Sam has ulterior motives for wanting a normal senior year. Dean enjoys the mini-vacation from the life. This is not a "teenChester" fic at all !!! It is Dean-centric, and my attempt to explore writing in first person.
The characters within are the fictional creations of Eric Kripke (Sam and Dean Winchester) and myself. Their views and actions are fictional and do not neccessarily represent mine.
Acts of Sedition
Kansas City, Missouri, September 19, 2001
It was 4:30 in the afternoon and I'd just opened a beer when I heard the sound of the latch turning on the apartment door. I traded my beer for my gun, sliding it to the side of the table so no precious drops of alcohol would be wasted should I have to bring my weapon up quickly. My dad had always taught me to be at the ready. Never treat any situation as ordinary. I leaned back affecting casualness and waited. But there was no threat stepping over the threshold, just my little brother.
Except he wasn't so little anymore. Seems all he did in the last four years was grow, to the point where we could share clothes, if I were so inclined to his slightly preppy look. You could rest assured this older brother wouldn't be taking any hand-me-downs from him. Even if we had always been desperately poor, there's a limit to how much a man can endure before it takes his pride.
I wondered where Sam had been. Last I remembered schools let out closer to 2 or 3. And I'd spent more than enough time clock watching to have that exit time down. Knowing Sam, he'd stayed for an extra study session or something involving research, libraries, or books. It wasn't likely he'd snuck off with a girl behind the bleachers. Hell, if he'd done that, I would have cheered.
But not Sam. No need to worry about him doing something unsafe or stupid. No real reason for me to be here watching out for him. Sam was the same age as a college freshman or a military recruit, and more capable of taking care of himself than either. But I was the older one, the one given the charge at age four to take care of my baby brother. Old habits die hard.
He had to have known I was home, the Impala, my beautiful black Chevy, sat in her parking space just outside the door. Sam entered casually, checking the hallway before closing the door and locking the dead bolt. In seconds he'd see me and jump to conclusions like a jealous wife. Sam's prone to drama, I'm hoping it's a teen thing, cos I don't handle drama well, and he needs to outgrow it. Knowing my brother inside and out is just the way it is and has been since we were small. So I know when to preempt a strike. His mouth opened and I intercepted.
"Is this when you normally get home from school?" I interrogated him with my best stern fatherly look. He cocked one eyebrow and looked to the clock on the VCR; then back to me. His gaze falling to the bottle of beer in my hand.
"Aren't you suppose to be at work? Dean." There was a pause that carried a weight of accusation with it, he was clever, that arguing teen snit! "Tell me you didn't get fired?" His face was held in a mask of anger, accusing me without letting me explain. Drama!
"What?" Geez Sam was overprotective of the job he took full responsibility for getting me. Which was stupid, sure he'd scoured the want ads, told me what to wear, but he sat in the car while I interviewed. It was my job, not his.
Sam slung his back pack down on the kitchen table narrowly missing my evil beer. He showed his disapproval in the form of a tight lipped glare before plopping down in the aged wooden chair he'd purchased at a yard sale the week before. Just one of many signs that this was the year things were going to go his way, he'd found not only the old beaten up dining set, but the very apartment it now set in.
Despite my protests that I was more than happy to run credit card fraud and pool hustles to keep us in the black, Sam had studied want ads and found me what he considered the perfect fit. A mechanics position at a local garage. I have to admit, after the first real paycheck, being a working man wasn't so bad. It felt great to not be down to the last twenty with no idea where the next bit of money was coming from.
Further signs that this year was going to be as planned out by the master geek: He'd researched the high school he knew would serve his needs, he fabricated the records and the transcripts. As I sat with him in the registrar's office, I knew he'd been planning this for years. I'd do anything for Sammy. Yes, this was his year, his senior year and his last chance to make good before attempting to apply to college…..
And leave our family. Oh, he hadn't said it in so many words, but then, why does a guy who says he only wants his HS diploma take AP classes? It was early in the school year, but soon I'd have to have a talk with him about his future, our future as hunters.
I looked up from the newspaper spread before me to see Sam fixing me with a steely glare. It might move mountains, but not me. Not after eighteen years of it. Little did Sam know, I had just returned home from my nineteenth day on the job, a personal best in my run of legitimacy, and had opened up the paper to search for random odd news. There were stories of minor crimes occurring around the city, but most of the news still surrounded the national grief surrounding the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon that had occurred the week before.
Sam was at first wary it may have been a sign of demonic possession. But Dad had called and put his worries to rest. Buzz in the hunting community was that it was everything it appeared to be-a terrorist threat. Only a few radical hunters were sticking to the possession theory. Me? Never believed it for a second. There's plenty of random unpredictable shit in this world, and the majority of it has no supernatural connection what-so-ever.
Five days ago was the last I'd heard from Dad. And the old man was very clear that he wasn't happy with his eldest's choice to drop out and hang with little brother for a year. "When was dad ever happy with me?" I thought.
Sam had opened his bag and pulled out a fat textbook and a notepad.
"Wanna help with my latest assignment?"
"Not exactly." Sam ignored me and flipped through several pages of poems coming to rest on one that looked particularly long, still, I wasn't in the least bit interesting. "Did my time. An' anyways, poetry's not my thing."
"Honestly Dean, just think of it as a song lyric and it'll be cool."
"Who's it by…some moaning chick that never got laid?"
"Maybe." Sam smirked. "It's actually a guy. Keats…and I really don't want to know about his sex life or lack there of. You'll like this one. I picked it myself. See we could choose any Keats to analyze as along as it went along with the historical age of reason. This one…guess what it's called?"
"Dude…could you be more a geek?"
"Lamia" Sam's eyes brightened. "Dad ever talk about a Lamia?"
"You're tellin' me some dude wrote a poem about a lamia?"
"Was he a hunter?"
"I don't think so….."Sam rubbed his chin thoughtfully…"Funny how a regular guy chooses to write about a creature."
"That's cos the dumb ass never knew it was real."
"So you think they could really exist?"
"Hard to say." Hunting odd monsters, that was a topic I never tired of, but I wasn't about to get sucked into analyzing poetry via a discussion on the creature that inspired the one at Loch Ness. My days with school were over. It wasn't my fault that Sam insisted he take the AP class, right down to fabricating his junior year transcript to look like he'd gotten straight A's in English three years in a row. Hard to get straight A's when the longest stint at a school was nine weeks. But give the kid A+ for effort. Education was everything to Sammy, and his desire to know more always came in handy when researching all the weird crap we came across routinely.
"If you think I'm gonna help you to crack the code on this lame ass poem then you'd better get me another beer." Sam was in the middle of doing just that when one of our cell phones rang. It wasn't intentional that we had matching ringtones, it's just, we'd bought them on a two for one sale. The sound was coming from Sam's bag. If Sam had a call it wasn't likely from Dad; he usually contacted me first.
"This is Sam, who's this?" I understood the other side of the conversation through a series of facial expressions Sam wore. His forehead was all wrinkled up. "What kind of favor?" Sam caught my concern and turned his back on me. "No, do your own work." He closed the phone forcefully and nearly threw it on the table.
"What was that about?"
"Some asshole gave out my number and now it's going around that I'll do homework for money. What the hell?"
"Dude, that's a totally easy way to make money."
"Yeh, and it's also an easy way to get expelled."
"You got me there. Take it easy Sam, it's just typical High School BS. I'm sure you'd kick his ass in a fight."
"Is that all there is to you? Is that your pep talk…you can take him Sam. Sounds like some macho thing Dad would say."
"Well, you could." I shrugged. "Bruce Banner was always pretty geeky till he got angry, Bruce Wayne's kinda like that too. Which one are you, the Incredible Hulk, or Batman?"
"Neither, I'm just me." Sam returned to the table and opened up his Lit book. "You with me on this?"
He began to read the poem out loud. There's nothing I hate more than someone reading to me like I can't do it myself. Reminds me of all the remedial reading teachers of my past.
"Give me that." I interrupted and I grabbed the book from his hand faster than he had time to affect his patented "bitchface". The book closed, but as fate would have it, I opened it again right to the same poem, just not the beginning, and I read in my best impression of a stuffy tight-assed professor straight out of Oxford:
LOVE in a hut, with water and a crust
Is—Love, forgive us!—cinders, ashes, dust
Love in a palace is perhaps at last
More grievous torment than a hermit's fast:—
That is a doubtful tale from faery land
Hard for the non-elect to understand
"It's moments like this that I treasure my GED." I tossed the book back at him and got up to walk the total of maybe fifteen steps that separated the kitchen from the living room. "Time for some mindless TV." I called over my shoulder as I abandoned Sam to his dreary condition.
"Dean." He whined. "You know, you read that really well. You surpri---"
I cut him off before he stuck his foot in his mouth. "What Sam? Finish your thought for ya?. Read that really well for someone who never completed High school. Is that what you want to say? Is this why it's so important to share your homework with me? So I won't feel stupid, or is this just to make you seem real smart?"
Sam stared. His mouth was open. Finally, in some sort of disgusted turn of events he shook his head and continued. This time, I was convinced his words were genuine. I think I stopped him before he really warmed up to full on condescension.
"Dean. What do you think it means?"
"Some dude was in love and he was pretty sure that no one else would ever understand why he felt the way he did." I had the remote in hand and had already channel surfed the eight channels we were so honored to receive. I wanted cable; Sam argued it was a waste of money. I was pretty sure I was calling the cable company tomorrow after Sam left for school. If this was any indication of how our evenings were going to be spent this year, I wanted nothing of it.
"You think it's that simple?"
"Yeh, I do." I shot back at him with equal sarcasm. "Know why? Because in this world there is free love and then there's forbidden love. And forbidden love takes on all kinds of disguises, but in the end…everyone just gets their heart broken. One way or another." I wasn't going to tell him about Cassie, the girl I'd met in Ohio two years ago, but I supposed it was safe enough to mention Dad and Mom. "Like our parents."
Sam's face grew solemn. "Have you heard from Dad?"
"Not since last week. I thought that might be him when your phone rang, glad it wasn't. He's been giving me shit about this. Thinks this whole arrangement is just a phase." I paused to gauge Sam's response. Sam offered nothing; so I continued. "You've got time to prepare your argument. He said he'll probably swing by in a week or two. Sam, try to not be so…on the offensive with the guy. He just wants you safe."
"Why? Because I need to watch out for that super scary thing that killed Mom?" He slammed his book to the table. "I'm so tired of running Dean. So tired of the lies. I'm not going to make excuses for wanting to have one normal year at one high school. No, this goes my way." He was pacing now. "So are you with me or not?"
"I told you. I'd stay this year, let you have this one year. Dad's gonna be angry, but just let me talk to him. Okay? I'll help him understand why this is so important to you. He'll listen to me, besides, you'll just get into some ugly fight and I don't want to be in the middle."
"Dean, you're always in the middle, but thanks anyways." He hung his head. "Sorry I was a jerk about the poem. Maybe it is about not being able to love the one you want."
"Cos if you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with." I sang. Sam let me know how much he loved that tune by promptly smothering me with a pillow from the couch. He was down on the floor in a head lock in less than ten seconds. But there was laughter in his eyes as I offered him a hand off the floor. "Don't let yourself get soft, little bro."
"Never!" A swift sweep of his legs had me on my back and Sam laughing again. Of course, I wasn't one to be outdone. He was still the student; so I rolled him over my head. He wasn't used to such long legs and failed to tuck them in. His boots smacked the drywall. Miraculously there was only the slightest indentation from his right heel, but there was an impressive scuff mark that we'd have to paint over if we had any hopes of getting our security deposit back. But who was I kidding? This was only September. I was pretty sure there'd be a complete hole in at least one wall by the end of this lease.
A/N: This story is about 15 chapters long.