A Crash Course in Road Safety

In which John presents Sam with a motorbike for his sixteenth birthday.

Dean is less than happy and after deciding to keep a close eye on his brother, his fears are soon realised…

Teenchester fic: Sam 16, Dean nearly 20.

"Ok Sam. You can open them now!"

On his father's command, Sam did indeed open his eyes and gasped. Before him stood a motorcycle. It wasn't brand new, nor was it particularly powerful, being only a 125cc, but it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Because it was his.

And because it was his first shot at independence. No longer would he have to rely on his Dad or brother for lifts to school, or the movies, and now that he had transport of his own he could even get a part time job, maybe help out his family a little with the household finances.

But the main reason for getting a job was standing right behind him. Dean. It would be his big brother's birthday in a few months, and Sam wanted to get him something special.

When he turned to share his excitement with Dean, Sam's face fell. His brother was seething.

"Dean? You ok dude?"

"I'm fine Sammy." But he was glaring at their father, and if looks could kill John would be sitting on top of a BBQ waiting for the hot sauce right now.

"Dean." His father growled out a warning. This was a special day and he didn't want it ruined for Sam. It wasn't every day your youngest son turned sixteen. "We've talked about this. You had a motorbike for your sixteenth, it's only fair…"

"I was nearly killed Dad!" Dean pretty much growled back, but felt no satisfaction when his father paled at the blunt reminder of darker times.

Eight months after his sixteenth birthday, Dean had been knocked off his motorbike on his way home from school by a drunk driver. He'd spent three weeks unconscious, only to awaken to a broken leg, broken collar bone, one very frightened little brother and a relieved father. But these two clowns seemed to have conveniently forgotten the slow painful recovery, the hours of physical therapy, not to mention never wanting to sit on a motorbike ever again, no matter how much he liked the image.

He didn't want to see Sam go through all that, but mainly he just didn't want Sammy in any danger. Dean firmly believed that no matter how good a rider you were, it was the other lunatics on the road you had to watch out for, and if there was trouble….well, it was just you and the blacktop. And the blacktop would come out the winner. Whereas a car was 

essentially a metal cage; not a perfect safety device by any means, but it at least offered better protection from injury.

Dean clenched his jaw when his father told Sam to hop on and try it out. He glowered as Sam wheeled the motorcycle out into the parking lot, felt his heart racing when the engine burst to life.

"Sam!" He yelled out. "Put your crash helmet on!" Sam turned and gave his brother a strange look; he was already holding the crash helmet, about to put it on. So why was Dean making such a fuss?

Sam appeared to shrug, fastened the chin strap, lowered the visor and set off round the parking lot.

Dean had to admit, in spite of how clumsy his brother could be at times, the kid was a natural. He handled a figure of eight with grace and almost casual ease…but even his father objected to the wheelie he pulled when he got a little cocky.

"Hey, cut that out!" This was Dean.

"Do that again and I'll confiscate the damn keys for a month!" This was John.

And Dean almost hoped his rebellious younger brother would do it again, just so he'd stay safe and off the roads.

But no such luck; his kid brother was way too smart for that.

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Sam was so smart, in fact, that after only a couple of lessons, he passed his basic road safety test with flying colours, and was now legally qualified to hit the open road.

Much to Dean's chagrin.

And that was why Sam found himself humming 'Me and My Shadow' every damn time he went out on it. He couldn't move without spying his big brother in the side mirrors, or waiting across the street. And when someone in a dark blue sedan made the mistake of cutting across Sam's path, forcing him to swerve slightly, a black Impala shot through the red traffic light giving chase for a few blocks, probably frightening the life out of the driver.

Sam sighed. He didn't really mind Dean's over-protectiveness mainly because he knew it was no reflection on Sam's abilities. It was other people Dean didn't trust, and having been on the road now for only a few weeks, Sam could most certainly see why.

But tonight it would have to stop.

Because tonight Sam started his after- school job. It wasn't much, just delivering pizzas for the local Italian restaurant a couple of nights a week. John had approved only so long as it didn't interfere with their hunts or Sam's research, in fact John had managed to keep Dean off Sam's back tonight by ordering him to sit down and do some research himself.

The weather was unseasonably cold and heavy clouds threatened to dump about a year's worth of rain in one spell. But that wasn't deterring Sam Winchester on his first night.

He turned up at the restaurant half an hour early, wanting to take the time to introduce himself to the staff and other riders, maybe get to know them. But when he got there he was sadly disappointed. There was only one other rider and he was out on a job, and the rest of the staff were so harried and rushed off their feet that no one had the time to talk to him. The one person that did talk to him, the restaurant owner, was surly and rude, quite far removed from Sam's experience of Italians. In fact the guy was from New York and didn't have an Italian bone in his body, not to mention he was a slave driver. Sam was exhausted by the time the end of his shift finally arrived. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd been out in the rain, and he was soaked to the skin. When he'd applied for the job he'd been promised protective clothing, but in reality all that consisted of was a reflective jacket, which was cheap and badly made because the stitching let in all the rain water.

Shivering in the cold, he was about to drop off the insulated pizza carrier when the boss appeared from the kitchen.

"Winchester! I got another delivery for ya!"

"But, sir, my Dad and brother are expecting me home…"

"You still want this job kid?"

"Uh…sure." Sam had little choice. He'd already spotted the perfect birthday gift for Dean, and had used up all his savings for the down payment. It was a special hunting knife, with an ornate bronze hilt and some beautiful designs etched on the blade itself. He was pretty sure Dean would love it and for Sam, if that meant riding through a rainstorm in the middle of the night to deliver one last pizza, then so be it.

The owner of the little store had taken an immediate liking to him, had even offered the knife to him to take home after the first payment, but Sam couldn't bring himself to accept. It just didn't seem right; she was an honest English Cockney that hadn't been in the country that long and he didn't want to take advantage.

"Well, in that case," Joey, the store owner had announced with genuine affection, "I'm gonna keep it back for ya. No problem Sam. I trust ya mate." She'd smiled at him gently before asking "Do you want me to gift wrap it?"

Sam had grinned at her. "Only if you use pink wrapping paper and a girly bow!"

Joey had laughed out right. "I think he'll luv it!" She spluttered in amusement. "Right before he kicks your 'ed in!"

Sam couldn't help laughing back at her. Her sarcasm and typical English sense of humour never failed to put a smile on his face, and he'd somehow ended up spending a bit of time hanging round her store after that, cracking jokes and generally having a laugh with her.

One day he hoped to introduce her to Dean, if he wasn't so sure Dean wouldn't hit on the poor woman. She was a widow and closer to his Father's age in any case.

Trying not to sigh too heavily, or too loudly, he once again donned his crash helmet, grabbed the pizza and glanced at the address. He groaned. It wasn't just a long way out, which meant Sam was really gonna have to break some speed limits to get there before the 'delivered within thirty minutes or your pizza free' was up, but it was an address down some pretty lonely back roads. Normally that wouldn't have bothered him, enjoyed the idea of it even. But it was wet, dark and cold out, and Sam really wasn't in the mood.

Sam thought about calling Dean to let him know he'd be late, but on glancing at his watch he knew he wouldn't have time.

Sam shrugged miserably and set out anyway.

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Dean kept eyeballing the kitchen clock, until John finally gave in.

"Ok, you've been tortured enough," His Dad sat back in his chair and downed the last of his coffee. "You can go…but Dean?" He pleaded when Dean's chair scraped loudly against the floor as he leapt up out of his seat. "Just…try to keep your distance, ok? Sam's more than capable."

"He should've been home by now." Dean grumbled, knowing he was being unreasonable. On the occasions when he took a garage job he was often late home without a phone call, stopping to finish off changing an oil filter, or helping to change a tire at the last minute. But it just didn't sit right with him now that Sam was quite literally in the driver's seat.

John shook his head in amusement. "Go on. Go find him." He waved him away, chuckling when Dean virtually flew out the door.

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The rain just wasn't letting up, and if anything seemed to be coming down harder. Sam was finding it increasingly difficult to see through his visor but didn't dare reach up with his gloved hands to clear it. That would only make matters worse.

The road stretched ahead, dark and narrow, the tall trees on either side made it seem like a sunken tunnel. He knew it was foolish given the weather but Sam sped up a little, anxious to get the job done and get home to a nice warm bed.

As the motorbike rounded a sharp bend, Sam was prepared for the vehicle coming the other way, but he wasn't prepared for the main beams cutting sharply through the darkness, blinding him outright, and destroying his sense of control over the bike. He was forced to lay it down, the bike and Sam skidding along together at high speed for about twenty feet before they separated. Sam cried out as the road ripped through his reflective jacket, tore through his clothing and finally cut viciously into his skin. It felt like his entire left side was on fire, as the upper epidermis was shredded and burned by friction. Then the momentum sent him into a roll, and he felt bones crunching and muscles stretching, until his head and upper torso collided with something hard, knocking the wind out of him.

He lay on his back, wincing and breathless with agony, desperately trying to stay conscious. Every attempt to move brought more pain and he whimpered; he could taste copper and feel liquid warmth spilling from his mouth, down his chin, and out of his nose.

Sam knew he was in a bad way.

He just managed to shift his eyes to his right; the vehicle that had blinded him just sat there for a second, and he thought he heard arguing coming from inside.

"…we should stop and see if he's ok…" it sounded like a woman's voice.

"…already got a ticket for wreckless drivin'…not gonna lose my licence…" but this was a man's voice.

Sam's felt his breath hitching painfully in his chest as he tried to call out for help. The cold seeped into his bones and the shiver caused more waves of pain to course through his body.

"Please," But his voice never made it above a whisper, and the car started up and drove off with a screech of tires, leaving him all alone. "Don't go! Please help me…"

Sam lay there blinking heavily up at the night sky, rain pouring down his visor as he tried so hard to stay awake.

But it was a fight he was bound to lose.

Dean…

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Dean pulled up outside the restaurant and leapt out. He had a nasty feeling and wasn't sure why. The tacky neon sign was only half lit and the whole place looked dingy.

Hammering on the door, he yelled out "come on, open up!"

A fat bastard with red hair yanked open the door and glared at him. "Whadya want? We're closed!"

Dean glared back. "Where's my brother? Sam Winchester?"

The guy just stared at him for a second, then, before Dean could react, slammed the door in his face. It opened again a second later.

"I sent him out on the last job." Fatso announced. "And tell ya bro that he's fired. Just gotta complaint that he hasn't even shown up yet!" He threw a piece of paper at Dean, then slammed the door shut again, grumbling about the hired help.

Dean was seething with anger. But when he glanced at the paper, he became terrified.

It stated the time the order was taken and the time the delivery went out.

Sam should have been back hours ago.

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Author's notes:

Yes it's me again, and no, I don't have a problem with motorbikes; used to be a biker chick meself! Pillion that is!

This is just me, having been on call again, and you know the kind of stuff I come out with when that happens...

Let me know what ya think...and maybe I'll continue.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.