John paused in mid-stride, his eyes meeting Dean's. He felt nothing but relief until his words registered. "Sam is at the house." His voice was hard and angry.
"Why?"
"Because he messed up and he needs more training."
"I want to see him." Dean hated how whiny he sounded, but he had to tell Sam that everything was ok. That he forgave him.
"No..." Dean tried to cut in, "I said no Dean. He is being punished right now."
"It was one mistake!"
"It only takes one mistake to kill you, I don't want to hear this Dean. Leave it alone."
Dean couldn't, no matter his dad's orders. "But..."
"Dean Winchester do I have to punish you too?"
"No sir," Dean whispered, "Just don't go too hard on him." John just ignored the final sentence and sat on the seat beside Dean's bed.
Sam was exhausted. He had been shooting for over a hour. His shoulder hurt like hell from all the backlash of the gun, but he couldn't stop. He had yet to hit all the cans in one try. His dad was going to be pissed.
Bobby had called him for dinner a little over fifteen minutes ago, but Sam had lost his appetite. He could barely hit seven out of ten cans, if he was lucky eight. He was also getting progressively worse the longer he tried. His arms screamed for a break, but that wasn't the Winchester way.
Sam prepared for another round. Ten shots rang out, but only four hit their mark. Sam let out a frustrated yell and threw the gun onto the ground. He felt tears burning his eyes, when he felt someone put their hands on his shoulders.
"I think it's time for dinner." Bobby's voice was quiet, and Sam let himself be lead into the kitchen.
Dinner was quiet. Bobby had tried to start conversation with Sam, but Sam never took the bait.
Suddenly loud footsteps were heard on the front porch. Sam's face paled so much that Bobby wondered for a second if he was going to pass out. The front door opened, and the meal in front of them was forgotten. John walked in and saw the fear in Sam's eyes, and he knew he had not completed his orders.
"So you finished training?"
"Yes, sir" The lie came out easily
"How was training."
"Good."
"So you hit all ten cans?"
The pause was half a second too long, "Yes."
"Good then you won't mind showing me."
To be continued