Chapter Text
February 2006
Sam sat at the old motel table, staring blankly at the screen of his laptop. It had been three weeks since he started travelling with John again and four since Jessica's funeral. He had grown used to the militant style of life that John led. Late nights of research, early mornings, and hard training. It served Sam well to keep his mind off of Jess, focusing all his energy on finding old yellow eyes.
It was almost perfect
Notwithstanding one key difference.
When Sam and his father weren't arguing, the time they spent together was in damn near silence. And whilst Sam wasn't in the mood for chatting, the lack of background noise had put him even further on edge.
No funny jokes and prank wars to pass the endless time in between hunts. No loud obnoxious music and the accompanying singing. No quick rushes to the bathroom before all the hot water was stolen. No late nights watching movies instead of researching or trips to the bar. No more cutlery rustling or soft snores in the bed across the room.
No more Dean...
And after three weeks of only his sullen and secretive father for company, both men were tense and on edge. Without a buffer, without Dean stepping between the two during any argument, their fights had become explosive.
At first, John had only given Sam glares whenever he felt his son stepped out of line. But after a week, John's patience had weaned, and the loud arguments had started. Both were so stubborn and they refused to back down, spitting words like venom. Usually, Sam's father would attempt to be the bigger man, take his anger into his self, and leave the room.
But today? Today his father had punched Sam for the first time.
An uppercut, straight to the jaw, effectively ending that particular argument with Sam's utter disbelief and John's half-hearted apologetic words.
So Sam sat at the old motel table, staring blankly at the screen of his laptop, his fist under his chin and his mind contemplative, a whirl with thoughts.
Looking back, Dean had always stood between the two of them, his back to Sam as he faced his father. But why would he do that? It's not like he knew that John could get violent like that. Did he?
Dean wanted this life... Dean was the perfect soldier... Dad was never disappointed in Dean, not like he was with Sam.
A sense of unease filled Sam, the longer he thought about it, the deeper the feeling spread.
Maybe it was just the stress? Losing Dean must have been what pushed John over the edge and stressed him out beyond his normal measures. He sure looked the part, clothes too large and unkempt. But...
The door unlocked as John walked into the room, carrying a brown oil-stained bag of food from some nondescript takeout venue. Sam eyed him from over the screen but did not make a move to greet his father.
"Ahh, here. I got you this," Said John, opening the bag and grabbing the wrapped burger and side of fries, placing them in front of Sam. "Double bacon cheeseburger, just how you like it."
"Thanks, but I would have preferred a salad," Sam sarcastically remarked, leaving the greasy burger and instead choosing to grab a handful of chips and shove them into his mouth. "And I don't like cheeseburgers. Not that I expected you to have remembered that."
"You boys used to love burgers. Don't lie to me. And don't go giving me attitude just because you've decided to change up your diet. You damn college kids and your rabbit food."
"I haven't had a cheeseburger in like two years, Dad."
"Just eat your damn food boy and if you ain't gonna eat what I bring, then feel free to get your own dinner, I ain't gonna stop ya," John grumbled, opening the fridge to grab out two beers. "Don't make me regret bringing you along, I am more than happy to dump your ass back at Stanford if you're gonna keep giving me issues. At least Dean knew to be grateful."
"Grateful? Of what? Shitty take-out food?"
Sam glared up at his father, trying to bite his tongue as irritation and anger bubbled within him once more. It was always hard for Sam to stay silent.
John walked back over to the table, sat down across from Sam, placed a beer in front of his son, and opened his own. He leaned back and glared at his son before his eyes softened at the sight of the bruise on Sam's jaw.
The two were quiet once more. John stared at the yellowing wallpaper, drinking, and Sam, well, he seethed.
When he didn't receive a response, Sam slammed the laptop screen down and stood up, grabbing the food and his beer.
No chance he was gonna sit at the table beside his dad. Not today. Not when his jaw ached like that.
Sam slammed the door behind himself and sat down on the roadside, his large body hunched over awkwardly as if he was unused to the sheer size of his gangly limbs. The night air was cold on his skin, a refreshing reprieve from the heat of anger that filled him a month ago and couldn't seem to leave. He sipped on his beer and stared out into the distance, a million thoughts running through his head.
Most of them centred around Dean.
Unease rose from his chest threatening to choke him as it filled his throat. Sam had never gotten along with his father, but Dean? Dean idolised the man.
That was a fact.
But now Dean was gone and whatever trail he could have left behind had long since gone cold. Even Baby sat abandoned, gathering dust and left behind in Sioux Falls. John hadn't thought it necessary to retrieve her. Maybe he was holding out hope that Dean would go back for his prized car.
Sam pulled the cheeseburger from the bag.
Double bacon. Dean's favourite.
He slowly opened it, hit with the smell of nostalgia of open roads and old diners. Wherever Dean was, was he eating well? Was he safe? Was he still able to eat his favourite burgers? Or was he being kept prisoner somewhere? Living off scraps whilst he waited for his family to come to save him?
Or was he already dead? Lost to the Demons of their past whilst Sam sat in school, living his normal, happy life, without a thought spared for the brother he left behind all those years ago.
Hot tears filled Sam's eyes as he bit into the burger, oil and cheese dribbled down his chin and he quickly wiped it away with a napkin.