Chapter Ten: Fucking Perfect

The trip to Blue Earth didn't seem very long to Sam at all. Perhaps that was because he slept through most of it. The entire trip took fourteen hours thanks to John's non-stop, aggressive driving.

It was early evening by the time they arrived and the sky outside was tinged a reddish-orange. Shadows had grown long and thin.

Sam blinked drowsily as his father pulled the Impala into the long driveway of Pastor Jim's house. The boy's back ached something fierce and he was sure it was a mosaic of bruises but his excitement drove much of the pain away

Sam leaped eagerly from the Impala even before it had come to a full stop. Moving excitedly from foot to foot, Sam waited for his father to step out of the car.

The boy's eyes grew wide when he saw that the right sleeve of his father's jacket was dark and sticky with dried blood.

"Dad, your arm!" Sam exclaimed, having forgotten John had been injured by the shapeshifter.

"I'll get over it, Sam. I'm a big boy," John growled at his son and Sam backed away, following behind as his father headed to the front door.

Sam stood behind his father on the porch as John lifted his left fist and pounded on the glass window.

The door opened to reveal Pastor Jim Murphy, a man a head shorter than John, with sandy hair and beard and kind, dark brown eyes. He was wearing civilian clothes of blue jeans and a short-sleeved green shirt.

"John!" The Pastor was clearly surprised, "What in God's name happened to your arm?"

Before Sam's father could answer, Jim put a hand on his fellow hunter's back and led him inside.

Sam followed the two men into the house. Pastor Jim looked behind John's shoulder and mouthed 'Dean's upstairs' to the boy.

While Jim and John went into the main-floor bathroom, Sam tore up the stairs and down the hallway to the guest bedroom the boys always stayed in when their father left them with the Pastor. It was sparsely furnished with two single beds, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. A worn out area rug was settled in the doorway, covering a significant swath of the hardwood floor.

"Dean, Dean, Dean!" Sam cried and flung open the whitewashed door at the end of the hall.

Sam almost leaped onto his brother's bed but settled for standing at its side, hands fluttering around, wanting to hug Dean.

"Sammy!" Dean set the comic book down he had been reading and pulled his little brother into a tight hug.

"What are you doing here? Is Dad here?" Dean asked and Sam nodded but then spoke.

"We finished the hunt-" Sam began but then his brother cut in; his expression concerned, worry laced his voice.

"Dad took you out on a hunt? For a ghost?"

Sam shook his head, "We went down to Akron; Dad said there was a shapeshifter there."

Dean's hazel eyes turned steely, "And was there?"

Sam nodded, "Dad killed it."

Dean's brow furrowed but he leaned back against the bed's headrest. Sam thought he'd let the issue drop for now but was sure he'd talk to their Dad later.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Sam asked slowly, embarrassed.

"What?" Dean asked and then smiled, "Oh, yeah, it was nothing Pastor Jim couldn't patch up."

Sam's brother pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal clean white bandages.

"And here," Dean hiked up his shirt to show more bandages across his chest and abdomen.

Sam gasped.

"I'm thinking I'll have some pretty cool scars to show the girls," Dean smiled, trying to lighten the mood with a joke.

Sam gave a watery smile, "I'm sorry you got hurt. I'm sorry I didn't help."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Dean nudged his brother's arm with his shoulder, "You did what you could. I wouldn't have thought of going after one of those baobhan sith bitches with a rock."

Sam blinked, "You saw that?"

Dean's smile screwed up, "Nah, Dad told me."

"Oh," Sam muttered quietly, looking away from his brother.

The sound of footsteps alerted both boys and they relaxed when Pastor Jim poked his head into the room.

"Got your Dad all fixed up now; he'll be good as new in a few days as long as he rests that arm," the preacher/hunter informed them.

"That's good," Sam said although he wasn't sure if it was. He knew that his father got antsy if they stayed in one place too long and a few days at Pastor Jim's was likely to drive him up the walls. Hopefully, if they did leave soon, Dean would be with them. Sam didn't want to leave without his brother, didn't want to spend any more time alone with his father than was necessary.

"By the way, I was thinking of making some hot cocoa if you boys would be interested in some," Pastor Jim said in an offhanded way but with sparkling eyes, knowing the brother's would want some of the treat.

SPN

Sam and Dean found the Pastor sitting at his kitchen table, a mug of cocoa wrapped in his hands and two more identical mugs sitting nearby.

Sam sat down first, remembering to thank the Pastor and took a sip of the hot chocolate- complete with mini marshmallows.

"Where's Dad?" Dean put his hands on the back of his chair as he peered around.

"Getting the bags from the car, I imagine," Pastor Jim said easily, "Take a seat, Dean."

Dean didn't sit. He was pissed at his father for having taken Sam on a hunt without him. His brother could have gotten seriously hurt or killed because although John was an experienced hunter, he didn't have eyes in the back of his head.

Dean pulled his chair out and sat but didn't take notice of his steaming mug of chocolate. Sam looks like he's enjoying his, Dean thought and smiled. They only ever had enough money for the essentials when it came to food- more often than not a six-pack was also a major food group- and John never splurged for anything resembling a treat.

He noticed how his brother didn't sit back in his seat but kind of curled around his mug.

Getting back up, Dean moved a couple paces until he was standing beside his brother. Sam looked up, his green eyes showing confusion.

"What's wrong, Dean?" his brother asked, licking chocolate from his lips like a little kid.

That's because he is a little kid, Dean thought, no hunter in their right mind took on a shapeshifter with only two men! Especially not when one of those men was in fact a thirteen year old boy.

Dean reached out and lifted Sam's shirt. His brother protested feebly but then his expression turned embarrassed.

Sam's back was a mosaic of blue and purple bruises. There were patches of yellowish-green bruising that looked like they might have been from the hunt in Wisconsin.

Pastor Jim met Dean's eyes, "I'll talk to John."

Dean's hands curled into fists and he nodded. Pastor Jim would speak on the calm, rational side where Dean felt like pummeling his Dad for allowing Sam to get hurt like this.

Sam pulled his shirt back down, "It's nothing, Dean. Really, it doesn't even hurt."

"That's not the point, Sammy," Dean said, "You shouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place. Dad never should have taken you with him to hunt a shapeshifter… he should have called Bobby or somebody else, a more experience hunter."

Dean shook his head and picked up his mug of cocoa, barely tasting it as he guzzled it down.

What the hell had Dad been thinking? Dean wondered as he finished his drink in record time.

"You finished, Sammy?" Dean asked and his brother nodded, thanking Pastor Jim again for the hot chocolate and followed his brother out to the spacious backyard.

SPN

Sam's eyes were open as he listened to his father arguing with Pastor Jim downstairs. It was late- after midnight- and the two older men had chosen to have their confrontation when the boys should have been sleeping.

"Dean? Are you awake?" Sam rolled over under the covers and saw his older brother leaning his back against the bed headboard.

"Yeah," Dean whispered back to him. Sam was glad he wasn't the only one hearing the loud, aggressive conversation between his father and the Pastor.

"He's a walking disaster!" Sam heard his father shout, not even trying to be quiet.

Pastor Jim said something, too soft to be heard.

"He can't hunt! He's useless!" John insulted Sam, unaware that both sons were listening.

"No, you don't understand, I've tried- he just can't learn! He gets his ass kicked by Dean every time they spar, I can't trust him with a knife 'cause I'm afraid he'll cut his own goddamn hand off!" John growled, "The boy can't seem to hold onto any pistol I give him- he's always dropping them! How can he hunt anything if he can't keep a grip on his weapon?"

Pastor Jim replied.

"You don't even want to see him with a rifle, Jim," The boys' father answered.

"He's dangerous. Sam puts Dean and I in danger whenever we take him on a hunt," John said, "You saw what happened to his brother because he wasn't paying attention!"

Pastor Jim said something, something that obviously upset John because he snapped at his friend.

"I'm not being too hard on him! If anything I'm not being hard enough! Sam's too sensitive for his own good- must have inherited that from his mother- Mary always did have a big heart," John replied, his voice becoming less angry when he spoke of his late wife. As the Pastor spoke his piece, Sam didn't know whether to be pleased or ashamed that he had inherited his mother's sensitive nature. His father obviously thought that it was a bad attribute.

"There's no place for compassion in a hunter, Jim," John said

The Pastor said something, probably disagreeing with his friend and John just brushed him off.

"I take care of my own," John said, "I don't need any parenting tips from you."

Sam waited with a pounding heart for the argument to continue but it didn't and Sam let out the breath he'd been holding.

He looked over at his brother and saw Dean's eyes were wide open; he looked as if he was trying to hold his anger in, his body was shaking so hard.

Sam sat still for a moment and then did something he hadn't done since he was very small. He threw the covers off himself and got out of bed, padded across the hardwood floor and climbed into Dean's bed.

Sam thought his brother would protest but all he did was move over to give him more room and Sam curled against his side. Sam gave a watery smile when he felt his brother put an arm across his shoulders comfortingly.

W

Sam sat sadly in the back seat of the Impala. Dean was in shotgun and looking almost as upset as his younger brother.

John had wanted to get going as soon as possible- something about a Chupacabra in Austin, Texas- and insisted that they leave immediately.

Jim had tried to get John to stay for breakfast but Sam's father had brushed him off with a curt, "we'll get something on the road".

Sam's stomach growled and he put his arms around his middle, trying not to look like he was going to be sick.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean's concerned voice asked from the front seat.

"Yeah," Sam muttered and stared out the window as Pastor Jim's house got smaller and smaller, the hunter waving goodbye to the tiny family from his lawn.

Sam lifted one hand and gave the man a short wave before the Impala turned a corner and the house was out of sight.

Sam thought about the long drive to Texas and decided it couldn't be long enough. He didn't want John to start in on him like Sam knew his father would. Sam just wanted them to keep driving and never stop. Sam wanted to be anywhere but in the Impala at that moment. He could see his father's dark eyes in the rearview mirror and he swore he saw disgust in them.

Sam gulped and gripped his stomach, truly afraid he was going to be sick, and stared at the houses flashing past.

Music filled the car- Dean must have turned the radio on, Sam thought- and the sounds of Metallica's 'The Day That Never Comes' drowned out all thoughts.

As long as I have Dean I'll be able to get through this, Sam smiled a little, as long as Dean's with me, I won't let Dad's words get to me. I know that Dean loves me and doesn't think I'm a big screw up. And that's all that matters.

Author's Note:

1. Chapter title comes from a P!ink song of the same name.

2. Thanks to Guest, pottyandweezlbe89, Samstruck, cold kagome, AlxM, SPN Mum, Eris-R-Renee, and 2012summerstar for reviewing.

3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited.

4. I love reviews!