Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

There's very little fluff in the beginning of this one, lots of angst though, so that's always good.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Sam is 17, and Dean is 21

-/\-SN-/\-

Sam dumped out his backpack on his bed, his history book fell to the floor and he kicked it across the room. Dean stood in the doorway, amused and out of the danger path. John passed in the hall behind Dean.

"Ten minutes." He called before the front door slammed.

Sam pulled a well-organized box from under his bed and put a few carefully chosen weapons in the backpack. Dean could tell from the hard lines across Sam's shoulders that his younger brother was only just containing his anger. He had to admit, Sam was getting better at hiding it.

He turned, backpack in hand. "What?"

Sometimes.

Dean held his hands up. "Easy, Gandhi."

Sam glared at him and tugged the zipper closed. He pushed past Dean without a word and slammed the front door on the way out. Dean grabbed his bag and followed his family out the door.

In all honesty Dean could, for once, understand why Sam was angry with their dad. Sam had a project due, was going to meet this girl that he's sort of had a crush on, at the library to work on it; and then their dad put his plans on the table. When that happened, all other plans were shoved aside. Dean's plans revolved around hustling pool in bars, so no big loss there, but he knew that Sam had something important shoved aside, like always. Sam being liked was high on his list, like it never was on Dean's. Dean could care less if he was liked, by anyone but Sam.

Sam brooded in the back seat, eyes dark with anger and focused too hard on the world outside the car window. Either John didn't notice, or he had decided not to step onto that live grenade.

"So, you want to fill us in?" Dean asked with a hint of a smirk.

John glanced over. "Just looking." He pulled a stack of newspaper clippings from the notebook and handed it to Dean.

Dean turned, took a breath. "Sam, you want to look through these with me?"

"Nope." He kept his eyes on the window.

It's not like Dean didn't see it coming. "Well, it might be above your reading level anyway." He was taking a risk, teasing his brother at that moment.

Sam's eyes glanced over to Dean, murder written in their depths, before he turned back to the window. Could have been worse, Dean turned to the papers and skimmed them among the notes John had added.

"There's an abandoned graveyard I want to look at." John glanced in the mirror at Sam. "From what I've found out, most of the high school kids go there. Dares and such. You heard anything about it, Sam?"

"Nothing you don't already know." He muttered, then under his breath so John wouldn't hear. "Though, actually meeting and talking with people would be nice."

Dean heard him, glanced over at their dad to make sure he didn't, and sighed. Yeah, tonight was going to be a ton of fun. Would it have been so hard for John to let Sam go to his little library meeting, talk to a girl, be a normal teenage boy for once? Maybe it would have broken some of the tension between Sam and John, though Dean figured they would have just found something else to fight about three minutes later. John didn't understand Sam, and Dean wished he didn't sometimes. Understanding Sam meant being referee, retaining wall, and double agent; all things that could blow up in his face if he didn't balance it right.

John pulled off the road and climbed out of the car, Sam and Dean behind him. Sam pulled a knife, holy water and a gun from the bag. The rest he left in the car. Between the three of them, they could pretty much handle anything that they found. At least when Sam was pissed off like that, he usually focused on whatever was going on just for a distraction.

Sam tripped over an overgrown headstone. He kicked it out of frustration and Dean bit back a sarcastic comment. Sam glanced back at him as though daring his brother to say anything. Dean had made the mistake only once of saying the first comeback that came to mind when Sam's eyes were hard like that; his jaw was bruised for three days.

John stopped and glanced back at his sons. "Keep watch here, I'm going to get a closer look at the mausoleum."

Dean nodded and Sam pretended like he hadn't heard. Sam kicked a lose rock at a headstone.

"I wouldn't go around disrespecting the graves so obviously, Sammy." Dean leaned on a nearby headstone.

Sam looked over at him, his jaw clenched. "There's no point to me being here."

Dean had to agree, but wouldn't admit it. Its not like they were hunting tonight, just scoping out the possibilities. Dean thought back to the newspaper clippings. A string of teenage deaths had occurred, seven in the last two months. All seemed to be the result of stupid dares, but John had thought otherwise. Dean was starting to agree, the last death was only a few days ago. The boy was found in the river, apparently he dove in from the dam, and everyone knew the water wasn't deep enough or the weather warm enough for such a stunt. The first death was found in the cemetery, so that's where the Winchesters would start.

A girl's muffled giggle drew the attention of both Sam and Dean. Automatically they dropped behind headstones for cover. A teenage boy and girl came from behind a further headstone, his hand gripped her arm. They laughed and tried to be silent with a half empty bottle of vodka in her hand.

The boy tripped and she dropped next to him. "Derek." She laughed.

"Truth'r dare?" He slurred.

Silence, besides the rustle of them as they tried to untangle their drunken limbs from the grass.

"Lisa." He took a drink from the bottle. "S'not a hard question, truth'r dare?"

Dean noticed Sam tense beside him.

"Dare." She took the bottle from him.

"I dare you t'kiss me."

"S'easy." She leaned in and went further than kissing.

Sam's jaw was tight and he looked away. Only Dean would have been able to notice the slight change in Sam's mood, yeah, the kid was still pissed off, but there was something personal about it now.

John returned, nodded at his boys and walked back towards the car. The three left silently, and the two making out didn't notice a thing.

Dean grabbed Sam's arm just before the car. "What's going on?"

Sam looked back towards the direction of the cemetery. "Looks like there wouldn't have been a study session anyway, so I missed nothing."

He pulled his arm from Dean's grasp and retreated to the car. Dean glanced back at his brother before he climbed in. So Lisa was the name of the girl Sam had a crush on, he sure did know how to pick them.

Sam was silent on the ride home, his eyes on the darkness outside the window. His arms were folded across his chest, his jaw still tight. John glanced in the mirror at Sam, but didn't say anything. Seemed Sam was usually mad about something, though John had seen moments when he wasn't, moments when Sam thought his dad wasn't around. John sighed, never had a problem with Dean, well not one that couldn't be solved over a game of pool. He couldn't read Sam any more, wondered if he ever really could.

They pulled up in front of the rented apartment and headed inside.

"Sam." John stopped his son at the by the door.

Surprisingly Sam stopped.

"This act is getting a little old, son." John worked to keep his tone neutral.

Sam tensed anyway. "I still do what you say, so I can't see how it matters to you."

John wasn't ready for that. "Just want to see you happy."

He scoffed. "See you tomorrow." Sam disappeared inside.

That wasn't exactly how John saw the conversation going, though he didn't really have a conversation in mind. Sam and Dean's bedroom door was closed when John passed by.

Sam dropped onto his bed with one arm folded behind his head. His eyes were focused on the joining of the wall and the ceiling.

Dean looked over, considered the consequences. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." Sam's voice was too even. "You weren't playing truth or dare in the cemetery." He reached over and turned off the light.