Heat of the Moment

Chapter One

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When Sam is late home from school,

John's own brand of discipline goes a little too far.

Sick Sam. Angsty/angry Dean. Angry/guilty John.

Dean 19, Sam 15.

Many thanks go out to Phx and Sendintheclowns for the very patient beta work!

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Where the hell's that kid got to this time? John narrowed his eyes, angrily, and slouched against the Impala's driver side. It was the third time in the past week the boy was late home from school. Once was down to a stupid science project, and the other when he stayed late to talk to one of his teachers.

But this evening was especially important. Sam should have been home an hour ago. His older brother was huffing impatiently, anxious to get going.

It was time for the Winchester hunting unit to move on.

Thank God for that! Dean glanced back at the crummy rental they'd been calling home for the last month, and kicked at a loose stone.

Can't stand cockroaches in the bathroom… or rats in the basement...

He fervently hoped their next 'home' would at least come with a colour TV, rather than the black and white dinosaur with the cracked outer casing they'd been using since their arrival.

"There he is," John growled, suddenly. "At long last!"

Dean glanced up to see his little brother hurrying along the sidewalk, face red, and clearly out of breath.

John, his own face like granite, drew up to his full height, hands fisted by his sides in classic drill sergeant stance.

"And where do you think you've been?"

Sam shook his head and hefted his backpack further up his shoulder.

"Yuh… s'sorry. C-came… as f-fast as I could…" he didn't even get a chance to finish.

"Call that fast?" inquired John, voice dangerously low, and Dean winced in sympathy with his little brother. Their Dad was in no mood for explanations. He was impatient, angry, and about ready to snap. Dean prayed Sam got the hint, apologised, and just shut his mouth.

But of course, this was Sam…

"I'm really sorry sir, but Mr Breton took us for final class, and he…" Sam had quickly got his breath back, but it still didn't do him any good.

"I don't care what your excuses are. When I order you to be home at a specified time, I expect to be obeyed without question!"

His father loomed over him, and Dean could see how Sam outright resisted the urge to back away. Instead, the stubborn little shit met his father's gaze head on.

Always a mistake.

"You never listen to me." Sam wasn't yelling, but there was enough of an attitude in his tone to suggest he'd like to be. "I might as well not exist. You don't even treat me like a son anymore. I'm just another good little soldier."

Enough of an attitude, in fact, that John's broad shoulders stiffened up, and his eyes, if possible, narrowed even further.

"Good?" John raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You sure about that, boy?"

Sam didn't flinch under the barb, but his eyes did widen slightly with hurt.

Dean stood silently by, arms crossed over his chest. He kept his face expressionless when Sam's pleading gaze briefly sought his support.

Sam clenched his jaw and lifted his chin, but said nothing.

John nodded slowly, in mock approval.

"Yeah. Didn't think so." John stepped closer to his youngest son and growled menacingly, right in his face. "You better get plenty of sleep on the journey, Sam. 'Cause when we arrive, Dean and I are gonna rest, while you…" he raised his left index finger and poked lightly at Sam's chest "are going for an early morning run. Understood?"

Sam merely nodded, stiffly, but relented when his father's glared intensified.

"Yes… sir!" he spat out, teeth clenched to breaking point.

John clearly wasn't impressed. But it was either stand there and further delay the journey, or just get going.

Eventually, with Sam fuming in the front seat of the Impala, Dean in the driver's seat, John strode away and leapt up into the cab of his truck.

Dean glanced over at his hot headed little brother.

"So," he pulled away from the curb and followed his father's big black monster, "you wanna play the licence plate game?"

It was his only olive branch, and Sam set light to it with an accusing glare, before going back to his close scrutiny of the passenger window.

His baby brother hadn't uttered a word, but Dean read the message loud and clear.

Judas!

"Look, Sam," Dean tried to be reasonable. "You know what Dad gets like when he's ready to move on."

Sam's only response was a derisive snort.

"He didn't mean nothing by it. He knows you do a great job," Dean tried again. "Just, try not to rile him so much, huh?"

"Why do you defend him all the time?" Sam shot back in anger, taking his older brother by surprise. "I mean, he didn't even give me the chance to explain what happened at school, yet you leap to his defence every time, leaving me to flounder on my own."

Dean breathed out slowly, and counted to ten before answering.

"I do not leap to his defence," he offered calmly.

There came that snort again; it was starting to get on Dean's nerves, and his temper was beginning to fray around the edges.

"I'm just trying to keep the peace round here, ok?" he glanced over at Sam several times, before shaking his head sadly. "S'not easy ya know, trying to stop you two from tearing each other apart."

"I didn't pick the fight, Dean. I was trying to explain where I was, and why I got held up." Sam huffed in frustration. "But he wouldn't even listen."

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, this time you didn't start it," he ground out. "But what about all the other times?"

"If Dad wasn't so damn pushy…"

It was Dean's turn to snort, and loudly.

"He's trying to protect you Sam! He worries…"

"Oh yeah, sure. Sounds like it!" Sam retorted. "I'm late home from school, and he hands out a punishment. That really sounds like he was worried about me. And if he was so concerned, why didn't he come get me himself?"

Dean's nostrils flared angrily, and he brought a hand down on the steering wheel with a loud thump.

"Because he trusted you to get your ass out of school on time! And if your attitude hadn't been so shitty in the first place, may be he'd have listened to you!"

He could see his kid brother's shocked, hurt face out the corner of his eye, and tamped down on the twinge of guilt. His statement had been inaccurate and unfair to say the least, but Dean was in survival mode. Making war on their father and provider just wasn't on his agenda.

"Right." He heard Sam whisper. "But… I just don't get it. It's too confusing…"

Dean frowned at that, and resisted the urge to look at Sam. It was heart wrenching enough just to watch him in his peripherals, without subjecting himself to the puppy dog eyes, on top of everything else.

"What d'ya mean? What's so confusing about it Sam?" his tone was more than a little sarcastic, and though it was only a slight movement, Dean still picked up on his little brother's flinch. "I mean, all ya had to do was skip class, or walk out. Simple."

"But it's not simple," Sam replied, softly. "Dad trained us to obey orders, to respect his authority. He always expects me to behave in school, and not draw attention to myself. How can he, in the next breath, demand I go back on that? To walk out of class? Skip school?" he shook his head, and finished, voice a little sad, "I just don't see the logic in it."

Dean felt his earlier frown edging its way back. Sam sounded genuinely confused, lost even. He relied way too much on logic, in Dean's opinion. Kid was like Mr Spock or something.

Dean understood what his father meant, but clearly Sam was struggling with it. Not because he was stupid, just the opposite. But, because, if Dean was really honest, it didn't seem logical.

The correct word was hypocritical. But the older brother wasn't quite ready to embrace that concept, and probably wouldn't be for another ten years at least.

So he gave the only answer he could think of.

"Well, suck it up, Sammy," he heard his little brother's sigh of resignation and swallowed a further mouthful of guilt. "That's the way it is, and it ain't gonna change. So next time? Just walk out of class."

Sam turned away, and slid his head down against the passenger window.

Yeah. 'Cause an asshole like Mr Breton would've just stood for that!

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Sam tried to sleep. He really did. But it was getting hotter the further south they went and no one had thought to pack some bottles of water in the car. His tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth and his blood still boiled at the injustice of it all.

What his stubborn ass father and brother failed to appreciate was that the cops had been by his school that afternoon. It had originally been an hour long presentation to the class, bestowing the virtues of a career in the police force. The erstwhile officer, young, keen, and enthusiastic, had over-run the allotted hour, and obviously it was considered impolite to interrupt his speech.

Sam was caught trying to send Dean a discreet text from under his desk and his cell phone was confiscated by the teacher. Mr Breton was a rather old fashioned post-war Englishman, who had no interest whatsoever in modern technology, and despised cell phones in particular with a fierce passion. When the presentation finally came to end, Sam was given a stern lecture on the subject of good manners, and told he could collect his cell phone at the end of the week.

Leaving the premises, and reflecting miserably on his lost cell phone, Sam felt someone bump his shoulder and glanced up into the face of his friend and science partner, Jimmy Russell.

"What's wrong, Sam? You look like you've lost your best friend," Jimmy's soft, brown eyes twinkled kindly underneath thick, dark brows.

Sam sighed. Nice portent, dude.

"Uh… we, my family that is, are heading out to visit some relatives tonight," he offered as simple an explanation as possible. "We won't be coming back for a few weeks, and I'll need my cell phone." He added, softly, "Dad'll freak if I don't bring it with me."

"Well," Jimmy frowned thoughtfully. "End of the week is only two days away. Why don't you tell me where ya headed, and I'll mail it to you? Just give me a note with your signature on it to say that you willingly sign it over to me. Mr Breton can hardly argue with that."

Sam grinned admiringly.

Jimmy's gonna be a great lawyer some day.

Jimmy and Sam parted ways, the latter reflecting with sadness, that this was probably the last time he'd ever see his friend again.

Maybe I'll need a lawyer one day, Sam thought morosely, silently wishing the boy all the best for his future. Jimmy planned on graduating early and hoped to be the youngest guy to ever pass the bar.

Full of ambition, and so set on where he was headed, Jimmy had the world at his feet.

That piqued Sam's interest. He wondered...

Hmm… I'd need to go to college... he shook his head, with a snort. Like that was ever gonna happen.

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Sam managed a total of three non-consecutive hours sleep throughout the journey. When they arrived at their new home for the foreseeable future, Sam glanced up with barely concealed disgust at the ramshackle beach house, barely lit by an outside lantern. At least, that's what it looked like, some kind of beach chalet built around three million years ago.

Jesus! Look's like it's gonna fall down any second.

"Sam!" The deep voice of John Winchester barked out, startling him. "Once we finish unpacking, get changed, then start your warm up session."

Sam just managed to repress a scowl, though John obviously sensed it lurking on the far regions of his demeanour, because he glared ferociously and added:

"There's a road that runs right around the property with virtually no traffic this early. I wanna see you pass by the house every hour, at least."

Sam's eyes went wide, as did his nostrils, in a mix of shock and anger. That gave him some idea of the lap length.

So, fucking huge, then.

And the fact his father wanted to see him regularly was probably for his own safety, didn't make him feel any better.

More like to make sure I'm not slacking off! Sam fumed again.

But remembering his brother's tired words in the car and really not wanting to cause anymore trouble than strictly necessary, Sam kept quiet and did as he was told.

Dean watched his brother discreetly; noting the stubborn set to his jaw, in direct contrast to the shoulders slumped in defeat.

Oh boy.

Sam was ready in record time and stretching out tired, cramped muscles. He sniffed the early morning air taking in the humidity and scent of rotting foliage.

Already he could feel the temperature rising by the time the sun was about to peek over the horizon. Sure, they were right by the coast, but the air felt stale, like it hadn't moved in a month. The beach could just be seen in the distance and the tide was way out; the beach itself consisting of wet sand and dark, dank seaweed, a result of the over-use of nitrite-based fertilizers, running off nearby farmland during a recent spell of wet weather.

Wrinkling his nose, Sam was about to set off when his father called to him once more.

"Sam!"

Not turning, but mouth working furiously, biting his lower lip, half wanting to vent his spleen, other half holding him back, Sam called out.

"Yes… sir."

He could feel John's glare boring into his back, and waited.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Finally, Sam turned, wisely not meeting his dad's eyes this time. But he knew he hadn't gotten away with it.

"Just remember. You don't get to quit until I say so. If I find out you slacked off in any way," John paused, watching him carefully. "Consider the punishment doubled."

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Dean once again kept silent during the exchange, though he did glance worriedly up at the sky once or twice. The sun hadn't yet put in an appearance but it was supposed to heat up real quickly towards midday, with an estimated forty in the shade. He didn't want Sam out in that. Kid was fit, sure, but running out in those temperatures was a dangerous game.

"Dean?"

He turned to his father.

"Yes sir."

"I need you to go into town for me." John handed over a grocery list and some cash.

Dean swallowed hard and nodded, not at all happy about being away from his little brother.

But, seriously. What could happen in such a short space of time?

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Author's notes:

What indeed?

Oh dear, Dean. You really shouldn't have said that, especially with me around...

Kind regards,

ST xxx