Chapter Text
They’re on an unnamed stretch of blacktop in northeast New Mexico. Dean's been speeding for the last 50 miles and shows no intention of slowing down as they hit the Colorado border. Dad called and told them to haul ass to Nebraska. Judging by Dean's reaction it's something serious, though he hasn't enlightened Sam as to what kind of serious since hitting the road. At least he made Dad swear to call the school in the morning and sort out Sam's absence.
“And you didn't even think to ask him what was going on?” Sam rages for the third time, feeling as petulant as he sounds.
“I already told you, I could hear it in his voice. He needs our help!” Dean shoots back just as vehemently.
“Fuck's sake, Dean, it's my senior year! All I want is to finish out the last semester in one god damn place.” Sam punctuates that with a sigh. This argument isn't new, having it with Dean is; usually it's Dad Sam's trying to convince, the thought that his brother might change sides this late in the game never even entered his mind. It kills some small hopeful part of Sam's soul.
When Dean doesn't answer Sam expostulates further, needing to purge all the points of contention he has against his father while he's still fuming.
“He doesn't even care how bad it looks that I've changed schools so much. He just wants me to fall in line like you!” Admittedly he spits that last bit a tad callously, but he's so angry right now. He had his hopes set on staying at Forbes High until at least the spring. Hoped to have some consistency backing his college applications. These last three weeks had been wonderfully calm; Dean working a part time gig, Sam going to school like a normal kid - he's enjoyed it, had broached the subject of staying put to John, in the hopes that he could ride out the last months of school in one place and then he'd be free to go to college and get away from his overbearing father and equally overprotective brother.
Why couldn't Dad just let him be, stop trying to make him into a mindlessly obedient soldier like Dean. Why couldn't he see that Sam wanted much more than this nomadic, tragic, and lonely existence? Vengeance fueled Dad's every whim, along with a healthy dose of machismo and hard liquor. Dean became more like John Jr. for every year that passed and Sam hated it. Hated that his big brother wasn't on his side any longer, spent more time honing his skills and less time with Sam. Most of all Sam hated the fear he felt at broaching the subject of college again. The last time he'd mentioned it to his brother Dean had scoffed and explained that Sam had more important things to be doing than matriculating. He used harsher words, but that was the gist of it.
“I just don't understand why I couldn't have stayed behind.” Sam continues mollifyingly, but Dean stares straight ahead, gripping the wheel hard.
The silence stretches between them. Perhaps Sam overstepped this time, said something that Dean can't forgive. So he stares out the window at the complete black surrounding them and lets Dean stew, he'll calm down eventually. The glowing dials on his watch tell him it's seven minutes past midnight and Sam's sure of one thing: it's going to be a long drive.