Another chapter. Hope you like it.
Chapter 2
Sam's hand shot out from under the covers to shut off her alarm clock, goosebumps rising on her arm in protest to leaving the warmth of her blanket cocoon. The teen groaned. Their first night without Dean had come and gone without a fight, but it had been so awkwardly silent that Sam almost wished her father would get angry at her just so he would say something. The girl shivered as she threw off her covers, not understanding how her room could be nearly smothering her as she tried to sleep, but frozen when she woke up in the morning. She quickly got ready for the day, relieved that she would be able to escape John's odd silence once she left for school. He didn't really know what time she had to be at school. That had always been Dean's job, so he never really bothered to remember things like that. She could grab something out the fridge to eat, walk to school early, and her father wouldn't know the difference.
As Sam descended the stairs though, she noticed a horrible, burnt smell coming from the kitchen; promptly accompanied by muttered swearing from her father. She moved slowly into the room, silently watching her father attempting to wash out a blackened pan, and glancing at the smoke rising from the nearby garbage can. Her gaze shot back to her father as she heard him sigh and lean against the edge of the sink. He looked so much older than he actually was, and the look was so foreign to Sam that she almost ran back up the stairs to leave through the window so she wouldn't have to face him like that. Something kept her still though, and it wasn't long before she found herself stepping further into the room.
"Dad?" she ventured. "What are you doing?" John looked back at her as if he had forgotten she was even in the house with him, but he quickly cleared his throat.
"I figured I'd make some breakfast," he said quietly, gesturing to the stove. "Seeing as your brother's not here to eat everything before we get to it." Sam took a skeptical look around the kitchen, and then turned that same look on her father.
"Do I want to know what you were trying to make?" There was an audible pause.
"Probably not."
Sam met her father's tired gaze, and without really meaning to, a smile pulled at her cheeks. The laughter that followed that smile came involuntarily as well, and the teen found herself covering her chin with her hands as she tried to contain it. The moment was over too quickly though. She'd noticed the sad and embarrassed smile John had on his own face, and it was suddenly as if she remembered that there hadn't been a moment like that between them in over two years. She swallowed awkwardly, and the uncomfortable atmosphere from the previous night seemed to move back in like a dark cloud.
"I should…I should probably get to school now," Sam said quietly, reaching down to throw her bag over her shoulder.
"Just give me a moment to finish clearing this up and I'll take you." Sam froze in the doorway. Dean had always taken her to school wherever they were, but there had been days when she'd had to go on her own.
"It's fine. I can walk on my own. I know the way."
John grabbed a towel, quickly drying his hands as he spoke distractedly. "You haven't eaten anything and there's a diner not too far from here," he told her, grabbing his jacket. "Besides, you don't really have to be at school for another hour and a half." The man grabbed his keys, and Sam went down the front steps to the waiting Impala in a state of shock. John Winchester never paid any attention to what time she had to be in school no matter where they lived, and he never offered to drive her; not even when Dean was sick. He had only driven them until the day Dean got his license, and even back then he had never seemed very happy to do it. Sam frowned as she got in the car though.
Dean had most likely told their father the correct time and ordered the man to drive her to school. Her brother never disobeyed an order from their father, but the young man had also never been afraid to let John know that taking care of his baby sister was basically what he lived to do. John hadn't felt the need to remind Dean to take care of Sam since she was a toddler, and as she watched her father stir his coffee across the table from her, the lightheartedness her father's breakfast blunder had made her feel drifted away. The roles were switching. As her father paid less attention to her and argued with her whenever he did, Dean tried harder to make up for it. It left her feeling unwanted though. John and Dean seemed to her to be in this far off adult loop, and she was never allowed to cross into it.
"Any tests today?"
"No Sir," Sam mumbled, not really bothering to look up from where she was pushing around her eggs with her fork. She watched him nod out the corner of her eye, and she ignored how he fidgeted before he spoke again.
"Anything else going on at school?" Sam shrugged with one shoulder. She hunched over a bit more in her seat, hoping to convey to her father that she wasn't in the mood for the awkward conversation he was trying to fill the silence with. She forced herself to eat a couple more bites of her eggs, and then she put down her fork and sighed.
"You ok, kiddo?" Sam finally met her father's eyes, but quickly looked down again to hide her surprise at the question.
"I'm just not that hungry, Sir. I'm sorry. I didn't sleep well last night either and-"
"Well you could stay home and get some rest…maybe help me do some research…" John offered, never having considered schooling very important.
"No," Sam replied, a little too fast. "I…I mean…no, Sir. I need to be in class today to make sure I don't miss anything important." John eyed her for a moment, but Sam couldn't really identify the look on his face. Finally, he nodded, pulling out his wallet as he stood up to go pay their bill. The teen felt a sudden twinge of guilt. There was no way her father had not noticed her desire to be away from him, and the feeling that brought her made her want to hide under the diner's old, wooden table for the rest of the day. Once the two of them were back in the Impala, the fog of silence between them was so thick it would take a knife to cut it, and the teen felt like leaping from the car by the time John pulled up to the local high school.
"I should be back by 4:30," she said quickly as she stepped out of the car. Sam moved to close the door, but her father's voice stopped her as he leaned across the seat to speak.
"I thought classes let out at three?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. Sam hesitated, and when she did speak she mumbled her words out quickly, avoiding John's eyes. "What was that?"
"I…You see…There's this club meeting after school till about four, but sometimes the meetings run overtime, and it takes a while for me to-"
"Sam," her father interrupted, his firm tone putting an instant stop to her rambling. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Here it comes. She stared down at her father, prepared for the argument that was about to take place. The man wasn't looking back at her though. His gaze seemed far away, as if he were considering what he was going to say to her. When he finally met her gaze, she could see the disapproval in the man's eyes; disapproval that became worse when she heard it in his voice as he spoke. "I'll be here at four," was all he said. Then he straightened in his seat, and Sam found herself closing the door out of habit, her mind flying in a million different directions as she watched the Impala pull away from the curb and turn right at the corner of the school. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she walked up the front steps. Her father's lack of verbal protest, despite his clear displeasure, was unheard of. Although she would never admit it, the thought set her on edge. Clearly the situation was more serious than she had been led to believe. This wasn't just the hunt for the thing that had killed Mary Winchester and was now killing people her age. There was more to it than that, and deep down Sam knew it had something to do with her.
John quickly parked along the side of the school where Sam couldn't see him, and he watched from the window until the door to the main building swung closed behind her. He ran a hand through his hair out of stress, the father in him telling him how stupid he was being. He knew his son would have his head on a stake if he knew that he was allowing Sam to stay out of his sight for any longer than the required school hours. However, John could also see the sadness in his daughter's eyes. He'd watched it grow and fester for months, and it had frustrated him to the point where all he could do with her attitude was respond with anger. It killed him that she didn't feel like she could tell him what seemed to be bothering her so much, but he also couldn't help but feel like he had only himself to blame for that.
Dean had always been the one who listened to her. He had stayed after school to let her spend more time with kids her age and had given John stern looks when the man had snapped at her or been too harsh with her. John shook his head and shifted the car into gear. He'd admit he'd always been harder on Sam when it came to training her to be a hunter, and perhaps that was part of the reason she'd become so distant. With each passing day though, his baby girl was beginning to resemble her mother in both looks and attitude. Some days he found he could barely look at her or hear her speak without thinking of what they'd lost, and that made it imperative that Sam know everything she possibly could about hunting. He knew if he lost her too, it would kill him, and he hated to think about what it would do to Dean. That was the other reason he was letting her stay. As much as he hated the idea he knew he couldn't afford to fight with her; not when they were in such a precarious position. He had to ensure they both remained vigilant, and anger would only cloud their judgement.
"Better you cry than me," the man murmured to himself as he turned at the corner. Sam could hate him for the rest of her life if she wanted to, but as long as she was still living, he knew life could go on.
Well. That was supposed to have Dean in it…but this just sort of happened. Hehe…This story isn't really about Dean I guess. I'm not totally ditching him though. I love him. Don't fret. I promise. :) Anyway, in case you're wondering, the phrase John says at the end is something my dad always used to say when he was telling me to be careful going out places in high school. I'm not sure where it originated from, but it's meant to mean "better you be upset with me for not letting you do something than have me crying because something happened to you." Just some food for thought there. I feel like John's motivations aren't explored enough, and I've read too many stories where he's either insanely abusive or he's actually too kind. To me, that doesn't add up with the man we encounter while watching the show. Hopefully, I'm capturing something in between those two extremes (because that's kind of my goal) with this story, because the way I'm writing him is the way I understand him to think in the show. He's rough on both his kids, but his fear of losing them takes priority over him worrying about how they feel and he can come across as cruel and uncaring. (Granted though, he does make some pretty bad decisions as a father, and I'm willing to admit that at times he does seem to put his obsession before his kids. That doesn't change my opinion though.) That's just my theory, and I'd love to hear some of yours. So let me know what you think about this chapter and maybe tell me about some of your own theories. I'd love to read them. Thanks for reading this story. Until next chapter. :)
