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They were going at it again with the shouting matches. Dean wasn’t even sure why they were shouting this time, probably something about the lack of food or the lack of care, always about a lack of something. It wasn’t the first time Sam got angry today, he did this morning when dad talked about them needing to stop spending so much on school stuff and then two hours ago for some other reason that Dean did not even know, and now they were at it again.
“ Why can’t we just stay here and you go do whatever you do!” shouted Sam, his eyes fixated on John towering over him.
Dean stayed in the door frame, his eyes altering between the two, not knowing what to do.
“ Because the hunt here is finished," said John, as a matter of fact.
“ Well too bad, I wanna stay here!” responded Sam quickly and before John could say anything he added: “ And so does Dean”
Both of them looked at him and Dean stopped breathing for a second. Please don’t make me choose, I can’t choose, don’t make me, was all Dean could think. Sam looked at him with a semblance of hope and all Dean could do was look away, trying to escape and disappear. Seeing that, Sam opened his mouth, as if to ask the question again, but then stopped himself. He knew that Dean wouldn’t say anything, after all he never did in those situations. Sam sighed and seemed to shrink a little, as if he understood that he was alone in this fight and that he would inevitably lose.
“ I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Sam” said his dad, ready to end this conversation.
Hearing his father's voice brought Sam back to attention and his gaze lit again with the righteous anger of teenage years and he turned back to face John. Here we go again, thought Dean, before fixing his gaze on the faded wallpaper of the motel. It was easier to drown out the noise of his brother and father's screams by filling his head with thoughts on the wallpaper peeling away.
“ Like you would know what Dean wants! “ shouted Sam back, his chin up, trying to look taller.
“ He is my son, of course I do!” snapped John, the impatience and tiredness finally taking a toll.
Sam sneered weakly and shaked his head, delighted by the anger he saw in his dad's eyes. There you go, now you know how I feel, dad, thought Sam, waiting for the shouts. Dean winced, held back his words and refrained himself from getting between his father and his brother.
“ What are you laughing at, son?” asked John finally, his tone venomous.
“ You’re never here, you don’t know shit ”
“Sam!”, exclaimed Dean, his eyes shining with warning, he wouldn't let his brother be disrespectful towards their father.
Both of them stopped talking and turned to face Dean, waiting to hear what he would say, waiting to see which side he would take. They were standing still, Sam's fists clenched, trembling with rage and dignity, John towering them all, his eyes dark with anger and exhaustion. Dean felt suddenly so small, he was still taller than Sam, but right now he felt like smallest thing in the room.
“ I don’t understand what you want Sam”, he breathed finally, fixing his gaze in his brother's eyes.
John smiled proudly, and that made Dean feel good, so good that it almost erased the regret that the lie brought to him. He didn’t like having to side with one over the other, but he knew that Sam wasn't being understanding of their situation and that all of that rebelling would probably, hopefully, disappear one day.
“ What?” stammered Sam, confusion stretching across his face.
“ He doesn’t understand what you want, Sam.” repeated John, trying to end this discussion.
Sam’s face darkened with acceptance and disappointment. Of course he doesn’t, sighed Sam, his anger disappearing under fatigue and despair. Nothing about this situation was new, it was like they were repeating an old and frankly horrible play. Sam in the role of the rebelling teenager, John in the role of the stern dad and Dean in the role of the perfect son, all of them unhappy and stuck in their way.
“ So how was the hunt dad?”, asked Dean, hopeful, slowly and regretfully detaching his gaze from his brother.
“ Good, Dean “ quickly replied John, a small smile on his lips.
“ Here we go again, pretending everything’s fine” dropped Sam, annoyed.
“ Everything is fine Samuel”
Dean sighed, his gaze back on the pieces of wallpaper peeling away. Well I did try at least, he thought, but this conclusion didn’t bring him any joy.
“ No! It’s not! I am tired of saying goodbye to my friends, of always being the new kid and of not having a home! I want a room to myself, I want to eat things that aren’t pizza and burgers, I want to play soccer and I want to go to university! I don’t want to become a hunter, I hate it! And I hate you!” yelled Sam, his eyes glossy with unshed tears and his face twisted with anger.
Dean turned abruptly to Sam, disbelief and anguish on his face. He opened his mouth, ready to ask all the thoughts that were filling his head: What do you mean? You always wanted to be a hunter. Are you only saying that because you’re angry? Is it true?, but his father stopped him with a look.
“ You are going to be a hunter. There’s no point in saying stupid things like that.” decided John, implacable, except for the fury and a touch of worry shining in his eyes.
“ No I am not.” answered Sam, with a controlled voice, stubborn as always.
“ That is not up for discussion”
Sam opened his mouth to answer.
“ It is not. ” stressed John, his unerring eye on Sam.
And then their dad picked up his bag and rummaged around in it for a moment, before abruptly placing a heap of crumpled bills and rusty coins on the bedside table. He gave his sons one last look before heading for the door.
“ Wait where are you going?”, called Dean with worry and confusion.
“ Buy yourself pizza or something, I am going out.”
And he did. He closed the door and walked away.
Dean almost ran to the window and looked through it. Dad was gone, again. The door was closed, the too little amount of money was there on the bedside table and the wallpaper was still peeling off the walls. Sam, for his part, remained motionless in the middle of the room, his gaze stuck on the stains on the carpet, trying to hold back his tears, trying to forget the pain in his chest. Dean clenched his fits, pushing down his questions and worries, choosing to ignore what Sam said and turned around.
“ What do you say, we go buy some macaroni and put on a good film?” smiled Dean, trying to sound joyful, looking everywhere but at his brother.
“ Sure”, abdicated Sam, with a gloomy look, quickly wiping his tears away.