Some Nights

Potatoes

caution: contains the spanking of a wayward father and sons.

****

The tension at the table was so thick they could've been serving up along with the noodles, and mashed potatoes Bobby had put together for dinner. Dean, for once, was being quiet. The only sound coming from the eighteen year old was his cell phone, every now and then, and Bobby would see him pull his phone out of his pocket, glance at it quickly, and then put it back without texting back. John was sitting, studying the newspaper he must've grabbed after leaving the soccer game and eating as if everything was just dandy in the world. Bobby squelched down his anger at his best friend. If John had actually tried this time, they wouldn't be in this predicament.

That brought Bobby's gaze to Sam, the man of the hour, or day as it were. Most people said teenagers were always permanently moody, but for Sam, starting high school had been a big deal for him. He was now fourteen, and his education mattered to him. It was different from Dean who likely wasn't going to graduate with the grades he had been bringing home, or even John, who tended to focus on more of the hunting aspect of things. It was clear as day to Bobby that Sam wanted a way out of the life he had been thrown into. After Mary had died, it seemed the Winchester's fate was sealed, or so maybe not. Sam had entered high school with so much vigor, immersing himself completely into his homework, and school life. Including the last soccer game of the season, which had happened earlier that day.

Dean cleared his throat, and Bobby glanced at him. The older brother was always tuned to Sam's moods. Today was no different. Dean stuffed his phone back in his pocket, despite the two text messages flashing across his phone. "Sam, you were awesome at your game today."

The youngest Winchester sat poking at his plate, his head ducked down, his brown bangs falling in his eyes as he moved his potatoes from one side of the plate to the other. It was clear he was upset, and he had a good reason. Bobby eyed John, who still hadn't looked up from his newspaper, and felt a rush of frustration that made him want to down a whole beer.

"Dude, you made the last goal!" Dean tried. When Sam didn't respond, Dean sighed heavily, and ran his hand over his short hair, glaring at their father. "Didn't he do a good job, Dad?"

Bobby set his glass heavily down on the table, trying to rectify the situation before it turned worse than it already was. Dean was only trying to help, but this was not a road that Bobby had wanted to go down. Well, not yet anyways. He had planned preferably when both of the boys were out of the house, and John had no where to be, but that was proving more and more difficult with each passing day. It was almost like John was doing everything he could to avoid his two sons. Bobby had finally had enough.

Sam still didn't speak, but his eyes went to his dad, who flipped the newspaper, and continued reading the next page. It was obvious to everyone but his father that Sam was nearing the end of his rope. For some that meant tears, and maybe punching a wall. For Sam Winchester, it wouldn't be pretty, especially if John took the bait.

"You did good, kid." Bobby spoke up, hoping to catch Sam's attention. "The last goal was especially something."

Sam didn't look like he believed either of Dean or Bobby, but he nodded all the same and shrugged. "Thanks." It was said quietly, but it had real emotion behind it.

"Man, you made it fun to watch!" Dean told him, his green eyes glinting with pride. "You were all over the field, darting like freakin' Batman and Robin, you know?" Dean grinned as a smile broke over his little brother's face. "It was awesome."

"I'm not that good, Dean." Sam sighed.

His eyes went back to his father, and once again, was crestfallen when John neither acknowledged his son, or the conversation surrounding him. It was all for the best, really. John had gone to game, yes. But instead of watching his son, he had sat, making phone calls to various hunters on different cases, checking up and gathering information. Several times Bobby had wanted to just grab the phone out of John's hand, and snap it in two, but it wouldn't have done any good.