Asking the Stars (part 2)
Rated: PG 13 (no language in this one, but that may change in the next part)
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural. This story is just for my amusement.
Summary: Wee!chesters (Sam is six, Dean is ten) The pressures of the hunting life affect Dean. The boys stay with a family friend and get a taste of normalcy.
John had always been quick to heal and move on, in body if not in spirit.
A few weeks laying low in Nebraska and he was restless to get back in the car; eager to get back to hunting evil and salting and burning its bones.
Packing up what little they had, John loaded their belongings into the impala and told the boys to wait in the car while he checked out.
Sammy bounded into the front seat like an eager puppy, seeming a little disappointed that he hadn’t even had to fight to get the prized perch.
After paying the bill (unknowingly footed by a Mr. Gregor Petrovich), John turned in the room key and went to start the car. Seeing only Sammy’s floppy hair sitting inside, he checked the backseat in case Dean was lying down.
Impatiently, he strode back to the locked motel room and banged on the door.
“Dean! Get your butt in the car, you’re holding us up!” he yelled, peering in the little curtained window.
Yielding no response, he banged again and shouted his son’s name more loudly.
Getting pretty fed up by this point, he resorted to the oldest trick in his book.
“Dean, come outside right now, or I’m breaking down this door! That is an order.”
A moment or two later, Dean emerged from the room. He looked tired and sad, and John almost didn’t have the heart to yell at him, but he had deliberately disobeyed and had to be punished.
“You can tack on an extra mile to your training tonight, and clean the guns when we get to Durango.”
Dean accepted this with a nod of his head before slowly sitting down on the sidewalk.
“I don’t want to go to Colorado,” he said quietly.
“You’re going,” growled John, frowning.
Sammy was usually the one to cause problems, this was unlike Dean, but he knew he had to nip any insubordination in the bud. It was too dangerous to have the boys on the road if they didn’t follow directions.
Dean made no move to get up, so he picked his son up, surprised at how little he weighed- must be all the training- and dropped him into the backseat.
Colorado or bust.
…
They stopped for lunch at a truck stop diner, a family owned place with motherly waitresses and a limited menu.
Sammy babbled about what he wanted from Santa Claus and the snowman he would build when they reached Hammond’s around mouthfuls of French fries.
Dean sat listlessly in the booth with his brother, his hamburger and fries lay untouched on the plate in front of him.
“Eat your food, Dean.”
Dean took a small bite from the burger before standing up.
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
John had paid the bill and had Dean’s food wrapped up to take with them, and his oldest still wasn’t back. Making his way into the little restroom, he knocked on the first stall with the small pair of feet peeking out.
“You alright in there, Dean? It’s time to hit the road.”
“My stomach hurts,” came the quiet answer from behind the door.
“We’ll stop at the next gas station, get you a ginger ale,” John promised.
“I don’t want to go in the car.”
“Come on, Dean,” John said in a warning tone. He was trying to be understanding, but his patience was wearing thin.
“I’m not coming out.”
“Do you want more people to die because you’re being stubborn? You’re ten years old, Dean; you’re too old to be pulling this crap. I wanted to start taking you on hunts- as soon as Sammy’s old enough to stay by himself… now I doubt you’ve got the discipline.”
The door opened with a squeak and the boy slowly followed his father to the car.
…
John didn’t get to Colorado for another week.
Dean’s stomach aches were getting worse and he slept most of the time, and Sammy was especially whiny without his older brother to entertain him. When Dean went to bed without dinner and refused breakfast the next morning, John had had enough.
Piling the boys into the impala, he’d driven to the nearest clinic which happened to be in Grand Island. He knew how to cauterize a wound and give himself stitches, but he wasn’t too proud to admit he was stumped by a simple tummy ache.
It was best to make sure there was nothing serious wrong with the boy, so he could put his mind to other things.
The doctor was elderly, but his handshake was firm and he gave Dean a thorough examination, feeling his belly and asking lots of questions about the boy’s diet and bathroom habits. Dean didn’t say much, allowing his father to answer for him while he examined the tiles on the floor.
“Why don’t you go play in the waiting room with your brother, Dean, while I have a little chat with your dad?”
Dean gratefully jumped down from the seat with the butcher paper on it and left the office.
His dad didn’t like to take him or Sam to the doctor’s, so he figured that he must be really sick. He wondered if he died if he would see his mom, and if his father could look after Sammy without his help.
“Is it serious?” John asked softly.
“I don’t think there’s any physical reason for his pain, he seems like a pretty healthy kid actually,” the doctor answered truthfully.
“He’s faking, then?”
“No, I don’t think so. Dean’s stomach aches seem more like anxiety. Have there been any recent changes in his life?”
John knew the doctor meant well, but he didn’t like where the conversation was headed. He just wanted a prescription- a simple course of medication to make his son well.
“He’s changed schools, my job means we’ve had to move around a lot,” John admitted, feeling guilty.
“Have you or your wife noticed any changes in behaviour? Is he more clingy than usual?”
…
“Why can’t we come to Colorado?”
Sammy was crying now, and kicked the dashboard repeatedly until John grabbed his leg a little harder than was necessary.
“Behave yourself! This isn’t open for discussion. It’s going to be too dangerous, and the elementary school is too far from where we’ll be staying. You guys can’t miss anymore school or I’ll be arrested.”
Dean’s eyes went big at this statement, and John mentally kicked himself for being so dramatic. The last thing the poor kid needed was more worries.
“It’s because of me,” Dean told his brother quietly, looking ashamed.
“That’s not true. The constant travelling isn’t good for you guys- you need to eat something other than fast food, and to stay in one place long enough to make friends. I have a friend in Kansas that is willing to take care of you boys for a few months… and I think we need to let her.”
The boys might have detected the pleading look in his eye that begged them not to argue, but for whatever reason they seemed to accept this answer, and settled in for the drive.