Stepping into the line of fire
Chapter 49
Sam looked at Dean and made his way up to his father. Dean gave him a little wink of encouragement. Sam took a deep breath and met his dad's hazel eyes. These eyes had always unnerved him. They made him feel like a little kid. Why was his ol' man so hard to deal with? He was hard to talk to as well! He was a hard ass period. Anyway… he powered on… fuelled by the conversation he had just had with his older brother.
"Dad. Sir?"
"Yes Sam." John answered curtly.
"I'm sorry if I gave ya' a hard time. I'm sorry I disobeyed a direct order sir."
John raised his eyebrows quizzically at this new tone… what magic spell had Dean woven? … or maybe his eldest son's hand gave a more powerful message than his own? He was somewhat taken aback by his youngest son's new respectful attitude. He must delegate to Dean more… he thought.
"OK. I accept your apology but understand Sam that insubordination and temper tantrums will never cut it with me boy!"
Sam bit his lip not to answer back. Why did his dad have to rub it in? Why couldn't he just say… I forgive ya' … let's move on…! Sam was fuming but fuming silently.
Dean kept looking over his shoulder to make sure that peace had been achieved between the two. He loved them with all his heart but they were like chalk and cheese and a nightmare to handle. Sometimes Dean felt that this must be his role in life. To act like a dampening rod on two nuclear reactors!
Sam looked up and nodded at his father. John gave him a long, hard look and went about his business. Disaster had been avoided…thought Dean. The hunt was the order of the day and he wanted to get his head in the game. The hours flew by but there was no sign of any supernatural activity. Stomachs rumbled but some whiskey flowed between John and Bobby. John had forbidden his eldest to drink as he had to keep his quick reaction skills going and he was worried that the alcohol would curb that in some way. Dean was pissed because he was nineteen and felt he could have a finger of jack if he wanted to. He knew he had to use subterfuge and bluff on a few occasions and that would be one of them…when the ol' man took a kip, he would help himself.
One thing the hunters never scrimped on was the amber nectar. They had brought at least four cases with them! He wondered if Bobby and his dad were a little addicted and concluded that they probably were. They were functioning heavy drinkers he reckoned. Dean knew that alcohol was dangerously addictive but, in this life, it was a little bit like a transfusion of liquid courage! When he took a sip, he felt peace and calm. Dean could not wait for an intrepid finger of fiery spirit.
He remembered a time when he had been sixteen and broken his curfew one night to hang out with some buddies. He had crawled back to the dingy motel room of the month, rat assed but happy. That happiness had not lasted long though as John had grabbed him by his shirt collar and laid into him there and then in front of his little brother. Dean could not remember quite what John had done but he had woken up with a stinking hangover and a burning pain on his ass. It had not taken long to deduct, even with a befuddled brain, what must have unfolded the night before. It had not put him off the amber nectar though. He still occasionally ran wild, as his father called it, and got slaughtered in some shit bar. Drink and Dean were ol' friends who sometimes fell out but more often than not made up over a pretty girl and numerous shots!
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Soon it was getting dark. John had volunteered to do the first night watch. Dean and Angela made their way to their allocated area and cuddled under a sleeping bag. Angela had laid hers underneath them and Dean had put his on top. It was not possible under John and Bobby's watchful eye to get up to any hanky panky!... but they could silently cuddle. Dean kissed her gently on the mouth and she reciprocated that tender gesture. It was so hard for them both not to touch areas that could spontaneously combust. This was going to be Dean greatest challenge. He was never one to deny himself any pleasure with a beautiful gal' let alone his fiancée. This sucked big time! He could not wait for that "son of a bitch" to materialise so they could waste it and get back to base.
Sam was happy to go to sleep under the stars and think of ways he could get his ol' man to understand him. He knew John did at one level but he would not discuss it or compromise and Sam was worried that in the long term there would be an inevitable rift. He worried a lot about that because deep inside he loved his dad and wanted him to be proud of him.
Bobby also went inside his sleeping bag and closed his eyes knowing that he would be on duty soon enough.
John sat with his back against a tree. Nasil was in his hand and bottle of holy water stood proudly close by. If anyone or anything supernatural came his way he would be ready to defend his troop with his life.
The evening stars gradually filled the sky with their scintillation and the beauty of the night filled his senses with gratefulness that he was still alive to witness this beauty.
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