A Different Piece of Sky: 3/6
Master Post | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Soundtrack
At least her father had found a place within walking distance from the school. It wasn’t the best school, or the best place, but it was close. She wasn’t sure if her and Dean trapped in a car twice a day was a good idea at the moment. She was worried he might crash into a ditch just to get away from her.
He left the room whenever she was in it, and if he couldn’t, he sat as far away from her as possible-on the couch, while she was at the table, and vice versa. He had even “accidentally fallen asleep” on the couch, rather than share a bed with her for the entire time that they had been there, or stayed up all night and slept while she was at school.
Sometimes she wondered if her brother was five, instead of twenty-one.
But her father left this morning with Bobby and he couldn’t avoid her anymore, if he didn’t want to sleep outside; which, knowing Dean right now, wasn’t really a stretch of the imagination. They’d spent more than one night curled up in the back of the Impala.
In a rare moment of mercy, Dad promised that they would be staying in this town for at least a few weeks, maybe even a few months. Sam wondered if he had gotten some sort of head injury on the last hunt, but she didn’t want to second-guess him. Dean was even going to try to find a job today to keep them afloat financially for a while. They had a house with actual bedrooms. They were going to school and had real jobs. It was almost like they were normal, except for the surplus of salt and guns and monster hunting.
Or the fact that her brother had taken her virginity less than a week ago.
Shifting her books in her arms, she hoped Dean had had a good day. She didn’t want to corner him if it had been crappy, even if he was the one who had taught her to throw a punch.
Luckily, the door to their house was open and she didn’t have to look for her keys. “Hey,” she said, closing the door behind her. “I’m ho…”
Dean was on the couch and he seemed in a good enough mood, considering the girl that was in his lap, kissing his neck. She turned to look at Sam, raising an eyebrow, her long blonde hair hanging in Dean’s face. “Who’s this?”
“That’s just my little sister,” he said, voice low in a way she recognized. She thought she was going to throw up. “Hey, Sammy.”
Sam’s lungs were completely devoid of air. She couldn’t even make herself breathe. Forcing her eyes closed, she reached for the door, moving outside. The hot Arizona breeze did nothing to help and she stumbled towards the car, leaning against it and ignoring how hot the metal was. She was mostly just trying not to hurl.
The horizontal blinds in the window rattled against the glass and she stood up immediately. If she was going to cry, it wouldn’t be here where he could watch her, like a fucking show for his amusement. Holding tightly to her books and bag, she set off down the road, sun pounding down on her back.
There was a small diner not far from their house and she was glad to see it mostly empty. Sitting down in a corner booth, she rested her head in her hands, as the first tears began to fall. Nothing about this made sense. Dean loved her, at the very least as his sister. It was a betrayal she never expected and it hurt. She remembered laughing at girls her age that made everything about a guy, but…this had hurt. This hurt everywhere.
“Um…can I get you something?”
She looked up quickly at the waitress, who was standing there awkwardly. “Um…yeah, sure…” Fumbling for the menu, she flipped it open quickly, while wiping her face with the back of her hand.
“Guy trouble?” she said, smiling sympathetically.
Sam laughed darkly. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” she said.
Nodding in understanding, she said, “We make really good milkshakes. Best in the state, some people have said. I know they’ve helped me through a bad break up, or two.”
“Milkshake…” Dad never let them get milkshakes. Once she got one and he threw a fit in the middle of the restaurant, as if the delicious treat had killed their mother, or something. “Yeah, that sounds good. Do you have strawberry?”
“Of course, it’ll be right out.”
Sam managed to smile her thanks, and then leaned her head back against the vinyl of the booth. Break up. Like she didn’t have to go back and live with him. Maybe she could sleep in the Impala.
Sighing, she looked at her books piled up on the table. Opening her Spanish book, she told herself that every conjugated verb was a mile closer to Stanford-and farther from her family.
After three milkshakes and two plates of fries-the second just because it would have made Dad angry and insist on her doing extra workouts-she was done with the rest of her work through the week. Chewing on the cap of her pen, she wondered if she could convince her teachers to assign her the rest of the semester’s work, so she would have an excuse to hide here every day.
“Is there anything else I can get you, hon?” the waitress asked, clearing away her empty glasses.
Sam shook her head, sighing heavily. “No, I’m good, actually.” Digging down into the front pocket of her backpack, she pulled out her emergency twenty. Dean being a jackass was an emergency, as far as she was concerned. “Keep the change.”
She slipped it into the pocket of her apron as Sam put everything back in her bag. “You know, whoever he is, don’t worry about him. You’re a pretty girl, you can find better. He’s not worth it.”
“Thanks,” Sam said, blinking away newly forming tears. She was pretty sure that she was wrong-Dean was worth everything. “Thanks for everything.”
The walk home was long and lonely, the air still stifling and hot even though the sun had set long ago. She would never understand why people wanted to live in a desert. The lights in the house were still on by the time she reached it, car still in the driveway. After a moment’s hesitation-she learned how to pop open the backdoor a few years ago when she locked the keys in the car by mistake, she could easily sleep in there, or at least wait until Dean went to sleep-Sam opened the front door of the house and stepped inside.
Dean stood up immediately from his spot on the couch. “Where the hell have you been?”
Seeing him was another punch to the stomach. Shaking her head, she walked past him and into the bedroom, trying to ignore the way he called after her.
“Sam, I asked you a question,” he said, and she could hear the anger in his voice, the one that had the prickling of fear as if she was a small child who was going to fall down a fucking well, or something.
Dropping her bag loudly on the carpet, she refused to look at him. “Don’t talk to me.”
His huff of frustration was enough of an answer. “Why the hell not?”
“Just leave me alone, Dean.”
“Why? Why the hell should I? What the fuck is going on with you?”
Before she realized what she was doing, she turned around and punched her brother in the face, connecting solidly with his jaw. “Are you fucking serious? Really, Dean? You’re not dumb, so don’t pretend like you are!”
He cradled his mouth lightly, looking surprised and for a brief moment, she regretted hitting him. Then his eyes narrowed in anger and he grabbed something off the dresser, throwing it on the bed. “Fine, how about this, Sam. Why don’t you explain what the fuck these are?!”
Frowning in confusion, she looked through the bag, heart stopping when she saw several college application packets, with Stanford sitting at the very top. “Where did you get these?” she said softly. Looking at him in shock, she demanded, “Did you go through my mail?”
“What? Bobby dropped them off when he and Dad left this morning! And it’s not like I had to fucking go through it, they’re just sitting there! So why don’t you tell me about these.”
Shrugging, she made herself not feel bad. “I think they’re pretty self-explanatory, actually.”
Kicking the bed, he said, “What, you think you can just leave? Go off to fucking college?”
“Yeah, actually,” she said simply. She laughed lightly and wondered if that made her insane. “Yeah, I’m gonna go to college. I’m gonna get away from you, and from Dad, and this stupid family, and this whole stupid fucking existence!”
“So, what, you got these just to punish Dad? To punish me?”
Shaking her head, she fought against hitting him again. “No, though fucking your sister and then making out with another girl just a few days later deserves punishment, because that’s low even for you. It’s not exactly going to win you brother of the year.” Dean reeled back from the words as if she had slapped him. “But guess what, Dean, this isn’t about you. For once in my life, there’s something that doesn’t revolve around you, or hunting, or anything like that! This is just me!”
He laughed in disbelief and she wondered if she got that from him. “That’s good for you, Sam, but my life? I revolves around you. It always has. So Dad and I humor you and let you do your stupid little school thing-”
“Stupid school thing?”
“But you’re insane if you think either of us is going to let you go out to some fucking stupid college to learn about stupid, useless shit!”
“Oh, don’t fucking patronize me, Dean. I’m not a child!”
“Then stop acting like one when things don’t go your way!”
She stared at him incredulously. “You think that’s why I’m doing this? You really think that all of my decisions are based on you and your stupid decisions and those…girls!” It wasn’t all of her decisions. She wouldn’t let it be.
Throwing his arms up in exasperation, he said, “Isn’t it? Hell, why do you even care, you’re just leaving anyway, right?”
Scowling, she just turned away from him. “Get out. Just get out; I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“Oh, stop it, Sam.”
She grabbed a metal canister of salt off the floor, throwing it at his head. He ducked out of the way in time and it crashed off into the hallway, salt spilling all over the floor. “Get away from me! Just leave me the fuck alone!”
“Fine. Fine!” He left, slamming the door behind him and she quickly flipped the lock on the handle. He could easily pick it, hell, he could even break it down, but she felt slightly pacified with that one extra barrier between them.
The harsh sounds of their arguments rang in her ears as she stripped off her clothes, trying not to focus on any of the words. She didn’t want to relive it. She didn’t want to do this anymore. Tears running down her face, she just curled in the bed and let her sobs rock her to sleep.
She slept fitfully, restlessly, finally getting up not too many hours later. Without thinking, she pulled on her work out clothes, before remembering that Dad wasn’t here to make sure she busted her ass before school. Still, she pulled her hair back from her face and decided to go out for a jog, hoping that the excess tension in her body would disappear while she was out.
Dean was sleeping in the other room-Dad’s room-and she toed quietly past him and shut the front door as quietly as she could.
The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, night air cool around her. Dusty roads were her only company, free of any cars or travelers at this time and she almost wished something would come along to break up the monotony. In lieu of anything to distract her, she counted her footsteps, hitting the pavement evenly and rhythmically one after the other, one-two, one-two, equal and unending.
Wiping the sweat off her face, she was panting hard as she walked into the house. Dean was in the kitchen, taking stuff out of the fridge. He glanced at her quickly. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said softly, shifting awkwardly.
“I was gonna make breakfast,” he said, holding up the carton of eggs. “The works. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “Good. It should be ready by the time you’re out of the shower.”
She just nodded back and headed to the bathroom, taking the time and letting the water do her thinking for her, as it washed the sweat and tension away.
Dean was dishing out the food when she was finished getting dressed, table set with actual plates and silverware, and glasses of juice and cups of coffee. A lump rose in her throat; this was clearly a peace offering, a little slice of normal for her. She sat down on the table as he put the plate in front of her. “Thanks,” she said, hoping he knew what she meant.
“You’re welcome.” He sat across from her and they ate in awkward silence.
Sam wasn’t sure what to say. To apologize would be disingenuous and insincere, and it would just start another fight and she wasn’t ready for that. So, instead, she ate her eggs, murmured how good they were, refilled the coffee when they were both empty, all the while her head spinning uncomfortably. She now understood why women did the walk of shame. The morning after, even the week after, it was a hell of a lot less painful.
He cleared the dishes and asked, “Do you need a ride to school?”
“It’s okay,” she said, moving around him to get lunch money from the bag of small bills. “I can walk.”
Nodding, he said, “Well, I got a job. It’s at this auto parts store. My baby impressed them and they said they’d try me out this afternoon, so I’ll probably be home late. You can order pizza, or whatever.”
“Okay.” She went to grab her backpack and books, making sure she had her key in there. Dean was washing the dishes when she went back in the main room. “I’ll see you later.”
“See ya,” he said over his shoulder, not looking at her. Sam nodded to herself, sighed, and let the door close softly as she left.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The beginning should be easy; name, birthday, address. It was harder to fill out when most of those seemed to change every other week. Sighing, Sam leaned back against her pillow, closing her eyes in frustration. Schools were always talking about opening doors to different demographics; maybe Stanford would dig the nomad thing?
She jumped when the door opened, quickly stuffing the application under her pillow. Dean looked at her uncomfortably and she wondered if this awkwardness was ever going to pass. “Hey,” he said, smiling lightly. “What are you doing?”
“Homework.” She lifted up her history textbook. “Tons of reading to do.”
“Oh. Okay.” He headed for the door as she flipped open to any page that she thought was interesting. Then he stopped, turned towards her and sighed. “Do we need to talk about this?”
“The Civil War? No, I think I’ve got that covered, thanks.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.”
Dropping her textbook back on the bed, she raised an eyebrow at him. “What are we talking about, Dean? The fact that we had sex, or the fact that you ignored me for a week after that?”
“That, exactly that!” he said, frustration clear in his voice. “How can you just…say it like that?”
Staring at him in confusion, she just shrugged noncommittally. “Because it happened?”
“You’re my sister, Sam! My little sister! I’m supposed to make sure you eat your vegetables, do you homework, to beat up bullies for you! Not…”
“Fuck me in the shower with our dad in the next room?”
Dean steeled himself and she could tell he was getting angry. “Stop it, Sam! You can’t…we can’t…”
Running her hands through her hair, she said, “What do you want me to say? That you deflowered me? That we made sweet love? I mean, God, Dean. I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore than you do!”
For a moment, he just stared at her, shaking his head. “Is that what you think?”
“Is what what I think?”
“That it was just…just sex?”
Sam stared back at him, mouth hanging open. “I…yeah, Dean. If you had treated any other girl the way you treated me, it would be classified as a booty call at best, though I think most people would just call you a jackass.”
Shaking his head wildly, he said, “You’re not a booty call, Sam!”
“Then what am I? Some random hook up who just happens to live with you? A…” The words got caught in her throat, but she forced them out. “Some sort of mistake?”
He pushed her American history textbook out of the way and kneeled on the bed next to her, large hands cupping her face. “You’re not a mistake. You’re never a mistake.”
Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against his, unable to meet his eyes. “Then why do you always act like it?”
“I have no fucking idea what I’m doing here,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “Fuck, I’m so confused with this all the damn time.” He stroked a hand through her hair and kissed her forehead, an then tilting her head up to look at him. “But you are not a mistake. You’re basically the only thing I’ve ever done right my whole life.”
Her eyes searched his desperately and the words left her mouth before she knew what she was saying. “Prove it.”
Dean swallowed hard, licking his lips. “Prove it how?”
She just shrugged, becoming loose and sinuous against him. Nodding, Dean leaned in, kissing her softly. Her mouth opened in response immediately, his tongue snaking in as her hand found purchase on his chest. Dean tilted her head with his hands, kissing her as deeply as he knew how.
Whimpering in response, Sam leaned back against the wall, dragging Dean with her. He panted as he pulled away, looking at her as she moved down, laying her head on her pillow. “Sammy…”
“Dean,” she pleaded, wantonly biting her bottom lip.
He cursed, leaning down to kiss her again, moving his body until he was lying on his side next to her, their hips lining up as she snaked a leg though his own. Groaning, he wrapped a hand around her hip, pulling her up to meet him and snaked a finger under the elastic of her underwear.
Her heart pounded rapidly as she rolled on top of him, pinning him to the bed and kissing him harder, wanting him to feel her tomorrow, to not forget that she had been there this time. Growling, Dean bit her bottom lip, tugging it gently as his hands grabbed her ass and pressed her against him, bucking slightly off the bed.
She groaned into his mouth and he pulled away gently, licking up her neck before saying. “Maybe we should…I mean…”
“I’m not a little girl anymore, Dean,” she said, looking down at him.
“I know.” He shook his head, laughing. “God, I know.”
Sitting up, she smirked. “Then stop treating me like one.” With that, she took her shirt off, tossing it to the floor.
Sam watched him watch her, looking at her heaving chest and she was belatedly glad that she had the foresight to wear the pretty lacy bra today. His hands stroked up her sides and at first she thought he was going to push her off until she felt his hands unsnap the hooks of her bra. Slowly, she pulled the lace from her skin, dropping it to the side with her shirt.
His hands roamed across the bare span of her back, and she trembled beneath his touch, knowing that this was the breaking point where one wrong breath could change everything. Gently, he pushed her back down on top of him, leaning up to take one of her breasts in his mouth. She gasped, arching into him as he sucked and licked at her nipple, teeth grazing it so gently. “Dean,” Sam moaned, threading one hand through his hair as she fought to keep her balance with the other.
“You’re so beautiful, Sammy,” he said, before moving to the other breast, kissing it gently, then biting the sensitive nub of her nipple.
She shuddered with pleasure, unable to do anything but go with it as his hands guided her back to lying on the bed. He kissed her, mouth ravaging hers as he held her as close as possible. Staring into his eyes, she could feel her lips throbbing from the force of his mouth, even as it moved down her jaw and the column of her throat, until he bit her there at the base, sinking his teeth in as if to claim. “Mine. My Sammy,” he said roughly.
“Always,” she choked out, overwhelmed by him.
Dean sat up, removing his shirt before his hands settled on her hips. He seemed hesitant about her jeans, so she reached down, unbuttoning them and pushing them off herself. He looked at her pink panties, then at her face. “Come on, Dean,” she said, hoping he didn’t misunderstand the shaking in her voice, even she didn’t understand it.
He nodded, tugging them down lightly, dragging the wet cotton down her legs, until she was completely open for him. Hesitantly, he leaned in, kissing the mole on her hip, the act sending a dizzying thrill up her body. It felt like the first time all over again.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for his jeans and he nodded, fumbling with the zipper and getting them off. Her eyes traced down the sculpted muscles of her brother and she found herself trembling with the effort of trying to keep all of her emotions inside.
“Hey,” Dean said softly, touching her face with the back of his hand. She grabbed it, clinging as she smiled at him. “Sam, we don’t…”
She shook her head, pulling him down to kiss him again. The kisses were sweet, with a hurried passion lingering behind them as she pressed against him, taking the time to focus on these things even as his lips drove her crazy.
When he pulled away, moving off the bed, her heart went cold and she worried that he was changing his mind at the last minute. Sam watched as he dug into his duffle bag, coming back up with a condom. She swallowed hard, nodding as he stood there, staring at her.
“Come on, Dean,” she said finally. “I want you. I want you to fuck me.”
The words seemed to do the trick as he quickly unwrapped the condom, rolling it on before joining her on the bed. She lay there uncertainly, until he gently spread her legs with his hands, moving between them and sinking into her. It was better than the first time, knowing what to expect and adjusting her hips to accommodate him.
He panted against her neck until she rolled her hips, urging. “Need more, Dean. Please.”
“God, Sam.” Dean pulled back, then thrust back in solidly, watching her face as it contorted in pleasure. “How’s that, baby? Is that good?”
She whined in the back of her throat, nodding, nails scratching down his back. “Yes, God, yes. More, more. God, fuck me.”
Moaning, he pushed into her harder, wrapping her legs around his waist so that he could get as deep into her as possible. Conversation gave way to pants and gasps, the only words the names being called out into the room.
“Dean,” she said, rocking with the force of his thrusts. She didn’t care who heard, her cries growing in volume as her pleasure rose. “Dean!”
His lips found hers again, kissing with bruising force for only a minute before they were both panting too hard to remain lip locked. His hand worked its way into her hair, cradling her head as the other made marks deep into her hip.
She tilted her head back, gasping for air in the heated room as he buried his head against her neck. His cock split her open with force and ecstasy, and she could only rock back, grinding her hips against his as she begged for deeper, fuller.
Hips thrusting erratically, Dean sucked on one of her nipples as she shivered underneath him. “Come on, Sammy,” he said, voice cracking as he looked at her. “Come on, baby girl, please, come for me.”
Cries of pleasure got caught in her throat as she struggled with the sensation and his words. He wrapped both arms around her as her legs and squeezed her hips, holding her as closely as he could while still fucking her, whispering in her ear. “Come on, Sammy. For me. Come.”
And she did, tilting her head back and screaming his name, as the satisfaction overwhelmed her. Sam came down slowly, holding on to him as he orgasmed inside of her, panting slowly as she tried to regain thought and purchase in the world. Dean gasped for air, resting his forehead on her shoulder, as he stroked her back and sides, sliding apart but staying together in all the ways that mattered.
Then the phone rang.
Dean’s eyes shot open with panic and he pulled away, standing up on shaky legs and pulling on his boxers, as she laid there in shock. From her place in bed, sweaty-covered face resting on her pillow, she could hear his part of the conversation. “Yes, sir. Of course. Right. Yes, all done. Okay. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Okay. Goodbye.”
Her heart sank in her chest as he stopped in the bathroom, then came back in, pulling on his clothes. “Was…” she started, trying to find her voice. “Was that Dad?”
“Yes.” Dean pulled on his boots standing up, not even bothering to sit on the bed to tie them.
“What did he want?” she said, easing the sheet of the bed over her, pulling it up to her chest.
Dean didn’t look at her as he answered. “Gonna be home in a few hours, needs me to pick up some things.”
She nodded, blinking away tears. “Want me to com-”
“No,” he said shortly, grabbing his wallet and leaving, letting the door slam behind him.
Shaking, Sam held tightly to the sheet, covering herself from the drafty air of the house and the hidden eyes of the world. A few tears slipped down her face as she lay back on her pillow. The noise of paper crinkling confused her and she picked up her pillow. Biting her bottom lip, she pulled her now wrinkled Stanford essay out from under it, smoothing the paper gently. A tear fell on the page and she wiped it away quickly.
Setting it aside, Sam rubbed her eyes furiously, then got up and got dressed, opening the window to air out the room. Then she settled back on the bed with a pen and her application; name, birthday, address. This time she would finish it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Whenever John came back, Dean had the habit of treating him like a warrior retuned from battle, unlike what he really was-an obsessed, suicidal man trying to save someone who was already dead. Always the dutiful daughter, Sam managed to greet him at the door and help bring stuff in, not rolling her eyes more than a few times when John patted her on the back, like she was a colleague rather than his offspring.
She gave herself the job of starting dinner, hoping that her small amount of cooking ability could distract her from his stories. Sighing, she shook her head at the picture that they created: dysfunctional family, little woman in the kitchen making dinner, while the men sat with beers and talked about the job.
If he were a better parent, he wouldn’t leave guns around everywhere. One of these days, she was liable to shoot herself.
Sam kept one ear on the conversation as she boiled the water for pasta, cutting up the rest of the stale bread to make some sort of feasible garlic bread. He went on about hearing Caleb talk about trying to shoot salt out of a gun, Sam made a face at the back of his head. When Dean scowled at her, she simply shrugged, bending over to put the bread in the oven. She knew Dean was looking, could feel his eyes on her, and she winked at him over her shoulder. He went red immediately, shielding his face with his beer bottle as he took a long drink.
She clearly caught her dad’s attention by giggling, and he looked back at her. “You two keep okay while I was gone? Train?”
“Yes, sir,” Dean said, nodding. It was a lie. This had been the first day he’d touched her, and Sam was damn sure the kids weren’t calling it “training” these days.
After stirring the pasta, Sam leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her chest. Part of her wanted to know what her dad would say if she told him the truth. That she hadn’t done a single damn chore, or day of serious training. That a few simple hours before he had gotten home, his pride and joy had fucked her until she had screamed.
She wasn’t sure which one of them he would hit first. He’d probably follow it up with a heart attack, considering his sodium intake.
Turning around, she stirred more salt into the pasta.
“What about you, Sam? How’s school?”
She turned sharply, burning herself on the edge of the pot. She couldn’t remember the last time he had actually asked about anything other than that. It was all he knew about her. “Um, good. I’ve got straight A’s.”
He nodded, and for a second, she almost expected praise. “Make sure you’ve got a number, so we can have your files transferred.”
“We’re leaving?”
The way he looked at her like that was a stupid question made her want to punch him in the face. “Caleb needs my help over in west Texas. We shouldn’t be there too long.” The casual tone said that that was a good thing, like she was supposed to be happy about that.
Clearing his throat, Dean said, “How’s dinner coming, Sammy?”
Very well, just like I was coming earlier, don’t you remember? The words hung at the edge of her tongue, but she swallowed them down, and said, “Just a few more minutes.”
Dean stood up, grabbing plates from the cabinet above her head and resting his hand on the small of her back. She elbowed him, glaring daggers at him. “Don’t even go there,” she hissed low enough, so that their father couldn’t hear.
He just rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, setting the table as she nuked what was left in the tomato sauce jar in the microwave. Sam ate her meal mostly in silence, only responding to direct questions and trying to avoid both Dean and her father’s gazes.
The food wasn’t settling well, but she cleared her plate quickly. “If we’re leaving in the morning, I should go pack and get to bed early.” Sam stared directly at John, challenging him with her eyes.
Quickly swallowing, Dean said, “I’ll clean up. You cooked and all.” It was a premeditated peace offering to stop a fight that would undoubtedly start.
After a moment, John nodded. “Good idea. We’ll be getting an early start tomorrow.”
She had no response to that and got up from the table, closing the door to the bedroom behind her. Lethargically, she got ready for bed, slipping underneath the blanket and burying her head in the pillow. John exhausted her.
Despite her fatigue, Sam lay there awake for a long time, thoughts following the monochromatic highway to Texas. She didn’t know the route, but she didn’t need to. It was always the same. Nothing about it ever changed.
When Dean came in, she shifted farther towards the edge of the bed to give him room. He slipped in behind her, tossing restlessly for several minutes. His sigh echoed in the room. “Sammy…” She knew he knew that she was awake, but she didn’t answer. After seventeen years, there really wasn’t anything left to say.
His hand rested on her hip and she flinched, but he refused to let her get away. She relaxed as Dean’s arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her back against his chest. He pressed a kiss against the back of her neck. Sam sighed.
Some things just weren’t worth fighting.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When John pulled the truck into a small neighborhood in Dillon, Sam knew better than to ask why. After hours stuck in a silent car with Dean, she was just glad to stretch her legs and have an excuse to get away from the both of them. Even in a completely different car, it felt like John was breathing down her neck.
Caleb was waiting outside, and he greeted them with a smile. “Hey, guys.” John and Dean greeted him, but Sam just smiled as he led them inside. “So this is the place. I’m not really using it, so you can stay here as long as you want.”
The main room was bright and Sam would almost call it homey, if she didn’t see the salt piled under the racks of guns and other weapons. “I didn’t know you got a new place,” she said.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he said, “Friend left it to me.” There wasn’t anything else to say to that-hunters die and sometimes they have stuff to leave behind and no one to leave it behind to, which Sam reasoned was the exact opposite of her father: nothing left and two people to leave it to.
They never became ‘friends’, until after people were dead. It was colleagues, other hunters, even the occasional hunting buddy, as if they were shooting deer instead of monsters. After they die, after you realize you’re actually mourning someone you care about and lost, then they become friends.
Hunters always seemed to care a lot more about the dead and the dying and the possibly dying, than the people living right around them.
“There’s a full stocked pantry with non-perishables and a few things in the fridge,” Caleb continued, pointing to a small door in the corner of the kitchen. “TV and all that.”
Dean nodded appreciatively, but Sam said, “What about school?” Her question was directed at Caleb, but she kept her eyes on her father.
Caleb shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that, but I’m sure you won’t have trouble asking around.”
“You’ve always been good at getting yourself set up for school,” John said, and Sam suppressed a grin of relief, glad he thought they were going to be there long enough that it was worth looking into.
“Yes, sir.”
Checking his watch, John said, “We’d better get on the road before it gets too late. Go grab your stuff.”
Caleb helped her with the things from the trunk. “There are two bedrooms, so you don’t have to share.”
As Sam shouldered her bag, John said, “Dean. You wanna come?”
He stared at his father with wide eyes. “Sir?”
“On the hunt, Dean.”
“Yes, sir,” he said immediately, taking a second to spare a glance at Sam.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, though no one asked.
John nodded assertively. “Make sure you’ve got all your stuff in the Impala and follow us.”
After explaining a couple more things about the house, Caleb handed her the house keys and got in his own van, following John out of the driveway. Sam stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do while Dean started up the Impala, rolling down the window to talk to her. “You okay, Sammy?”
“Yeah,” she said, not sure if it was a lie. “Be careful, okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, ducking his head so she wouldn’t see him roll his eyes. “I have done this before. We’ll be back in a few days.”
Despite the Texas heat pounding down on her, she just nodded and waited until the Impala was out of the driveway and out of sight, before retreating into the air conditioned house. She spent her time searching around the open two-bedroom ranch, choosing the room with the comfortable king-sized bed for herself.
Settling on the couch with the remote, she tried to tell herself that she was happy not fighting over what to watch and that she was going to watch every single girly show on television. It rang hollow even in her head and she glanced through the blinds out to the driveway, half-hoping the Impala would suddenly appear there.
She sighed, resting her head in her hands and not bothering to turn on the television. It was going to be a long couple of days.
Master Post | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Soundtrack
At least her father had found a place within walking distance from the school. It wasn’t the best school, or the best place, but it was close. She wasn’t sure if her and Dean trapped in a car twice a day was a good idea at the moment. She was worried he might crash into a ditch just to get away from her.
He left the room whenever she was in it, and if he couldn’t, he sat as far away from her as possible-on the couch, while she was at the table, and vice versa. He had even “accidentally fallen asleep” on the couch, rather than share a bed with her for the entire time that they had been there, or stayed up all night and slept while she was at school.
Sometimes she wondered if her brother was five, instead of twenty-one.
But her father left this morning with Bobby and he couldn’t avoid her anymore, if he didn’t want to sleep outside; which, knowing Dean right now, wasn’t really a stretch of the imagination. They’d spent more than one night curled up in the back of the Impala.
In a rare moment of mercy, Dad promised that they would be staying in this town for at least a few weeks, maybe even a few months. Sam wondered if he had gotten some sort of head injury on the last hunt, but she didn’t want to second-guess him. Dean was even going to try to find a job today to keep them afloat financially for a while. They had a house with actual bedrooms. They were going to school and had real jobs. It was almost like they were normal, except for the surplus of salt and guns and monster hunting.
Or the fact that her brother had taken her virginity less than a week ago.
Shifting her books in her arms, she hoped Dean had had a good day. She didn’t want to corner him if it had been crappy, even if he was the one who had taught her to throw a punch.
Luckily, the door to their house was open and she didn’t have to look for her keys. “Hey,” she said, closing the door behind her. “I’m ho…”
Dean was on the couch and he seemed in a good enough mood, considering the girl that was in his lap, kissing his neck. She turned to look at Sam, raising an eyebrow, her long blonde hair hanging in Dean’s face. “Who’s this?”
“That’s just my little sister,” he said, voice low in a way she recognized. She thought she was going to throw up. “Hey, Sammy.”
Sam’s lungs were completely devoid of air. She couldn’t even make herself breathe. Forcing her eyes closed, she reached for the door, moving outside. The hot Arizona breeze did nothing to help and she stumbled towards the car, leaning against it and ignoring how hot the metal was. She was mostly just trying not to hurl.
The horizontal blinds in the window rattled against the glass and she stood up immediately. If she was going to cry, it wouldn’t be here where he could watch her, like a fucking show for his amusement. Holding tightly to her books and bag, she set off down the road, sun pounding down on her back.
There was a small diner not far from their house and she was glad to see it mostly empty. Sitting down in a corner booth, she rested her head in her hands, as the first tears began to fall. Nothing about this made sense. Dean loved her, at the very least as his sister. It was a betrayal she never expected and it hurt. She remembered laughing at girls her age that made everything about a guy, but…this had hurt. This hurt everywhere.
“Um…can I get you something?”
She looked up quickly at the waitress, who was standing there awkwardly. “Um…yeah, sure…” Fumbling for the menu, she flipped it open quickly, while wiping her face with the back of her hand.
“Guy trouble?” she said, smiling sympathetically.
Sam laughed darkly. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” she said.
Nodding in understanding, she said, “We make really good milkshakes. Best in the state, some people have said. I know they’ve helped me through a bad break up, or two.”
“Milkshake…” Dad never let them get milkshakes. Once she got one and he threw a fit in the middle of the restaurant, as if the delicious treat had killed their mother, or something. “Yeah, that sounds good. Do you have strawberry?”
“Of course, it’ll be right out.”
Sam managed to smile her thanks, and then leaned her head back against the vinyl of the booth. Break up. Like she didn’t have to go back and live with him. Maybe she could sleep in the Impala.
Sighing, she looked at her books piled up on the table. Opening her Spanish book, she told herself that every conjugated verb was a mile closer to Stanford-and farther from her family.
After three milkshakes and two plates of fries-the second just because it would have made Dad angry and insist on her doing extra workouts-she was done with the rest of her work through the week. Chewing on the cap of her pen, she wondered if she could convince her teachers to assign her the rest of the semester’s work, so she would have an excuse to hide here every day.
“Is there anything else I can get you, hon?” the waitress asked, clearing away her empty glasses.
Sam shook her head, sighing heavily. “No, I’m good, actually.” Digging down into the front pocket of her backpack, she pulled out her emergency twenty. Dean being a jackass was an emergency, as far as she was concerned. “Keep the change.”
She slipped it into the pocket of her apron as Sam put everything back in her bag. “You know, whoever he is, don’t worry about him. You’re a pretty girl, you can find better. He’s not worth it.”
“Thanks,” Sam said, blinking away newly forming tears. She was pretty sure that she was wrong-Dean was worth everything. “Thanks for everything.”
The walk home was long and lonely, the air still stifling and hot even though the sun had set long ago. She would never understand why people wanted to live in a desert. The lights in the house were still on by the time she reached it, car still in the driveway. After a moment’s hesitation-she learned how to pop open the backdoor a few years ago when she locked the keys in the car by mistake, she could easily sleep in there, or at least wait until Dean went to sleep-Sam opened the front door of the house and stepped inside.
Dean stood up immediately from his spot on the couch. “Where the hell have you been?”
Seeing him was another punch to the stomach. Shaking her head, she walked past him and into the bedroom, trying to ignore the way he called after her.
“Sam, I asked you a question,” he said, and she could hear the anger in his voice, the one that had the prickling of fear as if she was a small child who was going to fall down a fucking well, or something.
Dropping her bag loudly on the carpet, she refused to look at him. “Don’t talk to me.”
His huff of frustration was enough of an answer. “Why the hell not?”
“Just leave me alone, Dean.”
“Why? Why the hell should I? What the fuck is going on with you?”
Before she realized what she was doing, she turned around and punched her brother in the face, connecting solidly with his jaw. “Are you fucking serious? Really, Dean? You’re not dumb, so don’t pretend like you are!”
He cradled his mouth lightly, looking surprised and for a brief moment, she regretted hitting him. Then his eyes narrowed in anger and he grabbed something off the dresser, throwing it on the bed. “Fine, how about this, Sam. Why don’t you explain what the fuck these are?!”
Frowning in confusion, she looked through the bag, heart stopping when she saw several college application packets, with Stanford sitting at the very top. “Where did you get these?” she said softly. Looking at him in shock, she demanded, “Did you go through my mail?”
“What? Bobby dropped them off when he and Dad left this morning! And it’s not like I had to fucking go through it, they’re just sitting there! So why don’t you tell me about these.”
Shrugging, she made herself not feel bad. “I think they’re pretty self-explanatory, actually.”
Kicking the bed, he said, “What, you think you can just leave? Go off to fucking college?”
“Yeah, actually,” she said simply. She laughed lightly and wondered if that made her insane. “Yeah, I’m gonna go to college. I’m gonna get away from you, and from Dad, and this stupid family, and this whole stupid fucking existence!”
“So, what, you got these just to punish Dad? To punish me?”
Shaking her head, she fought against hitting him again. “No, though fucking your sister and then making out with another girl just a few days later deserves punishment, because that’s low even for you. It’s not exactly going to win you brother of the year.” Dean reeled back from the words as if she had slapped him. “But guess what, Dean, this isn’t about you. For once in my life, there’s something that doesn’t revolve around you, or hunting, or anything like that! This is just me!”
He laughed in disbelief and she wondered if she got that from him. “That’s good for you, Sam, but my life? I revolves around you. It always has. So Dad and I humor you and let you do your stupid little school thing-”
“Stupid school thing?”
“But you’re insane if you think either of us is going to let you go out to some fucking stupid college to learn about stupid, useless shit!”
“Oh, don’t fucking patronize me, Dean. I’m not a child!”
“Then stop acting like one when things don’t go your way!”
She stared at him incredulously. “You think that’s why I’m doing this? You really think that all of my decisions are based on you and your stupid decisions and those…girls!” It wasn’t all of her decisions. She wouldn’t let it be.
Throwing his arms up in exasperation, he said, “Isn’t it? Hell, why do you even care, you’re just leaving anyway, right?”
Scowling, she just turned away from him. “Get out. Just get out; I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“Oh, stop it, Sam.”
She grabbed a metal canister of salt off the floor, throwing it at his head. He ducked out of the way in time and it crashed off into the hallway, salt spilling all over the floor. “Get away from me! Just leave me the fuck alone!”
“Fine. Fine!” He left, slamming the door behind him and she quickly flipped the lock on the handle. He could easily pick it, hell, he could even break it down, but she felt slightly pacified with that one extra barrier between them.
The harsh sounds of their arguments rang in her ears as she stripped off her clothes, trying not to focus on any of the words. She didn’t want to relive it. She didn’t want to do this anymore. Tears running down her face, she just curled in the bed and let her sobs rock her to sleep.
She slept fitfully, restlessly, finally getting up not too many hours later. Without thinking, she pulled on her work out clothes, before remembering that Dad wasn’t here to make sure she busted her ass before school. Still, she pulled her hair back from her face and decided to go out for a jog, hoping that the excess tension in her body would disappear while she was out.
Dean was sleeping in the other room-Dad’s room-and she toed quietly past him and shut the front door as quietly as she could.
The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, night air cool around her. Dusty roads were her only company, free of any cars or travelers at this time and she almost wished something would come along to break up the monotony. In lieu of anything to distract her, she counted her footsteps, hitting the pavement evenly and rhythmically one after the other, one-two, one-two, equal and unending.
Wiping the sweat off her face, she was panting hard as she walked into the house. Dean was in the kitchen, taking stuff out of the fridge. He glanced at her quickly. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said softly, shifting awkwardly.
“I was gonna make breakfast,” he said, holding up the carton of eggs. “The works. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “Good. It should be ready by the time you’re out of the shower.”
She just nodded back and headed to the bathroom, taking the time and letting the water do her thinking for her, as it washed the sweat and tension away.
Dean was dishing out the food when she was finished getting dressed, table set with actual plates and silverware, and glasses of juice and cups of coffee. A lump rose in her throat; this was clearly a peace offering, a little slice of normal for her. She sat down on the table as he put the plate in front of her. “Thanks,” she said, hoping he knew what she meant.
“You’re welcome.” He sat across from her and they ate in awkward silence.
Sam wasn’t sure what to say. To apologize would be disingenuous and insincere, and it would just start another fight and she wasn’t ready for that. So, instead, she ate her eggs, murmured how good they were, refilled the coffee when they were both empty, all the while her head spinning uncomfortably. She now understood why women did the walk of shame. The morning after, even the week after, it was a hell of a lot less painful.
He cleared the dishes and asked, “Do you need a ride to school?”
“It’s okay,” she said, moving around him to get lunch money from the bag of small bills. “I can walk.”
Nodding, he said, “Well, I got a job. It’s at this auto parts store. My baby impressed them and they said they’d try me out this afternoon, so I’ll probably be home late. You can order pizza, or whatever.”
“Okay.” She went to grab her backpack and books, making sure she had her key in there. Dean was washing the dishes when she went back in the main room. “I’ll see you later.”
“See ya,” he said over his shoulder, not looking at her. Sam nodded to herself, sighed, and let the door close softly as she left.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The beginning should be easy; name, birthday, address. It was harder to fill out when most of those seemed to change every other week. Sighing, Sam leaned back against her pillow, closing her eyes in frustration. Schools were always talking about opening doors to different demographics; maybe Stanford would dig the nomad thing?
She jumped when the door opened, quickly stuffing the application under her pillow. Dean looked at her uncomfortably and she wondered if this awkwardness was ever going to pass. “Hey,” he said, smiling lightly. “What are you doing?”
“Homework.” She lifted up her history textbook. “Tons of reading to do.”
“Oh. Okay.” He headed for the door as she flipped open to any page that she thought was interesting. Then he stopped, turned towards her and sighed. “Do we need to talk about this?”
“The Civil War? No, I think I’ve got that covered, thanks.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.”
Dropping her textbook back on the bed, she raised an eyebrow at him. “What are we talking about, Dean? The fact that we had sex, or the fact that you ignored me for a week after that?”
“That, exactly that!” he said, frustration clear in his voice. “How can you just…say it like that?”
Staring at him in confusion, she just shrugged noncommittally. “Because it happened?”
“You’re my sister, Sam! My little sister! I’m supposed to make sure you eat your vegetables, do you homework, to beat up bullies for you! Not…”
“Fuck me in the shower with our dad in the next room?”
Dean steeled himself and she could tell he was getting angry. “Stop it, Sam! You can’t…we can’t…”
Running her hands through her hair, she said, “What do you want me to say? That you deflowered me? That we made sweet love? I mean, God, Dean. I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore than you do!”
For a moment, he just stared at her, shaking his head. “Is that what you think?”
“Is what what I think?”
“That it was just…just sex?”
Sam stared back at him, mouth hanging open. “I…yeah, Dean. If you had treated any other girl the way you treated me, it would be classified as a booty call at best, though I think most people would just call you a jackass.”
Shaking his head wildly, he said, “You’re not a booty call, Sam!”
“Then what am I? Some random hook up who just happens to live with you? A…” The words got caught in her throat, but she forced them out. “Some sort of mistake?”
He pushed her American history textbook out of the way and kneeled on the bed next to her, large hands cupping her face. “You’re not a mistake. You’re never a mistake.”
Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against his, unable to meet his eyes. “Then why do you always act like it?”
“I have no fucking idea what I’m doing here,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “Fuck, I’m so confused with this all the damn time.” He stroked a hand through her hair and kissed her forehead, an then tilting her head up to look at him. “But you are not a mistake. You’re basically the only thing I’ve ever done right my whole life.”
Her eyes searched his desperately and the words left her mouth before she knew what she was saying. “Prove it.”
Dean swallowed hard, licking his lips. “Prove it how?”
She just shrugged, becoming loose and sinuous against him. Nodding, Dean leaned in, kissing her softly. Her mouth opened in response immediately, his tongue snaking in as her hand found purchase on his chest. Dean tilted her head with his hands, kissing her as deeply as he knew how.
Whimpering in response, Sam leaned back against the wall, dragging Dean with her. He panted as he pulled away, looking at her as she moved down, laying her head on her pillow. “Sammy…”
“Dean,” she pleaded, wantonly biting her bottom lip.
He cursed, leaning down to kiss her again, moving his body until he was lying on his side next to her, their hips lining up as she snaked a leg though his own. Groaning, he wrapped a hand around her hip, pulling her up to meet him and snaked a finger under the elastic of her underwear.
Her heart pounded rapidly as she rolled on top of him, pinning him to the bed and kissing him harder, wanting him to feel her tomorrow, to not forget that she had been there this time. Growling, Dean bit her bottom lip, tugging it gently as his hands grabbed her ass and pressed her against him, bucking slightly off the bed.
She groaned into his mouth and he pulled away gently, licking up her neck before saying. “Maybe we should…I mean…”
“I’m not a little girl anymore, Dean,” she said, looking down at him.
“I know.” He shook his head, laughing. “God, I know.”
Sitting up, she smirked. “Then stop treating me like one.” With that, she took her shirt off, tossing it to the floor.
Sam watched him watch her, looking at her heaving chest and she was belatedly glad that she had the foresight to wear the pretty lacy bra today. His hands stroked up her sides and at first she thought he was going to push her off until she felt his hands unsnap the hooks of her bra. Slowly, she pulled the lace from her skin, dropping it to the side with her shirt.
His hands roamed across the bare span of her back, and she trembled beneath his touch, knowing that this was the breaking point where one wrong breath could change everything. Gently, he pushed her back down on top of him, leaning up to take one of her breasts in his mouth. She gasped, arching into him as he sucked and licked at her nipple, teeth grazing it so gently. “Dean,” Sam moaned, threading one hand through his hair as she fought to keep her balance with the other.
“You’re so beautiful, Sammy,” he said, before moving to the other breast, kissing it gently, then biting the sensitive nub of her nipple.
She shuddered with pleasure, unable to do anything but go with it as his hands guided her back to lying on the bed. He kissed her, mouth ravaging hers as he held her as close as possible. Staring into his eyes, she could feel her lips throbbing from the force of his mouth, even as it moved down her jaw and the column of her throat, until he bit her there at the base, sinking his teeth in as if to claim. “Mine. My Sammy,” he said roughly.
“Always,” she choked out, overwhelmed by him.
Dean sat up, removing his shirt before his hands settled on her hips. He seemed hesitant about her jeans, so she reached down, unbuttoning them and pushing them off herself. He looked at her pink panties, then at her face. “Come on, Dean,” she said, hoping he didn’t misunderstand the shaking in her voice, even she didn’t understand it.
He nodded, tugging them down lightly, dragging the wet cotton down her legs, until she was completely open for him. Hesitantly, he leaned in, kissing the mole on her hip, the act sending a dizzying thrill up her body. It felt like the first time all over again.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for his jeans and he nodded, fumbling with the zipper and getting them off. Her eyes traced down the sculpted muscles of her brother and she found herself trembling with the effort of trying to keep all of her emotions inside.
“Hey,” Dean said softly, touching her face with the back of his hand. She grabbed it, clinging as she smiled at him. “Sam, we don’t…”
She shook her head, pulling him down to kiss him again. The kisses were sweet, with a hurried passion lingering behind them as she pressed against him, taking the time to focus on these things even as his lips drove her crazy.
When he pulled away, moving off the bed, her heart went cold and she worried that he was changing his mind at the last minute. Sam watched as he dug into his duffle bag, coming back up with a condom. She swallowed hard, nodding as he stood there, staring at her.
“Come on, Dean,” she said finally. “I want you. I want you to fuck me.”
The words seemed to do the trick as he quickly unwrapped the condom, rolling it on before joining her on the bed. She lay there uncertainly, until he gently spread her legs with his hands, moving between them and sinking into her. It was better than the first time, knowing what to expect and adjusting her hips to accommodate him.
He panted against her neck until she rolled her hips, urging. “Need more, Dean. Please.”
“God, Sam.” Dean pulled back, then thrust back in solidly, watching her face as it contorted in pleasure. “How’s that, baby? Is that good?”
She whined in the back of her throat, nodding, nails scratching down his back. “Yes, God, yes. More, more. God, fuck me.”
Moaning, he pushed into her harder, wrapping her legs around his waist so that he could get as deep into her as possible. Conversation gave way to pants and gasps, the only words the names being called out into the room.
“Dean,” she said, rocking with the force of his thrusts. She didn’t care who heard, her cries growing in volume as her pleasure rose. “Dean!”
His lips found hers again, kissing with bruising force for only a minute before they were both panting too hard to remain lip locked. His hand worked its way into her hair, cradling her head as the other made marks deep into her hip.
She tilted her head back, gasping for air in the heated room as he buried his head against her neck. His cock split her open with force and ecstasy, and she could only rock back, grinding her hips against his as she begged for deeper, fuller.
Hips thrusting erratically, Dean sucked on one of her nipples as she shivered underneath him. “Come on, Sammy,” he said, voice cracking as he looked at her. “Come on, baby girl, please, come for me.”
Cries of pleasure got caught in her throat as she struggled with the sensation and his words. He wrapped both arms around her as her legs and squeezed her hips, holding her as closely as he could while still fucking her, whispering in her ear. “Come on, Sammy. For me. Come.”
And she did, tilting her head back and screaming his name, as the satisfaction overwhelmed her. Sam came down slowly, holding on to him as he orgasmed inside of her, panting slowly as she tried to regain thought and purchase in the world. Dean gasped for air, resting his forehead on her shoulder, as he stroked her back and sides, sliding apart but staying together in all the ways that mattered.
Then the phone rang.
Dean’s eyes shot open with panic and he pulled away, standing up on shaky legs and pulling on his boxers, as she laid there in shock. From her place in bed, sweaty-covered face resting on her pillow, she could hear his part of the conversation. “Yes, sir. Of course. Right. Yes, all done. Okay. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Okay. Goodbye.”
Her heart sank in her chest as he stopped in the bathroom, then came back in, pulling on his clothes. “Was…” she started, trying to find her voice. “Was that Dad?”
“Yes.” Dean pulled on his boots standing up, not even bothering to sit on the bed to tie them.
“What did he want?” she said, easing the sheet of the bed over her, pulling it up to her chest.
Dean didn’t look at her as he answered. “Gonna be home in a few hours, needs me to pick up some things.”
She nodded, blinking away tears. “Want me to com-”
“No,” he said shortly, grabbing his wallet and leaving, letting the door slam behind him.
Shaking, Sam held tightly to the sheet, covering herself from the drafty air of the house and the hidden eyes of the world. A few tears slipped down her face as she lay back on her pillow. The noise of paper crinkling confused her and she picked up her pillow. Biting her bottom lip, she pulled her now wrinkled Stanford essay out from under it, smoothing the paper gently. A tear fell on the page and she wiped it away quickly.
Setting it aside, Sam rubbed her eyes furiously, then got up and got dressed, opening the window to air out the room. Then she settled back on the bed with a pen and her application; name, birthday, address. This time she would finish it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Whenever John came back, Dean had the habit of treating him like a warrior retuned from battle, unlike what he really was-an obsessed, suicidal man trying to save someone who was already dead. Always the dutiful daughter, Sam managed to greet him at the door and help bring stuff in, not rolling her eyes more than a few times when John patted her on the back, like she was a colleague rather than his offspring.
She gave herself the job of starting dinner, hoping that her small amount of cooking ability could distract her from his stories. Sighing, she shook her head at the picture that they created: dysfunctional family, little woman in the kitchen making dinner, while the men sat with beers and talked about the job.
If he were a better parent, he wouldn’t leave guns around everywhere. One of these days, she was liable to shoot herself.
Sam kept one ear on the conversation as she boiled the water for pasta, cutting up the rest of the stale bread to make some sort of feasible garlic bread. He went on about hearing Caleb talk about trying to shoot salt out of a gun, Sam made a face at the back of his head. When Dean scowled at her, she simply shrugged, bending over to put the bread in the oven. She knew Dean was looking, could feel his eyes on her, and she winked at him over her shoulder. He went red immediately, shielding his face with his beer bottle as he took a long drink.
She clearly caught her dad’s attention by giggling, and he looked back at her. “You two keep okay while I was gone? Train?”
“Yes, sir,” Dean said, nodding. It was a lie. This had been the first day he’d touched her, and Sam was damn sure the kids weren’t calling it “training” these days.
After stirring the pasta, Sam leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her chest. Part of her wanted to know what her dad would say if she told him the truth. That she hadn’t done a single damn chore, or day of serious training. That a few simple hours before he had gotten home, his pride and joy had fucked her until she had screamed.
She wasn’t sure which one of them he would hit first. He’d probably follow it up with a heart attack, considering his sodium intake.
Turning around, she stirred more salt into the pasta.
“What about you, Sam? How’s school?”
She turned sharply, burning herself on the edge of the pot. She couldn’t remember the last time he had actually asked about anything other than that. It was all he knew about her. “Um, good. I’ve got straight A’s.”
He nodded, and for a second, she almost expected praise. “Make sure you’ve got a number, so we can have your files transferred.”
“We’re leaving?”
The way he looked at her like that was a stupid question made her want to punch him in the face. “Caleb needs my help over in west Texas. We shouldn’t be there too long.” The casual tone said that that was a good thing, like she was supposed to be happy about that.
Clearing his throat, Dean said, “How’s dinner coming, Sammy?”
Very well, just like I was coming earlier, don’t you remember? The words hung at the edge of her tongue, but she swallowed them down, and said, “Just a few more minutes.”
Dean stood up, grabbing plates from the cabinet above her head and resting his hand on the small of her back. She elbowed him, glaring daggers at him. “Don’t even go there,” she hissed low enough, so that their father couldn’t hear.
He just rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, setting the table as she nuked what was left in the tomato sauce jar in the microwave. Sam ate her meal mostly in silence, only responding to direct questions and trying to avoid both Dean and her father’s gazes.
The food wasn’t settling well, but she cleared her plate quickly. “If we’re leaving in the morning, I should go pack and get to bed early.” Sam stared directly at John, challenging him with her eyes.
Quickly swallowing, Dean said, “I’ll clean up. You cooked and all.” It was a premeditated peace offering to stop a fight that would undoubtedly start.
After a moment, John nodded. “Good idea. We’ll be getting an early start tomorrow.”
She had no response to that and got up from the table, closing the door to the bedroom behind her. Lethargically, she got ready for bed, slipping underneath the blanket and burying her head in the pillow. John exhausted her.
Despite her fatigue, Sam lay there awake for a long time, thoughts following the monochromatic highway to Texas. She didn’t know the route, but she didn’t need to. It was always the same. Nothing about it ever changed.
When Dean came in, she shifted farther towards the edge of the bed to give him room. He slipped in behind her, tossing restlessly for several minutes. His sigh echoed in the room. “Sammy…” She knew he knew that she was awake, but she didn’t answer. After seventeen years, there really wasn’t anything left to say.
His hand rested on her hip and she flinched, but he refused to let her get away. She relaxed as Dean’s arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her back against his chest. He pressed a kiss against the back of her neck. Sam sighed.
Some things just weren’t worth fighting.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When John pulled the truck into a small neighborhood in Dillon, Sam knew better than to ask why. After hours stuck in a silent car with Dean, she was just glad to stretch her legs and have an excuse to get away from the both of them. Even in a completely different car, it felt like John was breathing down her neck.
Caleb was waiting outside, and he greeted them with a smile. “Hey, guys.” John and Dean greeted him, but Sam just smiled as he led them inside. “So this is the place. I’m not really using it, so you can stay here as long as you want.”
The main room was bright and Sam would almost call it homey, if she didn’t see the salt piled under the racks of guns and other weapons. “I didn’t know you got a new place,” she said.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he said, “Friend left it to me.” There wasn’t anything else to say to that-hunters die and sometimes they have stuff to leave behind and no one to leave it behind to, which Sam reasoned was the exact opposite of her father: nothing left and two people to leave it to.
They never became ‘friends’, until after people were dead. It was colleagues, other hunters, even the occasional hunting buddy, as if they were shooting deer instead of monsters. After they die, after you realize you’re actually mourning someone you care about and lost, then they become friends.
Hunters always seemed to care a lot more about the dead and the dying and the possibly dying, than the people living right around them.
“There’s a full stocked pantry with non-perishables and a few things in the fridge,” Caleb continued, pointing to a small door in the corner of the kitchen. “TV and all that.”
Dean nodded appreciatively, but Sam said, “What about school?” Her question was directed at Caleb, but she kept her eyes on her father.
Caleb shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that, but I’m sure you won’t have trouble asking around.”
“You’ve always been good at getting yourself set up for school,” John said, and Sam suppressed a grin of relief, glad he thought they were going to be there long enough that it was worth looking into.
“Yes, sir.”
Checking his watch, John said, “We’d better get on the road before it gets too late. Go grab your stuff.”
Caleb helped her with the things from the trunk. “There are two bedrooms, so you don’t have to share.”
As Sam shouldered her bag, John said, “Dean. You wanna come?”
He stared at his father with wide eyes. “Sir?”
“On the hunt, Dean.”
“Yes, sir,” he said immediately, taking a second to spare a glance at Sam.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, though no one asked.
John nodded assertively. “Make sure you’ve got all your stuff in the Impala and follow us.”
After explaining a couple more things about the house, Caleb handed her the house keys and got in his own van, following John out of the driveway. Sam stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do while Dean started up the Impala, rolling down the window to talk to her. “You okay, Sammy?”
“Yeah,” she said, not sure if it was a lie. “Be careful, okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, ducking his head so she wouldn’t see him roll his eyes. “I have done this before. We’ll be back in a few days.”
Despite the Texas heat pounding down on her, she just nodded and waited until the Impala was out of the driveway and out of sight, before retreating into the air conditioned house. She spent her time searching around the open two-bedroom ranch, choosing the room with the comfortable king-sized bed for herself.
Settling on the couch with the remote, she tried to tell herself that she was happy not fighting over what to watch and that she was going to watch every single girly show on television. It rang hollow even in her head and she glanced through the blinds out to the driveway, half-hoping the Impala would suddenly appear there.
She sighed, resting her head in her hands and not bothering to turn on the television. It was going to be a long couple of days.
Master Post | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Soundtrack