Dean opened a P.O. box in Ohio so Bobby could send him the GED results the second week of September. He scored damn near perfect in math, high in science and middle of the road in history and both language arts sections. It was a million times better than he ever imagined he'd do. He would have hung it up on the fridge if they had one in the cabin they were staying in, but his place only had an ancient ice box that barley kept anything cold. Sam bitched every day about it until they left in the middle of October.
In true Winchester fashion, they moved every month or so. Not holding still long enough to put down even the shallowest of roots. Dean watched his brother slowly grow angrier and angrier. He just hoped that Sam would send the rage that would eventually boil over at their father and not at him. That whole school year, Dean felt like their dad was punishing Dean for daring to have a real girlfriend, punishing Dean for trying to do something worthwhile with his life. He'd listen to John complain about how angst-filled and annoying Sam was getting, but wouldn't listen when Dean suggested they stay put for a while the kid be a kid. John seemed to think he knew best, when the best had gotten them nowhere the last sixteen years.
They landed in Topeka Kansas at the beginning of Sam's junior year. If there was ever a place that could be called the "center to supernatural activity" it was the Midwest. John made a list of hunts in the area: possible poltergeist in Kansas City, Missouri, werewolf sightings in Lincoln, Nebraska, demons in Tulsa, Oklahoma, hauntings in south western Iowa; and so on. He taped it to the fridge at the by pay by the month two bedroom apartment John snagged. It was like someone was finally listening to Dean's prayers because they were going to be here for a while.
It was a little weird for Dean being only a half hour down I-70 from "home" but he kept that to himself, he didn't need to give his dad a reason to up and leave. John had a hair trigger about things like that on the best of days. However, Dean thought about maybe taking Sam to Lawrence one weekend when Dad wasn't home, show him where it all began. Maybe Sam would like that; it might make his brother understand what they were fighting for. But the more Dean thought about it, the less he thought it was a good idea. Sam was too little when they left to understand, that little white house wasn't home to him. It was an idea, an imaginary place almost. Dean knew he couldn't go back, it wouldn't be the same.
Sam had found himself a nice little group of friends here, Dean even grew to like most of them. They were weird, like his brother, but getting to hear Sam laugh and smile when he was around them, made that little group of dorks grow on Dean. Sam joined the debate team and drama club, played soccer with encouragement of his new group of friends.
"You know that the likelihood that we'll be here 'til the end of the semester are slim right?" Dean asked Sam as he read over the script for the school play.
"So I should crawl in a hole, push everyone away, and not make friends?" Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm not you, Dean. I like having friends. The play's in November. It's not like I'm going to go for a big part or anything, but I really want to do it. It'll be fun."
"You got a lot of shit going on here though," Dean sighed.
"Just because you never did anything when you were in school, doesn't mean that I have to sit back and do nothing," Sam spat. "All this crap looks really good on college apps, Dean. I'm setting up for my future."
"Whatever, Sammy," Dean shrugged as he started to pull weaponry out of a duffle bag to clean. "I don't want to listen to you bitch about it when we're packing up half way through October before the soccer season's over, or before your play thing happens."
"Dad's not that big of a jackass," Sam shook his head.
"Yeah, Sam," Dean nodded taking apart a pistol. "He really is."
"Well," Sam sighed. "I signed up to take the SATs so were stuck here until the first week of December. Cuz I know the only think dad hates more than ghosts and demons in wasting money. And the SATs aren't exactly cheap."
"Boys!" John called from the other room, causing both of them to drop what they were doing and run to find out what happened.
"Yes, sir," Dean answered, trying his best to stand straight, look the part. Sam leaned against the kitchen counter not amused.
"You boys have any plans for the weekend?" John asked. Dean turned to catch Sam's eye, but he didn't speak up. "Well, I gotta salt and burn in Wichita that needs getting done. But I also got what looks like something real big brewing in Jefferson City, and I'd rather take care of that. You think you can handle it?"
"You want us to go out on a hunt alone?" Sam asked.
"Not alone," John clarified. "Together."
"By ourselves?" Sam sighed.
"You're grownups," John nodded. "I think you can handle finding out who's haunting the elementary school in Wichita and burn the bones in a weekend."
"Last time you let us do something like that, Dean got arrested," Sam replied.
"Well," John said sternly. "I expect that it'll turn out a lot better this time around, since I won't be around to bail you out this time."
"This is stupid," Sam whined, tossing his book bag in the back seat of the Impala after school on Friday.
"Look," Dean breathed leaning across the top of the car toward his brother. "If you got a party of something this weekend you want to go to, say so now. I'll go to Wichita myself and you can do whatever, but once we get in the car, you have to stop whining. Sound fair?"
"I guess," Sam shrugged.
"Is there a party?" Dean asked slightly annoyed. "Is Pete or whatever the fuck his name is having a study night or something that you want to go to?"
"No," Sam exhaled deeply. "But I still don't want to go."
"I can't make you do anything," Dean replied. "But I'd like it if you at least rode with me, cuz it's a long ride and I'd rather not do it by myself. Since you don't got anything else goin' on, can you just suck it up and ride with me?"
Sam shrugged and popped the door. Dean looked up to the sky, asking anyone up there to give him the strength not to strangle his little brother halfway between Topeka and Wichita.
It was a two and half hour ride, nothing big for those boys but Dean when Sam didn't want to be there, it made every mile that much more difficult. His brother was silent for the first forty five minutes of driving, just stared out the window at the Kansas flat lands.
"Hey," Sam coughed turning down the radio. "Did Dad teach you to drive in the Impala?"
"No," Dean shook his head. "I learned in Bobby's big blue truck. Dad wouldn't let me behind the wheel of this baby until he was sure I wasn't going to wreck it."
"Bobby taught you?" Sam asked. "Huh."
"What?" Dean sighed glancing sideways.
"Nothing, I'm just the only one in my class that doesn't have their license yet," Sam replied. "I just, you know, wanna learn."
"You wanna ID," Dean asked. "Cuz I didn't take a driver's test. I just have a really good fake."
"No, Dean," Sam said as if that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. "I want to learn how to drive so I don't have to ask my friends to drive me everywhere."
"I can do that," Dean nodded. "If you want me to. We'll probably have some down time while we're down here. You can do a few laps around a mall parking lot or something."
"Really?" Sam asked sounding so much like a little kid that Dean couldn't help but smile.
"Yeah," Dean nodded. "But if you dent this car, you get to tell Dad that you stole it. Cuz I'm not dealing with him yellin' at me for trying to do something nice. This car is more valuable than anything you've ever touched."
"You'd really let me drive it?" Sam asked. "Like really?"
"Not on the highway or nothing," Dean nodded. "But I'll teach ya the ropes. Maybe dad'll let you take a turn in long rides. I'm not letting you drive the highway or nothing, but maybe you can drive to school or something when we get back."
"That would be awesome," Sam smiled. "Thanks."
"No problem, kiddo," Dean smirked. He turned the radio back up and started to sing along while Sam tired not to laugh.
A little while later, Dean could tell that something else was up with Sam. He started to shift awkwardly like his legs were cramped. Dean was about to ask if Sam wanted to stop and stretch for a minute when Sam started to talk.
"Don't you think it's weird that Bobby taught you all the important stuff in life?" Sam asked picking his thumb nail. "And then you had to teach me. Like how to drive, how to ride a bike, how to tie your shoes…"
"Mom taught me how to tie shoes," Dean interrupted. "And how to read, and count, and all that important stuff I taught you because she couldn't."
"Yeah, I know why you taught me all that stuff," Sam shrugged. "But Bobby did all that milestone parent-y stuff. All the stuff that all the other kids say they learned from their Dads. You don't think it's weird that Dad didn't do it?"
"No," Dean answered shortly. "Dad was busy."
"How old were you when you learned to ride a two wheeled bike?"
"Six," Dean answered. "Beginning of first grade."
"So Dad couldn't take a day out of his busy life to teach his six year old to ride a bike," Sam spat. "Six year old you didn't ask Dad to teach you how to ride a bike?"
"Six year old me didn't have a bike," Dean correct. "There was this bully little girl in my class who rode her bike to school every day and one day I asked Bobby why I didn't have a bike, and Bobby brought me one. Then he realized I didn't know how to ride it. So he taught me. Dad wasn't even around."
"That's kind of my point," Sam said. "Dad wasn't around to teach his son how to ride a bike. So the family friend he dumped us with had to teach you. And you stole a bike to teach me."
"I borrowed it," Dean defended. "I put it right back where I found it Monday morning."
"That's not the point," Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about Dad. I mean, like, I get that Mom died and he was grieving, but in a normal life, wouldn't the loss of a spouse push you toward your children not away from them?"
"What do you want from me?" Dean shook his head, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "I can't change it. Our childhood sucked. I know I was there, okay. But we can't do anything about it now."
"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "I mean, like I don't know."
"Well," Dean was trying to yell at Sam, but it was getting hard. "Just leave Dad at home this weekend. I get that you and him have your differences, but he's not here this now, it just me and you. And you can bitch every day til you're blue in the face about all the shit we didn't get when we were little but it doesn't change anything. Dad did the best he could under the circumstances. So what if we didn't get live in a house with a yard and see the same stupid people every day. Dad may have gone about the job the wrong way, but we can't change it. Way I look it, we're lucky Bobby didn't tell Dad to go fuck himself when he showed up at his front door with a toddler and six year old."
"Jesus," Sam sighed. "You don't have to fucking yell at me."
"I'm sorry," Dean replied. "It's just… Sammy… you gotta give Dad a break, okay. Just… just… let it go. We can't change anything."
"Yeah," Sam nodded, slouching in the seat until his knees hit the glove box. "I'll try."
"I know it's hard," Dean continued. "I know how much you but heads, but this weekend, it's just us. And I'm gonna teach you to drive, and we'll go out and hit on some girls, play some pool or something, but you gotta leave the pissy teenage 'I hate my parents' shit back in Topeka."
They finished the ride in silence, just the music of a classic rock station to keep it from getting awkward.
When they got to Wichita, the first thing they did was scope the elementary school, just to see what they would have to work with, then off the library. Sam found a group of girls in the corner that looked around his age and went over to them to see if they'd heard anything about haunting. Dean hit the newspaper archive machine to find suspicious deaths in the area.
Dean found a possible, a teacher named Karen Paige. A woman that lived in the early 1900's, her life was teaching, never hand a family of her own, never married. The new school, the haunted one, was built atop the old one room school house she used to teach in. All they had to do was find out where she buried and they'd be one the road again after breakfast in the morning. Easy as pie.
Sam came running over after Dean printed out everything he could on Miss Paige.
"So get this," Sam said leaning against the wall while Dean sorted the paperwork. "Those girls over there, they said that there's a rumor that the person haunting the school is an old teacher."
"Karen Paige," Dean nodded. "Yeah."
"They said she's not a fan of what's being taught in schools now," Sam continued. "She haunts the halls. A couple people have seen her, they said. She's only ever attacked one person. Just the lady that Dad saw in the paper which is why he sent us here."
"One person too many, Sammy," Dean replied. "We just gotta find out where she's in the ground and we can take care of it after we eat."
"Graveyard behind the Old Catholic church," Sam said. "That's were all the people from that time are buried."
"Sweet deal," Dean smirked. "Let's burn this mother."
"I'm starving," Sam said. "Can we eat first?"
"Of course," Dean smirked. "Anything for the lady killer."
"Shuddup," Sam said, chuckling.
"You get a number?" Dean asked grabbing Sam's shoulder as they turned to head out.
"No," Sam said softly.
"Too bad," Dean said, as they reached the car. "Might be good for you to have a girl. Pizza place down the street?"
"Yeah that's good," Sam nodded. "But I got a girl… a girlfriend… in Topeka."
"And you didn't feel the need to tell me?"
Sam shook his head. "No, I didn't want you to make fun of me."
Dean decided to let it go, he'd hound his brother about it later, now was a time for food and to figure out how they were going to dig up this teacher. He placed the keys in Sam's hand before opening the passenger's door.
"Chauffer me to pizza, bitch," he called. "I'm hungry."
Cemeteries that old were a hard to scope. The stones are too close together; many worn down by weather until they were unreadable. It took more time than Dean would have liked, but they found her. Too close to the church for comfort, but the building blocked them from the road, as long as they were quiet, it wouldn't be too difficult to stay out of sight. The stood shoulder to shoulder as they dug, neither talking, just doing their best to get the job done as quickly as possible. Dean kept waiting for Sam to complain, but he kept his mouth closed head down and dug.
Two thirds of the way through, as the both expected, a semi-transparent old woman appeared at the foot of the grave.
"Hit her with the crowbar," Dean instructed. "That should buy us enough time to finish digging it up."
Sam did as he was instructed, and the ghost disappeared with a whoosh. Unfortunately, however, she didn't disappear for very long. She appeared next to Dean shoving him backward out of the grave. Sam did what he could, slashing at the figure with the crowbar while helping Dean to his feet. Dean instructed Sam to stand guard while he finished digging. Sam stood above his brother swinging the rusty crowbar at random trying to keep his brother safe.
When Dean finally hit something solid and pulled himself out of the grave almost an hour later, Sam's arms felt like they weight a thousand pounds. No amount of training could have prepared Sam for winging around a crowbar for that long. He placed he crowbar down in a huff as Dean found the salt and lighter fluid in the duffle bag.
While Dean readied the remains to be burned, Sam huffed a few breaths.
"Dude," Dean said. "Don't let your guard down, she'll liable to show back up at any moment."
Sam took a deep breath and nodded. Then before Dean had a chance to react, went flying backward toward the old church.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled, toward between running to help and finishing the job. He lit a match and dropped it, watching the remains catch before taking off toward Sam. The translucent figure screamed and burned in front of Sam who lay awkwardly holding his wrist.
"I'm fine," Sam moaned as Dean tried to look at his hand. "I just landed on it weird. It's fine."
"No, Sammy," Dean shook his head. "I'm taking you to the hospital."
"And tell 'em what?" Sam asked as Dean helped him up. "That I was thrown across a graveyard by a ghost?"
"Or that you fell off a bike?" Dean suggested. "Or a skateboard, or down the stairs. If that's broken, we're going to the hospital."
"Whatever, I'm fine," Sam shrugged him off.
"Well, I'm the oldest," Dean said. "So, emergency room it is."
"How we gonna pay for an emergency room visit?" Sam asked hissing as he tried to roll his wrist in a small circle.
"Let me worry about that," Dean replied, taking Sam by the shoulder and guiding him back toward the car. "You shouldn't have to worry about crap like that."
Sam shrugged as Dean pushed him into the passenger's seat. If there was something seriously wrong with his brother, he knew his dad would never let him forget it. He prayed silently as he walked around the car that there was nothing wrong, just a slight over reaction. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Sam.