Not on my watch

17. Senseless, ridiculous, stupid pride

The floorboard creaking woke Sam up when it was still dark outside and only the moonbeams that seeped in through the semi-closed shutters mitigated the otherwise complete darkness.

Lying down on his bed with only a light sheet to cover his body, the boy turned towards the bedroom door just in time to see it open and a slice of electric light enter from the corridor. At first he didn't move a muscle, cursing his own name not to have assimilated from Dean the habit to sleep with a gun under his pillow. But a moment later he recognized in the newly arrived an approach which was far too placid to be the one of an enemy.

- Dean? - he hazarded then, squinting in front of the sudden light.

With the corner of his eye he had realized that the bed next to his was empty. The sheets looked crumpled and thrown aside, so Sam gathered that his brother had walked away to use the bathroom or to arrange himself a snack. As soon as his eyes got used to the light, however, it became pretty clear to Sam that the figure on the doorstep didn't belong to Dean.

- Hello, Sam - his father said with a low voice, as if he was trying not to disturb someone else's sleep.

The boy slowly sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

- Oh, hi, Dad - he mumbled.

John smiled at that sight, because that gesture made his son look a lot younger than he actually was, then moved closer to his bed.

- Sorry to wake you up, just wanted to check on you before hitting the hay. Bobby and I have just come back - he explained, and Sam indulged in a breath of relief.

Both his father and Bobby were home and all right. With the lives they led, it was enough to thank God, celebrate and be grateful at least for a bunch of days.

- What time is it? - the sixteen-year-old asked, looking around to find the alarm clock with fluorescent hands he had shoved in his duffel bag when he had run away from home what seemed like a century before.

- Five a.m. - his father replied ready.

- Any luck with the vamps?

- We caught some of them, but lost track of the last couple a few hours ago. But that's a job for another day, we're exhausted - John told him, clearly happy about his concern. His face stayed relaxed, although distinctly worn out, until his dark eyes laid on the empty bed on his right. In that instant, he frowned: - Where's Dean?

- Dunno - Sam murmured, yawning soundly. - Maybe at the toilet?

Since John didn't add anything and got out of the room as soon as he arranged the sheets to cover his tired son's body, Sam slipped back into the sleep of the just as soon as his eyes fell shut again. But after those that seemed twenty seconds – that actually were five minutes -, the teenager felt someone shake his shoulder with a gentle but firm hand.

- Sam, wake up.

Recognizing once again his father's voice, Sam forced himself to open his eyes and tried to map out the contours of the man who had crouched down beside his bed like when he was a little kid. As soon as he managed to, the man's concerned scowl made it quite clear that there wouldn't have been more time to sleep, at least not that night.

- What's wrong? - Sam whispered, so confused that he felt like he was guessing the words rather than choosing them.

- Your brother is nowhere to be found - John finally declared, tense. - Do you know anything about it?

And no matter how much strength he was putting in squeezing his youngest son's shoulder, no matter how much strictness was irradiating through him to keep Sam pinned to the bed, what prevailed in his eyes was sheer terror. The same utter fear made his way into Sam's bowels as soon as he heard the news.