Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural" or its characters.
... how far could he get before they noticed?
"You can't go because I SAID SO, SAM!!"
"That's BULL and you know it!!"
... pretty damn far, was his guess. Dean shifted on the bed, letting his head hang over the edge; staring at the door with an upside down view.
"It doesn't MATTER if you think it's BULL or NOT!! I said NO!"
"That's not FAIR!! You MAKE me go camping ALL THE TIME why can't I go THIS time!?"
... hell, he could probably make it all the way to Vegas-- had the fake ID to make it worthwhile too.
"DAMMIT, Sammy! You KNOW why!"
"SAM! MY NAME IS SAM! I'm not a baby anymore, Dad!"
"You're FOURTEEN YEARS OLD!"
He heard Dad released a long breath that sounded like a growl and defeat all in one, "The answer is no, Sam," there was emphasis on the name.
Dean cringed, that would not go over well.
"Just SIGN it, Dad!"
"No. I'm not letting you go up into those woods with a history teacher for protection. You know what's up there--"
"NO actually I don't! and neither do you!! You haven't found ANYTHING! It COULD be a wild animal-- just like the paper said!!"
Dean rolled his eyes, Sammy was grasping at straws there. Cold spots, EMF readings, flashing lights... it was totally not a wild animal.
"It is not a wild animal, Samuel." Dad said the words sternly and loaded them you-know-that vibes.
"Okay, fine, but it's never happened in this area! Not the one the trip is going to be in... all my friends are going, Dad-- please..."
Dean smirked a little as he mimicked the word along with his Dad. Sam had had four hours to get his argument ready for when Dad came home-- and this is all he'd gotten. The kid should know better.
"You never let me DO anything! I'm like your PRISONER! Like SLAVE LABOR or something!"
Sam could argue anyone else into knots, put him in a room with Dad and apparently all sanity left him-- because saying that to Dad was crazy. Dean lifted his head and swiveled over onto his stomach, he stared at the closed door.
He might have to referee this one.
"IT ISN'T SAFE!!"
"AND HUNTING IS!?"
The chair legs scraped the floor as Dad got up.
Dean sat up on the bed.
"I'm NOT going to keep having this conversation! I SAID NO, SAM! NO."
The small apartment was quiet for a moment and Dean stood up, ready to head into the kitchen-- the silence raised goosebumps along his arms.
"I hate you."
A moment later the bedroom door was flung open and Sam barreled in, throwing himself on the other bed face first and covering his head with his pillow.
Dean would make a joke about drama queens and little girls if the sincerity in Sam's last three words wasn't still reverberating around the apartment. The silence stretched and Dean eyed his brother's still form.
He glanced at the doorway.
He'd started for the bed when he heard this father's voice.
With a quick glance at Sammy and a sigh he went to his father.
"I'm going out. Make sure Sam doesn't."
"Yes, Sir." He said automatically, then frowned, "Where're you going?"
Dad paused as he put his jacket on, "Up to that cliff-side; take another look..."
"Have dinner." Dad said, he was checking his duffel bag; Dean didn't bother to tell him they'd had dinner hours ago-- before he'd gotten home. It was nice that he'd remembered.
The air was thick with those three words. The air was always thick After.
Sam and Dad were building a career out of making thick air; butting heads, yelling, slamming doors...
It was like the day Sam turned twelve the sweet, curious kid had been eaten by a know-it-all, surly monster.
It was always worse when they were in a town like this. Quiet, nice, suburban; worse when they managed to get a place near a good school, near the other kids...
Sam always wanted to be like the other kids.
But unlike before when he'd get sad about it-- now he got pissed and loud and belligerent and defiant and just-- became fuckin' pain in the ass.
"Ya hear me?" Dad snapped at him and and he felt his whole body snap to attention.
"Sorry, Sir." He muttered.
"I said, usual rules apply. I'll try and be back by morning. If I'm not, don't be late getting to school-- that goes for you to. I don't care if you're a senior you get your ass to homeroom. Got it."
"Good. And make sure he stays put."
Dean nodded again. Last time Sam had said I hate you he'd decided to prove his point by sneaking out for a walk. Dean had been giving him time to chill and Dad had left After-- so Sammy had been nearly 7 miles out of town before Dean had caught up to him.
That had been two nice towns ago, though-- nearly a year.
Dad was at the door now, leather jacket on, bag slung over his shoulder.
"Just checkin it out, right Dad?" he asked, because he felt those goosebumps appear all over again.
"That's what I said."
His father's response was pretty much what Dean was expecting.
Within seconds he was alone in the room.
Six hours later Dad came back needing thirteen stitches on his left arm. When Dean was finished, Dad signed Sammy's permission slip.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this little piece. :-)