Sam was never going to let Dean leave down the fact that not only was Becca a witch, but a centuries old witch if his uncontrollable laughter that started when they got back to the car to was any indication.

"She was probably someone's great-great grandmother," Sam laughed so hard that he could barely breathe. "When you told me to look for girls with experience I didn't think that was what you meant."

"Knock it off, Sam," Dean sighed, shaking his head, but smirking to himself at the same time. "You keep it up you're gonna piss yourself. Then you get to clean my car."

Hearing Sam laugh like that always did something to him that he could explain. Sammy's laugh made Dean feel like there weren't horrible things out there; nothing bad could happen if there was someone laughing like that. When Sam started to breathe normal he would look up at Dean over the backseat and lose it again.

"She told me she was twenty," Dean said leering at his brother through the rearview.

"Eight hundred and twenty, maybe," Sam wheezed. "This is too rich."

"You're gonna pop a blood vessel," Dean sighed.

"I'll stop laughing when it's not funny," Sam laughed. "Never gonna make fun of a girl I bring home now are ya? Cuz you fucked a freakin' zombie witch."

"What your language, Sammy," John sighed. Clearly John didn't think that it was funny as Sam did.

"I'm sorry, but did you see Dean's face?" Sam continued. "Looked like he was going to hurl all over everything. It was beautiful. I wonder if you can catch, like, zombie witch through your dick. That would be one hell of an STD. Your dick would be all old and shit."

Dean looked over at his Dad smiled and shrugged. He hoped it said "Just let him be. Let him laugh." John reached over and turned up the radio, drowning out the wheezing gasps and giggles of the teenager in the back seat.


It didn't take long after arriving home to ruin the mood completely. As soon as they were settled back in: Dean and Sam on the sofa a bowl of popcorn between them watching a VHS Star Wars that Dean found at the Goodwill, John paced behind them, sucking back a beer.

"We should leave in the morning," John announced.

"Christmas break is in two weeks," Sam sighed. "We can shake town then. I gotta big trig test on Thursday and a physics lab due tomorrow."

"We just killed two people," John said. "We gotta get outta here before they track it to us. We don't exactly got a car that blends in."

"Yeah, but I'm her boyfriend," Dean offered. "I'd have a reason to be there. There's a reason for my fingerprints in her house. That should buy us the two weeks until school break."

"I'm not leaving," Sam replied, pausing the movie and turning around. "I know you couldn't care less about my grades, but they mean a lot to me and I'm not screwing my GPA because you can't sit still."

"Sam," John said with more patience in his voice than either of the boys had heard in a long time. "You did real good tonight. I'm really proud of what ya did, you save Dean's hide, my hide, but kiddo, I'm still in charge and if I say pack up the car, you're gonna pack up the car."

"No," Sam shook his head. "Can't make me."

"I can and I will," John said.

"Like to see you try," Sam answered. He turned back to the TV and un-paused the movie.

John reached over the back of the couch and ripped the remote out of Sam's hand. He paused the movie and threw the remote toward the coffee table. It skidded across the table and landed on the floor with a loud smash. Dean shifted awkwardly, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"Please don't," Dean said softly. "We had a good hunt. Can we just not fight? We can talk about moving this weekend."

"You think my orders are a joke?" John boomed ignoring Dean's quiet plea. "You think you can just do whatever the fuck you want with no consequences?"

"No," Sam sighed. "I just think I should be able to call bullshit when you're being ridiculous. I want to finish out the quarter, or at least stay two weeks until Christmas break. I think if you cared about either of us, you'd let us put down some roots every once and a while."

"Pull your head out of your ass, Sammy," John shook his head. "You're seventeen; it's about time to put on some big boy pants. I'm really sick of baby-ing you."

"Are you kidding me?" Sam laughed darkly. "I don't think you've ever babied me. I don't think you've ever parented me."

"Sam," Dean grabbed Sam's bicep, trying to calm him down. "Just walk away. Let it be."

"No," Sam shook his brother off, then turned back to his father. "You think my education is a joke? Cuz I don't think it is. I've been working my ass off to get good grades my whole life. You ripped the both of us out of school so often that Dean couldn't even finish. Imagine what he could have done if we lived in one town our whole lives? He's not stupid, like you seem to want to push into his head. If he had the right people looking out for him he'd be in college somewhere. But you're too stubborn and stuck on the thing that killed mom to let us have a life."

"Stop," Dean repeated, a little louder this time.

"Have you ever once looked at the two of us and realized that you've failed both of us?" Sam shook his head. "That you're a miserable excuse for a father? Does it keep you up at night? Is that why you drink so much? Cuz you can't stand the person you've become."

"Sam!" Dean yelled. "Stop."

"No, Dean," John shook his head. "Let him finish. You got anything else you wanna say?"

"I got a lot I wanna say, actually," Sam continued. He pushed up off the couch and glared at his dad.

"Go upstairs, Sam," Dean demanded, jumping up himself. He grabbed Sam's arm hard, squeezed tighter as Sam tried to pull away. "Just go upstairs and cool off."

Sam tried to pull away from Dean, but Dean held him until he thought Sam was cool enough to listen to reason.

"Just go upstairs," Dean said softly. "Just go cool off. I'll fix it okay?"

Sam nodded, nose still flared as he turned and stormed up stairs. Both John and Dean waiting until the door slammed before saying anything.

"Shoulda let him keep going," John shook his head and drained the rest of the beer in his hand.

"And say something you'd both regret but be too stubborn to apologize for?" Dean replied. "No thanks."

"We're still leaving," John said as he walked to the fridge. "We're getting out of here as soon as possible."

"How about you head out," Dean suggested. "Go get settled somewhere or head up to Bobby's or whatever, and Sammy and I will meet you there when school goes on break."

"I'm not givin' in, Dean," John said twisting the top off. "I'm not letting a seventeen year old call the shots."

"He just wants to go to school," Dean shrugged. "He's a good kid, really. He just wants to do good in school. It's his thing, you know that."

"How's a trig test gonna help him in this life, Dean?" John asked. "He should be honing his skills, he's strong, he's fast, if he gave a shit about anything he'd be training."

"You know he's not gonna do that," Dean replied. "He's been draggin' his feet about that since he was eleven. You keep pushing him, Dad, he's gonna take off again. And Bobby's not going to be able to bring him back. He's gonna disappear and neither of us will ever see him again."

"Nah," John shook his head. "Sammy wouldn't do that."

"He already did it once," Dean yelled. "You're gonna push him away again."

"Don't raise your voice at me," John straightened up, took a step toward Dean. "Maybe the two of you deserve each other."

Dean wasn't one to just walk away from a fight. He'd taken guys down that were bigger than his dad. Left a biker who didn't take to kindly to how close Dean was sitting to his lady with a broken nose and got outta there without a scratch. But there was something about his dad; Dean knew if it ever came to blows Dean would just let it happen. He'd never have it in him to fight back. So he stood there, waiting, as John got right up in his face.

"Go fix your brother," John growled. "I expect the two of you at Bobby's the Sunday the Christmas break starts. You don't show up, I'll come find ya, and neither of you will like what comes after."

"Yes, sir," Dean said quickly. "I'll go tell Sam."

Dean stood frozen until John stepped out of his space. Then he turned and walked up the stairs. He knocked twice on Sam's door before opening it sliding in. Sam was throwing his stuff into a duffle bag.

"Dad says we can stay until break starts," Dean said softly. "Then we gotta meet him at Bobby's, but he's leaving in the morning."

"Alright," Sam growled. He picked a book up off his bed and threw it against the wall. "He's just… what if we just didn't go to Bobby's. Why don't we just go somewhere? Let's just go, get away."

"We can't," Dean shook his head. "He said he'd find us. I just… Sam… I can't. He's… he might be a jerk sometimes but that's our dad. He's all we got."

"I know," Sam nodded. "And he's an asshole who doesn't know what he's doing and he's got you held down so tight that you don't know how to get away."

"It's not like that Sam, okay," Dean said.

"Then why are you still here?" Sam yelled. "Why are you still following him like a little puppy that's been kicked one too many times?"

"I tried," Dean said so quietly that of Sam wasn't looking at him he wouldn't have known Dean said anything. "I had this whole plan of taken off, setting up a nice place then go get you a few years back. Had this whole little fantasy that you'd get to finish high school all in one spot. I'd get a nine to five or whatever, do jobs on the weekend and stuff when one came along. I had a nice girl and everything it was gonna be great. But Dad… he… Dad said that if I walked out the door I couldn't come back. Told me that no one would take me in, that girl I was with would never take responsibility for a kid too. I wasn't gonna leave you behind. I couldn't… I couldn't just leave you there. You'd kill each other."

"You coulda got out?" Sam looked at him with such disappointment in his eyes. "You shoulda got out."

"I wasn't gonna leave you behind, Sam," Dean said seriously. "I'd never fuckin' leave you behind. It's my job to watch out for you, I can't just leave you somewhere. It's not…" Dean rubbed as hand down his face to keep himself from crying. "It's my job to protect you. I can't do that if I'm shakin' up with some girl playing house and you're out there with Dad."

"Yeah," Sam shook his head. "And Dad shouldn't make you feel like you got no control over your own life. Dad shouldn't have put that much weight on you. You deserve better, Dean. This is exactly why I didn't tell you and Dad about school. This is why I'm holding off telling him about it until the last possible moment."

Dean nodded and sat down at the foot of Sam's bed.

"You should… you should come with me," Sam mumbled. "You can go to school there, too. I gotta live on campus the first year because of my scholarship, but after that we can get an apartment. I'll have a campus job making money."

"I don't think they let people who barely pass the GED test into Stanford, Sammy," Dean shook his head.

"They got some community schools there," Sam pleaded. "You can learn a trade, you're good with math, you can get an engineering degree, or learn to be an electrician or something, open your own body shop. And it's California, right, so you can find hunts of you want. We can just get away."

Dean shook his head, he left the "I can't" unspoken, but he knew Sam knew him well enough to know what he meant.

"We got two weeks to ourselves," Dean nodded. "Whatcha wanna do? We throwing a huge party or something for all your friends or something right after Dad leaves? I can get a couple kegs, throw a party that kids in this town will be talking about forever?"

"No," Sam said, the small traces of a smile on his face. "My friends aren't really the party type."

"We'll," Dean let a little smirk tug at his lips. "We can have, like, an all-night D and D thing."

"We don't play dungeons and dragons, Dean," Sam rolled his eyes. "We can just, you know, chill I guess. Make the most of having the house to ourselves."

"That's what I suggested," Dean replied. "Big ass party."


They didn't have a party. Dean ended up working as many hours as he could at the garage, putting money in his shoe box. Sam worked on his homework every night at the kitchen table. Making sure he'd have excellent grades in all his classes before the left, they never knew what they'd offer for classes in the next town they ended up in. Dean tried to help, but what Sam was taking was a lot different than the stuff he'd done in high school. His little brother was going to go somewhere with that big brain of his. He was going to shock all those rich Stanford kids that a kid with no real home could be just as good as them. Honestly, Dean couldn't wait to listen to his brother talk about it; maybe over the phone, maybe at Bobby's over Christmas dinner next year. Sam caught Dean sitting across the room staring at him smiling stupidly until Sam told him it was fucking creepy.

John checked in from Ohio, it looked like they'd be heading there next. He'd have Sam enrolled in school before they got there, an apartment. Both boys knew that their dad would never say he stepped over the line, that he let an argument get out of hand. Promising that Sam would get to graduate from this high school was as close to an apology as they'd ever get. Things were going to get better, Dean could feel it. John and Sam had enough time apart to cool down. They'd give each other silent head nods when they saw each other and it would be forgotten. They'd be fine. For the next six months anyway.