Sam and his father drove mile after mile in virtual silence. John's thoughts turning, not so much to what Bobby had said but to what he hadn't mentioned, while Sam's thoughts strayed to schoolwork still to be done, a missed interview and to Jessica Moore. His girlfriend said she was okay with him staying with his dad a few more days or even for a week but he could tell by the sound of her voice that she was anything but. He really didn't blame her. He was screwing up his future and had left her, however temporarily, for a family he barely talked about and that he hadn't seen in years. A headache gathered behind Sam's eyes and he rubbed them with a sigh.
"So, Sammy, was that girl of yours upset that you wouldn't be home right away?"
Sam wanted to squirm in his seat but resisted the urge. He was a grown man, had lived with and made love to the woman of his choice and of his dreams but discussing her with his father didn't seem right. He wasn't like Dean banging every waitress or bartender or bank teller he came in contact with and feeling comfortable enough with Dad to leave almost nothing to the imagination.
As a teen Sam had idolized Dean but as he got older he found he didn't have his brother's tastes or his appetites or his ease of camaraderie with their father and he knew that, at that moment, it didn't really matter what he said about Jess. His father was worried about the calls from Bobby and would only listen with half a heart, if that. "She was a little upset that I missed the interview but she says another will come along, maybe Harvard Law."
Try as he might Sam couldn't keep the sarcasm and resentment from creeping into his voice and John turned to glance at his youngest son with fire in his eyes, a fire that he quickly banked, but too late. He knew Sam could always read volumes in his eyes, could always see through all of his lies even if he told them to protect both of his boys. What had Sam read this time, he wondered? That he was worried sick about Dean? That he was pissed at Sam for putting his own plans and interests before the welfare of his own brother? That perhaps he cared more for Dean than for him?
It wasn't like that John told himself. It had never been like that. It was only that, from the time they were little, Dean seemed to get it. He seemed to know that the world was full of evil and that it was their job to hunt it down and kill it. While Sam…well, Sammy was different and John always felt that, if he could have, Sam would have traded places with any number of kids he went to school with, in any little jerk water town just to have a 'normal' life.
As it turned out Sam had run off to college as soon as he was able whereas Dean had taken to hunting like a duck to water and seemed to want nothing more out of life. It wasn't that he loved Dean any more than Sam; it was just that Dean was more like him. They were two sides to the same coin and when he said jump, Dean just asked with a smile, "Off which cliff?"
"Listen, Sam," John began keeping his eyes on the road, "I know you'd rather be a million miles away and doing anything but this…'
"No!" Sam cut in, "Don't get me wrong, I want to be here. Ellen's your friend and Dean's my brother. He took care of me most of my life and if he's in trouble I want to help."
Meaning I didn't? John thought angrily but he kept his peace as they continued to head toward Bobby's place. The older hunter had called one more time and John had put him on speaker as he relayed the simple message that both Ellen was doing much better but that Dean was in trouble. The connection was broken before John could grill Bobby and he became even more agitated. Had he heard something more in Bobby's voice other than just the message?
They passed an eighteen-wheeler and John brought the truck back into the right hand lane and the conversation back to the situation at hand. "So, you think you're up to this?" John threw out the challenge and Sam rose to it.
"Yes, Sir." Sam replied and laughed uncertainly wondering what the hell kind of a question was that to ask. Did he doubt Sam's commitment to his brother, to his family, at this late date?
"You'll do everything exactly as I say and exactly when I say to do it?" John then asked.
Sam really began to wonder what his father was driving at. Just how worried was he about Ellen and Dean? "Yeah…yeah sure," Sam vowed but John heard the uncertainty in his voice.
"You don't sound so sure," John retorted as the truck took the final turn onto the road leading to Sioux Falls.
"Dad, I'll do whatever I have to!" Sam said vehemently, his father's apparent lack of faith pissing him off. He knew the ropes. How could he not? Hunting had been the only life he'd known for eighteen years. Whatever was wrong at Bobby's, whatever had happened to Ellen or to Dean, he was fully prepared. What he wasn't prepared for was his father's final question.
"Even help me kill your brother?"