AN: Nothing riveting here, but the good stuff is coming soon!

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Sam stood in front of the sink waiting for the water to run clear. It started out rusty brown, then slowly became clear. Even then, it had a distinct mineral smell. They'd have to treat all of of it with chlorine or boil before drinking, which was just a barrel of fun. Showers weren't going to be super warm either, but at least there was indoor plumbing. They'd made do with worse.

Two hours' drive to groceries, laundromat, and pizza wasn't ideal, but again, it could be worse. Dean would hate the isolation, Sam, not as much. He had enough books to keep him occupied for a few days. And -- Sam slipped some jerky to the dog at his feet with a grin -- it would be fun to have a pet. The trailer wasn't big enough for the dog...okay, it wasn't really big enough even for three Winchesters. But the animal was so starved for attention, even more than for food and water, that he couldn't refuse it. Her, actually.

He knew better, but Sam decided he couldn't call her hey you forever and had given her a name. "You like that, Desi?" He grinned again when she leaned against his leg. He was no good at coming up with names, so had taken inspiration from his view out the window (that -- look at that -- he could see through now) and the Spanish inspired names of the area. And he'd decided she would be Desierta, which meant desert.

And yeah, he knew he couldn't keep her. But for now, he could enjoy her company.

The water finally ran clear and Sam began to scrub his hands and fingernails. He chuckled a little as he washed off the who knows what. He'd spent over three hours making the little trailer almost livable, scraping and scrubbing the windows, toilet, minuscule shower, bathroom and kitchen sinks, and the horror that was the fridge.

Sam and Desi had even evicted a family of mice from under the futon that one of the Winchesters would have to curl up on, unless all three could somehow fit on the solitary bed.

"Guess my standards are pretty low," Sam told the dog. He thought this 'wasn't too bad' when he couldn't imagine a single one of his classmates from his last high school being willing to step inside this place.

And Sam knew that him having all of the cleaning duty was a punishment. He and Dad had argued again. Sam quickly and expertly pushed down remembered pain and anger. Sam had all but begged for a chance to take some correspondence courses for the summer. He got so restless without a puzzle to solve or something to learn, and he just wasn't content with hunting, drinking, and sleeping around as his only outlets.

Dad had turned him down cold. He truly felt schooling was a waste of time and couldn't imagine one of his sons actually wanted a higher education.

Sam dried his hands on his jeans and scratched Desi behind the ears. "I'm just so different from Dean and Dad," he told her. Case in point, having to do all the cleaning as a punishment. Though Dean would have hated being cooped up, Sam didn't mind it any more than he would have minded scouting and setting up a perimeter. It was all work, and all pretty mindless at this point.

"And I guess different means bad. I'm good at some stuff, I swear. Just not hunting."

Sam grimaced at his own smell. The trailer was an oven and it was probably still 80 degrees out. He grimaced again thinking about his little therapy session with the pup. Winchesters didn't talk about stuff like that...just one more way he was different.

Sam took out their camping pot, filled it with water, and set it on the two burner stove to boil so that it would be ready for coffee in the morning. The extra heat wouldn't really matter at this point. He tossed another piece of jerky to Desi even though they didn't have much in the way of supplies until Dad got back. He cast a longing look toward his bag, which sat on the armchair that was the only decent piece of furniture in the place.

Not only were there two new books in there, (including The Bone Collector, which he'd been looking for), there was all the materials for a college level calculus course that a friend of Pastor Jim's taught. The professor had said if Sam completed the work, he'd see that Sam would get the credits the same as any correspondence student. Course credits at Stanford. One step closer to Sam's secret dream.

Though it wasn't exactly riveting material, Sam didn't have any trouble completing it. It appealed to his logical mind. The problem was he hadn't exactly gotten permission, so he had to do the work when he was alone.

But not now. He wasn't going to relax while Dean was still out there working. On cue, some sixth sense made Sam look warily out the window again. Not that he could see anything in the Stygian darkness, not with the lights on inside the trailer. And he was on the canyon side...Dean wouldn't be coming from that way.

Sam kind of hoped he'd come in soon though. The darkness had come on quickly, like a big hand had grabbed the setting sun and jerked it down and out of sight. And Dean, uber competent though he was, was out there without backup. And while no humans could get to them without Sam seeing headlights and the snakes were probably tucked out of sight for the night, there were plenty of other predators that preferred the dark, from mountain lions to supernatural beings.

The uneasy feeling intensified. Sam switched off the light and stepped to side so he was no longer outlined in the window. He took out Glock that had been his 16th birthday gift from Bobby. Sam's hands had grown with the rest of him and were actually bigger than Dean's and Dad's, which was just weird. And that meant that the little derringer he'd used for years no longer fit his hand comfortably.

Sam wiped sweat off his face and spared a hope that they'd be able to get the ancient air conditioner working. It had merely coughed at Sam and fallen silent when he'd optimistically switched it on. He'd opened the lid and immediately shut it in dismay. It looked like it was held together with duct tape. hope, and possibly a demon deal, and he'd been instructed to clean, not fix things.

Dad didn't like any deviations from his dictates. He also didn't like to be asked why, a common bone of contention between him and Sam.

Sam checked the gun's ammunition and stood to the side of the flimsy screen door, thumbing the safety off. He might not have Dean's or Dad's hunting instincts, but he'd been out there enough to know when to pay attention to the prickle at the back of his neck. And right now, he had the distinct impression someone or something was watching him.

Sam stayed motionless for 15 minutes, just listening and waiting. He was grateful that Desi stayed silent. Then, abruptly, the feeling was gone. Sam waited a few more minutes, but it didn't come back.

Confused but not overly worried, he put the safety back on but set the gun on the table rather than put it away. He flipped the light back on and debated getting their sleeping bags from the car but knew Dean would be annoyed if he left the trailer alone before Dean had finished checking the perimeter.

Sam was finishing cleaning the inside of the tiny freezer when he heard the trunk of the Impala open. He didn't bother to look up as Dean stepped inside carrying the sleeping bags.

"Hey, you've been busy," said Dean. "I think we're slightly less likely to get trench mouth now." It was a very Dean form of praise. "The cockroach family might be willing to move back in now."

"You see anything out there?"

"Nothing bigger than an armadillo. And a couple jackrabbits working on making bunnies." Dean looked around and opted to set his burdens on the futon rather than risk the filthy floor.

"You feel like there's anything else?"

Dean considered that for a minute. Sam knew he'd noted the weapon on the table, and no matter how he might tease Sam, he took his input seriously. "Maybe. But no evidence at all, and I mean nothing. I set up the lights and a couple traps."

The lights were small but powerful spotlights that were all connected to a single box that Dean had set down with the bedding. One flip of the switch and the whole area would be lit up like daytime. Sam shrugged, starting to think he'd been imagining things. If there was so much as a footprint out there, Dean would have found it, even in the dark.

"I'm starving. What's there to eat?" Dean took the cover off the pan on the stove, frowning to discover it was just water.

"Well," Sam pulled out items one at a time with a Vanna White flourish. "There's dry cereal, two granola bars that are older than I am, and five strips of beef jerky." Desi whined at his feet, so Sam unwrapped one jerky and tossed it to her. "Four strips of beef jerky."

Dean sighed dramatically. "If Dad doesn't get back soon, I'm gonna starve!" He leaned close to grab the cereal, tossing a handful in his mouth. "Dude, you reek. Take a shower before you make me lose my appetite."

Sam snorted. "I don't think that's possible. And you're as bad as I am." Dean's tshirt was almost entirely wet from sweat. "Not sure you'll fit in that shower, but you can have first."

Dean scratched Desi's head as he walked past, almost having to brush against Sam to fit. "You know we can't--"

"I know," said Sam quickly. They couldn't consign a dog to their lifestyle. Dean ruffled Sam's hair the same way he'd pet Desi. He dodged Sam's answer punch, complaining that he now had Sam sweat on his hand.

Sam found himself relaxing. Dean had a way of doing that.

They were both done with their showers before Dad came back with food. Shockingly, hed also brought a bag of dog food. It didn't occur to Sam until much later that the latter might be a preemptive apology.

They heated frozen pizza in the toaster oven two slices at a time and drank beer that was still cold from the store. It should have been relaxed and comfortable, but Dad was on edge the entire time. He nodded his approval when Dean explained the traps he'd set and the arrangements of the lights. He'd looked around the trailer with approval, too.

But there was a tension radiating from Dad, an unusual restlessness. It made Sam's teeth itch, but every time he was about to ask what was going on, Dean kicked him or shot him a look. Sam's temper was slowly but surely rising. If Desi hadn't been resting her chin on his knee, and if Dean hadn't been almost begging please don't rile him up with his eyes, Sam would have demanded Dad tell them what was going on. He probably doesn't trust me enough to talk about whatever's going on, Sam thought, the feelings that his last fight with Dad had dredged up obviously not buried after all.

Right when Sam was ready to explode, Dad set down his beer and leaned forward. The position cast his face into the shadows and Sam thought he looked old."I'm leaving in the morning. Meeting up with a couple others. I'll be back in three or four days, maybe five. Don't go into town."

"What are we h--" Dean started, but Dad talked over him.

"Not you. Or Sam. You're staying."

Dean was obviously flabbergasted. "Dad --"

"This isn't up for discussion." Dad walked the three steps to throw away his napkins. He looked back at the futon he'd been sitting on. It couldn't have been more than five and a half feet long. "I'm sleeping in the car."

Sam suddenly felt very tired instead of angry. "I'm gonna read in bed."

As much as he'd been looking forward to the book, Sam wasn't taking it in. He just kept thinking about how much he hated secrets.

The next thing Sam knew, he was waking up with the book on his chest and Desi drooling on his ankle. Something made him stay still and quiet, but not a feeling of danger. Voices were carrying through the paper thin walls. They weren't talking loudly, but Sam could clearly make them out.

"...have to explain myself to you." Wow, Dad usually only got that pissed at monsters that targeted kids...or at Sam.

"All I'm saying is that if it's something dangerous, why wouldn't you want more backup?" Dean's voice was even quieter, but Sam could hear the veiled frustration therein.

"I have backup. Bobby, Travers, and Jim are all meeting me."

"What...why would you call them when we're right here?" Dean sounded baffled.

"Dammit, Dean. I get enough of this from your brother." Dad's words rolled around in Sam's stomach like acid.

"I just don't understand."

"It's because Sam isn't ready, okay?! He never trains, he's distracted, and I don't want him here alone, either. You two aren't coming!"

Despite the heat, Sam suddenly felt cold. He'd suspected Dad felt that way, but he'd never heard the disappointment spelled out quite so clearly. What Sam heard was: I can't trust Sam to watch our backs. He's a pathetic failure.

What he didn't hear was Dean defending him. Apparently, Dean knew Dad was right.

So instead of taking his hurting heart to Dean, like he usually did, Sam decided he'd act like a real Winchester for once. He turned toward the wall and suffered in silence.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Twenty couple miles away, Howie took a deep breath and dialed the phone. This was the most important information he'd ever passed along, plus She'd actually assigned him a task.

Too his surprise, She answered the phone herself. Apparently, this one was very important to her.

"Yes, ma'am. The father was very interested in the rumor. I got the feeling he'll be headed out right away."

He paused and listened, picturing John Winchester's face when Howie's buddy had mentioned yellow eyes. Oh yeah, he was interested.

"I don't know if he's taking the older one along, but I'm sure he'll leave the other one. Would you like my help to nab 'im?" Pause. "Yes, ma'am. Tomorrow night."

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AN: I hope that wasn't too much exposition. It always seems to take me a chapter or two to get warmed up!

BTW, The Bone Collector really is worth a read, and I hear the movie's not bad.

BruisedBloodyBroken: Some of my references are pretty esoteric, which is why I try to explain them after each chapter.

Lena: I hope you had an amazing birthday!!!! Did you guys get snow? It missed us to the south, thank goodness. My royal birthday buddy just passed away...not that he ever knew we were birthday buddies, lol. You know I try to give our boys a little bit of happiness before I beat 'em up!

sfaulkenberry: I figure banter is more fun when everybody gets in on it! I was told not to make the boys cold again, so desert it is.

Timelady66: I'm not missing you! Aren't you proud of me? *g* I'm really enjoying writing preseries.

Jenjoremy: Wow, thank you! Sleep, shmeep. I actually sleep very little (not by choice) and have a job that involves a lot of waiting and downtime. Voilà, lots of writing. Maybe, just maybe canyons are important...

printandpolish: I hear ya!!! And it's so much worse in this chapter. *gag*

muffinroo: I like to think there were moments of happiness for young Sam, even if they were few and far between. So, I'm trying to stay true to your fabulous premise and really hope it's not taking too long to get going.

Scealai: Well, I've been told Texas is real, but I've never actually been there. so I have no proof! No promises about not cooking the boys. *devious laughter*