Chapter 2
The moment he turned the rattling engine off, Dean heard Sam and their father yelling at each other. Oh shit, not again! He got out of the car, rubbing the back of his hand over his jaw as he listened to the raised voices, trying to evaluate how south this one was going. It sounded really bad.
Dean pulled the two bags of groceries out from the bed of the truck, but didn't make a move to head toward the porch.
The two-bedroom house was what they'd been tentatively able to call home for the last couple of years. The faded pale yellow with the orange trim made the wood house uglier than sin, but between that and the other needed repairs, rent was cheap.
It'd taken him a lot of talking over a long stretch of time to convince their Dad a stable place was what Sammy needed -- that it would be good for him, for his education and high school, to be able to stay in one place. Figured it was the closest to a normal life he could give his brother, for once he graduated, he was sure Dad expected Sammy to dive full time into hunting. And it didn't take a genius to figure out Sammy just wasn't all that into it. But what choice did they have? Even after all this time they were no closer to figuring out what killed their mother. And there was a lot of stuff out there hurting other people, and it needed killing. The Winchesters were more than qualified to do something about that.
Except instead of making things better for Sammy and hopefully between them all, somehow living here had only made things worse. Dad stayed out for longer and longer periods on hunts. Sammy had always questioned Dad or balked at things since he was ten, but with the chance to lay down roots, he acted as if he now had a choker around his neck and Dad was the one tightening it. They fought all the time, either one finding something to fault about the other. Nothing Dean did ever seemed to help, all he could do was try and mend fences whenever they got done. But it was getting harder and harder to do all the time. The two of them were too much alike, not that he'd ever point it out to either of them, not if he wanted to be alive afterwards.
Dean stared again in the direction of the house. The yelling wasn't growing any less.
He sighed. Guess he'd better quit stalling. Things were sounding worse if anything. And someone needed to be around to pick up the pieces.
He trumped up the steps, making as much noise as he could, hoping they'd take the hint. Might as well not have bothered. Even when he opened the screeching screen and then the door, the flow of hot words back and forth didn't waver in the least.
"Why can't you just be happy for me?"
Sam and Dad were facing each other in the middle of the small living room, fists at their sides, legs splayed, as if about to launch into an all out, no holds barred brawl. Dean had never quite seen them this wound up. This was really, really bad.
He kicked the door closed, making a wall shaking slam, but it was as if he didn't even exist.
"Happy? About what?" His father's voice dripped with venom. Dean had seen his father angry plenty of times and at plenty of people, but this was something else entirely – this time he was furious. "The fact my son took tests I didn't sign him up for? That he sent out applications behind my back? The fact he's trying to destroy his family?"
"It's not like that, Dad!" Sam's voice cracked. He looked ready to spit nails too. Dean possessed no idea on what the hell set this off, but it must be something super awful.
"Then why don't you just explain it to me." His father's cold sledgehammer sarcasm made Dean wince. This had to stop.
He stepped forward, though survival instincts insisted it not be dead between them. "Sammy, Dad, come on, guys. Don't do this. What's the big deal?"
As his father's flaming stare turned his way, Dean realized he'd said totally the wrong thing.
"What's the big deal? This -- that's what!" He threw a paper and envelope at him.
With his hands full Dean couldn't catch them, so he was forced to put the bags down and reach for the items where they fell. Throwing a worried glance at his brother, he saw that Sam was shaking where he stood, as if barely restraining himself from doing their father violence. As he looked at his father, Dean realized he didn't appear all that much more in control. They were lit powder kegs on a timer and he couldn't read the clock. He grabbed the paper and envelope and stood back up.
The first thing he noticed was the seal on the upper right. It was for Stanford University. Dean glanced up from the paper, noticing that both his brother and father were staring at him now. He looked back down at the letter. It was a congratulations and acceptance message to the college. Hot shit! Stanford? When did Sammy even apply? Dean looked up, a grin on his face, then felt it fade as he finally realized what the fight was about.
"Your brother wants to leave us." His father's voice was as cold as space.
"No! I just want something in my life other than hunting, Dad. I want a future."
"You have a future! A future with your brother and me, looking for the thing that killed your mother."
Sammy shook his head and took a step back. "It's been almost eighteen years and you still don't know what killed her. We're never going to find what did it. This is not what she would want for me. For all of us. And you know that!"
The statement stung. Dean had a feeling their father wouldn't take it well. He wasn't wrong.
"The world out there isn't safe! Only as a family can we survive. So get this college nonsense out of your head, right now. You're staying here, and doing as you're told."
"Dad!" Dean took half a step forward. Hadn't his father learned yet not to make statements like that to Sammy?
Sam took another step back. "I'm going to college. You have no right to keep me here."
"So now you know what's best?" Spittle flew from their father's mouth, his fury a twirling tempest. "You think you have what it takes to survive out there alone? You don't know crap! It's a war zone out there. One most people are totally ignorant about. And if you go out there, you're going to be putting yourself right in the line of fire."
"I don't care!" Sammy's fury matched their father's watt for watt. "It beats being a prisoner here. It'll be nice not being told what to think and when to think it!"
Dean stared from his brother's agonized face to their father's wrath, indecision marring his own features. This was getting way out of control. Soon they wouldn't be able to take things back, if it wasn't too late already. But how to stop it? "Quit it, you two! We can work something out. I'm sure of it! Just calm down."
It was like he wasn't even there. Why did it always have to be like this? Sammy was so damn stubborn. And Dad…sometimes Dad was just blind.
"Your life here is that bad? You find this life so distasteful? You would prefer to betray you mother, your family, all the people who've helped raise you? Then get the hell out! Get the hell out but remember one thing – you make that choice and there's no turning back. You leave and it's done. Don't you ever dare show your face around here again."
Dean panicked, almost getting in his father's path. "Dad, no! You don't mean that." What the heck was wrong with him? Ultimatums were bad – ultra bad!
"I meant every word." Their father's eyes were rock hard.
Sammy looked as if someone had punched him in the gut. Then his features slowly smoothed out, which drove a wedge of fear into Dean. "Okay."
"No, Sammy! No!" No, no, no, no, no!
His brother turned away from their father without another word and headed toward the door. Dean moved to block his way. Horror was prickling at the edges. This was going too far. "Don't do this. Please."
Sammy wouldn't look at him, just brushed past him and reached for the door. Dean moved to grab his arm.
"Dean, stop! He's made his choice."
Years of unquestioning obedience stayed his hand. He saw Sammy hesitate for just a split second, his back a wall of tension and held back pain. Then he opened the door, and shoving at the screen, walked on out.
Dean glanced back at his father in disbelief, at the smoldering rage burning there. How could he be allowing this to happen? He was forcing their family to be ripped apart! Hadn't he been the one saying just a minute ago how important it was for them to stay together? Dean ran out after his brother.
"Sammy, wait! Sammy!"
Sam was already half way down the graveled driveway. He didn't slow down.
"Dammit, Sam! Stop for Pete's sake." Dean ran forward and went around him, blocking his way again.
Sammy stopped, Dean too close to go around. He turned his face away, tears burning tracks down his cheeks. "Leave me alone, Dean." He choked the words out. "It's too late."
"No! Don't say that. Just give me some time; I can make him see reason. You don't have to leave this way." Dean reached for him, but Sam knocked his hand back.
"You heard what he said." Deep hurt and resentment resonated in his voice. "He's not going to change his mind. He's wanted this all along and now I've given him a reason to do it."
"Don't you say that, don't you fucking say that!" He grabbed Sam by the arms. "Dad loves you, dammit! The two of you are just too damn touchy. I don't think either of you ever listens to what the other says."
Sam pushed him back hard. "You don't know anything, Dean. It's over. Now, leave me the hell alone!"
Was he the only one who really cared anything about this family? "Sam, this is crazy! Would you listen to yourself? You can't just leave like this. You have no money, no clothes, no place to go. How the hell are you even going to get to California?"
Sammy wiped at his face with his sleeve. "That's not your problem."
"Like hell it's not. You're my brother!" It was his job to keep Sam safe.
"Dean, I'm not going back. I'm never going back." His jaw set in a stubborn line, the muscle along the side twitching.
"Fine. Don't. Just wait here. Give me five minutes, okay? Five minutes! Please?" Even if he didn't, he would find him. Sam wouldn't be able to get too far in just a few minutes. Unless he hitched.
Dean put on a burst of speed and ran back to the house, not waiting to see if Sammy would do as he asked or not. As he came inside, a quick look showed his father was no longer in the living room. Counting his blessings, he skirted past the still waiting groceries and ducked into the room he shared with his brother.
Digging in the closet, he found a duffel bag and started stuffing as much of Sam's stuff into it as he could get his hands on as well as a couple of other things. Then prying up a loose board from underneath his bed, Dean brought out the tin he kept there with his emergency cash.
There had to be a way he could fix this. There had to be. It was all just happening so fast.
Dean took a cautious glimpse out of the room, but still saw no sign of their father. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. His gaze passed by one of the few pictures of their mother, the one taken with their father in his military fatigues. He grabbed it on his way through and stuffed it into the bag. His father would be furious when he found out, but Dean didn't care. Sammy needed it more than they did. It would be a reminder of his family, of what he left behind.
Dean made his way back outside. His heart jumped into his throat when he caught no immediate sign of his brother. He didn't wait! Panic made his heart skip a beat.
"Sammy!" A flash of a white caught his attention and he headed for the oak tree near the road. His brother was there, keeping himself out of view from the house. Dean found he could breathe again. "I got some of your stuff. There's some cash in there too."
His brother took the bag, but wouldn't look at him. "Thanks."
"You don't have to do this, Sammy. We can work something out. I know we can." Dean tried to put every last ounce of conviction he could into his voice.
Sammy shook his head, hugging the bag to his chest. "I'm not going back."
His brother was stubborn -- too damn stubborn by far. Dean's chest felt horribly tight. He didn't want to do this. He also didn't seem to have much choice. "Yeah, yeah, I get that, okay? How about a ride somewhere? Hell, how about I give you the Ford?"
Sammy still wouldn't look at him. Dean could see enough of his face to tell he was arguing with himself. "No. I need to start taking care of things on my own."
Dean's throat closed up. This was it. He was really leaving. His brother was going to go and leave him. "You, you have to promise me something though."
"What?" Sammy's shoe dug into the dirt.
"You've got to call me, text me, email me, whatever, and let me know you're okay, all right? You, you've got to stay in touch. I'll call you, too. Let you know how we're doing. We're family. You gotta remember that. And if you get into trouble, don't forget I'm here for you, man." There was so much more he wanted to say, so much more he wanted to do. Sammy was leaving him. How was he going to be able to protect him now? How would he do his job? "Promise me."
"I…I promise." Sam's voice was very small. "Good bye, Dean." He pushed away from the tree.
Dean grabbed him before he got too far and turned him around then hugged him hard. It only made him feel marginally better when Sammy returned the hug just as fiercely.
His brother pulled back after a moment, and Dean noticed tears were once more running down his brother's face. Sammy turned away and started down the road without looking back. Dean stared after him his own vision far from clear.
It was a long time before Dean turned away and headed back toward the house. A knot of worry was already growing in his gut and Sammy had barely gone. What would it be like in a week, a month, a year? Since that terrible night almost eighteen years ago, he doubted he'd ever been apart from his brother for more than half a day. Now it might be forever. Dread washed through him making him stagger with its intensity. What was he going to do?
He reached for the screen and stopped, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. Unexpected anger rumbled through him, anger at Sam for leaving, but more at his father for pushing him to it. He yanked the screen door open a little harder than was prudent. It smacked against the wall and tried to come at him, but he was already through the door when it did. The sound of it hitting the frame echoed in the empty living room.
He always did everything his father asked of him. Things went smoother that way, something Sammy never seemed to get. Their father knew what he was about. But on this, on this he was dead wrong. He should have never backed Sammy into a corner like that. Of course his brother wouldn't back down!
For the first time in his life he truly wanted to give his father of piece of his mind. He had to be shown this wasn't right.
Dean stared at his options, knowing there weren't many places his father could have gone in the house. He decided to try the kitchen first.
He spotted him as he approached the doorway, sitting at the worn Formica topped table. Dean got to the entryway and came to a dead stop as several things imprinted themselves on his mind at once.
The upper right hand cabinet was open. That was the designated heavy liquor cabinet, which was off limits to everyone but their Dad. And while their father would and had drank beers till the cows came home, the strong stuff at the house was only for company or when his father was feeling very very low. But even then he only drank it at night. It was currently only late afternoon. The bottle next to him was already half empty.
On the table, set off to the side as if to make sure it would remain unharmed, was Sammy's acceptance letter. It looked to have been painstakingly smoothed out, almost like an apology for its previous rough treatment.
His father was slumped over the top of the Formica. One would think he was asleep, or passed out from drink, except for the telltale shaking of his shoulders and the sobbing sounds staunchly muffled beneath.
Dean's anger up and died, like fire thrown into vacuum. He didn't need to tell his father what he had done, the mistake he'd made – his father already knew.
Looking away and as quietly as he could manage, Dean backed up and left him alone.