Sunday, October 27, 2013
Sam came home from school on Friday and started dinner. Dean didn’t make it home until 6:30. He was covered with grease and looked exhausted. The older boy headed straight for the bathroom and a shower.
Fifteen minutes later, Dean entered kitchen and sat down at the table and sighed.
“Man, I’m beat, Sammy. We had an engine with a cracked block and the damned owner wouldn’t believe it. I took it all the way down so he could see. Now, he’s haggling price. Told my boss he doesn’t want to pay top price for a kid.”
Sam set a beer on the table and place the food bowls down. He grabbed a beer and joined his brother.
“What did your boss tell him?”
Dean grinned, “He told him he could either put it back together himself or pay me the going rate.”
“Well, you’re good enough to get the rate, Dean.”
“Thanks. How was your day at school?”
Sam blushed, “I have a date.”
It’s next Saturday night and it’s the Fall Festival. Can I use the car?”
“Hell, yeah! My Sammy’s growing up.”
“I’ve had dates before.”
“Not without me driving,” Dean replied with a grin.
Sam smiled, feeling proud to have the use of Dean’s baby.
Castiel wondered what Dean find to do without transportation.
With everyone standing behind him, John signed a one year lease on the house. He packed and left that afternoon. Bobby, Pastor Jim, and Caleb helped find some used furniture for the place.
Dean came home that afternoon and told everyone he'd found a job at a mechanic's shop. His dad had taught him well, and the pay wasn't bad. The three men gave Dean money for groceries, school supplies, and everything the two boys would need while living on their own.
They headed out that afternoon. Dean took Sam shopping. By the end of the week, both boys had the house livable and were contented to live there without their Dad.
On Saturday, Dean came home at four in the afternoon, covered with grease. He smiled and went to take a shower. After he had cleaned up, he told Sam to come with him.
"Where are we headed, Dean?"
"To a place that closes at five, so we need to hurry."
The Impala pulled up in front of a book store. Dean jumped out and said, "Come on."
"Come on, Sam. You know a house isn't a home without books. There's some old bookcases in the attic. I thought we could fix them up and paint or stain them. We'd have a place for any books we buy."
"What do we do with them once Dad wants to hit the road again?"
"Leave them at Bobby's. The books here are all twenty-five cents to one dollar in range. I have thirty dollars so let's see what we can find."
The boys bought over one hundred books. They carried them out in boxes. Neither was sure what all they had bought. Dean pulled into the local lumber yard and bought a few tools, some wood glue, nails, and paint.
They spent the remainder of the day repairing three nice size book cases. One was left in the living room, and the other two went into their rooms.
By Sunday afternoon, the cases had books on them, and both boys were in their rooms, laying on their beds, reading.
Friday, September 13, 2013
August wasn’t far away, and Sam’s Senior year was coming fast. Dean never finished high school, but he knew his brother had an almost perfect grade. He thought he was either a 3.9 or a 4.0. In their business, it was hard to keep up with things like grade point averages.
Dean spent a long time on the phone with Bobby, Jim, and Caleb, asking for help. The first week of August, he found a house in town. Dean spent time hunting for it while their Dad was tracking the thing that killed their Mom. The oldest boy figured it would be another dead end.
School would start in two weeks and Sam was frantic. He wanted to stay in one place and John was saying, “No.”
They were at home one evening when there was a knock on the motel room door. Sam answered it and found their three closest friends.
John rose to his feet and welcomed them inside and asked why they were there. Pastor Jim told him they had come to help get the family situated in the house Dean had found.
“What house?” John snapped
“The house we have to have for Sam to finish school. It’s his last year and we talked about it, Dad. You said it would be a good idea for us to stay here while you hunted. We can do salt and burns on weekends together, but it will let him finish. I was gonna get a job so he can have the things he needs for school.”
“Yeah, Dad. You even told Uncle Bobby,” Dean lied smoothly.
John turned red and asked to see the house. Grinning, Dean grabbed his jacket and told everyone to come on.
Monday, July 8, 2013
After Sam's seventeenth birthday, things began to get worse. Dean watched his little brother question every order their father gave him. The arguments grew louder every day. The older brother would feel his stomach knot with stress. He loved his family and could not understand why Sam had to question everything.
Dean had found a fast food place that had a sale. He bought a large bucket of chicken and a number sides to go with it. Stopping at a convenience store, he purchased a case of beer. It would take John longer to get drunk on beer.
Castiel walked behind him, looking at his purchases. Dean found some fried pies on sale and picked up ten of them with a grin on his face. The angel smiled. His charge never lost his appetite for the pastry. He shook his head, not understanding the need to eat such things.
Dean paid for his purchases and walked towards the Impala. He smiled when he looked at the car. His father had purchased a large truck and Dean was now the proud owner of the vehicle. He was overjoyed with the gift.
Pulling up the motel, Dean drove down to the end of the building and parked in front of the room his Dad had rented. He grabbed the food and headed towards the door. The noises coming from the room were loud and profane. The older Winchester boy stood at the door, sorrow and worry on his face. His stomach twisted and he turned back to the car and sat inside of it.
Dean knew his Dad would get drunk and Sam would be too angry to listen to reason. He opened the chicken and grabbed a thigh. Reaching over to the case, he grabbed a bottle. It was going to be a long night.
The angel in the back seat watched and worried.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
The Winchesters were in North Dakota, hunting a wendigo, on Dean’s twenty-first birthday. The hunt had been difficult, and all three men had been injured. They reached an abandoned farm house at sunrise. Dean checked the wiring outside and managed to break the lock mechanism and find a way to get lights on. John found an old woodpile and Sam hunted for kindling. Before long, the three men had lights, water, and a fire.
John stitched some scratches on Sam’s back and bandaged his son. Sam began to do the same for him. John had a gash on his side. They jumped when they heard a gun go off twice.
“Check on your brother, Son,” the older man told the teen.
Sam found Dean standing outside, cleaning and skinning a brace of rabbits.
“Supper, Sammy. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Yeah, Dean, but you’re injured.”
“I’ll be fine. Bobby called a while ago. He’s coming up here.”
“Not quite sure.”
Dean found some pots in the ancient kitchen. “There’s an old garden out there, Sammy? You think something might still be growing?”
“Like what? This place is old, Dean,” Sam whined a little.
“I forgot. You’re hurting,” Dean commented and walked outside, leaving his brother with their father, who had killed a half bottle of whiskey to kill the pain and get drunk. He walked around the gardens. The plants were over grown, but he dug around some and found two very large potatoes and one huge onion. Going to the car, he looked in the back seat for a bag from the fast food place they had stopped at the day before. He found ketchup, salt, and pepper. Going back into the house, the older brother put the cut up rabbits in a pot of water, added the ketchup, salt and pepper and put a lid on the pot.
At that moment, a dizzy spell hit him. Sam grabbed him and opened his jacket. The shirt beneath was covered in blood.
“Damn it, Dean,” Sam swore as he began to stitch the nasty gash that almost ripped his brother’s stomach open
Dean laid down on a sleeping bag while Sam watched the stew his brother had put on the fire.
Bobby arrived late in the afternoon and took charge. He checked the stew. The food was cooked. Checking the wounds, he noted Dean’s was the worse.
After everyone ate the stew, John and Sam both laid down and slept. Dean sat up and watched Bobby check the salt lines. The older man sat down next him. He opened up his backpack and pulled out a small bottle of Irish whiskey.
Dean’s hazel eyes stared at him in surprise, “Dad’s asleep, Bobby.”
“That’s right, Son. Happy birthday,” the old hunter spoke softly as he offered the whiskey to boy.
Dean took a small sip and coughed a little. Bobby smiled.
“Of the hard stuff? Yes, Sir.”
The two hunters split the bottle and Bobby tucked Dean into his sleeping bag. The hunter slept near the boy, knowing there would be a major hangover in the morning.
Castiel arrived from and errand for Father and frowned over the wounds, knowing he could have prevented them. He smelled the alcohol and realized what day it was, and felt grateful for Bobby.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Sam was allowed to leave the hospital in four days, but Dean had to remain. The doctors were working to kill a nasty infection in his leg. Due to this, his lung was healing slowly.
Mrs. Tran and Garth took turns staying with him. Garth always brought Sam up for a visit. Dean was irritable, feeling the hunt wasn’t finished. He was constantly asking if there was news of any other killings. The answer was always ‘No.’
After twelve days, the hunter was released. The doctor recommended rest and Sam made his brother promise to stay put for a couple of days. Dean wanted to go home and heal in his own room. The younger Winchester knew this and was working to make sure it happened.
Garth and Mrs. Tran headed out the morning the two were planning to leave. By this time, the woman had learned to forgive Dean and like him again.
Sam was checking the best route to get home when someone knocked at the door. Dean limped over and answered it.
A Native American stood there. The hunter froze for a second.
“You must have the wrong room,” Dean said as he began to close the door.
“I am looking for the hunters who ended a reign of terror. Both of you have the feel of men who have been at war recently,” the man responded.
Sam grabbed his crutches and moved towards the door. The man turned to him. He gazed at the taller man, taking in his size and weight.
Turning back to Dean, he commented, “You are stronger than you look, Dean Winchester. You had those cuts in your leg and they were infected. Still, you carried him on a litter. You went further after almost drowning and the damage to your lung should have killed you. The old Shaman went after you more than this one. Why?”
Sam saw his brother turn red and watched him try to shake off the question and ignore it.
“All right, I irritated his ass to keep him away from you. Besides, he pissed me off."
Their visitor laughed, “I like you, Dean Winchester. The Shaman is dead. He used too many innocent spirit guides and their walkers. He deserved what they did to him. I want you to know he is gone for good and the evil with him. Thank you.” The Native American turned and walked away.
Sam shut the door and stared at his brother.
“Sooner or later, you’re gonna get yourself killed, Dean.”
“Yeah, I know, but not this time. Can we go home now?"
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Dean drove out of the motel parking lot and headed towards Lebanon, Kansas.
Dean heard their father moving around in his room and told his brother to pack their things and load them in the car. The teen knocked on his dad’s door and heard a murmur. He opened the door and entered.
“Dad, we're loading up. I figured you’d want to leave as soon as you were ready.”
John stared at his son and nodded.
“Can I make you some coffee or a bowl of cereal?”
John shook his head and finished dressing. Dean left the room, confused at his father’s attitude. Castiel stared at the man and wondered what he was up to.
John walked out of his room and found his son waiting with the med kit. His eyebrows raised and he sat down at the table and let Dean check the hand. It was badly bruised, but there were no breaks. His son wrapped the hand and made a sling for him.
“I don’t need the sling. I have to drive.”
“I can drive, Dad.”
Two pairs of eyes stared each other down.
Thirty minutes later, Dean pulled out of the parking lot of the motel. John rode shotgun. Sam and Castiel sat in the back seat. The angel had a smug look on his face.