35So, this is a little two-shot that was suggested to me by AngelOfDarkness568, who wondered about the fire that Sam had mentioned in the beginning of The Lost Son. I had never even thought to write about that, so a huge thanks to AngelOfDarkness568 for the idea. This was intended to be a one-shot, but because I wanted to get something post for it, it will be a two-shot instead. Hope you enjoy!
Cindy
Up In Smoke – Chapter 1
Dean sat turned in the backseat of the Impala, green eyes watching the small rental house his family currently called home growing smaller and smaller the further down the street they traveled. He turned back around with a sigh as the house disappeared completely. He momentarily glared at the back of his father's head before his eyes drifted to the side window. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed again then grumbled some unintelligible curse, eliciting a stern look from his father in the rear view mirror.
"Can it, Dean. If the kid didn't want to come, I was certainly not going to put up with his whining the entire trip to Fremont," John snapped, his eyes returning to the street ahead of him.
"You've never let him stay home alone before, Dad. I think it's a bad idea. We don't know how long we're going to be gone. Who knows what could happen," Dean shot back. He met his brother's eyes as the eldest Winchester sibling turned in his seat and nodded his agreement.
"I think Dean's right, Dad. Sammy hasn't been left for more than a few hours before and that neighborhood isn't the best," Daniel said as he turned to look at his father's profile.
"Look…I didn't want to leave him, but with his mood of late, I certainly didn't want to be in a car with him for six hours either. It was his choice to stay, he has money if he needs anything and he has strict instructions to stay in the house unless absolutely necessary and then he can only go to the corner store or to Mrs. Negly's house," John said, his tone leaving no room for any more discussion on the subject.
Dean shook his head and went back to staring out the window while Daniel muttered a quick "yes sir" before turning his attention back to the research he held on his lap. Research that Sam had meticulously done for this current hunt…a hunt he wouldn't be on with them. Daniel had a bad feeling about leaving Sam, but then again, he always felt uneasy when Sam wasn't with them. With he and Dean out of school now, even Sam being in classes all day was hard. Daniel knew it was hard on his father too, but the man was very good at keeping his feelings hidden. He glanced over at John and could tell just by the way the man clenched his jaw that he wasn't okay with the situation either, but Daniel had to admit that Sam was being particularly difficult of late. He knew it had everything to do with raging hormones, but still, at times it was hard to not choke the little brat. Daniel smiled to himself and shook his head. Sam was really going through the wringer with this whole teenager thing, much worse than either he or Dean had dealt with. His heart went out to the kid and then he thought that maybe the time by himself may do Sam a world of good. It didn't stop him from feeling uncomfortable with the situation, but he did his best to put the bad feelings out of his mind.
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Sam smiled to himself as he ascended the steps to the rundown house (shack) they currently called home. The second the Impala disappeared from sight, a feeling of freedom swept over him. He nearly skipped back toward the house before climbing the steps and stepping into the dark livingroom. No school for a week due to Spring Break, and no family to order him around seemed like heaven to the 15 year old. Sam walked to the kitchen where guns lay in a line on the yellowed kitchen table. He sighed as his gaze swept over the weapons and decided that he may as well get them cleaned now. That way he'd have the rest of his 'vacation' to do as he pleased…"as long as I stay in the house and don't draw attention," he thought ruefully to himself.
Sam pulled out a chair and sat at the table then reached for the first gun. He began to disassemble the weapon and once that was complete he went to work cleaning. Over the next four hours, he methodically worked his way through the guns until each one was laid out, barrels gleaming in the low light of the overhead light. Sam pushed back from the table and stretched his arms over his head. He twisted his neck, sighing when it cracked, releasing the tension that was causing a slight headache to creep up over the back of his head. He made his way to the refrigerator, opened the door and peered inside. Reaching in, he pulled out a half gallon of milk and an apple from the fruit crisper. Apple held tight in his teeth, he poured himself a glass of milk, put the carton back then headed for the livingroom. He set his glass of mild on the coffee table then dropped down onto the threadbare couch. He took a bite of the apple then reached for the television remote. It felt somewhat strange, and completely liberating to know that there would be no bullying big brothers to change the channel on him mid-program. A happy grin spread across his face as he settled back against the couch cushions. A night of uninterrupted television viewing lay ahead of him and he wasn't going to waste one second in starting his much longed for freedom.
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"Well, this is about as much fun as a squirrel biting my balls," Dean murmured as he shifted his feet beneath him, his back leant up against a large pine tree that had its branches bared of any needles by a long ago forest fire.
"Can it, Dean," John hissed from a few feet away, the moisture of his breath misting out in front of him in the cool night air.
"I hate to say it, Dad, but I think this hunt is a bust," Daniel offered from where he stood some ten feet away.
"Yeah, I agree, Dad. This is the third night we've been out here and all we've seen are a few raccoons and a very grumpy brown bear," Dean added, his head nodding in agreement with his brother.
John glanced from one son to the other then sighed as he pushed away from the tree he had been leaning against. "You boys are right. If something was going to happen, it would have happened by now," he admitted. He leaned over to gather up his duffel bag, smiling secretly to himself as he heard his sons doing the same thing. Truth be told, he was glad the hunt was a dud. He'd been feeling more and more uneasy being away from Sam for this long and that coupled with the thought that the last time they had tried to check in with Sam, the kid hadn't answered his phone had John antsy to get home to make sure his youngest son was safe and sound. The three Winchester men trudged silently through the forest, each sighing in relief when the Impala came to sight. They packed their gear and weapons into the trunk, climbed into the car and headed out of the forest toward the highway that would take them home.
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Sam came awake with a start, his hazel eyes wide as he glanced quickly around the room. The television flickered with snow, the channel he'd been watching off the air for the night. He sat up and reached across the coffee table and flicked off the television. He stood from the couch and stretched his arms high above his head then grabbed up his cellphone and flipped it open. No new messages or calls had come in while he slept. He frowned slightly as he wondered how his father and brothers were doing on their hunt. He'd missed the call from his dad the day before and when he'd tried to call back, the call would not go through. He shuffled off down the hallway to his room, stripped off his clothes then slipped into his sleep pants and a tee shirt. Glancing toward the door, he shrugged his shoulders then crawled into bed. His teeth wouldn't rot out if he missed one night of brushing he concluded as he buried himself beneath the covers and slowly drifted to sleep, completely oblivious to the spark and crackle of unseen, frayed wires buried deep within the walls of the rundown house he called home.
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"Dad, we almost home yet?" Dean asked groggily from the back seat, his sleepy eyes staring out into the darkness as he tried to figure out where they were.
John glanced into the rearview mirror at this son and smiled slightly. "We still have a few hours. You may as well get some more sleep," he answered gruffly.
"Nah, I'm okay. Looks like Danny's out for the count though," Dean said.
"Yeah, he finally lost the battle a few hours ago," John said with a chuckle.
"Have you tried to call Sammy?"
"No. I figure he's probably sleeping. We'll be home soon enough anyway," John answered.
"I guess," Dean murmured. "I wonder why he didn't answer when you called him before."
"Dean, he's fine," John said as he once again glanced at his son in the mirror. "You need to stop worrying so much about the kid. He can handle himself pretty darned well and besides, he was given strict instructions to not leave the house unless absolutely necessary. He may be being a little jerk lately, but he's not going to disobey a direct order. He's at home and perfectly safe."
"Yeah, you're right. How much trouble could he possibly get into stuck in the house for three days?" Dean said with a chuckle.
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Sam wasn't sure what awoke him, but it didn't take long for him to realize that something was very, very wrong. He was having a hard time breathing and his sleep addled mind took a few moments to realize that it was because his room was filled with smoke. Sam coughed roughly as he rolled out of his bed and onto the floor, his belly as flat to the bare wood as he could possibly get it. Fear ripped through him, but he tamped it down as he began to crawl toward the door. He would have gone out his window if it hadn't been boarded up several days ago after a heavy wind had blown a branch right through it. His father never did anything half assed and the time and energy it would take to kick the boards away could very likely be the death of him. So, crawling down the hall to one of the other bedrooms and escaping from a window there was really Sam's only option.
Sam was half way down the hall when suddenly what sounded like a gunshot went off from the direction of the living room. "Oh shit…the guns!" Sam croaked out, his throat raw from the smoke and his face red from the heat that wafted over him like a furnace. Making a decision that could be his last, Sam raised up onto his hands and knees and crawled quickly towards the kitchen, the teenager praying that the fire was contained in the living room where the ammunition was stored. Obviously, the fire had reached the bag containing the bullets and Sam could only hope that he could reach the kitchen and the guns his father had accumulated over the years of hunting. Sam knew how important those guns were to his father and how upset he would be if they were destroyed. Once he reached the end of the hallway, Sam peered around the corner of the entryway and saw flames licking across the ceiling of the living room, but sighed in relief when he was that the fire had not yet reached the kitchen. He lowered down as far as he could and as quickly as he could he crawled through the corner of the living room and through the entry into the kitchen, the pops of the bullets exploding continuing as his hands met the linoleum floor.
Sam stopped as he was besieged by a lung rattling coughing fit, his body jerking violently until finally the coughing fit eased and he was able to continue into the kitchen. His eyes watering profusely and burning painfully, Sam finally reached the kitchen table where the guns still lay from when he'd cleaned them. He pulled himself up from the floor and reached for the guns. Suddenly, a loud woosh sounded from behind the teenager and he was thrown to the floor as fire erupted through the kitchen doorway and began to creep along the walls and ceilings. The heat singed Sam's hair and burned his skin and he knew that he if he didn't get out immediately, he would never get out. He crawled under the table, choosing to take the most direct way to the back door. When he finally reached the door, the kitchen was nearly engulfed in flames. Sam grabbed at the doorknob and pulled himself up, pulling the door open as he reached his feet. He flung the door open and rushed onto the small back porch. Just as his foot hit the first step down, the fire exploded through the back door and Sam flew forward off the porch, the fire completing engulfing him as his world turned completely black.
That's it for now, folks! Will try to have the rest done soon. Take care and thanks for reading!
Cindy
