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"Cold, hard, ground to sleep on. There’s not even a toilet. Even the worst motels have a toilet. Then the bugs won’t leave you alone. My toes are already cold. They won’t be warm again until there’s hot water. Who knows when that will be."
"Shhh." Dean tried to quiet Sammy.
Sam was collecting sticks for kindling and Dean was trying to find rocks to make the ring. The brothers were only a few hundred yards from the spot Dad had decided to set up camp; Dean knew if he let Sam get going Dad would definitely overhear. Dad was angry. Angry at him, Dean hoped, but if he overheard Sam complaining that could change. The worst Dad would do is go off leaving Dean to sort out meals, that would be bad enough, especially while it was dark out. Dean always felt bad catching rabbits, but Sammy would need to eat.
"No." Sam said defiantly, "I hate being cold. Why’d we have to leave the motel?"
Dean cringed. How could he say it was his fault? He shouldn’t have had the gun’s out. He shouldn’t have left the door unlocked. He should have noticed that manager creeping around. He knew she was nosy.
He leave you alone often? She’d asked. Not often. He has a business thing. He’ll be back in a few hours. Thank goodness Dad had the police scanner with him, otherwise, Dean and Sam would’ve been picked up. The pizza Dean had ordered didn’t even get to arrive before Dad came back and swept them away to the woods.
"Here, Sammy, wait." Dean sat on the ground and untied his boots. Taking each woolen sock off, he handed them to his brother. "Put those on." Sam gave him a dubious look. "It’s fine. I always get too hot when we have a fire."
Skeptical still, but cold enough to move past it, Sam sat next to Dean and slipped on the extra pair of socks, rubbing his toes to try and get them warmed before slipping his own boots back on.
When they got back to camp their arms were filled with rocks and sticks; Dad had brought up camping gear and two squirrel carcasses laid next to a few chopped branches. Silently, John Winchester took the supplies and built a small fire for his boys.
"It’s a learning opportunity, Sammy." John comforted his younger son who was obviously annoyed - huffing and frowning at Dean as the two tried to set up the small tent. "We need to be ready at anytime to do whatever the situation requires. Dean, come here."
Dean stopped immediately and walked over to his father with slow guilty steps. John had planned on impressing on Dean the severity of neglecting precautions but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Dean looked to be punishing himself enough. John knelt down to look his eldest in the face.
“I was only waiting for nightfall, Dean. I have to go finish the job. You need to clean and cook dinner.” John pressed his skinning knife into his son’s hand. “Make sure that Sam gets to sleep at a decent time. We should have an early morning, and we’ll need to leave quickly. Can you handle that?”
Dean hid his flinch. Dad was out there saving people’s lives, surely Dean could manage not to screw up one night of camping. “Yes, sir.” Dean responded quickly. Dad smiled and patted Dean’s cheek.
"Good, soldier." John stood and went over to Sam by the fire. His small feet held as close to the flames as he dared to get them. "Don’t melt those boots, Sammy." John said as he hugged the youngest Winchester. "Listen to Dean. I’ll be back in the morning."
"Yeah, yeah." Sam quickly hugged back, embarrassed.
John nodded at Dean and headed down the thin trail they had followed to this spot. He remembered the excitement of setting up a tent in the backyard with his friends. It would be nice for them to be out in nature, away from the stale motel room and hours of television.
"This is so boring." Sam threw himself on the ground.
"I know." Dean’s stomach turned as he pulled the first strip of skin back off the dead animal, at least he didn’t have to kill it.