Brotherhood
Scene Two -

3. Siblings are the people we practice on, the people who teach us about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring - quite often the hard way. Pamela Dugdale

Author's note - Time frame is Winter 1991. Dean is 12 and Sam is 8.

Interesting thing about motel rooms, no matter one's reason for seeking out the accommodations, they just never seemed to instill any true measure of comfort in their occupants. That being said, it came as no surprise to the brothers Winchester that their current respite from the seemingly endless miles of highway their father was constantly covering in his quest for answers appeared to have been decorated by a color-blind interior design reject. It featured a lush carpet of olive green peppered by the occasional bare patches around the doorways. And to offset this stunning feature, they were also treated to a lovely view of peeling, water-stained wallpaper. Or at least one could hope it was just water.

Currently the ungodly hour of 6 AM (and it sure seemed a lot earlier considering none of the Winchester men had slept very well, each plagued by the groans and creaks that echoed from the bathroom's water pipes all night long) found Dean and Sam stumbling around the room attempting to pack up all of their somewhat meager belongings while their father was down at the motel office arranging their checkout. While Sam scooped out the bathroom for any forgotten items, such as complimentary soaps and shampoos, Dean was lying across one of the two rumpled beds in an attempt to retrieve one of his sneakers that had been flung just a little too far during the wrestling match he and Sam had before bed the night before. As he tried to reach the renegade footwear, he couldn't help but think, 'Man, with dust bunnies the size of Godzilla, it's a wonder we weren't all smothered in our sleep.' Not all things dangerous must emerge from the depths of Hell, after all. Minutes later the two boys were outside their room, gear in hand, quietly awaiting their father's return.

"OK, boys, lets get going," John Winchester called as he approached. The three made their way out to the parking lot and stowed their backpacks and bags in the trunk. As was their routine, Dean headed up to get in the passenger seat, while Sam moved towards the backseat. At the last moment, however, Sam asked in an eager tone that never boded well for those not quite awake enough to deal with an overly inquisitive eight year old, "Hey Dean, can I sit up front with Dad? I'm tired of always sitting in the back."

Taking a quick look over at their father, and noting the older man's scowl and the dark circles underneath his eyes that were sure signs of a less than perky attitude, Dean replied, "Not today, Sammy. Maybe later." By keeping his comments short, and trying to sound firm, the older boy hoped to quell Sam's inkling for a change of scenery and get on with the day. Unfortunately, as was becoming more evident to the boy as time went by, it seemed like Dean Winchester could never catch a break where his little brother was concerned.
"That's not fair! What makes it's the rule that you always sit by Dad?" the younger boy whined, his lower lip jutting out in a classic pout. "Dad! Dean's being a brat!"

Turning around in his seat behind the steering wheel, their Dad looked from Sam, with his pout and his flushed cheeks, to Dean, who was glaring at his brother for all he was worth. Not willing to play referee, he ordered, "Dean, in the back. Sam, get your butt up hear and belt up. Times a'wasting." His quiet, yet firm voice made it clear that no further argument would be tolerated.

As Sam made to pass Dean for the front seat, his brother grabbed his arm and hissed into his ear, "Sam, let it go. Dad's grouchy, won't be no fun up there anyway..." trying his best to deter Sam's desire to ride shotgun. In response, Sam fired back, "Your just mad that you have to be all bored back their instead of me." One day Sam was going to learn to listen to his older, wiser big brother. However, today, was not to be that day. Sighing in defeat, Dean slid across the cold leather bench seat behind Sam, and prepared to await the inevitable. And in a telling show of immaturity, Sam had the nerve to look back at Dean over the seat and stick his tongue out. 'You'll be sorry Sam,' Dean thought to himself, with just a smidgen of satisfaction. 'Just you wait...'

About forty-five minutes into their current road trip, the trio had made a quick visit to the drive-thru of a fast food restaurant, and all the smaller boy had left to show for it was a three-quarters full cup of Orange soda. As growing boys tend to do, he and Dean had scarfed down their biscuits and grease-laden hashbrowns in no time at all. And now Sam was well and truly bored. Dad wasn't exactly in the most conversational mood, and Dean, still brooding over Sam's previous disregard, refused entertain the younger boy with stories or travel games.

As row after row of barren trees fly by, Sam, as bratty young boys tend to do, begins to fidget. After a few minutes of shifting restlessly and swapping the soda cup from one hand to another he earns a stern look of warning from Dad, and in an attempt to quickly re-settle himself, his right knee hits the latch to the glove box, which promptly pops open, startling Dad as it's contents fall to the floorboard. In reaction, Dad's hand jerks the wheel, and the plastic lid on Sam's cup pops off as he tightens his grip. A geyser of bright orange liquid covers Sam, and the entire right side of the front seat area. Judging by the sudden red hue Dad's face has acquired, and the way he is audibly grinding his teeth, he is far from amused. Suddenly wishing he had stayed in the back like always, Sam moves to press tightly against the door panel, as far away from Dad as possible. In the backseat, Dan just shakes his head and tries really hard to stay mad at his little brother so he can avoid feeling sorry for the big baby as he awaits Dad's wrath.

At the next rest stop, they pull over, and Sam and Dean stand quietly beside the car as Dad mutters expletives under his breath while attempting to sop up sticky orange liquid with flimsy restroom paper towels. After he feels he has done all for the time being to clean up the mess, but before everyone climbs back into the car, he says to Sam, "When we get to the motel this afternoon, while Dean and I are researching and preparing, you will be out in this car cleaning up every last drop of this mess. And I mean every drop. Do you understand me Samuel?" So filled with guilt over making the mess in the first place, and now upset by the prospect of missing out on working with his Dad and brother, the younger boy simply nods his head in understanding, while whispering a quick "Yes, sir."

Later that afternoon, once they arrive at their destination, Dad barks out orders to Sam that include the borrowing of a bucket, and using soap and water and a sponge to clean up all the soda. The boy looks steadily at the ground as he receives his punishment, not wanting to make eye contact with either his Dad or his brother. Just as Dad prepares to move away from the car, he adds "And while you're at it, just to remind you of the importance of being careful, you get to clean the entire car, inside and out, by yourself. Maybe that will help you work off some of that extra energy, Sammy." Sam's head snaps up at this last part. Usually half the job of cleaning the car belongs to Dean. He almost opens his mouth to protest, but on further thought he decides to leave well enough alone and remains silent. As Dad proceeds to the motel office to arrange for their room, Sam follows a few feet behind him, so that he can ask the clerk if he can borrow the required items for his clean up detail. Dean stays back with the car, a smirk of satisfaction on his face.

An hour later, Dean looks up from his reading to watch as Sam toils away, trying to scrub every last trace of the soda from the floorboard of the car. The younger boy's face is streaked with dirt, and he stops occasionally to rub at fingers cramped from gripping the large pink sponge the clerk had loaned him for his task. Sam, though young, is already a perfectionist, so he is taking his time, making sure there will be nothing for Dad to find wrong when he inspects his work.

As Dean continues to look out the window at his brother, he notices that it has begun to drizzle rain. Knowing that the rain will be freezing cold, the older boy begins to feel sorry for his brother. After a couple of minutes, spent trying to convince himself that Sam deserves what he gets, he casually tells Dad that he is going out to check up on Sam's progress. Deeply engrossed in his own research, Dad simply nods his approval.

"Hey Sammy, you about done?" Dean asks, leaning against the outside of the car and peering inside to where his little brother continues to scrub at the now spotless carpet. Casting a quick look across the interior of the car, he notes that it is clutter-free and smells pleasantly of some floral-scented cleanser.

"I.. I'm not sure," Sam replies, using his forearm to wipe at the beads of sweat gathering on his scrunched forehead. "I think I might need to redo the middle of the floorboards."

Noting the tired look on Sammy's face and the additional dark clouds rolling in overhead, he gently takes hold of Sam's arm and draws him from the car. "I think it's good enough, Sammy. And in case you didn't notice, its raining. The last thing Dad needs is for you to catch another cold and be sneezing all over his nice, clean car." The last part said with a laugh as images of Sam spraying cold germs all over his freshly scrubbed dashboard ran through his head. "C'mon, let me help you carry all this stuff back to the office. I'll even stop at the machine and get you a Coke and some M&Ms."

Looking at his big brother with a look of both relief and apprehension, Sam responds "If your sure its OK..."

"Yes, Sammy, I'm sure. Now get a move on!" he orders. "I'm getting all wet here!"

Handing Dean a few of the cleaning supplies, the youngest Winchester says, with a sheepish grin, "Thanks for helping, Dean. You didn't have to."

"Oh Sammy. It's OK," Dean assures, as he slings a protective arm around Sam's slender shoulder. "Just one thing though..."

Not sure what Dean could have forgotten, Sam looks at him expectantly as he asks, "What?"

"I told ya so!" Sometimes being the older, wiser one rocked!