Secrets and Car Thieves

Maine

July 1995

John entered the small apartment quietly, expecting Sam to be in bed as it was nearly midnight. Sixteen year old Dean, on the other hand, he expected to see still up and about, watching TV or finishing up the hated homework that he always seemed to procrastinate on until the last minute. He was surprised to see the apartment completely darkened, and his ingrown hunter instincts kicked in, telling him something was wrong, though it was nothing evil.

Keeping his voice pitched low, not wanting to wake Sam, John called for Dean, expecting an immediate answer, knowing that, even if Dean was in bed, the elder of his sons would have heard him enter the apartment no matter how quiet he'd been. Even so young, Dean was a born hunter, nearly surpassing John's own skills and instincts. Besides, if there was even the slightest amount of risk to 'his Sammy' Dean was on high alert; nothing got past him.

Worry slowly seeping in John chanced a bit louder call, "Dean?"

Still no answer and John began making his way down the short hall toward the bedroom the brothers shared, thinking just maybe Dean was in a deep sleep and hadn't heard him. Upon reaching the door and quietly inching it open he began to panic, seeing only one body curled under the covers on the double bed. The dark wisps of shaggy curls told him it was Sam he was seeing.

Where was Dean?

Fearing the worst John made his way to the bedside and gently shook Sam awake, knowing he'd have to deal with a cranky twelve year old in the morning, but deeming it a necessary risk. It took a couple tries to wake the boy, but finally Sam sat up, his brown eyes sleep gazed, eyelids drooping with lingering sleepiness. Sighing he brought up his hands to rub his eyes and scowled at the person who'd woken him.

"Dad?" The voice was sleep roughened and confused, "What's wrong? Where's Dean?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." John replied, watching Sam's reaction to that announcement closely.

For a moment the boy looked confused then drew in a nearly imperceptible gasp, his eyes widening a fraction. If John hadn't been watching as closely as he was he would have missed both. In that moment John knew… Wherever Dean was, he shouldn't be there…and Sam knew very well where 'there' was.

For a moment Sam remained silent, obviously attempting to come up with a plausible story regarding his brother's whereabouts. John fully intended to nip that idea in the bud.

"Sammy," he started warningly, forcing the boy to meet his gaze with his tone alone, "Where is Dean?"

Sam heaved a sigh, "I don't know where he went..."

"Samuel!" John hissed.

"Honest!" Sam responded, "I don't know!"

"What do you know?" John asked, knowing Sam was hiding something, "And don't you lie to me, Samuel Winchester!"

Wincing, Sam kept his gaze lowered, pulling at a loose thread on the blanket covering his legs, knowing he was in trouble. John only used their full names when they were in trouble.

'Sorry, Dean,' he thought before forcing his gaze to John's, "Have you checked our parking spot?"

John tilted his head slightly, wondering why Sam was asking such a strange question. He'd walked right past it upon entering the apartment building. It had been exactly where it should be, no strange demon that could move parking spaces had done away with it…

Wait. The space had been empty when it should have been full of one black, 1967 Chevy Impala.

0000000000000000000000

Dean was whistling as he sauntered into the apartment, swinging his keychain around one finger. He only vaguely registered the lights burning brightly until he entered the kitchen to find Sam sitting at the table eating a bowl of what appeared to be Lucky Charms. Stopping in the doorway he cocked a brow.

"Sammy? What are you doing up?"

Sam looked up silently, rolling his eyes toward the left giving a nearly imperceptible jerk of his head in the same direction. Dean tilted his head questioningly, watching with a slightly narrowed gaze as Sam did his little eye-roll, head-jerk again.

"Have you suddenly picked up a head-tic or something, Sammy?" Dean asked with a small grin.

The younger Winchester heaved a sigh and jerked his head a bit harder, trying to tell Dean something he was obviously not getting. Dean was about to speak up again when he was cut off by a familiar voice coming from the doorway.

"He's trying to warn you about me."

Dean spun around to face the doorway to the living room to find his father leaning against the frame, feet crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest, "Dad!"

"Dean," John replied, "Two choices. Beheading or hanging. Choose wisely."

"Um…is there a third choice?"

John gave a small nod, "Grounded for life…helping Sammy with his homework."

Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust, "I don't want his help…he's dumber than I am."

"I am not!" Dean yelled, temporarily forgetting the fact that he was in major trouble.

"The last time you helped me with my homework, I got an F."

"Oh, Sammy, don't be so dramatic…you did not."

"Ohhh…like a D- is so much better," Sam replied sarcastically.

"Boys!" John yelled, hiding his amusement at the situation since his sons wouldn't take him seriously if he was laughing, "Alright, change of plans, while you're grounded, Dean, Sam is going to help you with your homework."

"He's 12!" Dean exclaimed as Sam rolled his eyes.

John sighed, and, ignoring Dean's protest, he held out his hands, "Keys."

"But…" Dean started, falling back on the puppy look that always got Sam out of trouble but never seemed to work for him.

"Dean," John ground out, "Keys!"

Grumbling about the unfairness of it all Dean half stomped forward and handed his father the keys he'd been twirling around his finger.

Without even glancing at the keys in his hand John set them on the counter and held his hand out again, "The car keys, Dean."

Heaving a sigh that his ploy hadn't worked Dean pulled the car keys out of his jeans pocket, planted them firmly in his father's hand, and snatched his apartment keys off the counter. John slipped the car keys in his pocket, forcing himself to remain serious in the face of Dean's pouting.

"I can't believe you stole my car. And what's worse, you left Sammy alone again. I thought you'd learned that lesson already."

"I'm sorry." Dean mumbled, "It won't happen again."

"You're right," John responded, "It won't, because you'll be lucky to get out of this apartment for school, much less for fun. You're grounded for the week. And if you still haven't learned your lesson…we'll discuss further punishment then. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir." Dean replied, properly cowed.

"Good," John sighed, "Now, both of you get to bed. You have school tomorrow."

As the brothers walked out of the kitchen side by side John watched them go shaking his head, "What am I going to do with them, Mary?"

He distinctly felt a small warmth suffuse his chest and clearly heard Mary's voice inside his head, as if she stood by his side.

'Just love them, John. Even when they try your patience.'

END