Warnings for language...and some major fluff between John and Sam...as in as fluffy as I think I've ever been.
John honestly couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the Impala. He had expected Sam to be blowing off steam, doing some running maybe. Dean had been so worried about his brother and here he was sleeping as if he didn't have a care in the world. John took in a deep breath, preparing himself to chew out his youngest when a voice sounded in his head, Talk to him. He let the breath out shakily, the voice sounded just like Mary.
Doing a swift three-sixty, John saw no one in sight. That didn't necessarily mean nothing was messing with him but it didn't mean something was. Everyone once in a while John would hear his deceased wife's voice, almost like she was guiding him to do the right thing. She'd done the same thing when she was alive, always helping him figure things out so he did what was best.
Running a hand over his face, the father sighed heavily. Sam mumbled something in his sleep and John wandered how long the boy had been sleeping.
The hunter walked over to the Impala and gently shook Sam awake. It took a couple of tries but eventually Sam was sitting up, eyes widening as if he didn't realize where he was. John sat on top of the Chevy's hood beside his youngest and tried to figure out how to start the conversation. He had a feeling Mary wouldn't want him to start shouting.
"Dad?" Sam yawned, rubbing a hand over his eyes.
"We were worried." he stated bluntly, thinking it best to get straight to the point. "Dean especially. You know how he gets, Sammy."
The eighteen year old snorted quietly, "He doesn't need to be worried and it's Sam."
John didn't even try to hide his smile, "I don't think your brother and I are ever going to stop calling you 'Sammy', no matter how many times you correct us." He missed conversations like this, the ones where the words just flowed naturally and they seemed to be the right words to say. John threw a quick glance at Sam and saw the teen was smiling slightly. Yeah, those were definitely the right words to use. He sighed and lightly tapped his fingernails on the metal of the car. "You shouldn't have run off. We don't know the area and I think recent circumstances-"
"'Circumstances'? Dad, this is more than just a 'circumstance'." Sam half-shouted, the smile that had been on his face barely thirty seconds ago gone in an instant. "We were bit by people who turn into freaking dogs! Dean turned into a dog. We're going to turn into dogs. That's a hell of a lot more than a circumstance!"
It took everything John had to calmly say, "Don't raise your voice at me, Samuel."
Sam climbed off of the Impala and took several steps away from his father so he had his back facing John. He crossed his arms over his chest and sulked, reminding John of a much younger Sam. He'd always get a certain look on his face, mouth set in a pouty frown and his eyebrows drawn together. At the time it only angered the father at the obvious sign of some kind of childish rebellion, but now it made him want to laugh. Eighteen year old Sam and six year old Sammy weren't all that different.
Both had been independent, always wanting to do things to prove they were grown up. Fighting with John was another similarity, though when Sam was six it was more about eating ice cream for breakfast rather than questioning every order. When Sam was six he was always asking things like Why do we move so much? Why's the sky blue?,Why did Daddy put salt around the room? and John's personal favorite was when Sam would simply ask 'Why?' after almost every statement. No Sam, you can't have beer. Why? Because it's for adults. Why? Because I said so. Why? Now that Sam was older his questions had become more complex, as had the rest of him. Why do we have to hunt? Why can't I go to school?
John had always wanted his boys to have everything they wanted, but that wasn't how the world worked. A demon wasn't going to ask Sam if he wanted it to kill him or not. A ghost wasn't going to stop attacking Dean because he wanted it to. He wanted Sam to go to school, become a lawyer or whatever he was interested in now. He wanted Dean to pick a girl and stick with her, maybe have a couple kids. He wanted Mary.
Well, too damn bad. Since when had the Winchester family had what they wanted? Why couldn't they catch a break?
Realizing he had a mad son to deal with, John brought himself back to reality. He cleared his throat, "Sam, son, you and me picking at each other all the time isn't going to work anymore." John heard Sam snort loudly and saw him shake his head in annoyance. "We're going to be under the same roof until we figure this shit out and you getting pissed at my word choice isn't helping anyone. Tiring yourself out isn't either. Dean and I may be more...hands on about things, but your brother is going to be climbing the walls without anything to do. Us doing some research won't kill us."
John watched as Sam's back seemed to relax a bit and he knew he was getting through to the kid.
"He told me to take a nap, Dad. A nap." Sam said as if it were the worst thing in the world. John raised an eyebrow but made no verbal response. Sam's back tightened again and he said, "I'm not some little kid that has to have a nap time, I don't care what you and Dean think."
But that's where Sam was wrong. John knew Sam always cared what his father and Dean thought. If he didn't, why didn't he go to college? Sam loved his family too much to just leave. John got off of the Impala and leaned against the front instead as he said, "You don't have to like it Sammy, but you're the baby of the family and you always will be no matter what. To us you're still the goofy grinned five year old who needed a haircut and had a milk mustache. You're not the eighteen year old who wants to take on the world in our eyes."
Sam cleared his throat before he said, "I think we should head back. Dean's probably freaking out more than usual." The teenager began walking towards the house, not looking to see if John was following him. John sighed and pulled his truck keys out of his pocket. He opened his truck and grabbed a weapons bag before closing the door and following his youngest son.
*Supernatural*
Sam rolled over in his sleeping bag, unable to get to sleep. His conversation with John was still playing itself over and over in his head. John knew how to manipulate him and Dean, he'd been doing it for years. Was this just another manipulation game or was his father speaking from the heart? With John Winchester, it was always hard to tell.
While John's manipulations were full of good intentions, that didn't make all of them right. When Dean was eight, he'd been told the only way to protect Sam was to learn how to fire a gun. When Sam was eight John had told him the only way to save Dean and John was to learn how to hunt and do medical field work. John knew which buttons to press and when to press them.
Sam had no doubt his father loved him and Dean both, but the man's priorities were always blurred. Hunting soon became more important than his sons' health and well-being. That's when Sam first began to pull away from his dad, when he realized hunting was possibly the most dangerous thing in the world.
But today...it honestly didn't sound like John was trying to get him to do anything but get along for as long as they could. And he knew his dad was right, picking at each other over stupid, little things was pointless. All that would do was drive the wedge between them further and further into their relationship which was rocky anyway.
In no way did Sam hate his father. Sure, sometimes the thought would cross his mind but he never meant it, it was just the heat of the moment talking. He sighed heavily and rolled over again on the hard, wood floor. Sam screwed his eyes shut and tried to get some sleep, God knew he was going to need it.
*Supernatural*
Dean knew he was dreaming the instant he opened his eyes and found himself in the field with Grace and Max. Max had a strong, firm grip on the back of Dean's neck as Grace spoke, "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
"Well," Dean put on a charming smile, "I'm known for doing things my way, bitch. So let's skip past this and get to the part where my family and I leave your corpses as ashes."
"Cute." Grace faked a smile and crossed her arms over her chest, "You have two options, Dean. First, you can cooperate with Max and me. Do as we instruct you to and you and your family may leave."
"And what's the catch?"
Max answered, "Believe me, you'll all be back. You've got no idea what you're dealing with and we're the only ones who can help."
Grace continued on, tossing her hair over her shoulders. "Number two, you can resist all you want. Consequences include not only the death of your family but also you will be putting yourself through a very painful change. See, Max and I have ways of making people turn, whether they want to or not."
The middle Winchester swallowed. Did he want to cooperate with these people? Hell to the no. But...they were threatening John and Sam. His family. "Why would you kill us, though?" He asked, stalling for time. Maybe John would find a way to escape, kill their captors, and then come and save him from-
"Easy. All I need to do is make new wolves." Grace waved her hand in the air as if it was a matter beneath her, "Wouldn't take me more than an hour. And I never said I'd kill you, I said I'd kill your father and brother."
She would kill Sam and John and then force Dean to remain in the land of the living? Dean began leaning towards the first option almost instantly. What was the point of his life if his family wasn't in it?
He woke to the sun shining in his eyes and a very familiar face wearing a trucker hat standing in front of him.
"Bobby?" Dean said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
So, Dean's dream/memory was a teensy bit hard to write, I had to erase several parts and re-write them a couple of times so please tell me what you guys thought about that part.
Surprisingly, the beginning part came easily.