Sam didn’t honestly know what had possessed him and his brother to come out to Nettington Highway at seven past midnight on a murky, damp night, but he supposed that it was one of the low points of the job; especially when they didn’t know how to put Matthew’s spirit to rest as he’d been cremated. They needed to find another sumber of remains atau belonging to him. Sam sighed at the illogical concept of the plan they’d come up with in the last few hours.
Dean, on the other hand, looked like a child again; and it was in moments like this that Sam really could see the Cinta Dean had for hunting. He’d had it as long as Sam could remember. It seemed to complete him. Sam smiled to himself as he thought back to how different yet close they’d been when they were younger. He remembered when they’d both come utama from yet another school day, and Dean had actually turned up to this one, which had been a definite improvement at the time. When they’d walked through the hotel room door that time to be greeted sejak their father, who’d only come utama a minit before them, Sam thought that they probably couldn’t have looked lebih different in terms of expressions.
“How’d it go, boys?” Their father had asked them.
Dean had sighed heavily, thrown his bag into the corner of the small dapur and tossed papers with a significant red ‘F’ stamped across the bahagian, atas page of it; Sam was a little disconcerted sejak Dean’s mood, but couldn’t help the pride menunjukkan in his expression as he remembered the ‘A’ marked paper inside his bag. But somehow he’d felt wrong to get it out and tunjuk it to his father and brother. Instead he just replied “It was great thanks, Dad,” and followed an irritated Dean through to their room.
Sam didn’t know why that memory had chosen to resurface at that moment, but he wished it hadn’t. Because that was one of the few that Sam had that had shown the huge differences that could happen occasionally between the two brothers. Unwillingly, Sam found himself recalling another time, perhaps the most significant, when they couldn’t have been lebih different from each other.
He’d been nineteen years old, Dean twenty-three, and that had been the age Sam had left utama to go to Stanford. Sam could almost still hear his father’s voice inside his head.
“You can’t control me like this!” Sam had yelled, his temper breaking.
“You’re still my son, and I know what’s best for you!” John had shouted back.
“Right, like letting Mom die and making us leave a normal life behind? Yeah, that’s definitely in our best interests!” Sam had shouted even louder. Looking back, he now flinched at the harsh words he’d aimed at his father; they had been way out of line, and far from the truth.
John had been silent for a few saat before attempting to force his voice to return to normal volume.
“Sammy, I never wanted this life for you. If anda walk away now, you’re leaving your family. Your own blood. I can’t think of a worse thing for my son to do. You’re a coward, Sam.”
“Well, it’s still the life we ended up getting.” Sam had retorted aggressively. “And I’m a coward, Dad? Maybe anda should look in the mirror.”
Sam had seized his bags and was heading towards the door when he had felt a light touch on his shoulder. He turned to see Dean standing seterusnya to him, his silent face pleading a thousand words.
“It’s not because of anda I’m leaving, Dean. I’m just sick of this life, and I’m sick of being controlled like a piece on a chessboard. I’m out. For good.”
“Dean, let him go. I don’t even know him any more.” His father had said, and Sam had stormed out and not seen either of them again in two years. In fact, for the majority of his life, Sam had felt much closer to Dean than to his own father.
“Dude, anda alright?”
Jolted back to the present, Sam found Dean standing seterusnya to him, leaning against the Impala, lighter in one hand a shotgun in the other.
“Yeah; yeah, I’m fine.”
Dean paused for a moment as though absorbing an important fact, atau as if he knew exactly which memory had invaded Sam’s mind in the last few minutes, then laid the shotgun on the Impala’s shiny bonnet, and pocketed the lighter inside his jeans.
“Well, now comes the fun part: we have to find something on this road that belonged to Matthew Barnes.”
“Great;” Sam said, “nothing like a Supernatural scavenger hunt in the middle of the night. That’s nice.”
Dean smirked and nudged Sam on the shoulder to spur him on to begin the search. Sam shook his head in disbelief and stood up, releasing the pressure off the car.
“Hey,” Dean said, who was a few metres away already sejak now, “scratch my car atau dent it and anda know what’ll happen.”
Sam swore that his brother’s obsession with that car wasn’t healthy. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied, before tossing Dean the EMF detector and catching up with him as he stood in the centre of the road. Sam dug a torch out from his jaket pocket and lit it up; in the midst of the dark, empty road the shining ray seemed like a bright line of safety. Dean followed suit and started directing the beam around the edges of the road on the opposite side.
“Are anda sure this is the part of the road Matthew Barnes was hit?” Dean asked as the thought struck him.
“Absolutely;” Sam answered, “it’s in this half-mile stretch that all the victims over the past twenty years have been killed.”
Dean acknowledged this and continued walking towards the other side of the road, now a fair few metres from Sam. He carried on down the grassy slope and waved his torch back and forth at the bottom of the crash barriers.
“Anything?”
Dean shook his head and turned round to reverse his route again, having one last look with the torch in case anything caught his eye. Nothing seemed to shine atau glint atau be a sudden change in colour that would catch his attention.
“Let’s check the other side.”
Dean, on the other hand, looked like a child again; and it was in moments like this that Sam really could see the Cinta Dean had for hunting. He’d had it as long as Sam could remember. It seemed to complete him. Sam smiled to himself as he thought back to how different yet close they’d been when they were younger. He remembered when they’d both come utama from yet another school day, and Dean had actually turned up to this one, which had been a definite improvement at the time. When they’d walked through the hotel room door that time to be greeted sejak their father, who’d only come utama a minit before them, Sam thought that they probably couldn’t have looked lebih different in terms of expressions.
“How’d it go, boys?” Their father had asked them.
Dean had sighed heavily, thrown his bag into the corner of the small dapur and tossed papers with a significant red ‘F’ stamped across the bahagian, atas page of it; Sam was a little disconcerted sejak Dean’s mood, but couldn’t help the pride menunjukkan in his expression as he remembered the ‘A’ marked paper inside his bag. But somehow he’d felt wrong to get it out and tunjuk it to his father and brother. Instead he just replied “It was great thanks, Dad,” and followed an irritated Dean through to their room.
Sam didn’t know why that memory had chosen to resurface at that moment, but he wished it hadn’t. Because that was one of the few that Sam had that had shown the huge differences that could happen occasionally between the two brothers. Unwillingly, Sam found himself recalling another time, perhaps the most significant, when they couldn’t have been lebih different from each other.
He’d been nineteen years old, Dean twenty-three, and that had been the age Sam had left utama to go to Stanford. Sam could almost still hear his father’s voice inside his head.
“You can’t control me like this!” Sam had yelled, his temper breaking.
“You’re still my son, and I know what’s best for you!” John had shouted back.
“Right, like letting Mom die and making us leave a normal life behind? Yeah, that’s definitely in our best interests!” Sam had shouted even louder. Looking back, he now flinched at the harsh words he’d aimed at his father; they had been way out of line, and far from the truth.
John had been silent for a few saat before attempting to force his voice to return to normal volume.
“Sammy, I never wanted this life for you. If anda walk away now, you’re leaving your family. Your own blood. I can’t think of a worse thing for my son to do. You’re a coward, Sam.”
“Well, it’s still the life we ended up getting.” Sam had retorted aggressively. “And I’m a coward, Dad? Maybe anda should look in the mirror.”
Sam had seized his bags and was heading towards the door when he had felt a light touch on his shoulder. He turned to see Dean standing seterusnya to him, his silent face pleading a thousand words.
“It’s not because of anda I’m leaving, Dean. I’m just sick of this life, and I’m sick of being controlled like a piece on a chessboard. I’m out. For good.”
“Dean, let him go. I don’t even know him any more.” His father had said, and Sam had stormed out and not seen either of them again in two years. In fact, for the majority of his life, Sam had felt much closer to Dean than to his own father.
“Dude, anda alright?”
Jolted back to the present, Sam found Dean standing seterusnya to him, leaning against the Impala, lighter in one hand a shotgun in the other.
“Yeah; yeah, I’m fine.”
Dean paused for a moment as though absorbing an important fact, atau as if he knew exactly which memory had invaded Sam’s mind in the last few minutes, then laid the shotgun on the Impala’s shiny bonnet, and pocketed the lighter inside his jeans.
“Well, now comes the fun part: we have to find something on this road that belonged to Matthew Barnes.”
“Great;” Sam said, “nothing like a Supernatural scavenger hunt in the middle of the night. That’s nice.”
Dean smirked and nudged Sam on the shoulder to spur him on to begin the search. Sam shook his head in disbelief and stood up, releasing the pressure off the car.
“Hey,” Dean said, who was a few metres away already sejak now, “scratch my car atau dent it and anda know what’ll happen.”
Sam swore that his brother’s obsession with that car wasn’t healthy. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied, before tossing Dean the EMF detector and catching up with him as he stood in the centre of the road. Sam dug a torch out from his jaket pocket and lit it up; in the midst of the dark, empty road the shining ray seemed like a bright line of safety. Dean followed suit and started directing the beam around the edges of the road on the opposite side.
“Are anda sure this is the part of the road Matthew Barnes was hit?” Dean asked as the thought struck him.
“Absolutely;” Sam answered, “it’s in this half-mile stretch that all the victims over the past twenty years have been killed.”
Dean acknowledged this and continued walking towards the other side of the road, now a fair few metres from Sam. He carried on down the grassy slope and waved his torch back and forth at the bottom of the crash barriers.
“Anything?”
Dean shook his head and turned round to reverse his route again, having one last look with the torch in case anything caught his eye. Nothing seemed to shine atau glint atau be a sudden change in colour that would catch his attention.
“Let’s check the other side.”