Not on my watch

15. Here's the deal

It was almost supper time on the first full day John Winchester had spent under Bobby's roof in a long time. The Winchester boys' father had just had a shower to get clean after a whole afternoon of training with his eldest son. Dean had surely missed his Dad, for he had jumped on his feet with a huge smile on his face when, just after lunch, John had suggested – he felt he could not afford to give a direct order, not yet – to practice with guns and rifles. After a couple of hours of aiming and shooting, their energy levels were still high and they had ended up running the equivalent of a half-marathon at a fast pace before returning to the house.

After his shower, Dean had willingly joined Bobby in the kitchen and was now helping him set the table and cut bread and vegetables. When John got downstairs, he took a minute to look at the results of his son's good mood before reaching out to pat Dean on the back and reply to Bobby's friendly grunt with a smile. He then braced himself and took a walk along the corridor up to his sons' shared bedroom.

He stopped by the closed door, listening, but there was no sound coming from the room. He sighed. Sam had spent the whole day in there, only coming out for very short times to consume his meals. Although John had been told of his studying plan, that hadn't prevented him from feeling slightly disappointed when his youngest had turned down his invitation to train a bit together, earlier that day.

John knocked and politely waited for Sam's permission to open the door and step into the room. As predicted, his sixteen-year-old son was sitting at the desk, only peeking from his fort made of books.

- Hey, Sam. How's it going?

- Good - the boy replied, almost without moving a single muscle. - What do you need?

John cracked a smile, wondering what could be the most appropriate way to begin the conversation.

- Can I borrow you?

Sam wearily nodded towards the book and notebook left open on the desk, right in front of him.

- Actually, I need to finish summarizing this chapter.

- Couldn't you do it later? It's Dean's turn to wash the dishes, you are free after dinner.

Sam winced, wavering: - I kind of wanted to study some more chapters, after dinner.

John took a few more seconds to look at his youngest son's stack of compulsory textbooks.

- Sam - he then sighed, finally letting his trepidation show, and he waited for the sixteen-year-old's eyes to be on him to continue. - I'd really, really like to have a chance to talk with you. I know yesterday was tough, but we didn't exactly mention everything that made you run away. And we need to, you know. We can't go on like this, you can't give me the silent treatment forever. You said you forgave me.

Sam bit his lower lip, but agreed to turn to him, even if he didn't leave his chair.

- All right, then. Can we stay here, at least?

He didn't want anyone else to hear. John could understand that, even if the thought of that being because Sam feared his criticism stung somewhere in his chest.

- Sure - John agreed with a kind nod and closed the door behind his back before taking some steps forward and sitting on the bed which was closest to the desk. He then interlaced his fingers, took a deep breath and dived into the sea of uncertainties that lay behind every attempt to speak with Sam. - So, Dean told me you spend almost all your time studying.

Sam shrugged, trying to hide his uneasiness.

- Yeah, I guess I do. I also try to do some chores in the house, though, when I'm asked. And Bobby told me I could help with the cars, when he has some to repair, if I want to make some money and save it for...