They walk for a few minutes in companionable silence, and it's nice, it's simple. There's a goal and a plan and neither of them feel the need to argue about it or talk about it, just simple, get it done. This is what every day is like with Dean. They have a goal, they work out a plan, Dean says OK and they do it.
With Sam there's always why's and who's and how comes. But not right now.
John closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of the sweet air, and he can almost imagine that Mary is walking beside him. "It's a nice night." He sighs out, not really expecting an answer so he starts slightly when Sam answers.
"I like this time of year." He says quietly, his eyes watching the clouds and the sky. His long neck stretched upwards. And it's then that John realises that Sam is the same height as him now, when did that happen. When he voices that question Sam just chuckles and ducks his head with a shy grin.
They carry on walking, again in silence, and John wonders how he didn't notice that his teenage son was over six foot. How could he not notice that? When did that happen? His parent brain catches on track starting to list the logical repercussions of a growth spurt and surreptitiously glances down to make sure Sam's clothes and shoes look big enough. The Jeans look like cast offs from Dean but they serve their purpose and trainers look battered but serviceable. He mentally makes a to-do to take Sammy shopping as soon as he has the funds; the boy probably needs some new boots if he's grown this much.
Which leads him back to how had he not noticed. They pass a few neighbours who send waves their way. John doesn't recognise them so assumes they know Sam, which is confirmed when Sam sends a polite smile and wave back as they carry on walking. John wonders how Sam knows these people and realises that he is so out of touch with his youngest's life. He doesn't know how his school is going, whether he likes the teachers, whether he has any friends, whether he is having any trouble. When Dean and Sam were at school together he used to get a full report from Dean, now Dean's not been at high school for two years and John suddenly feels his heart rate rise. This was not only a failing as a parent but a failing as a hunter, the need for constant vigilance, to know every fact. And he realises now that he doesn't have that when it comes to Sam, parts of him are hidden in the shadows, and shadows.
John clears his throat, "Um… So." He starts, Sam's gaze jumps to him quickly before focussing on the road ahead. "How's school going?"
Sam glances suspiciously at him from the corner of his eyes and John does his best not to flinch at the fact his sons is suspicious of him for asking about school. Sam shrugs before responding. "It's fine… It's just… school."
"You, um… doing well in your classes?"
"huh-uh."
"Good." They slipped back into silence as they crossed the road, this one a little less comfortable, Sam keeps sneaking glances at his Dad, his shoulders tense as if waiting for the next question, keeping on his toes so he didn't get the answer wrong. John decides a change of approach is in order. "Do you have a favourite subject or teacher?" nice open questions so Sam doesn't feel boxed in.
"Um… They're all pretty nice. Well apart from Mr. Jackson, he's the Spanish teacher, he doesn't really like me." Sam smirked as if he were sharing a joke with himself and John found himself surprised that he didn't know what it was.
"Why?"
"Apparently he doesn't like being corrected in front of the whole class when he gets his verb tense wrong." Sam shot him a half grin before looking back down at the pavement. John couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped his lips. At least it wasn't only him that got the brunt of Sam's overly active brain.
"But you are doing good yeah?"
"Yes sir. A's all round." Sam replied flatly as they carried on. They slipped back to silence yet again.
When did it become so hard to get anything out of this kid. John thought almost fondly back on the days when you couldn't get the kid to shut up about school. When did that stop?
An unhelpful part of his brain suggested it was when he was told to 'shut up already Sam' one to many times. He didn't know whether to grieve for the enthusiastic little boy that loved school and loved to share it with his family or be happy that it was proof that Sam really could follow orders if given enough times.
"What are you enjoying this year?" John asked, because nobody ever said John Winchester backed down from a challenge.
"Most things, I like math, algebra, I'm really enjoying History at the moment."
"Really?" John asked surprised, he always assumed that Sam was more the maths and science type rather than history or English, but he couldn't remember where he had gotten that impression from. Sam just nodded as they carried on. "History was one of my favourite subjects at school." John offered.
"Really?" Sam asked surprised.
"Well that and auto-shop." John chuckled and Sam shared a grin, his shoulders easing a bit. "So… why history?"
"I dunno." Sam mused, and John could see him relaxing even more, making him look younger, "I suppose it's not too different from research for a hunt."
"A hunt?"
"yeah, you have your sources and you've got to come up with a story of what happened from the sources available, that's what history is. And it's interesting learning about things that have happened in the past. That humans have been around for years and keep making the same mistakes, war, genocide…" Sam tapered off, seemingly aware that he had started talking more freely and edged a small sheepish smile at John.
"I was never interested in school," began John, wanting, for some reason, to let Sam know that they had something in common, "But when I was in the Marines I read a lot, not much else to do really. Of course I used to read Military histories but when I left and married your mother I had a whole book shelf full of books ranging from greeks to the gulf." Now he had Sam's full attention, Sam's head fully turned towards him watching him with wide eyes, absorbing everything he said, it was the same thing that happened whenever he brought up Mary, like if Sam absorbed enough information about her he could form a link, his own bank of memories, haphazardly pieced together to form some kind of image of the women that birthed him. He felt another pang of grief for Sam that he had never known her, "She liked this time of year too." John offers. And a small hopeful smile twitches at the corners of Sam's mouth.
"Yeah?"
John nods. "She used to take Dean for walks, drag me along too." John chuckles, and he notices that the pain he feels dredging up those old memories is smothered by Sam's bright eyes as he learns he had something in common with her.
"Did…um, did she take me too?" he asks quietly, tentatively. And it takes all of John's willpower to stop his eyes misting when he has to tell Sam he can't remember. The smile drops off Sam's face and he swallows quickly looking back ahead, to the task at hand. They walk the rest of the way to the library in silence.
When they approach the large stone building that is this towns library Sam sets his bag down on a low wall and pulls out a small pile of books. John casts a casual eye over them and smirks at the picture that one could draw from his sons library borrowings.
A well read novel, John can't get a good look at the title but it is probably one of the classics, something really long and arduous to read that would have Dean throwing it against the wall after the first page but probably had Sam engrossed, staying up all hours of the night to finish. A thick text book with thin pages which probably contains college level algebra. A book of Latin rites, a study of local folklore and a small battered book that looks about a thousand years old.
"What is that?" John asks gesturing to the last book that Sam is posting through the wall.
"Oh. It's an old text in Sumerian. The content isn't very interesting I just got it to help me with my translations." Sam finishes depositing the books and zips up his now empty back pack.
"You read Sumerian?" John asks because when the hell did the boy learn that one. He'd known for while that Sam is near fluent in Latin and his pronunciation is far better than Dean or himself.
"Not much, Bobby gave me a book to translate last time we were there and I picked up a few things. It can be useful, especially with some more… exotic cases."
"Right." John chuckles, knowing that 'picked up a few things' probably means the boy could at least make out the gist of a paragraph from an ancient scroll if need be. He smiles and shakes his head ruefully, the boy always surprises him.
John likes things ordered, likes to file things away in boxes, neat and secure where they will stay. He is a leader, the leader of their small family, the leader of the hunt, he is tough when he needs to be, ruthless when he needs to be. He is a father and a soldier and always slightly broken. But that is what he is, and he will stay that way.
Dean is his soldier, his lieutenant. He is cocky and self assured when it comes to his abilities as a hunter and a brother and decidedly unsure when it comes to most other things. Which he covers with bravado. And John lets it go because that is who Dean is and it's what Dean needs.
Sam is… a mystery.
He jumps around and never stays one box. As soon as John thinks he's figured out what the boy wants, what he needs, he changes and John has to rearrange everything. When Sam found out about hunting he wanted it to not be true and for them to be normal, then he wanted to know as much about hunting as possible, then he wanted to join the soccer team, then he moaned because he was left behind on hunts, then he moans because he missed the prom. And John can't keep up. Right now John thought he had him filed as 'not interested in hunting, wanting the homework and teen angst that goes along with a normal high school experience', and then he finds out his son has been studying Sumerian in his spare time in order to translate ancient texts.
He's about to wax lyrical about the boys indecision when a reflection of light from something black and sleek catches his attention. He watches across the square as the Impala parks outside the fifties style dinner across the way and Dean steps out of the driver's side before quickly hoping round to open the passenger door for his date. And John has to admit that his boy did well, she's tall and slim, gorgeous, long brunette hair that falls in waves over her shoulders. John rolls his eyes when Dean grabs her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles before helping her out he car.
A snort from his shoulder startles him slightly and he looks to see Sam watching the scene. "God he's so corny."
John grins and nods his head in agreement. "He doesn't really like her."
"What do you mean?"
"She's probably very nice and Dean will cross her off his to do list, but if he really liked her he would be falling all over himself, stammering, not knowing what to say. If he's being Casanova that means he's not that into it."
"I don't know whether to be happy to know that he's not always Mr. Smooth or pissed that he blew me off for someone he didn't really like."
"I think you'll find when your brother and a pretty girl are concerned he doesn't really think with his upstairs brain."
"Now that I already did know." John chuckled along with Sam for a moment enjoying being able to bring a smile upon Sam's face – that had been lacking recently.
"Hey…" John spoke after a small moment of silence, "Why don't we use the money, get some burgers or something instead."
Sam looked at him curiously for a few moments "What about food for the house?"
"Dean ate it all, he can replace it. Unless being seen out in public with your old man is too un cool or something…"
"No. No…" Sam frantically shook his head, wrapping his hands nervously around the straps of his backpack. "that sounds… alright…. Yeah, let's do that."
"OK then. Where is good to get burgers?"
"Err…" Sam nodded towards the building Dean and his date had just disappeared into. John felt a smile come out on his face, it was a smile that didn't get much exposure but one that he had used since he was a little boy. "Dad…" Sam called warily as he watched his Dad's eyes light up in a way that was usually not good news. "What are you planning?"
"What ever do you mean Sam."
"I mean you have that look in your eye that you get whenever you make Dean clean Kakaya guts off the Impala cause he called you old, or the time you left that vampires head in Calebs trunk."
"Don't be so over dramatic Sam. We're just going to get food. You coming?" John sent his youngest a winning smile before heading across the road to the dinner.