Sympathetic One;

Goodbye Hunting Life

One letter. That's all it took.

As Sam entered into the hotel room, having just returned from the town's local library, he came face to face with his father. As if John had been waiting for his return all along. This was odd, and Sam's posture went rigid as his eyes met with the stern expression of his father. Whenever John showed his face or made his presence known to his sons it was never for anything good. Such reasons caused a sense of immediate dread to wash over the youngest Winchester. His mind went from relaxation to alert. Apprehension riddled his form before his eyes wandered down to take notice of the paper that was grasped within John's hand.

A terrible knot tied itself in the pit of Sam's stomach. That letter had been a token of good fortune to Sam, but he knew all too well that it would be taboo in the eyes of his father. He thought he had done well at keeping it hidden, but now the brunette silently cursed himself for not keeping the damn thing on him at all times. John had found it and all Hell was about to break loose. Sam's eyes shifted briefly around the small confines of the hotel room as a part of him subconsciously sought the presence of his older brother, but Dean was nowhere to be found. He would be left to handle this situation on his own and his features flickered uncomfortably with this realization before his eyes snapped back towards his father, observing his expression with caution.

John squinted at the formal letter with displeasure. The corners of his jaws flexed beneath his clenched jaws before he shifted his hardened gaze upon Sam. A scowl was worn deep upon his lips as he raised the letter. His voice was grizzly and low. "Were you planning on telling me about this?"

Sam swallowed tensely. He hated fighting, and the only reason Sam hesitated to respond was because he knew that it would inevitably lead to that. All that ever seemed to transpire when him and his father were together was the dismantling of their shredded relationship. Things were about to get ugly, especially considering the topic that was at hand, and Sam was never one to hide his feelings. His opinions were something he felt strongly about and, unlike his older brother, Sam bore no shame in letting his voice be heard. And since so much of what Sam had to say generally pointed blame in John's direction, a lot of brutal and harsh truths would be tossed about. Things that would leave any regular person left scrambling to collect the broken pieces of their shattered pride and dignity.

"Answer me." John growled, his eyebrows knitting together tightly.

The youngest Winchester blinked. He stared bleakly at his father for several long moments as his mind raced with several courses of action. None of them would diffuse the situation that Sam knew in his gut would explode out of control. A tense jaw ground. He had been down this road before with his father, and quite frankly Sam was growing tired of it. John's constant beration and disrespect made it increasingly hard for the boy to be able to offer any ounce of sympathy or deference.

"No." His answer came too bluntly for John's taste. The scowl upon his father's face deepened and Sam saw the anger rise behind his eyes.

"I hope, for your sake, that's a joke." The paper that had been in his grasp fluttered to the floor.

This statement alone was enough to burn out Sam's hesitation with a spark of his own anger. His face scrunched to reflect the offense he felt by those words as his hazel hues pierced into John's. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He snapped, lowly.

"It means you better get your damn priorities straight and give up this college nonsense!" John's voice boomed over Sam's, adding more fuel to the young Winchester's growing fire.

If anything was a sick joke, it was John's words now. "Priorities?!" Sam shot back, icily. "You want to talk about priorities?! How about prioritizing your kids for once and over this stupid and PATHETIC life you've forced on us!"

The words hit John like a punch in the gut. The blood in his veins roared to a boil beneath his skin. Everything he had worked hard for and sacrificed meant sh*t and his endeavor to avenge his wife's death was meaningless, according to Sam's viewpoint. The hurt that spilled from his son's mouth ran a lot deeper than John would allow to be seen. His vulnerability and pain were forced to the bottom as he instead retaliated in anger. "Don't you talk out of line with me! I'm your father, show some respect!"

Sam scoffed openly, "I'll start showing you respect when you deserve it!"

"What did you just say?" John seethed, in a tone that was sharp like a serrated edge.

"You heard me!" Sam's voice rose in volume as he boldly took a step forward. "If you spent HALF as much time putting an effort into being our father as you spend chasing ghosts and demons - Dean and I wouldn't be as screwed up as we are!" He barked, furiously.

Now it was John's turn to take a step forward, narrowing the gap between them as his own voice rose to put Sam's previous tone to shame. "It's because of me that you and your brother have been safe! Don't you dare try to make it out to be like I'm the bad guy!"

"HEY!" Before Sam could retort, a third party interrupted. Father and son turned their heads in unison and their eyes settled upon Dean. His hair was damp, which made it clear he had probably rushed his shower and dressed quickly at the sound of theirs yells. "What the hell is going on in here?" His brows pulled together as he looked concernedly between his father and brother.

Sam inhaled sharply through his nose as his jaw worked in irritation. Eyes rolled slightly as he averted his gaze. This argument was only going to get worse or, Sam hoped, he would be rescued by Dean's presence. Though with the tension that had been lingering between the family members lately, it wasn't likely.

John seemed to withdraw slightly at the sudden interruption. His anger subsided for a moment, as if Dean's sudden involvement made him realize just how much he had begun to lose his temper. Though his tune changed, that look of disapproval was still worn heavy on his visage. "Sam and I were just having a discussion." John responded, dismissively.

"Sounded like a hell of a lot more than that..." Dean rolled off as he eyed between them suspiciously. His eyes trailed down to the piece of paper that rested between their feet, taking notice of the formality of the text and the fancy signature at the bottom. He had seen that letter before. Hell, he had been told about it the day Sam had gotten it. His eyes snapped back to their faces as

"He's just pissed because I got accepted into Stanford and he can't stop me from going." Sam turned his head to emphasize these words directly to his father's face. This drove the thorn, that was already in John's side, deeper -- cutting to the tendons.

His father's face flushed a deep red. "You think so?"

"Yeah!" Sam barked. "Despite what you might think - I am in control of my OWN life!" He shouted. John's expression hardened as he squared his shoulders. "You're just pissed that YOU can't make a mindless little soldier out of me!"

Recognizing the amount of fury that had surfaced across their dad's face, Dean quickly rushed in and placed a hand to Sam's chest, pushing gently against his baby brother to force him back. The sudden contact had flipped a switch in Sam. He pushed against his brother's hand as words of anger continued to flood from his lips.

"Woah - hey, HEY! That's enough, alright?!" Dean snapped. Attempting to be the peacemaker between these two was never easy. It was also unbearably exhausting lately. Sam gritted his teeth as his jaw locked firmly shut. Fierce hazel eyes snapped down to meet Dean's gaze. "Just let it go - alright, Sam?" Dean spoke loudly, but with a hint of desperation laced in his voice. He disliked nights like these, couldn't they all just get along and behave like a family, just for once?

Sam jerked free and straightened his jacket in one swift gesture as he took a step back. His face was still hot and he had hardly finished with saying the things that he had wanted to say. Hell, the things that he needed to say. As he met the piercing glare of his father's eyes a tight knot twisted in his gut. All sorts of bile and acid mixed wildly in his stomach, and the more he thought about the lack of support that he had been given over the years, the more sick he felt.

A look of defiance glistened behind his greenish eyes as the wild heat in his veins seemed to cool. His tone was no longer ugly or harsh. It was firm, but worn enough to express his surrender. "I'm done. I'm going to California - and I am going to college."

An uncomfortable silence filled the air and dragged on for several tense moments. There was resentment bore deep behind those age-worn eyes as John spoke in a low, husky voice. "You do that, and you can stay gone." Sam's expression never faltered, but a hint of hurt glistened somewhere in those hazel hues.

Was he serious? Dean spun on his heels to look upon their father's face. He was serious.  A look of bewilderment fluttered upon his features as Dean began, "What - Dad, no -"

"Hush, Dean." John commanded. He knew that his oldest would have trouble swallowing this order. Especially since it was directly associated with his baby brother, who he had practically raised.

Dean disobeyed, "Yeah - but, Dad, we can't just --"

"I said HUSH!" He repeated, more firmly this time. Dean's mouth shut obediently. "Sam's made it clear what he wants." His eyes bore into his younger son as if he could shred his very soul with one look. "Get your stuff -- and don't come back." John ordered hoarsely. Short. Direct. Seemingly without remorse.

The hurt reflected in the softness of Sam's eyes for a stint before a hard exterior painted over it. His father's callousness was expected. Sam's eyes careened towards Dean. His older brother stood idly by John's side. Quiet and obedient, like a soldier who had fallen in line to his General. After a moment Sam averted his gaze. He shook his head with bitter acceptance as he turned stiffly towards the door. He had very little belongings and held no attachment for the suitcase of hunting weapons that was tucked beneath his hotel bed. For all he cared, Sam would be just fine with the single backpack that was already on his shoulders.

The door was jerked open to allow Sam to make his swift exit before it was slammed behind him. His lips pressed firmly together as he nibbled softly on them in irritation. The anger in his stomach had begun to subside, but he could still feel the heat in his cheeks. A heavy sigh issued past his mouth as his hands moved to grip the straps around his shoulders as long strides carried him across the parking lot. He had barely made it far before he heard the panicked voice of his brother calling out his name.

Sam made no efforts to acknowledge Dean's presence as he jogged to catch up to his little brother. Dean had a sullen look about him and it was clear that he was displeased with what their father had said. "Hey -- Sammy," He made another poor attempt to gain his brother's attention as his steps slowed to mirror Sam's pace. "Dad didn't really mean what he said."

How typical of Dean to defend their father. Jaw flexed as Sam answered bitterly, "Yeah, Dean, he did."

There was a short pause before Dean spoke again. "Dad cares about you, Sammy...I know you two argue a lot and it may not always seem that way, but he does."

"I couldn't care less about what he thinks." A hint of venom was in his tone, and a portion of it seemed to be aimed directly at Dean.

This was enough to set Dean back on his heels a little. He could almost taste the hostility in his brother's voice. His brows furrowed as his footsteps faltered. "Hey, I'm not the one who kicked you out!" His eyes narrowed on the back of his brother's head as Sam continued to walk. "Maybe you could tone it down a little with the attitude, yeah?" Sam scoffed, which only further upset Dean. "Dad's the one that kicked you out, I had nothing to do with this."

At last Sam seemed to acknowledge his brother's trying efforts. He halted in his steps as his fists tightened around the straps of his bag. He knew that Dean meant well, but after years of this Sam had finally reached his limit. Before he could help himself his pent up frustration got the best of him and poured out with great acrimony. "It ever occur to you that just maybe that's the problem?" He finally turned to look at his brother directly. Dean seemed confused, unsure of the point he was trying to make. "How many times has dad done things that were out of line - or how many times has he shot me down - and you just stood there right beside him and let him?"

"Oh, so now it's my fault because I didn't stand up to Dad?"

"You just stood there like an obedient dog while dad kicked me out!" Sam emphasized, irately.

"What the hell was I supposed to do? He's our dad, what he says goes!" Dean barked, matching his younger brother's tone.

Sam's expression smoothed slightly as a look of disbelief flashed behind his eyes. He squinted softly as he asked flatly, "Do you really get that much enjoyment out of being his personal little drone?"

Dean's eyes began to blaze with a fury of his own now. "If obeying his orders is what it takes to keep the peace, then yeah! At least this way there's no fighting!"

He shook his head at his older brother. "I'd rather fight than get walked on like a doormat. How do you even allow yourself to blindly follow his every order?"

"It's called being a good son!" Dean growled.

"A good soldier." Sam quipped. "One that doesn't even have an original thought of his own!"

Dean ran his tongue along the backside of his teeth as he stared back at his brother tensely. After a moment, his jaw flexed in irritation before he opened his mouth to speak. "You know what?" All signs of sympathy washed from his face. Cold, steel eyes narrowed. "I think you're just selfish." Another scoff of disbelief was breathed from Sam's lips at his brother's absurd accusation. "You have always been a major thorn in our sides. Always bitching and moaning about how  s h i t t y  our lives are, no matter what. Nothing is ever good enough for you, is it?"

"What?" Sam gawked, confounded by his brother's words.

"You heard me." Dean straightened his posture as he continued, "You never did care about anything but yourself. Forget the fact that what we do saves people's lives, you would rather sit and read your stupid school books with your head in the sand while innocent people get killed."

Sam furrowed his brows. Now he was really starting to get pissed off. Dean knew damn well how hard Sam fought to save people's lives on the cases he had handled. The fact that his brother had just tried to pin the responsibility of every human life on him, and acted as if Sam could careless about their lives, was beyond degrading. "People die every day -- all over the world. It's what happens. People live - then they die. It's called the Natural Order!"

"But not everyone has to die the way that they do! What we do SAVES them, Sam! And it gives them a little more time to live!"

"News flash - we're not the only hunters out there!" Sam shot back. "And I'm not going to sit back and waste my life away for some stupid blood vendetta! It's a  s h i t t y  life style - and I'm not for it!"

"Don't you dare." Dean warned through clenched teeth at the subtle jab.

"Don't what, bring up mom? Or the fact that her husband ruined the lives of her kids by raising them up like we were? I doubt this is the life she would have wanted for us!" Dean's eyes blazed and his face flushed a deep red. Despite the rigidness of his brother's posture, Sam pressed on. "And deep down, you know it, too! But you would never admit it, would you? Because that's not what dad would want to hear."

Dean's head shook shamefully at his baby brother. His eyes seared into Sam's very soul as he glared up at him. "Dad was right," he started in a low growl, "your priorities are screwed. And you know what? If you can't appreciate the things that we do, risking our tails day-in and day-out, then you have no place here. You take your self-righteous, ungrateful ass to Stanford - and you never look back."

The hurt ran deeper than Sam had expected. John Winchester had practically spoken the same words to him, but they didn't cut half as deep as they did coming from Dean's mouth. Sam blinked a few times, his face working quick to mask his sudden hurt before he pressed his lips together in defeat. He could only bear seeing that look of resentment for so long before Sam finally broke. With wary steps, he turned regrettably from his older brother and walked away with the feeling of Dean's scorching glare still burning into him. Sam lifted his head and took in a deep breath as he stared off at the main road ahead. He had dreamt of this freedom for a long time but, as he made his way towards the bus station, it hardly felt victorious like he had always imagined. Instead he was overwhelmed by his profound guilt that would torture him during the duration of his travels to Stanford.