Title: Better Days
Rating: PG
Author: Nat Pilot
Summary: With it's history of interesting murders and the supernatural, John Winchester considered Cleveland a good place for an extended field trip.
Characters: Dean, Sam, John
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sadly.
A/N: I felt like being different. Let's just say I'd like to take a different spin on Sam and Dean's childhood… because Teen!Dean intrigues me so much now that I'm in my last four months of High School.
—
With it's history of interesting murders and the supernatural, John Winchester considered Cleveland a good place for an extended field trip. Not to mention that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was there.
They didn't go in January. Northeast Ohio's weather wasn't something you could rely on. One minute rain, the next sky blue, sunny, not a cloud to see.
There wasn't a point in enrolling in school. The year would be over in two weeks anyway. Not about to let his sons slack on their education, John assigned them papers to do on an interesting haunting or legend in the area. Three weeks. Sam had to write five, Dean had ten. Naturally, Sam went above and beyond, turning in 11 pages on not one but I three /I legends that he liked. He turned it in early with ten days to spare and his father smiled and together they started out mapping the places they would go investigate.
Dean on the other hand was too busy to do 'some stupid paper' and spent his time meandering around, hanging out at the Rock Hall or Tower City. He even went on the stadium tours at Jacob's Field and the Browns Stadium. When it was raining, he joined them in the library, boredly flipping through books of old newspapers. He wasn't at all ashamed about complaining that his father already knew that he was perfectly aware of how to banish ghosts and all that but shut up when his father said that Sammy did too but he still did the paper.
With two days left until it was due, Dean skipped out on the science centre (" I I really don't feel like sitting through twenty minutes of James bond talking about whales, thanks. /I ") and holed himself up in the library.
Although he missed his brother going along with them, Sam was enjoying having his father all to himself. Slurping chocolate milkshakes while walking through Lakeview Cemetery with Garfield's mausoleum looming over them, his dad joked about how when he'd hit middle school, Sam wouldn't be into hanging out with his 'old man' anymore. Sam protested feverently, saying that he was a way cooler dad than everyone else's and he'd rather hang out with him all the time than sitting through classes too easy and boring.
-
Eight o'clock the night the paper was due, Dean handed over the required ten pages, double spaced, mumbling complaints audible enough for all of them to hear about why they couldn't do the normal thing and write about war or auto repair or something.
Sam pointed out, in all his twelve-year-old know-it-all talent, that this was their life, why couldn't he be happy with it. Dean smirked, shooting back about how he'd rather go out for baseball like he wanted to last year but they weren't even in Iowa long enough to finish the first grading period.
Their father was quiet the whole time, reading the paper and when silence fell he asked, "Where's the closing paragraph?" Dean said nothing, finding his cooling rigatoni more interesting. "Dean?" he asked. Not harsh. Only curious.
Scowling, he shoved away from the table and grabbed his backpack, pulling out a handful of papers and smacked them on the table next to his father's plate and sat back down, sending a glare at Sam when he opened his mouth.
The report was forty-five pages long, not including the bibliography or the short summaries of those involved and directions on the being could be destroyed.
—
Sam sat quietly in his room, trying to block out the yelling.
I This is how it is, Dean. Accept it. You've had 11 years to get used to it.
I'm NOT getting used to it and I'm not accepting the fact that you've turned my little brother into your brainwashed, little toy soldier. I'm not getting used to the fact that you drag us out of any slice of normality we find to go find something we don't even know exists on this plane!
Dean-No! I'm sick of you putting us in danger all the time. I'm sick of you going off on your own all the time, leaving us to think you're dead while I try to tell Sammy that everything's all right.
I'm doing this because -Because what? You're obsession with finding the thing that killed her? We still haven't found the damn thing! We might never find it!
We save a lot of people in the mean time. You know that.
You think mom would've wanted this for us? /IA pause. I You're one of us.
No! I'm not like you and I'm not gonna let this be my life. What difference would it make? So we find this thing. Do you think killing it is gonna bring her back? Mom's DEAD and she's NOT coming back no matter how much we want her too so DON'T drag me down with you and ruin my life more than you already have! /I
Dead silence prevailed and Sam buried his face under his pillow, trying not to cry. The bedroom door opened and Sam wished he were deaf.
"Sammy, I'm sorry." Dean said quietly. He felt Dean sit down on the bed next to him, heard his tense sigh. "I didn't mean what I said about you."
"Yes you did."
Big brother went quiet and Sam tried hard to keep his suppressed sobs silent. "I'm tired of Dad putting you in danger. Danger that I don't always know how to protect you from."
Sam sniffed, taking the pillow off his head and looked over at his brother. "Then learn how." Dean looked back at him over his shoulder, face blank. Sam gathered all the courage he could manage and scooted closer. "Stop... trying to be normal. We're special, Dean." he said quietly, not looking away even though he really wanted to. "Stop going through the motions and try. Please?"
Dean looked away, down at his hands. His shoulders shook a little but Sam could see that he was trying not to let it show. "I'll do it for you. I'm not going to do it for him. Just to take care of you." Sam moved, sitting next to Dean, watching their feet side by side, matching, plain white sneakers. "This means you have to do what I tell you from now on, okay?"
Sam rolls his eyes, giving his brother a small, wry smile. "Yeah, right."