Chapter Text
Sam groaned when he looked at the time on the clock hanging loosely on the motel kitchen's wall. Now that he was fourteen, he was being allowed on hunts.
He hated it.
John had Dean training Sam since he was ten years old, teaching him how to shoot guns, research, and giving him physical training. It was easier for Dean to do the sparring with Sam, anyway, because he was smaller than John was. Dean knew how to show restraint for Sam in a way that John was sure he would fuck up.
Sam really didn't want to go hunting. He wanted to get his homework finished for the night. He had a huge paper that he was trying to finish. It wasn't that John didn't want him to finish the paper; he wanted to save lives. He thought to push off Sam's first hunting trip, but this was a simple salt and burn - perfect for teaching. He wasn't sure when they would get another opportunity like this.
"It's almost time to get ready, squirt," Dean said, shutting off the TV and moving into the kitchen. "You should eat something. You're gonna need your energy; we might pull an all-nighter."
"An all-nighter?" Sam asked. "I thought this would only take an hour."
"I wish," Dean said. "Maybe if it only took an hour I would be able to get laid every once in a while." Dean had gotten his GED when he turned eighteen, just a few short months of graduation. Now he got to do whatever he wanted in his spare time. He spent most of it with Sam, anyway, unless he was really into a girl. Then Sam was shipped off to the closest Plucky Pennywhistle's. Sam shivered at the thought.
Sam groaned, leaning his head on the table he was sitting at in exasperation. He couldn't believe his own father would take him away from school assignments. None of the kids at school had to deal with this.
"Don't get so worked up over it," Dean said calmly to his younger brother. "Whenever we get home, I'll help you with whatever homework you got left."
"And when am I supposed to find the time to sleep, Dean?" Sam asked.
"I don't know, Sam." Dean sighed. His little brother was about to get angry - he could tell. The kid was such a hothead.
John walked into the room from the separate bedroom in the hotel, carrying his duffle that held all of the weapons, and his journal.
"You boys better eat," the father suggested. "We gotta hurry up and go."
"Can't I stay home?" Sam asked. "I really gotta get this work done for school."
"People are dying, Sam," John said.
"People are always dying," Sam muttered.
"What was that?" John asked.
"Nothing, dad," the youngest Winchester fibbed.
"You better watch it, Sam," John said.
"Yessir," Sam slurred.
"I'm gonna start packing the impala," Dean said. He grabbed the duffle that was placed on the bed by the father, taking it outside and leaving the youngest and eldest Winchester alone. Never a good idea.
"Why do you not care about other people's safety, Sam?" John asked.
"It's not that I don't care about their safety," Sam started. "It's that I care about my grades too. I want a normal life, dad. I don't like constantly moving around all the time..."
"I know," John said with a sigh. "I kick myself in the ass for every minute that you boys have to spend time on the road. Unfortunately, we're just gonna have to deal with it. We're in the life now. You don't just get out."
"I'm gonna get out," Sam said. "I don't care how, but one day, I will."
"You can't leave us, Sam," John responded. "You won't be safe. You won't make it all by yourself."
"I'm gonna try, dad," Sam said.
John sighed in aggravation. They were so close to a hunt, he couldn't handle this serious of a conversation with the broodiest of his brood right now. He walked to the kitchen and began to make something to eat.
"You want anything?" John asked. Sam didn't verbally answer, but he knew the kid was being his usual picky self. Always the picky eater, and picky...well, everything. That kid was just stubborn as hell. "You should eat, kid."
"I'm not hungry," Sam said. "I feel a little nauseous."
"Nauseous?" John asked. He moved from the kitchen where he had started making sandwiches - something to bring on the road with them in case the kids got hungry - and walked over to Sam. He then felt his head. "You don't feel like you have a fever."
"I just feel kinda sick," Sam fibbed. He really didn't want to go on that hunt; he needed to get his paper done.
"If you're feeling bad, you shouldn't be hunting," John said, which was exactly what Sam was hoping he would say. "I'll tell Dean to stay here with you and take care of this hunt by myself."
"No, dad," Sam nearly exclaimed, but remained the quiet tone he was using to feign sickness. Dean would know in a heartbeat that he was sick, and besides, he didn't want his father out there alone. "You need back-up. I'm just gonna stay in bed anyway. I'll ward everything as soon as you're out."
"I don't know, Sam..." John trailed off. "I don't like it here when you're by yourself."
"If I'm old enough to hunt, I'm old enough to be by myself, aren't I?" Sam asked. John had to admit that his youngest brought up a good point.
"All right, Dean and I will go on that hunt, but I'm going to make sure everything is warded before we go," John said. He had a nagging feeling that he would regret this decision. "I want you in bed right now."
"Yessir," Sam slurred once again. He made sure to be slow enough getting to the bed that his father would still believe him in his lie.
"In pajamas, young man," John said. He went back to making the sandwiches he was in the process of making. He also started to make some of his famous cure-all kitchen sink stew, which always made the boys feel better whenever they got sick.
"Where's Sam?" Dean asked when he walked back in from packing the truck up. "We gotta leave soon."
"He's sick," John said. "He said it's just a stomach-ache, but I'm making him some stew before we leave."
"We're leaving him by himself?" Dean asked. He thought it was odd because it was always their father who insisted that Sam be watched constantly. He was their treasure.
"He said that if he's old enough to hunt, he's old enough to stay by himself," John explained. "Plus, I need the back-up, our contacts are all far away, and all he'll be doing is staying in bed. I'm going to ward the motel room before we leave, and I'll be doing a separate warding on his bedroom."
"If you think this is the right idea, I'm on board, dad," Dean said.
"Will you go check on your brother before we head out? I want to make sure he's in bed like he's supposed to be," John ordered.
"Sure thing, dad." Dean walked into the room that he and Sam had been sharing, not going any further than the door frame. He could clearly see that Sam was covered with a blanket, and his body was rising and falling in a steady motion, meaning that he was asleep.
Even Dean had a nagging feeling as he walked out of the room and announced to their father that the kid was asleep.
"Let's head out of here," John said once he finished warding all the rooms. He would know if Sam walked out of his bedroom with the salt line he placed there. Sam wouldn't even know that it was there until he opened the door, and then it would be too late. That was how John put an ease to his nagging feeling, and sure, Sam could just replace the line, but he was much messier than John's straight salt lines.
Sam made sure to regulate his breathing in such a way that it appeared as though he was sleeping. He knew that no matter what, Dean would be feeling off, but was never sure about anything that his father felt.
He then walked out of the bedroom, bypassing the nightstand that contained the kitchen sink stew, which, of course, smeared the salt line all over the floor of the motel. Sam didn't seem to notice, focusing on the table where his homework continued to lay, waiting for him to complete it.
Sam sat at the table, grabbing his pen and beginning to write on the paper. He was going to get this done, and it would be finished before school the next morning.
He did finish his homework. It only took a few hours, but eventually the paper was done and placed in a folder of his backpack to turn it in the next morning. Sam decided it was then time for him to hit the hay before his father returned home and caught him. It was a miracle that he hadn't come home as it was, and Sam knew that he had made the right decision in feigning illness. Otherwise he never would have gotten his assignments done.
John and Dean returned around six in the morning. John was thinking about excusing Sam from school for being sick if he didn't feel well by the morning. He didn't like the boys doing much whenever they were sick, and Sam was always the neediest kid whenever he was sick.
Come to think of it, this had John confused. Sam always bugged Dean and John for all the attention he could get whenever he was sick. He never would have let either of them walk out the door for a hunt if he was sick; he would want them to stay and cuddle him before he fell asleep.
When John walked in, he noticed that Sam's homework was not on the table like it had been before. He instantly knew that either Sam had defied him while sick, or had constructed a rouse to trick his father in order to get homework done.
Dean walked to the bedroom he was sharing with Sam and noticed the smeared salt.
"Dad," Dean said, calling his father over in a way that wouldn't interrupt the youngest Winchester's sleep.
"God dammit," John said when he saw the smear.
"What are you gonna do?" Dean asked.
"I'm gonna need you to watch your brother while I make a run to the store," John said. "He's gonna get punished whether he's sick or not."
"You mean...?" Dean trailed off.
"Yep."