Chapter Text
The motel room was quiet as the Winchester brothers were all peacefully asleep after another hunt. That is, until a phone went off rather loudly. Groaning, Dean simply turned over pulling his pillow over his head. Stiles quickly sat on his bed, barely awake.
On the other side of the room, Sam groaned balancing himself on his elbows and glaring at Dean grumpily.
“Dean.” Sam called him “That’s yours.” Dean groaned again, rolling back onto his back and reaching out for his phone on the nightstand, he answered it.
“Hello?” Stiles rubbed his eyes and went to the bathroom yawning. Sam flopped down on the bed.
“Dean, it's me. Look, I got a call from a friend, Chris Argent, from Beacon Hills, California. They want help with a pack of werewolves there. I can't go right now, so I'm sending you three. And I want all of you in on this hunt. You know our deal, Dean.” His father grunted; Dean could hear the impatience in his voice.
“Thaddeus told me about last week, can’t say I didn’t expect you to soften up riding with Sammy and Stiles, but it sure disappointed me hearing that Stiles opted out of the hunt.” The mockery in John’s voice made Dean sick in his stomach, of course fucking Thaddeus would tell on Stiles, vengeful prick. Never helping him again.
“I want him active in this hunt, no more playing around with his computer, the boy needs to toughen up fast if he wants to keep hunting, Argent has a kid too, maybe they’ll hit it off and he’ll finally snap out of this rebellious streak of his. Take care of them.”
The call ended like that; Dean sat on his bed wide awake. Sam huffed a laugh as Stiles came back with his hair sticking up wildly. Stiles gave him the finger before sitting on the edge of his bed facing Dean.
“Who was that?” Stiles asked, a hand trying to fix his slowly growing hair, Dean shifted uncomfortable looking at the phone.
“Dad.” He answered and the others went still, clearly wanting to hear more, it wasn’t that often that dad took the time to call them. “He got a call from a hunter upstate wanting help with some werewolves and dad wants us there.”
Stiles glared at the horrendous brown carpet; Dean watched as Sam sat up with the same frown. The clock marked a little past six a.m., too early to have an argument on Dean's opinion, but apparently not by Sam’s.
“He didn’t say anything else?” Sam asked displeased, Stiles laid down again, facing the wall and hiding under his covers already knowing what was about to be discussed. Again.
Things with their father were pretty shaken up after Dean turned nineteen. The man basically washed his hands of them, left Dean the impala and in addition, Stiles and Sam who were 13 and 17 at the time. They hunted around, and where dad sent them, they went.
Then Sam got into Stanford. Dean and dad had a nasty fight that left Dean bruised all over, and just to drive in John’s unhappiness, he took Stiles with him, and for a few months, Stiles suffers under his father’s training. John was ruthless, always plotting the next big hunt, until he went way over his own big head and almost got themselves killed. Bobby ended up being called by the hospital as he was their emergency contact information and he called Dean right away.
Dean came to get him before dad was discharged, they laid low for a few weeks, Bobby kept them informed about their father and things were finally looking up for the boys when dad suddenly went missing.
Then Sam was back, and the three of them had so many unresolved bullshit between the three of them, that it took weeks just for them to be able to talk without Dean dragging the mood down or acting like he had a stick up his ass. Dad kept leading them on to places and suddenly they were neck deep into demon lore with Sam getting hooked on demon blood and using his yellow-eyed demon powers to kill Lilith and then Dean going to hell afterwards certainly hadn’t help.
The only good thing was that Stiles was almost seventeen now. Just one year and he’d be on a pretty decent scholarship at wherever the fuck accepted him. He was eager to go, he had talked to Sam about his college experiences and Stiles wanted that normalcy. He wanted to find a nice date, graduate in anything else that’d required him to stay in one place to grow and maybe finally make friends.
But he knew that he couldn’t tell his family about his dreams. He had seen how they reacted when Sam had told them about college, he obviously didn’t want a repeat, so when the time would come, he’d simply run away. Uncle Bobby would certainly help him hide.
“Well, Thaddeus told on us. So, dad’s expecting Stiles to participate in this hunt.” The older brother grimaced looking at Stiles stiffened form.
Sam grimaced as well; he knew the feeling of trying to get out of the gory parts but never be able to.
Stiles still hadn't said anything about those months he spent alone with dad, John had apparently told him some pretty nasty things, taking out on him all his pent-up anger. Sam only knew what Dean had told him, like how Stiles was almost killed on a hunt because of John and yet, the man acted as if nothing was wrong and that Stiles was overreacting by refusing to actively hunt again.
“So, John calls and that's it? You're not even thinking about not going?” Sam asked furiously, Dean shakes his head already defensive.
“It's dad, Sam. He needs us there.” Dean argued back weakly. This time, Stiles got up in a second, frustration and anger boiling in his veins.
“So what? I'll be out of school again? It's the third time this semester! You know I'm tired of being the new kid, Dean! It’s my last year, and I’ve not even had a chance to take my AP tests in this school yet!” The youngest yelled. “You need to stop doing whatever dad tells you! He’s not a sergeant to command you around and you're not his soldier!” The room went quiet for a few seconds.
Sam cringed at the choice of words, Dean was always sore about that comparison but he was also on his little brother’s side, Dean always acted as if their father’s words were law.
“I’m trying to be a good son.” Dean said harshly. “You should try that sometimes.”
“Dean!” Sam snapped at him horrified. Stiles clenched his jaw his eyes hardening with anger.
“Screw you, Dean!You know we’ll never be good enough to him, and do you know why?” Stiles asked cynically, “Because we're not you.” His voice was harsh as he continued. “We never stood a chance were always the favorite. The golden boy, the perfect son.” Stiles let out a harsh laugh, Dean’s fists twitched. “But us? We were just disappointments. We never lived up to what he wanted, what he expected from us, and we never will.” Stiles turned away from his brothers. “But don't worry. I know my place now. We'll just follow you around, like good little boys, and try not to make any trouble.” He laid down again, facing the wall and ignoring his older brothers.
Sam sighed thoroughly frustrated, but his face was of disappointment as he approached Dean's bed.
“He’s kinda right, you know.” Sam told him quietly, Dean ignored him laying back down again. “Stiles is still a kid, but he is growing up. He’ll be eighteen soon and wants some normalcy, Dean. Maybe he will follow our way or maybe he won’t, and if he doesn't choose hunting, then he will need someone by his side to make dad let him go.”
“He just wants him to be ready to face anything, dad cares about us.” Dean argued weakly, Sam sighed returning to his bed.
“Does he really?” Sam asked turning his back to Dean.
Dean laid on his bed wide awake while the others slept.