Disclaimer: Ditto on previous chapters! Me no ownie. Respect to Kripke for creating Supernatural and damn Channel Ten to hell for not putting on the second season yet. What a stupid enormous horrible cliff hanger! I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE SECOND SEASON YET, though,so please don't tell me. Thanks! Enjoy and review (if you want!) !
Chapter Four
On a good day, Luke Alexander thought he looked a bit like Superman. With his short dark hair, his dark eyes and his heavy framed glasses, he could almost pull off the shy, hesitant charm of Clarke Kent – minus, of course, the impossible muscles. He had worked it out to such a fine art – how to smile, how to make his eyes twinkle, how to push his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. In the bathroom, he could flirt the deodorant right off the shelf…but when he looked at himself hard enough in the mirror, he realised that it took a lot more than just charming a can of body spray to turn Clarke Kent into Superman. Yet, akin to Clarke, Luke always felt like he had the potential to go anywhere, do anything, save anyone, to live out any of his dreams.
To him, school had simply been a place where everyone was sorted into ranks. And though everyone refused to believe it, a place where society was truly defined. A microorchism of a world that no one wanted to believe existed, but underneath knew that it did. Fortunately, this hadn't bothered Luke very much. He had simply seen it as an obligatory stage in his life, by which through attendance ensured that other avenues to bigger and greater things existed. And, by some lucky chance, it had also been something that he happened to be good at. Top of Biology, an ace at English and brilliant in Computer Technology, Luke had been esteemed by the sensible and responsible students, praised by teachers, admired by the mediocre and laughed at by the jocks.
When Luke Alexander first met Charlotte Cunningham, it was like one of his dreams had solidified and walked into his ordinary, middle school life. She was smart and funny, friendly and independent. She didn't seem to notice or care about social obligations or status – she was tougher or perhaps above all of that, which won her respect and admiration, and sometimes a little fear. They were friends, all the way through school, often at each other's houses working on assignments or watching old gangster movies. Even in their final year, when things were incredibly busy and spare time was scant, there was always at least one afternoon a week were Charlie would turn up at his house with her massive green cushion under one arm, and a bag of popcorn and a movie under the other.
And, it wasn't until their senior year that Luke started to realise that he got a bit jealous when he saw Charlie talking to other boys, and that the thoughts of being intimate with her became more frequent and not as disturbing. Yet, as open as he knew he could be with her, he was absolutely unable to formulate the words to tell her how he felt. He could outline perfectly the ideal conditions for growing penicillin, or what the underlying biases in Macbeth were…but whenever he looked at Charlie in the eyes and opened his mouth to tell her that he thought he was in love with her, all his words flew away.
And then Dean Winchester arrived, and changed everything.
The sunrise was magnificent. The sun ascended into the sky a glowing orb, gliding delicately from step to step on a staircase made of clouds. It stained the sky pink, then orange and then golden until the dazzling blue of the sky started to leach through. Today was going to be a cold day.
Sam awoke with a start, his neck stiff and his back aching. He had slept in this car a million times before, but had still failed to find a comfortable sleeping position that didn't come back to haunt him the next day. Blinking rapidly, his eyes accustomed to the fresh light of the new day, his skin rising into goosebumps as a chilly morning breeze whisked through the gaps in the car. So much for Dean making it air tight. Stretching around the steering wheel, Sam folded himself out of the car before locking the door and striding down the street, hoping to return some life to his tired muscles.
They had lived in this town once, the three of them. The streets were familiar, though the same kind of familiar that a memory has when it has been remembered once to often and then buried under more important things – hazy around the edges. He remembered his school; it was one of the few he had enjoyed going to. With Dean's school just across the road, Sam used to wait for his big brother to walk him home, much to Dean's mortification. But that didn't matter to Sam, it didn't matter if Dean would pace ahead and he had to run to catch up, because he remembered it as the one place in a long time where he actually felt like a family.
Dean hadn't wanted to go back to school. In the time it took to move to the new house and get everything organised, it had been a month since either of the boys had had any formal education. Dean hated the last place so much that he had vowed never to go back – instead he wanted to accompany his father on his many daytime expeditions. Sam remembered, with a half amused smile, how much Dean and his father had argued about it – but of course, in the end, Dean gave in, complying with his father's wishes. He always did, in the end.
About two blocks from where Sam had parked the car was where their old house once stood. Since then, it had been either knocked down and rebuilt or renovated beyond the point of recognition – so much so that Sam felt the bitter taste of disappointment as he laid eyes upon it. It was nothing like he remembered, nothing at all. Turning to face the dawn, Sam let the rays of the sun wash over his face. The light and warmth was pure, and opening his eyes, Sam saw something that brought a smile to his face. The old tree, which stood like a sentry opposite their house, was still in its guarding position. Crossing the road, Sam ran his hands over the smooth bark, a smile on his face. This was the first tree he had ever learnt to climb. Struck by a sudden thought, he knelt on the ground, pulling back years of weeds from the base of the tree.
DW + CC the crude carving read. Sam gently brushed away the dirt and the characters seemed to flicker in the light. He remembered the night when he had hidden away in the top of that tree, spying on his brother as he carved something into the bark with the army knife Dad had given him. Watching as Dean told some mysterious girl that he loved her, but sometimes that that wasn't enough. The next morning the Winchesters moved away.
Suddenly his cell rang, awakening from his contemplative state. A little puzzled by the unrecognisable number, he answered.
"Hello?"
There was a lengthy pause.
"He - " Sam began again, but another voice cut him off.
"Sam."
Sam went wide-eyed with shock. "Dad?"
"Sam - "
But this time Sam was the one to interrupt. "Where are you? What happened? Are you ok? Are you hurt? Do you need help?" The questions tumbled out of his mouth.
"I'm fine, Sammy, I'm fine." His father sounded tired, as if these were questions he heard often. "Listen, I need you to do something for me."
"Anything Dad, just tell me where you are."
"That's a little difficult right at the moment. Where's your brother? I tried his cell but it was off and it redirected me through to you."
Sam started to talk, but as soon as he opened his mouth knew that Dean didn't want their father to know where they really were, or what they were doing. "He's – he must still be asleep in the car. I'm just stretching my legs, he must have slept on it funny and accidentally turned it off."
His father either didn't pick up on the lie or was too tired to care. "How soon can you make it to Iowa?"
Sam automatically recalled a map in his head and traced a route. "A days solid driving if we leave soon. Why, do you need help?"
On the other end of the phone, his father sighed. "Something has come up. I wouldn't ask you to do this, I know it puts us all in danger…but I need to see you both."
"Dad, just tell me where you are, and Dean and I will leave as soon as possible."
There was another deep silence. "157 South Road. Meet me there. I only have two days." With a click, the line went dead.
Sam replaced his cell in his pocket, his mind dipping in and out like a whirly gig. He had to get Dean and they had to leave now…
He bit his lip anxiously. He didn't want to interrupt them again, especially when this was the last time they would see each other in a long while…but Dean would want to know. He was just as anxious to meet up with their father, but he had also been waiting to see Charlie for four years. Sam stood completely still for a few moments. Birds swooped overhead, chirping merrily. The leaves in the tree above him swayed in the morning breeze.
And then, decision made, Sam started for the car at a run. This was family, and family came before anybody, anything, anyone.