A/N: I got very excited about this story, and posted the first chapter while I was still working on my Spiderman fanfic, sooo it's been a while. I'll uh, try to be a little faster with updates, but no promises, unfortunately. Especially because I'm still working on that Spiderman fanfic. Anyway, enjoy!
Warnings: Bleeped swears
Sam's first impression of Mark Reed? Commanding. Polite, but stiff. Exactly the type of person his dad would like. He was right, of course. His dad took to the man like a fish to water. They shared hunting stories until long into the night, drank beer together, and laughed, and Sam felt like it wasn't fair that his dad got to have such a great time at his expense. Dean, to his credit, spent the night doing whatever Sam wanted to do. Just because he agreed with their dad that Sam could use some more training, and that this Mark guy seemed to be the answer to all of their problems, he understood how Sam felt. Besides, Sam had never been away from Dean for longer than a day unless he was at Bobby's or Pastor Jim's. Sam was thankful to be able to glean as much Dean time as possible before their separation. Not that he would admit that he was going to miss him, of course. He had a reputation of independence to keep up after all.
Mark was polite enough. That is until Dean and Dad left. As soon as the Impala was out of sight of the house, he turned on Sam.
"Listen closely Samuel," he instructed. "Because I am about to lay out the rules of my house and my training program. I am only going to give you these rules once. Any deviance from these rules, blatant disregard or otherwise, will result in swift and harsh punishment. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes," Sam hates the way his voice seems to catch in his throat.
"Yes sir," Mark corrected. "That is the first rule. Every response to every question, every comment, every question, every sentence that comes out of your mouth will be followed by the title, sir."
"Yes sir," Sam corrected himself, not in the mood to pick a fight.
"Rule number two, you speak only when given permission. When given instruction, you follow orders without question. If I ask you to jump, you jump no questions asked. If you don't jump high enough, I'll be sure to let you know and you can do it again. All body language will be appropriate and respectful. Shrugging, eye-rolling, sighing, vulgar gestures and anything similar will not be tolerated. You are not to ever raise your voice at me. There is to be no alcohol or drug consumption, and no smoking. Cell phone use is strictly prohibited except in the event of an emergency whereupon emergency services must be contacted. All punishments will be taken with dignity, and all criticism will be taken humbly. The proper response to criticism is 'yes sir,' and 'thank you, sir'. There is a fence surrounding this property. You will not cross it. You will keep every area of the house and property tidy. Every complaint that I hear coming out of your mouth whether meant for my ears or not, will lead to a doubling of the exercise. Outside of sparring, if you raise a hand against me, if you so much as touch me with harmful intent, you will be punished. Swearing will not be tolerated. You may not do anything without first receiving permission from me. Am I making myself quite clear?"
"Yes, sir," Sam responded, mind spinning a little with the rush of information.
"Good," he nodded. "Take your bags upstairs to the first room on the right, and go straight to bed. I will wake you at 4:00 sharp tomorrow, whereupon you will have exactly five minutes to get up, dress, make your bed, and be downstairs in the dining room."
"Yes sir," Sam almost had the urge to salute the man on his way up, but squashed it down lest it be interpreted as disrespect. Before crawling into bed, he checked his phone, finding a text message from Dean.
Hope ur settling in all right, dude. See u in a week. Sam responded, knowing this would officially be his last contact with his brother until they saw each other again.
Got all unpacked, not sure I quite feel settled yet tho. Marks a hard-a**, so this is the last time I get to text u all week. Im not allowed to b on my phone.
Ok, well good luck. Try and learn something.
Sure
Sam shut his phone, placing it in his duffle and crawling under the covers of his bed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing sleep to come. 4:00 would come early.