Thanks for reading, it was much appreciated. I hope you guys review and I'll catch ya in the next chapter.
I wish I owned these guys, but that'll never happen. Oh well...
Bye...
Supernatural
Sam had to move, his muscles were cramping up from being in the same position for nearly three hours. Making sure Dean was situated, he unzipped the tent's flap and pulled himself free.
Slowly he started working out the kinks, letting his aching joints pop back into place. Once finished he began to walk, allowing circulation to return to his feet and legs, making sure the tent was just in view.
While he was outside, realizing his bladder was pretty full, he decided to relieve himself of his burden. He ducked behind a tree and did his business. He was just finishing up when he heard a panicked voice practically scream his name.
He took off toward the tent, crashing through fallen leaves, sticks, and around trees. He almost skidded when he dove back into the tent.
"Dean? What's wrong?" he asked feeling about as scared as his brother looked. Paper white skin, green eyes bloodshot and wide in a combination of worry and fear, the only thing keeping him from collapsing was his hand: Sam could honestly say his brother had seen better days.
Sam scooted towards Dean, giving him a worried look. It had been a while since he had seen that much raw emotion on his brother's face. A long, long while.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Sam repeated quietly, letting his hand ghost through his brother's hair.
"I... Where were you?" the scared look vanished, unfocused green eyes-etched with worried anger-met Sam's.
"I went out to stretch my legs," Sam replied letting his brother's agitation go. He understood what Dean was going through, enough so that he could practically feel the worry gnawing away at his stomach. It wouldn't help anything by arguing with Dean. It would probably only make matters worse.
"Oh, well, you could have woke me up," Dean grumbled running his free hand through his hair. He winched when his fingertips nicked the gash across the back of his head. Guilt began battling with the worry over Sam's stomach.
"Sorry," Sam mumbled sitting back on his heels. He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, there were so many things since the hunt started, but an apology sounded right for some reason.
"Thought I told you to stop apologizing," Dean snapped wetting his dry lips. Sam took the hint, snagging the half-empty water bottle off the floor. He loosened the lid, handing it over to Dean. He watched his brother remove the cap, with shaking fingers, and try to take a drink. Again, half of it ended up down his front. Taking pity on the injured hunter, ignoring the glare he got, Sam took the bottle between his hands and helped his brother drink.
Once Dean was done he took the bottle away, sitting it aside. He studied Dean for a second, noting that Dean was definitely in pain. It was so bad he wasn't even trying to hide it, just another thing that had Sam worrying. Instead of asking Dean if he were okay, Sam opted to dig in their bags for the Tylenol.
He found the bottle at the bottom of the first-aid kit, popping the child-safety lid off. He shook out two, handing the pills over to Dean without so much as a protest. He helped his brother take a drink of water, the pills sliding down Dean's throat.
"Are you tired?" Sam asked noting the drooping of his brother's eyelids.
"A little," Dean admitted, a shiver ripping through him. The younger Winchester moved to sit next to his brother, allowing the older to lean against his shoulder. Sam snatched his jacket off the floor, where it had fallen after sliding from Dean's shoulders, covering his brother with it again.
"D'you remember that story Dad used to tell?" Dean asked abruptly, a smile evident in his voice.
"You mean the one where he single-handedly took out three werewolves, saving Caleb in the process?"
"Yeah, that story was great." Dean fell silent, Sam sure he had gone to sleep, until he muttered, "I wish Dad were here."
Sam didn't know how to respond, several things rolling through his head, but didn't have to. Dean already burrowed deeper into his makeshift blanket and gone back to sleep.
A part of Sam wanted to find their father, if only for Dean's sake, while the other part was iffy on the reunion. He and John hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms. Hell, they barely parted without a fistfight. And poor Dean had been caught in the middle, as usual.
Supernatural
2001...
Sam had gotten the letter a week ago, two months after he had graduated. He had used Caleb's address to send and receive the answer he had been impatiently awaiting. At first he was ecstatic, he was finally going to get out, but his celebration ended when he realized he had to tell his father and brother.
He had been meaning to tell them, but it was never the right moment. John was either too pissed, too tired, or too drunk to really listen. And he didn't want to hurt Dean, with his little boy's dream of never losing what little family he had left.
But the fall semester was rapidly approaching and he had to get to California before freshmen orientation in September. He had to come up with a plan and quick.
He had been reading a book on Greek gods, absorbed in its pages, when he heard the the smack of paper hitting wood. He looked up, eyes landing on a thick envelope on the dilapidated coffee table in the piece of crap house they had been squatting in.
"Where did you get that?" he snapped pointing at the envelope.
"Were you going to tell me?" Dean asked heatedly ignoring Sam's question.
"You went digging in my stuff, again, didn't you?" Sam pushed himself to his feet, towering over Dean, his book landing on the floor with a audible thud.
"Were you going to tell me?" Dean repeated looking up at his brother.
"Yeah."
"When? On the bus ride to California?"
"I just... Look, this life if great for you and Dad, but..."
"But what, Sammy?" a voice said, both brothers turning to see their dad leaning in the door frame of the living room. His arms were folded across his chest, an unidentifiable look on his face. He waited for Sam to continue speaking.
"It's just, this job you two do, it's not for me. So, I applied to Stanford and got accepted. I've got a full ride and everything. I can get out, go to college." There he told them. The ramifications be damned, because he told them.
It was quiet for a few seconds, a pin could drop and everyone would have jumped. John was obviously trying to wrap his head around what he was just told. Finally the older hunter took a deep breath and said, "No."
"I'm sorry. No?"
"That's right, no. You aren't going."
"N...not going?" Sam stammered in total disbelief. He avoid Dean's eyes, not wanting to know what his brother was thinking.
"Being a hunter isn't a job, Sammy. It's life."
"Life?" Sam gaped having a feeling where the conversation was going.
"Yeah, life, and you have no time to screw around with imaginary friend and an imaginary life that you can never have. You know damn well that connections like that, like school, will be one long weakness..."
"One long... Dad, don't you see, I don't belong here. This life isn't for me..."
"No Sam, don't you see. You'll put everyone you meet in danger, get them killed because that is the price we pay. You know that and there's no looking back."
"So says the guy who does nothing but look back. You live in the past all the time."
"Shut up," John snapped taking a step toward his son.
"Why because you said so. No Dad, this time I won't shut up. This time I'm doing something for me. Stanford is the only thing I can count on."
"Family is the only thing you can count on," John growled.
"How? When you aren't out hunting you're either drunk or yelling! You've never been there for Dean or me!"
"I tried my best!"
"But your best just wasn't good enough.
"Sammy..." Dean started to protest.
"No, Dean, don't defend him. He doesn't give a shit about us, and he never will."
"You ungrateful..." Dean threw his weight into his father's shoulder, stopping him before he could do anything drastic. Sam, however, took no notice. He snatched his envelope off the table and stormed toward the door.
"You walk out that door don't you think about coming back," John snarled still trying to break Dean's hold. Without turning back, Sam opened the door and left. Slamming it behind him.
Supernatural
Present Day...
John's parting words still bounced around Sam's head, years later, while he sat in a cramped tent on a stupid island in Michigan. Thinking back, he always wondered what Dean had thought of the confrontation. But Dean being Dean, Sam was pretty damn sure he'd never really find out.
He glanced over at Dean, who hero-worshiped the man who had practically kicked Sam out of their family. Sometimes, if he squinted hard enough, he could see what Dean saw when he looked John. But mostly he just saw a man who missed the woman that he loved. I guess Dad and I have more in common than just about anyone now, Sam thought wearily looking away from Dean.
He checked his watch, groaning when he read the time: 4:45. They still had over two-hours until Bernie showed up. Two more hours on this stupid, fucking island.
His head suddenly gave a nasty throb, enough to make his eyes screw up in pain. Blindly he reached out, snatching the Tylenol off the floor. He shook out three, downing all three of them with the lukewarm water Dean had been drinking.
He gave the medication a few moments to work, the pain slowly ebbing away to a dull stab between his eyes. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Sam leaned his head back, tapping his fingers against the tent's floor. He had never been good at waiting. He liked to think his patience level was higher than Dean's, a lot higher, but he still couldn't stand the not knowing. It might have been the side-effect of so many hospital visits or the many nights he didn't sleep waiting for his father to get home. Or it could be because of nights like this, not sure what was going to happen in the hours that could have been spent at a doctor, watching his sick/injured family member through the night. Whatever the case, Sam probably would never be content with waiting.
His watch continued to tick down the minutes, Dean's doing the same thing until the only sound in the tent was breathing and ticks. He could last two hours, damn it. They both could. He just had to have a little faith.
He suddenly felt tired, exhausted. The two ticking watches were doing a damn good job at lulling him to sleep. Before he could stop himself, his eyes had already slid closed, his fingers had stopped tapping. The ticking suddenly cut off, Dean's shallow breathing following as he fell asleep...