Sam had been forced to take algebra twice because of a Dad losing his paperwork from the last school. To make it worse, his teacher was boring, droning on and on for hours and then assigning far too many practice questions. If Dean had been home, he probably would’ve dragged Sam out of school for the day and gone to the movies, but he and Dad were on a week-long hunt and wouldn’t be back until the evening.
“Sam, you got an extra pencil?”
Sam handed over the writing utensil, knowing he’d never see it again. After what felt like hours, the bell finally rang, releasing him from the horrors of algebra. Sam kept his head down, weaving through the students like a ghost; no one knew it was his birthday tomorrow. Dean had told him that since they moved so much, with hunting and all, it was best to not make attachments. Sure, Sam was lonely, but Dean was right. Better to keep to their own.
The house they were squatting in was about a 10 minute drive. Sam could jog it in about 25 minutes, 20 if he was in a hurry. Sam didn’t bother running; the faster he got back to the empty house, the sooner he would be sitting around waiting for his dad and Dean to return.
The woods were quiet. Sam walked, trying to savor the cool air. He was 13 tomorrow. That was a big birthday, for some kids. He’d heard one kid in his class talking about his parents getting him his very own television.
All Sam wanted was for his family to get back safely.
The afternoon passed slowly. Sam forced himself to finish his homework. He did a little research for Uncle Bobby, played some solitaire. The evening rolled around; Sam took to pacing in front of the window, ears straining for the sound of the Impala.
Sam finally forced himself out of the pattern, turning to survey the dark room. It was nearly midnight.
Dad had told him not to call. Sam shook his head, going for the emergency phone. They’d said 5:00pm.
“C’mon, pick up,” he muttered.
“This number has been disconnected. Please—“
Sam grit his teeth together, tossing the phone down. Dad had forgotten to pay his cell phone bill again.
Sam glanced over at the clock again. Midnight.
“Happy birthday to me,” he muttered. His eyes anxious strained through the dark night, looking for his family.
*** Sam spent the entirety of his birthday waiting for Dean and his dad to return.
They didn’t.
By the time night fell again, Sam was panicked. He called Uncle Bobby, Pastor Jim, anyone he could think of, but none of them picked up, probably off on hunts of their own. Sam didn’t even know where they’d gone for the hunt, just that it was in the mountains outside of town and they were camping out to hunt some kind of harpy.
Sam had no friends. No one to call.
“Forget it,” Sam growled. He shoved his gun into his waistband, spray paint and flashlight in his pocket. He had just enough cash to call a cab. Thankfully the guy was seedy enough not to ask any questions when Sam asked to be dropped off in the middle of nowhere.
“You gonna need a ride back, kid?”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Sam said. He looked apprehensively into the dark. “I’ll figure it out.”
Sam’s flashlight was a decent one, but not strong enough to make Sam feel like he could actually see everything. Every noise made him flinch. He’d gone on a couple hunts, but they’d mostly been a few spirits or some smaller monsters.
Filled: Empty Worlds (1/2)
“Sam, you got an extra pencil?”
Sam handed over the writing utensil, knowing he’d never see it again. After what felt like hours, the bell finally rang, releasing him from the horrors of algebra. Sam kept his head down, weaving through the students like a ghost; no one knew it was his birthday tomorrow. Dean had told him that since they moved so much, with hunting and all, it was best to not make attachments. Sure, Sam was lonely, but Dean was right. Better to keep to their own.
The house they were squatting in was about a 10 minute drive. Sam could jog it in about 25 minutes, 20 if he was in a hurry. Sam didn’t bother running; the faster he got back to the empty house, the sooner he would be sitting around waiting for his dad and Dean to return.
The woods were quiet. Sam walked, trying to savor the cool air. He was 13 tomorrow. That was a big birthday, for some kids. He’d heard one kid in his class talking about his parents getting him his very own television.
All Sam wanted was for his family to get back safely.
The afternoon passed slowly. Sam forced himself to finish his homework. He did a little research for Uncle Bobby, played some solitaire. The evening rolled around; Sam took to pacing in front of the window, ears straining for the sound of the Impala.
Sam finally forced himself out of the pattern, turning to survey the dark room. It was nearly midnight.
Dad had told him not to call. Sam shook his head, going for the emergency phone. They’d said 5:00pm.
“C’mon, pick up,” he muttered.
“This number has been disconnected. Please—“
Sam grit his teeth together, tossing the phone down. Dad had forgotten to pay his cell phone bill again.
Sam glanced over at the clock again. Midnight.
“Happy birthday to me,” he muttered. His eyes anxious strained through the dark night, looking for his family.
***
Sam spent the entirety of his birthday waiting for Dean and his dad to return.
They didn’t.
By the time night fell again, Sam was panicked. He called Uncle Bobby, Pastor Jim, anyone he could think of, but none of them picked up, probably off on hunts of their own. Sam didn’t even know where they’d gone for the hunt, just that it was in the mountains outside of town and they were camping out to hunt some kind of harpy.
Sam had no friends. No one to call.
“Forget it,” Sam growled. He shoved his gun into his waistband, spray paint and flashlight in his pocket. He had just enough cash to call a cab. Thankfully the guy was seedy enough not to ask any questions when Sam asked to be dropped off in the middle of nowhere.
“You gonna need a ride back, kid?”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Sam said. He looked apprehensively into the dark. “I’ll figure it out.”
Sam’s flashlight was a decent one, but not strong enough to make Sam feel like he could actually see everything. Every noise made him flinch. He’d gone on a couple hunts, but they’d mostly been a few spirits or some smaller monsters.
“Dean? Dad?”