His sentence faded out as the hunter's chest gradually reached a gentle rise and fall, allowing Dean to release his own long breath at the silence it brought.

For a man who went on about how much he cared for his family and would do anything to protect them – he sure could complain about the members.

Sure, when Sam first left he'd sniped and bitched just as much as his dad – hated how the kid didn't think of the danger he was exposing himself to, how apparently their family wasn't good enough for him, how his brother wasn't good enough.

But after a few weeks of excess killing and beating on their hunts, the anger had dimmed to be replaced with a sense of loss…

And after six months he just frickin' missed the kid so much he couldn't even think of stuff to complain about because he'd currently give anything to have his brother sitting in the car right now with that judgemental look, going on about how they were going to end up with alcohol poisoning one day.

The car suddenly went over a crack in the road causing his dad to jerk awake; his mouth opening at the same time as his eyes and continuing exactly where he'd left off, "Cause do you know how many times he got himself hurt cause he didn't just listen?"

He clicked on the radio; right now willing to listen to the lyrics of some cheesy late night love song rather than his dad's gruff drone.

"Then it'd mean the hospital which led to a whole load of other problems – credit cards, insurance, those damn suits from CPS…"

His head snapped up, "And worrying – nurse people stickin' us outside and not letting you in… then how you s'pose know what's happen' behind the door?"

A sharp corner caused John's body to flop forward, leaving his chin tucked on his chest in and back arched in what really didn't look like a comfortable position; not that the man noticed, he was too busy chuckling.

"Stupid white coat doctor people," He snorted, "Think they can keep a father away from his son…"

Dean spun on his heel and retraced his steps across the waiting room for what felt like the hundredth time, his gaze burning a hole into the putrid tiled floor.

If he had lifted his head he would have noticed that the area was overflowing with the Friday night buzz; drunks, stupid children with too much curiosity, elderly citizens shouting about some ache or other… it was like clichés united.

Yet it hadn't been brought to his attention since the feral waves emitting from him had left a clear path to allow his pacing habit – it seemed a lot of people would rather awkwardly share a seat with a stranger than tempt fate by getting in the way of the individual with a serial-killer vibe.

The young hunter's gaze snapped over to the reception desk when he heard his dad's voice grow in volume, but from the thin line of the nurse's mouth it was clear he hadn't made any progress in getting them into Sam's room so he retreated back to the tiles once more.

He just needed to see his brother, he needed to be there.

He should never have let him be out in that forest.

They'd finally found the nest - which had taken hours due to the fact it was basically just a shabby collection of dead tree trunks - and had surrounded it; their dad taking the back while the two brothers evenly spaced in front of the 'entrance'.

It wasn't a given that the creature would currently be inside, however they had decided on optimism so John was going to flush it out by basically just making a whole load of noise, where it would then run straight into a collection of mercury laced bullets.

Simple.

If the Winchester name wasn't cursed with ill fortunes.

Dean had almost collapsed with laughter as his dad – not a six foot, claw wielding mutant bear – had come bursting out of the nest waving his gun over his head and still wildly screaming.

"You know with that performance it may just be crouched behind a tree with a bowl of popcorn," The young man grinned, the expression simply widening at the glare he received.

"No, it probably just had a heart attack when it spotted your face," He returned, slinging the gun back over his shoulder and taking stride next to his eldest, "But whatever the case, it's not here now; we'll come back tomorrow when it's light – come on Sam, get moving."

John didn't look over to the boy as he shouted the order but on reflex Dean did.

And his heart stopped.

"Sam look out!"

His brother was slouched against a tree, gun dangling uselessly in one hand and giving no indication of noticing the looming shadow behind him with three razor claws raised in preparation to slice through his head.

At the shout his eyes flicked up but he wasn't quick enough and as he twisted around, trying to bring his weapon up the creature's hand whipped downwards, tearing across Sam's chest.

"Sam!" His little brother's cry of pain was hard to hear over his own raw shout and suddenly blood was spurting out of the monster's chest as the combined fury of the elder Winchester's was unleashed.

Dean skidded onto the ground when he reached his brother and quickly dragged him out of the path of the falling six-foot body.

He almost forgot how to breathe when his eyes took in the kid; at first glance there was a genuine fear that he was dead – the shirt was just scraps of material clinging to remain together and the blood… it – there was just so much… too much.

Dean's foot lashed out at a chair as the image resurfaced, the terror in those few seconds before he'd found his brother's pulse…

Running a hand over his mouth and forcing his expression to maintain its neutral façade he picked up the chair that had nearly flown into a man cradling his arm and set it back down, letting himself collapse onto it – really he wanted to take the damn thing and send it flying across the room, however he could already feel the eyes on him and he didn't want to give anyone an excuse to kick him out.

Although to be fair he couldn't blame them for their wariness; they'd probably been quite a sight bursting in, one man barking for help with the other holding someone who looked like they'd just been dragged out of a horror film.

Plus there was still all the dried blood covering his shirt.

Sam had been snatched away from him and bundled through a 'No Entry' door before he'd even had time to think of somehow conveying he had to go with the kid; they couldn't just leave him here waiting – he needed to help, he needed to do something.

Thirty two minutes had passed before a doctor had appeared to give them some actual news; rather than the useless speech from the receptionist about how they'd let them know when any information was relayed – would it have really been that hard to just send someone to go and put their head through Sam's door?

They were told the wounds were mostly artificial; it was only one section of a laceration across the middle of his chest that had resulted in the stream of blood and it had already been stitched up, now they were simply waiting for him to regain consciousness.

The report had seemed to ease his dad out of the rampage mode, he'd even gone as far as shaking the doctor's hand and thanking him for his help – there was no serious damage… the hunter could breathe again.

Which had unfortunately led to the man's common tactic of pushing down any fear he had experienced and covering it by finding someone to blame for the situation.

"That damn boy, he let the thing practically stroll up behind him – and his weapon! I've trained him to possess instincts ten times sharper than that mess of a defence… What am I supposed to do with him? That kind of mistake could get us all killed."

If Dean wanted to, he could have heard the shaky tone, the stutter in the words highlighting that the hunter wasn't actually berating his brother… he just needed to scrape together some form of justification for his son getting injured.

But he couldn't, not today – not with this.

So he had torn away from the wall he was leaning against with his dad and begun the pacing routine.

Because he couldn't blame Sam for his granny level reaction earlier; indeed usually he'd be right alongside the elder hunter right now – excluding the accusation of trying to get them killed – because his little brother putting himself in a near death situation… that was a no-go in his books.

However unlike their dad he knew the reasoning behind Sam's spaced-out attitude that had nearly left him as a kebab.

The kid had been suffering from nightmares for about three weeks now - and not just the mildly unpleasant kind; these were the full on waking up screaming and not knowing where you are brand.

From what they could tell it was the same one every night; however he could only remember glimpses of it and just the general feeling of terror it produced – there was no indication to what had set them off… they hadn't had a disturbing case recently, no mingling with witches for a good half a year and not even a horror movie binge that they could pin it to.

So every night Dean's eyes had snapped open to the sound of his brother whimpering, trapped in his head – at first he'd jump up each time and shake the kid awake, managing to grab the fists that instinctively flew out and restraining him until he'd got through to the kid that he was fine, nothing was happening, it was just a dream.

However as time passed Sam seemed to subconsciously gain some form of control as he stopped making enough noise to wake his elder brother; but he was still pretty freaked when he did pull himself back into the living world and would stumble out of the covers, taking refuge by sitting with his back against the side of Dean's bed – as if a replacement for when he was little and would curl up next to his brother when monsters haunted his dreams.

In truth this routine did wake the young hunter but he wouldn't let on; he knew the kid was embarrassed that he was suffering nightmares so he let him keep his privacy and deep down, a small part of him warmed at the knowledge his little brother still sought him as his comforter – even with the emo attitude, girlish hair and frankly unnatural height some things stayed the same.

Yet the issue became that after three weeks of interrupted and plagued sleep Sam was not doing well on the whole remaining alert and reasonably conscious gig; so when all the research for the hunt had finally come together and their dad announced they'd be heading out to track the thing that night Dean had demanded they inform the man of Sam's problem.

But being a Winchester the kid had refused, stating that their dad would just tell him he needed to toughen up and they were just some silly dreams… which, well it was hard to point out anything wrong with the teen's prediction.

Dammit I should have drugged him up and locked him in the room!

His fingers dug into the back of his head which was hanging between his legs; this was all his fault – he'd known the kid wasn't all together, for goodness sake seventeen or not reoccurring nightmares were not things to be shrugged off… especially when he'd been right there every night witnessing the draining effect it was having on the teenager.

He could have done something.

Should have done something.

"Look, we just want to see him for ourselves – can't you understand that!"

Dean lifted his head to the cracking rims of his dad's patience over by the reception… the other issue which was wrapping a rope around his chest – as if his mistake and Sam bleeding out wasn't enough.

In all the panic as they'd first rushed in and their youngest had suddenly been taken from them with no reassurances or explanations John hadn't been looking when he'd thrown the IDs down to blindly fill in the paperwork.

So now they were two marshals waiting to see a friend's seventeen year old who was shadowing them for work experience.

"I'm sorry sir," The nurse looked on the verge of skipping the traditional threat of having the man removed and simply just striking him across the face, "But as I have repeatedly said, unless you are family I cannot let you into the room until the patient is awake and gives permission."

And it was those words, that one stupid sentence, which was building up the need to start throwing chairs around.

Because he couldn't let Sam wake up alone in the hospital - and it wasn't due to some sappy Oprah 'He needs to know he's not alone' factor…

He was scared the kid would hurt himself.

Sam may have stopped screaming and scrambling off his bed in terror, but he was pretty sure that was more due to the fact the teen had become familiarised to the dingy room that had been their current home for the past couple of months – meaning he had probably picked a particular spot on the ceiling to seek out the second he woke up to anchor himself to reality; pulling his mind from whatever screwed up scenario he'd been trapped in.

So opening his eyes to the sight of a sharp white, unfamiliar space with strangers milling around and possible sounds of distress from other nearby patients…

Either he'd reopen his wounds trying to fight his way out or this place was going to have a couple of its nurses being admitted.

And he absolutely hated the fact he couldn't just storm through those doors right now announcing that yes he was damn family – it was his brother lying in there!

The argument brewing between his dad and the nurse was now beginning to draw attention, even from his position at the far end of the room he could hear the frustration lining her tone, "If you would just take a seat I will tell you when he's awake."

John's hands were almost bending the edge of the desk, "See that's not the answer I'm looking for – his parents are out of town, he's my responsibility; I need to check on him."

"Which if you were anything more than his colleague you could do right now," She'd thrown her professional façade out the window, "But you're not – so as I have said already, sir would you please take a seat before I call security and you end up waiting with your backside on the curb."

There were a few scattered chuckles at the fiery response but Dean's mind had frozen on a few particular words.

Anything more than.

It was desperate, it was embarrassing and mostly it was kind of weird but weighed against the image of those first few nightmares which had left Sam lashing out at nothing and putting it into an isolated hospital room setting.

He didn't really have another choice.

The chair scraped against the tile as he pushed himself up and strode to the main desk; he noticed the nurse's expression tighten as her gaze travelled over his dad's shoulder to witness the second marshal, who appeared much less stable, heading to join the argument.

Her hand itched towards the security button; because this one looked like he could suddenly pull a gun in attempt to achieve his demands.

Dean's hands echoed against the wooden surface and the nurse inwardly cursed her flinch, but she managed to maintain eye-contact… weakness was not something to start flashing around in these circumstances.

The young hunter leant forward, his voice emitting a feral growl as he tried to control the level of how desperate he was.

"Look – that's my boyfriend you've got locked in there," He snapped, "Is that relation enough for you to bleedin let me in!"

If this had been any other situation, he would have wished for a camera to capture the look on his dad's face.

Yet instead he kept his glare fixed on the nurse as her eyebrows jumped up - clearly not expecting that turn of events – and waited to see if the idea would work.

The woman's features quickly recovered and drew back her professional neutrality, silently counting to ten she began to relay the same response yet again, "That may be so sir but as you are not family –"

"It's my fault he's here," Dean interrupted, not needing to play on his acting skills for the distress lacing his tone as he weaved his story, "I'm the one who convinced his folks to let him come and trail around my new job to get some work experience – it was more just an excuse to spend time together you know – he wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me… so I just – I need to see he's okay."

He could see the signs of sympathy making an appearance but her eyes still shifted to a point on the far wall, "But I'm not allowed –"

It was the last piece; he let his emotions tip slightly over the edge so his eyes grew moist and there was a subtle hitch in his voice, "Please… I can't stand this waiting – I can't… I have to -"

"Oh hon," The nurse's hand suddenly flashed forward to clasp around his and it seemed she must be the romantic type because it looked like she could start shedding tears at any second herself, "Look at you… don't worry," Her head briefly darted around to check nobody was witnessing her sudden empathy, "Despite the policy I think I can make an exception here – as you said, you're relation enough."

Dean wasn't sure if he should be grateful that the woman had been so quick to accept the idea he was gay or offended… but when she walked around the side of the desk, refusing to release her grip and began dragging him through the 'No Entry' doors to his brother's room – he decided he could get annoyed about it at a later date.

He didn't turn to glance back at his dad, although he was sure the man was probably frozen in some form of confused shock – it wasn't every day you witnessed your son declare to be dating your other son.

Three corridors along she came to a stop outside a door with its blinds shut and her fingers briefly tightened around his palm as she pushed on the handle.

Dean didn't really know what he'd been expecting; the doctor had told them the scarring had mostly been artificial but in his panic struck mind the only image that would come forward was the bloodied carnage he'd seen disappear into the hospital.

So a breath was released at the sight of his brother looking no worse than he'd seen him before – actually with the gown covering his bandaged chest there was no indication as to why he even needed to be here.

However the nurse seemed to take his sigh of relief to mean that he was trying hard not to break down, "He's going to be fine," She soothed, gently leading him to the chair placed by the side of the bed, "He's just sleeping – you'll have him back in no time."

The young hunter managed to restrain an eye-roll and instead offered an 'I'm trying to stay strong' smile, "I know… and thank you for this – it means a lot."

Playing it like a subconscious action he then rested his hand on top of Sam's; it may be laying it on a bit thick but he knew it would probably make the woman less likely to kick him out after the designated visiting time.

"Oh," She gasped, her own hand rising to her chest, "You two are just so adorable I can't even bring myself to berate the fact he's much too young for you."

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at the response, "Trust me – if you had a conversation with him you'd find out he's actually a fifty-two year old bookworm."

The nurse shared the laugh, clearly having been fully dragged into his con, "Well that I'm looking forward to – but I'd better get back to the desk before someone notices I'm gone," She'd just reached the door when she turned back with a slight frown, "Um… is your partner going to keep hassling me? Because you realise I won't have any other option but to kick him out."

Dean held back a grin at the thought of a couple of security guards trying to man-handle his dad, "Just tell him I said Sammy's getting dramatic over some paper cuts – he should leave you alone then."

"Well let's hope, because I was really close to smacking him one," Her eyes widened, "But don't repeat that!"

He smirked, "Don't worry about it – he can just get a bit protective sometimes, I think Sam reminds him of his own kid."

She raised an eyebrow, "Well that's a trait you share; I thought you were going to leave dents in the floor with your pacing."

Dean shrugged, wondering if this woman was planning to move into the room, "Waiting isn't really my thing."

Then just as he was sure she was actually going to leave she hesitantly ran her tongue over her lips, "Um… also – are you and your partner going to be okay? I mean he didn't exactly seem to be aware of your relationship with Sam."

This conversation was getting weirder and weirder, "Oh he definitely had no idea – but it'll be fine, we've been through stuff bigger than this since we've known each other."

"Good, because I have to say I'd be backing you if he started throwing a fit over it," It seemed she was finally appeased and fortunately out of questions, "Well… I guess I'll see you later," She sighed, "And for the sake of the floor, I hope he wakes up soon." Then giving a small wave she reluctantly closed the door.

Dean kept his sappy smile until he heard the click indicating they had privacy and he quickly snatched his hand back, "Dude seriously – there is something wrong when a chick wants to hang around for a reason other than thinking she has a shot with me."

His brother gave no response.

"Some kind of boyfriend you are," He muttered, propping his legs up on the edge of the bed, "And to let you know – I now claim first bathroom rights for a month, think of all the nurses in this place I now can't get because they think I have low enough standards for a geek like you."

He slipped his pocket knife out and began spinning it around his fingers, "Not to mention the trauma I've caused dad – we might have to set him up in the psych ward," His eyes flicked to see if there was any sign of movement, but the kid was still dead to the world.

He let his head fall back so he was gazing at the weird stain marks on the ceiling… this was going to be a very boring wait.

But nonetheless he wasn't going to wake the kid up; the drugs they would have given him to help with the pain would give him some much needed dreamless sleep for a satisfying period of time and he had to be here for when they wore off.

Because maybe he couldn't work out how to stop these random night terrors; most likely he'd just have to sit them out and hope they'd disappear on their own however much he hated it.

But as usual, he could make sure he was there to clean up the aftermath.

Dean pulled in the space directly outside their room; usually he'd park in a position so their highly recognisable car didn't automatically inform everyone where they were sleeping but he wasn't in the mood to drag his dad further than needed.

The decision was further supported when the elder hunter seemed to forget about the extent of alcohol in his system and shoved open the car door.

He was on his feet for less than a second.

"For goodness sake," Dean muttered, quickly exiting his own side and jogging to his dad who was now spread face down on the parking lot, "You better hope nothing comes knocking tonight."

He didn't try to work out the slurred reply; a bit pre-occupied with the frickin' weight of the man who apparently couldn't be bothered to even mildly support himself.

Somehow managing to get the door open and manoeuvre them both inside he dropped his dad onto the nearest bed.

Sighing Dean kneaded his shoulder; he may be the model of fitness but being able to throw knock-out punches wasn't the equivalent to carrying a full grown man, plus it hadn't really healed from the hunt yet… he'd get some ice for it later.

Kicking the door he lounged over to his own bed; if he was house bound for the night he may as well catch up with some sleep.

"Hey… son."

The urge to throw something at the man was unbelievable.

"You know what'd always get on my nerves then," John's voice was muffled by his pillow but in the empty room it was clear enough, "As in – when your brother wouldn't listen and then gettin' trouble…"

Dean chucked his duffel bag on the bed and ripped the zip open; this topic was getting real tiresome, "You know what dad, I really don't care."

But the man continued, "He'd always just snipe back – like he couldn't admit he shoulda listened in the first place… that a punishment is what you get for misbehavin'."

The young hunter grabbed his toiletries and disappeared into the bathroom, making sure the door vibrated behind him.

He winced as the noise cut through his head and shifted onto his side so he was facing Dean's bed, probably thinking he was still there, "Not like you… no - Sam could never except it without whining."

John's fingers tightened around the phone, "What do you mean he's –"

A faint click snapped his attention to the door and his muscles loosened with relief even as his eyes grew darker at the sight of his sixteen year old slipping into their motel room, "Don't worry, he's here," The hunter muttered before disconnecting the call.

"Where have you been!" He immediately barked before the teen had even finished closing the door.

Sam jumped at the sudden hostility, glancing to the where his dad was looming by the window, his head tilting at the question, "The library… you were the one who said I could go remember?"

His hand slammed down onto the table, a glass sitting near the edge shaking and almost falling off, "Don't get cute with me boy – Dean just called from the library, he went to pick you up and you weren't there."

Sam adjusted the bag on his shoulder and gave a half-shrug, his tone slightly too innocent, "Well clearly I'd already left."

"Then he should have passed you as he was driving."

"Perhaps we went different routes."

"There is only one way to get to that damn building!"

The teen groaned; his voice rising to match his dad's in volume, "Maybe he just didn't see me then!"

"Where were you Sam!"

He clenched his jaw, swallowing down another remark and instead pushed past the hunter; heading to the bathroom where he could carry out a satisfying door slam and get some actual privacy behind the only place with a lock in their life.

However as his shoulder bumped into John's the man grabbed the bag that the kid had a hand clutched around the strap of and yanked it away from the boy.

"Hey!" He cried out, swinging around in an attempt to retrieve the item; but it was already securely in his dad's grip and whatever the circumstance, there was no way Sam would even think about trying to tackle it back, "That's my private property!"

It was too late though; his dad's hand was already pulling up, letting the bag fall to the floor and leaving a thick hardback book as the main object of focus.

The hunter's gaze swept over binding; it was clearly brand new, but still with an antique feel that would usually be found on first edition anniversary re-prints and made to a quality that should only be seen among their weapons … furthermore the price label was still stuck to the front – and that number did nothing to dilute his anger.

The forced calmness in his tone struck the teenager with a sliver of dread, "How do you have this Sam?"

His tongue flashed across his lip, "I – I brought it… I know you say we shouldn't indulge but –"

"That wasn't my question!" The attempt to hold down his anger failing as usual, "Where did you get the money for this kind of thing?"

"Um… savings," He replied, knowing it sounded more like a question than an off-the-hook answer.

A knife suddenly glinted in his dad's hand and Sam's eyes widened as the blade inched towards the book's spine.

"Fine! I hustled the money okay!" He snapped, his fingers twitching by his side, "Where else does it come from in this family."

"You –" John pulled in a breath of air; images of his son being beaten for scamming the wrong person, lying in his own pool of blood around the back of a bar, crying out as another fist pounded into his gut, "Do you not know anything! You are too young to go hustling – you're not even allowed in most bars dammit!"

"You know despite what you may think I'm not an idiot!" Sam threw back, the familiar nerves pulling at his dad's judgemental bite, "It wasn't like I was working the tables – just some round of poker with a few college guys."

The knife plummeted into the bedside table by John's leg, his free hand curling up and stabbing a finger at the youngest Winchester, "So help me if I even see you holding a pack of cards unless in this room again –"

"Oh so for the next week then – don't worry I'm sure I can handle that length of time!"

"Watch your mouth boy! I have no problem escorting you everywhere and anywhere!"

"I'm sixteen dad!"

"Then learn to act it!"

"I did!" He screamed, his eyes started to blind him with wet rage, "That's what the damn hustling was!"

Amiss the noise neither had noticed the arrival of the final family member; however he didn't go unnoticed for long.

"Hey!" Dean's firm tone cut in, the volume naturally attuned to be able to win dominance due to the hundreds of identical situations he walked in on over the years, "What's going on?"

Both heads turned to the new arrival but it was John who was straight to answer, "Your brother has taken it upon himself to start hustling!" He spat, flinging the book which had caused the trouble at his eldest, "For that thing!"

Sam's breath hitched as his new possession sped across the room; but Dean caught it with a hunter's precision, placing his palm on the cover and skimming the golden coloured title with his fingers.

Seconds of silence passed, then the young man's gaze lifted to meet his brother's, "Is that true?"

Unlike his dad, whose eyes were just anger and rage – Deans were disappointment… his sent a ball of guilt down Sam's chest and made him drop his head to hide behind his fringe.

"I didn't mean to –"

"Don't."

And he shut his mouth.

The twenty year old ran a hand over his mouth, suddenly looking twice his age; his head turned towards his dad, whose left hand was still curled into a fist from the fear of how his youngest could have been injured that night and when the man locked his eye-line Dean could see the loss in what to do behind everything else.

Because his father may know a lot, but successfully getting through to Sammy was not one of those things – however the hunter didn't need to know that.

"What's his punishment?" Dean asked.

John's brow briefly lowered at the question, as if he had forgotten that there was more to do than simply shout at his son for his actions, "Grounded," He replied, his voice gruff from the argument, "Three weeks – and an hour of that school stuff switched for training in that time."

Dean could sense the whine rising in his little brother's throat but he had the sense to not let it out.

"Okay," He nodded.

"Okay," His dad mimicked, reaching down to pull his knife out of the table and replace it in his waist band; then just as expected, he sent a few glances between his sons, ran a hand through his hair and finished it off with a muttered, "I'm going to go grab a drink."

Dean stepped back; his body blocking his brother's as the hunter passed them by without another look and quickly disappeared from the room, the door clicking in place behind him.

It was an acquired routine; taking control of the situation whilst leaving his dad feeling in charge – not that he meant to manipulate the man – it just made it all easier for everyone.

Although at this precise moment… not for his baby brother.

Sam had retreated to the bed the second the door had closed, taking his traditional position of legs crossed and gaze latched onto the far wall because he knew what came next.

"Dean –"

"I'm well aware you're not an idiot," His hard tone interrupted as he took a couple of small steps that placed him by the side of the bed; arms folded and jaw clenched, "You know the risks of hustling."

Sam sighed, "Yeah but –"

"You know that even when I go to find a game I tell you or dad so someone will come looking if I end up bleeding in an alley."

He rolled his eyes, "I –"

"And you know that if you wanted your own copy of the books you study in school because the hand-me-downs they provide have chicken scrawl all over them you should have come to me and I would have got the money."

This halted the next whine tickling the teens throat and the corner of his mouth pulled upwards; because when his dad had seen the book, of course he'd been furious and technically Sam could understand that he had the right to be since he had put himself in a potentially dangerous situation – but what had grated his nerves was more the fact that he clearly had no idea why his son had gone to such lengths for a book.

Yet his older brother just had to read the title to understand why he'd gone hustling.

So Sam swallowed his desire to make a snarky remark and start another rant because that's just what he felt like doing – and instead drew his gaze up with a layer of sincerity, "Yeah… I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

Dean released a long breath through his nose, still annoyed at the idiot but not being able to maintain the intense level of anger.

He whacked him over his head with the damn book and chucked it in his lap.

Well… now he was no longer angry.

"Dude!" Sam yelled, picking up the book and running a hand over the spine, "Don't take it out on the literature."

"You know, sometimes I think that a stuffy librarian must have left you on our doorstep as a baby," The young man replied, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer, "But then I remember seeing the paperwork in a hospital that confirmed unfortunately we are related."

"At least if I was adopted it would explain why I have looks and brains whilst you're just there stewing in bad music taste," The kid smirked, dodging the bottle cap that flew at his head.

"Whatever Beethoven," Dean scoffed as he leapt onto the adjacent bed, "Because these next three weeks of your house arrest are going to introduce you to the rock classics."

Sam's grin melted into a scowl at the reminder, "Do I really have to take dad's punishment?"

"You commit the crime, you do the time little brother," He quipped, "Besides – apart from school it's not like you leave the room anyway."

"But he said I get an hour less for my homework each night and I have important assignments –"

"Sam." The young hunter cut through with a tone of warning, he may have let his brother's actions slide but that didn't mean he was going to allow the kid to whine for getting a deserved reprimand.

A sharp huff was his response and the teen glared at him, but where with their dad he would have started up another round of 'I hate you, life's so unfair' in his too often heard petulant tone, he instead grabbed his new book and turned to the first page.

Dean rolled his eyes, only Sam would be able to sulkily read; even the way his eyes scanned the words somehow screamed 'I hate my life'.

The kid would just have to get over it, this was just how stuff happened in their family; leaning over he grabbed the remote off the side table and began flicking through the limited channels – trying to ignore his brother's silence.

Which was near damn impossible when he could practically feel those mournful eyes glancing at him every few minutes; as if accusing him of not fixing his problem despite the fact he should never have gone hustling on his own.

Half an episode of friends passed when Dean gritted his teeth and reluctantly muttered, "Look, if you have homework that's absolutely necessary I'll take you to the library when you should be doing extra training to work on your 'Latin'."

He didn't take his eyes off the screen but he could hear the gratitude in his brother's voice, "Thanks Dean."

"Yeah whatever," He grumbled, kicking his shoes off as the channel's voice over informed him next they were showing Godzilla and settling deeper into the mattress.

He never had got the knack for the my-word-is-law discipline.

Dean twisted his head to get a look at the back of his shoulder in the mirror, there was already some purpling colouring but it wasn't going to do any more than leave an impressive bruise; hardly worth thinking about.

He pulled on his night shirt and threw the towel onto the radiator; he hadn't heard any movement from the main room for over ten minutes so he was hoping his dad had finally succumbed to the knock-out stage of drunkenness.

On leaving the bathroom he was greatly disappointed.

"Dad I told you to leave it for the night!" He barked, snatching the hip flask out of the man's hand.

John made a weak attempt to re-claim his drink but it only caused him to topple forwards and land on the space between the beds, "Giv' it back."

Dean didn't move to help the hunter up this time, "Not being able to stand equals not being able to drink."

He grasped the edge of the covers and managed to half drag himself up, but as the sheets began to slip taking him with them his features hardened and he growled when he hit the floor once more.

"Dam't Sam would ya just do as your damn well told!"

Dean groaned and pressed the sole of his palms against his eyes; the guy was frickin' wasted, "I'm not Sam."

But as expected the declaration didn't make a difference.

"Y'know how much I do for you boy?" The hunter grunted, slouching against the bed with the fallen covers draped across his back, "Everythin' I do – all I done and you just think you can bust off to college! I gave up lots of stuff so you could do your school stuff… hunts which coulda saved lives gone amiss cause you demanded doin' some project thing..."

His head fell back and his words became more mumbled, "Damn sacrifices I made…"

Stepping out of the Impala Dean could feel the attention in the parking lot sway in his direction and he smirked at the nearest group of girls, throwing them a wink because the red flush that would suddenly sweep over their faces always amused him.

In a city like Corunna with just over 3000 people, being a new face in the regions high school got you a fair amount of looks - but being the fine specimen that he was and arriving in said school…

A pretty brunette brushed against him with a following glance over her shoulder.

Let's just say it had its perks.

Turning his head he resisted rolling his eyes at the polar opposite scene of his little brother's own entrance; the kid managed to stumble over his foot as he climbed out of the car, his gaze flicking over the parking lot from behind his hair as he recovered and shuffled around the vehicle – shoulders stooped and hands in his pockets.

"Need some help there Sammy?" He smirked, "If you want I could get you a ramp for getting out of the car."

The fourteen year old glared at the remark; ducking out of reach from the hand that moved to ruffle his hair and stalking off into towards the building without a word or look at his brother.

Dean frowned at yet another lack of farewell, the same as it had been the past four weeks, "Oh yeah thanks," He shouted to the retreating figure as he raised his hand, "I'll have a great day, nice of you to ask – hope yours is good too, try not to fall down any stairs."

But still no response; it was peculiar, because of their age difference they weren't often in the same school, apart from when they went to towns that had those seventh – twelfth grade places and when they were Sam was usually beaming, chatting to him in the corridors, enjoying having his big brother there.

However within the month they'd been at this place his only sightings of the kid had been on the ride there and back.

His gaze lingered on the spot his brother had just disappeared through the main door, maybe he'd find him later and just do a check – although really it was probably just his hormones kicking in… kid turns fourteen and suddenly it's not cool to have any relatives in near proximity.

Even when that relative is the Dean Winchester.

Sighing he locked the car and shrugged his jacket on, making his own way towards the building with his lips turning upwards as he spotted the one reason for actually tolerating this school.

"Morning baby," He muttered, letting some of his Texan drawl slip in as he slid his hands around the petite waist, his mouth stroking the tip of the earlobe.

Her body naturally relaxed into the hold as she heard the accompanying voice and he could hear the smile in her tone, "Now you realise I have a boyfriend."

Dean spun her to face him, her arms rising to lay either side of his neck, "Well then it seems I may have to fill in – seeing as he's clearly left you here on your own."

"And what makes you think you're a suitable candidate?" She replied, her hazel eyes lit with humour and just that hint of daring.

His tone lowered a fraction, "I'm pretty sure this will," And his lips lowered to meet hers, smiling into the kiss as she responded and her arms tightened around his neck, body pulling closer to his.

However she was the first to pull away and took a step back, one eyebrow raised and a look of pity on her expression, "Well although nice I'm afraid you don't make the cut – seems I'm going to have to go find some more participants."

Ending with a little shrug she turned to walk away but burst into laughter at the responding growl as the familiar arm re-tucked itself around her waist and she leant up to give him another peck before leading them both through the side door.

Natalie Jearson.

Sauntering in late to his first class on his first day, he'd slipped into the only free seat when a whisper had interrupted his preparation to continue the sleep he'd just had to abandon, "You should have given yourself another twenty minutes pretty boy – you forgot to add the eyeliner."

Now he'd had a girl in most schools, well every school he ended up at – and they were all lovely; each one with different styles: sporty, clever, daddy's girl, snarky, dangerous… or borderline psychotic, but after nearly getting knifed in a rather sensitive area he'd learnt not to go down that route again.

However Nat was just it all bundled into a single package and Dean couldn't help but be frustratingly charmed; surprising himself when he didn't give his usual puppy-eyed 'I'm not ready for a serious relationship' speech when she's causally thrown the word boyfriend into conversation after the first week.

Furthermore he'd actually been in school every single day; now eighteen he hardly saw the point in this last year so he would usually just come when he was bored of hanging around whatever dump they were occupying and leave the rest of the time.

Yet it was as if he was… anticipant for the beginning of school each morning he woke up.

It was a weird sensation.

"Double Lit' first thing," Natalie groaned, leaning her head onto his shoulder, "Remind me why I chose it again."

"Because you enjoy berating me with Shakespearean quotes."

Her expression lit up, "Oh yeah that's it!" Smirking she lifted her gaze, "Not that you don't come back at me with your hidden Latin talents."

He raised an eyebrow, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Laughing she rolled her eyes, glancing to the clock as the shrill ring of the bell sounded, "Well that's my cue to go and join the sixteenth century," Petting his arm she hurried down the corridor, "Try not to snore."

"I do no such thing!" He called after her, throwing her the finger when she spun around to mimic a gaping open mouth and stuttering gurgle before disappearing around the corner.

To be fair he only drifted off for half an hour in one of his three morning lessons; and that had been on something to do with plants - or badgers – besides it was now lunch and knowing Nat would be hanging around her lesson asking extra questions or perfecting her work he planned to use some time searching for his little brother.

He wasn't entirely sure where the kid's hang out points were in the building but it was easy enough to make a guess.

Heading past the crowds of students filling the tables on the outside food court it wasn't hard to spot the familiar mop of hair placed among a group of stereotypically designed smart kids – which always brought a smirk to his lips since although his brother was definitely a geek he always looked ridiculously out of place when sitting among the kids he usually made friends with.

He saw one of the eighth graders heads snap up and their eyes widen at the sight of a senior approaching their table and quickly there was a lot of elbow prodding and whispering until all but his brother were staring at him with a mixture of awe and fear.

"Hey guys," He grinned, standing over the table whilst attempting to not seem like he was looming, "How's the day been so far?"

The response was just a few silent glances between the group.

As if words had actually been spoken he nodded in interest, "Sounds good – well I don't want to intrude for long," Dean's hands fell on his brother's shoulders, "I just need to borrow this kid who's currently pretending I don't exist for a second."

The boy directly opposite Sam shuffled at the request, clearly worried that he was just a senior who was planning to pull some kind of cruel prank on his friend and the young man decided he liked this kid when he opened his mouth in defence, "Um – actually we're kinda busy –"

"It's fine, he's my brother," Sam suddenly cut in, grabbing his bag with one hand and swinging his legs off the bench to walk over to the trees a few metres away, ignoring the scurried discussion that broke out over the information that someone like Dean was their friend's older brother.

"Woah, wait up there –"

"What do you want Dean?" He snapped, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and resting against one of the trees.

He raised his hands at the sharp tone, "Hey, I can't just pop round to annoy my kid brother?"

"Well you haven't for the past four weeks."

The juvenile edge to his approach lowered at that quick remark and he let his hands fall to his sides, taking a step forward, "It's not like we're normally the Olsen twins at school," His voice softened, "Is something wrong Sam?"

"No, nothing – it's just annoying you suddenly coming and forcing yourself onto my friends, now all they're going to ask is what you're like."

"As they should," He automatically quipped, however the kid's downcast face and his refusal to make eye contact didn't fully correlate with his statement of simply not wanting big brother stealing his thunder.

"Yeah whatever," Sam mumbled, "Look I was kind of in the middle of something so I'll see you later."

He dodged past Dean as if there was a car gunning for him but the young hunter was quicker and grabbed his arm, swinging him back around, "Not so fast, first you're telling me what's crawled up your backside."

"Dude nothing!" He huffed, attempting to shake the grip, "For goodness sake does everything somehow have to relate to your fix it complex!"

Normally he would have given the kid a scuff over the head for the comment but Sam lashing out only confirmed he was hiding something.

Dean grabbed his little brother's chin, tilting it to force him to make eye contact and he let his specially stored mixed tone of authority and care flow out, "Sammy, tell me what's wrong."

This was where the rest of the conversations route fell on the kid; when he was little all he had to do was use that voice and he'd tell him everything, but now in the years of adolescence it was halfway between caving or just digging into a deeper tantrum.

Fortunately it seemed today was going to be one of the easier discussions as he saw the teenagers shoulders slump and his puppy eyes glass over, "I don't want to –"

"Dean!"

Natalie paused at the sight she walked in on and her eyes widened, "Oh I'm sorry I didn't realise –"

"See you later," Sam muttered, hitting his brother's hand away and making a bee-line back to his table.

He mentally cursed, there was definitely something bothering that boy and he'd just lost his opening, "Sammy wait…"

But the kid had already grabbed the rest of his lunch and disappeared into the throngs of the student body.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair when he felt a light pressure on his back and turned to let the hand fall onto Natalie's shoulder; reminding himself it wasn't her fault she had inopportune timing.

"Sorry," She repeated as her own eyes tries to gauge where the teenager had gone, "Is he okay?"

Covering up the start of his growing worry he plastered on a care-free smile, slipping his arm down to hold her waist, "Yeah – I think he's just having a bad day, he can be a right pre-Madonna when he wants to be."

Her mouth quirked at the reply but there was still a slight crease in her brow as she looked up at him, "It's not me is it?"

Dean's eyes widened at the question and he chuckled, shaking his head and pulling her in a bit closer, "You? For goodness sake you gave him homemade cookies and let him use your wide screen TV to watch his dull historical documentary – trust me you're currently right up there on his list of favourite people."

He could remember the shock hidden under the excitement on the kid's face when Natalie had been in the kitchen with a ready plate of chocolate cookies still warm from the oven; it had been three days after they'd arrived – she'd invited him over and since their dad was out of town he'd had no choice but to bring Sam along.

She'd been perfectly happy about it though; given Sam more than enough attention, listening to his latest homework challenges, asking how he was finding the new school, then made sure he wasn't bored and knew where everything was and how he was welcome to have anything he wanted.

To be honest it had taken most of Dean's charm to actually drag her away from his little brother so they could enjoy their own activities.

No, the kid had loved that evening, for once fully approving of his big brother's choice of women… he'd even given him a talk about how he had better not 'throw her to the curb' like he apparently did with all his other girls – which he resented strongly, he treated every girl with respect; it wasn't his fault if they didn't remember his terms of a non-serious relationship.

Actually, in hindsight that had probably been the last time he'd seen Sam as his normal self since they moved here.

"Hmm, so is it an exclusive list?" She asked as her features smoothed back out.

"Well I think I may be the only other occupier, however there will be a large gap between are names."

She smirked, her hand sliding down to interlink with his as they made their way around the side of the building; it was a more secluded route to the cafeteria, "Oh really?"

"Yeah," He shrugged, "But don't stress yourself over it, when compared to me in any area of life everyone falls short."

Natalie laughed, tilting her head back and raising her eyebrows, "Wow – and here I thought you couldn't get any more egotistical."

"Baby," He drawled as he came to a stop outside the cafeteria door, turning so he was facing her head-on, "It's a natural born talent."

Then snagging the bag off her shoulder he chucked it across the grass and sped into the hall, knowing he was going to nab the last slice of pie that he'd seen was on the menu today.

"You ass!" She screeched, although there was only humour behind it and she was quick to run to grab her possession before sprinting after Dean to tackle him over the last pudding – more for the satisfaction of eating his pie than because she wanted the slice.

They stayed in the lunch hall for most of the time; being summoned to a table with a collection of Natalie's friends which quickly expanded into a substantially larger group when people noticed Dean was there.

It was when they only had twenty minutes of lunch left that Dean squeezed her hip with the hand that had remained around her waist, giving a purposeful nod outside when she turned to look at him which prompted her to excuse them because they had some work to do.

He guessed 'work' was one definition for the kind of things he was thinking.

However on getting outside and stumbling into a nice intimate spot, with one hand splayed over her lower back and the other caressing the edge of her cheek as she leaned up his head suddenly snapped to the side as his ears tuned into a sound he was quite accustomed to.

"Oh is the poor baby going to cry now – go and run back to his mommy who doesn't give a damn?"

Natalie had frowned at his retreat, looking for whatever had grabbed his attention, "Dean? What's wrong?"

But he ignored her and quickly followed the sound of something he hated just as much as the monsters they hunted… bullies.

Yet he paused as he stepped around the corner of the bike shed, his mouth slightly gaping as his gaze flicked down to Natalie who had followed him, "Isn't that your brother?"

"I've warned him before," She cursed as she partially jogged over to the incident and with an iron grip pulled away her seventeen year old sibling from the freshman he'd been in the face of and hauling him to a spot where they were out of ear range.

Dean could feel his protective anger bubbling as he saw the tears that the kid who couldn't be more than Sam's age hastily wiped away; he took a step to go and check on him but the boy swept his things off the floor and ran into the building before he could call after him.

His head still couldn't adjust to the situation – how could someone related to Natalie even think about tormenting another person, especially a defenceless kid.

Looking over to the Jearson children he tried to think of how he'd react if he saw Sam treating someone like that; although he wasn't a hundred percent certain he knew it would definitely involve more physical treatment that the simple verbal reprimand Nat was giving her brother – she hadn't even done as much as cuff him over the head.

Also there had been the muttered implication that this wasn't the first time she'd arrived at this kind of scene… did this family even know the meaning of discipline?

Dean began to approach them as the douche kicked the floor again before making off to the front yard, his shoulder shoving into his sister as he stormed by; the young hunter's stride was all set to reach the teen and teach him something about manners when a set of fingers curled around his bicep.

His eyes flicked to the grip but quickly reverted to their owner with a stab of disbelief, "You seriously can't be asking me to not deal with that punk."

"Yes I can because he's not a punk, he's my brother!" She hissed, her nails slightly digging through his jacket, "So that means it's none of your business how I handle him."

"Nat he was beating on a kid!"

"No he wasn't! You really think I'd just give him a talking to if he'd ever actually injured someone?" Her voice rose and she pushed his arm away, spinning around to send a firm kick at the bike shed, "You don't know anything."

Dean placed a hand on the wall above her head, "I know that I could easily stop his bullying with just a ten minute conversation."

Natalie's head snapped up, their faces mere inches apart meaning he could see the feral rage in her eyes, "You touch him and I will never speak to you again."

He was partially taken back by the conviction in her tone, being protective of siblings he got – but defending their bullying of others…

"Look Nat," He relented, letting his body language relax, "You got to give me something more than the lioness act because otherwise all I'm seeing is you condoning the torment of children."

As he planned she flinched at his words, tearing her gaze away and bringing a clenched hand up to her mouth; he almost missed the words as with a cracked voice she mumbled, "I – I can't…"

Placing a hand on her cheek he slowly moved his head to come parallel to hers, "Hey," He whispered, "You can trust me."

Her voice mimicked his volume, "Nobody outside our family knows."

He didn't give a response, simply held her gaze as she seemingly searched for something within his expression; apparently she found it because next she took a calming breath and stepped out from under his arm, sliding down to take a seat against the shed.

Silently he sat beside her, waiting for her to start talking.

"Zac wasn't always like this," She began, eyes fixed to the trees opposite them, "He was a really sweet kid; polite, charming, always a good thing to say about someone."

Her head fell back against the wall, "But then about two years ago these kids starting picking on him at school – I mean we only found out this after everything happened, I didn't know at the time – but they'd wait for him at lunch, taunt him, ridicule him…"

She chocked on the end of the sentence but coughed and quickly regained herself, "Anyway it never escalated into beatings… but they'd threatened him. That's why we never knew about it – apparently one of the kids had a knife he'd drag across Zac's neck, with a promise that if he ever spoke a word then the next time it would draw blood… to be honest I think the only reason they didn't beat him is because they knew he wouldn't be able to hide the bruises. But he was terrified – and it's not surprising, I mean I never told him but I found a notebook where he'd scribbled down all the things they said they'd do to him if he talked… I don't know if he did that to keep some kind of evidence or just to remind himself why he shouldn't tell us he was being bullied."

"So that's why we moved here," She finished, finally looking up to him, "And that's why I can't stop myself from understanding why Zac is lashing out like this – and why I can't threaten him over his actions."

The last part sounded as much of an admittance as it did a plea; as if she needed someone to tell her it was acceptable to not go all warrior princess on her brother, to say they understood her point of view.

But truthfully Dean couldn't verbalise the kind of answer she wanted, so instead he lightly placed an arm around her shoulder and pulled her down to rest her head against him; allowing her to interpret the action however she wished.

Because of course that sucked for her brother, nobody deserved to be treated like that and have to live in fear everyday – yet in his mind he didn't think that justified taking out personal pain on people who haven't done anything.

Taking revenge on those who had hurt you, sure, that he was totally down for - but little kids…

However he could see the guilt Natalie was dragging herself through and knew that this was her way of trying to make up for the fact she hadn't helped her brother when he needed it – despite the fact that was by no means her fault.

"So can you just let me handle Zac's actions," She whispered, not moving her head to look at him.

Dean also kept his hard gaze firmly forward as he replied, "Sure."

The next few days were basically a polar effect of emotions; because of their little heart to heart he and Nat were even closer and he was loving it, he'd never had this kind of relationship with a girl before and most of all never felt so at ease.

However there was the issue of the few times he'd turn a corridor and see Zac tearing into another kid; and the sickening twist in his stomach as he would turn away and fetch a teacher to break it up rather than deal with it himself.

Because having plenty of experience with school authorities he knew that a teacher dealing with an incident wasn't going to prevent the seventeen year old from finding another victim the next time he was in a bad mood.

Furthermore Sam was growing increasingly distant; now he'd expanded from not talking to him at school to practically ignoring him at home – and none of his usual tricks were working… even the double chocolate sundae pudding scheme.

So that was why when on the Friday afternoon before his last lesson when he strolled around the corner to the sight of a circle of people and the familiar jeering tone of his girlfriend's brother he spun on his heel to continue past the corridor.

That was until without permission his eyes flicked back and his feet froze as he saw the kid Zac had one hand on to stop from walking away whilst his expression was twisted into a dark grin.

Because that wasn't just any fourteen year old.

That was his fourteen year old.

His legs were on automatic as he strode down the hall, yet although he could feel his protective instinct flaring a small mantra in the back of his head was still managing to get through.

Nat will hate you if you hurt him, Nat will hate you if you hurt him.

Sam's head was tilted to the side, his gaze latched to the floor – it was a technique he often used when someone was annoying him but not necessarily upsetting him; because unlike his older brother he didn't believe in throwing the first punch so would often just let his opponent spit a load of words at him until he got bored and went away.

But that didn't mean Dean accepted anybody saying anything to the kid, upsetting or not.

Nat will hate you if you hurt him, Nat will hate you if you hurt him.

Yet his jaw clicked as he got slightly nearer.

Because now he could see the water lacing his little brother's eyes and although he had no idea why Sam hadn't just thrown back one of his witty remarks or at least stood up for himself in some way, which he knew the teen was perfectly capable of, it wasn't his priority at the moment.

It was the fact that this punk was setting his brother on the verge of tears.

Nat will hate you if you hurt him, Nat will hate you if you hurt him.

So as he began to push his way through the crowd, who he would beat up later for standing around and watching his brother get tormented, he told himself he was just going to take Zac to the side, ring Natalie and let her come over to sort it out.

And as he was about to move the last person out of the way, still set on restraining his desire to use the teen as a punching bag, he saw something that made him snap.

The kid who could stand up to ghosts, knew how to handle a gun and could easily leave a few serious bruises on this guy who was twice his height – a tear leaked out from his eye and trickled down his cheek.

Nat will hate –

Screw it.

His hand latched onto the hood of the teen's jacket and he could feel the vibrations shoot up his arm as he swung him around and slammed him into the opposite lockers; ignoring the gasps from the crowd and objecting shout of Sam's voice.

"Were you saying something Zac?" He growled; the hand that wasn't scrunched into the guy's shirt tightening by his side.

His eyes had widened at the sudden attack and momentarily flicked to the hands holding him, however that alone didn't stop him from opening his mouth, a sneer still present in his tone, "Yeah actually - we were just discussing how since I've never seen any family but you around little Sammy's mommy and daddy must hate him," His face leant forward as his lip twisted upwards, "Probably wishing he was dead so just chucked him for you to have to deal with…"

Dean's eyes flashed with a fire that even someone who physically hurt his brother would not see; the knuckles clasping the teen's shirt turning white.

Because four months ago Sam had accidently found out that their mom had died in his room, that it was because she'd been checking on him that she had been killed and since then there had been many nights he'd had to hold his baby brother – kicking out his stupid thoughts that everything would be fine if it wasn't for him.

That even though he'd nod and tell Dean he understood nothing was his fault; when that one night that came every year passed by six weeks later and as usual their dad had got stone drunk he saw a flash of stricken guilt on the kid's face.

Then later when the man had passed out, Dean had smashed a mirror because those young brown eyes had looked at him with a chilling dullness and he could have sworn he read a willingness to die in that gaze, wishing he could be gone and their mom there instead.

So the fact that this punk's strung together insult happened to hit that one spot Sammy feared was true, meant that it had just given him justification for murder – however the teenager didn't distinguish this, because if he had, there was definitely no chance he would have continued his sentence.

"… So I asked if he thought you preferred that he'd never been born as well."

The responding action was carried out before Zac could draw a breath.

Dean grabbed the guy's arm, twisting it behind his back to release a cry of pain then kicked his shins, beginning his fall to the ground which the hunter assisted by shoving his knee on the teen's back causing him to hit the tiles with a crack.

One hand clutching his wrist in a grip which would break the arm if he tried to move, the other squeezing the back of neck whilst his knee kept the guy pinned to the ground; Dean leant down so his mouth was inches away from his ear, meaning only he could hear his next words.

"If I ever see you looking, talking or even walking a few metres near my brother again – not being born will feel like a blessing to you."

Zac's breathing was becoming more scratched as his grip on his neck kept subconsciously tightening and some distant part of him was aware of the people screaming around him.

Then suddenly there was a hand on his arm and a voice soothingly prompting him out of his blind rage, "Dean he's had enough, come on man it's over – I'm fine, it's okay I'm alright."

Those words dragged him back to his surroundings and he quickly retracted his hand; the realisation of how far he'd gone, the expressions of fear on the faces of the surrounding students, the tears streaming out of the guy underneath him.

Sam placed a hand under his elbow and he let him help him to his feet; knowing that if he turned his gaze to his brother there wouldn't be any fear there.

However it was at that moment that he turned his head that his heart stopped as his eyes latched onto a pair that held nothing but distain.

He wasn't sure at what point Natalie had arrived but it was clear she had seen enough; the betrayal on her face tore through him and he tried to think of anything he could say to fix it, to bring back the laughter and joy that he had become accustomed to seeing directed at him.

Yet he could feel the hand that was still clutched to his elbow shaking; indicating that Sam was still running Zac's taunts through his head - that he was still on the verge of breaking down.

So placing an arm around the kid's shoulder he forced himself to break the gaze, turning his back on Natalie and not sparing her another glance as he directed his little brother through the crowds, out of the doors and over to the Impala.

It was actually Sam who made the first comment.

"You shouldn't have done that Dean."

And he hadn't expected it to be that.

"Excuse me?" He gaped, sliding his arm off the teen because right now he wasn't in the mood for one of Sam's rants, "I don't think you understand the concept of the damsel in distress being thankful to her knight in shining armour."

"I had it under control!"

"Oh sure, standing there taking abuse – great control Sammy," He placed a hand on the roof of the car, giving himself an anchor but quickly spun back around, "Which leads me to my first point – why didn't you just sock the guy one!"

There was a blink of a falter at the question but it was barely there, instead replaced with a biting tone, "What does it matter now!"

But Dean noticed; could see his brother was trying to hide something from him – most likely the same thing that had been bothering him there whole time in this town.

Yet he also knew since he'd spent around three weeks trying to get him to spill and it hadn't worked, he was just going to have to read the answer from the kid's face.

Stepping forward he put a hand on either shoulder and knelt down so they were at eye level, then pushing everything else that was raging around his head he focused on his brother.

"Has Zac done this to you before?"

His throat minutely moved as he swallowed.

Yes.

"Was it from the first day we arrived?"

His lips tightened.

Yes.

But the kid hadn't told him anything, of course it's not like he discussed every clash he had with a fellow student, but ones with people three years his senior; they were trained not to go into situations above their league without back-up.

Dean cast his mind back to when Sam's withdrawing behaviour had started.

"So it was straight away but you didn't start turning all emo until later… wait it was after Natalie – that day we spent at her place you suddenly became edgy afterwards; is it because you saw Zac there?"

He began to retract his gaze and Dean knew he'd found the answer.

"Sammy – was your silence to do with me and Nat?"

A growl escaped the kid's mouth and he smacked his brother's hands away, storming a few steps back before throwing his hands in the air, frustration dripping from his voice, "Fine! Yes okay! Zac chose the new kid as an outlet and at first I was like whatever because he was just another douche, but then when it got annoying I was going to tell you but then we went to Natalie's and I found out he was her brother but you looked so happy and I didn't want to go and throw a bomb in the works!"

It seemed he was forgetting he needed to breath, "Then I thought, it doesn't matter I can handle a taunting routine once a day but then he – he started saying these things… and I wanted – I couldn't – but you were so care-free and I haven't seen you like that ever – I mean you were excited to go to school! And I knew it was because of Natalie so I kept quiet – I thought maybe he'd just get bored."

"But he didn't!" The kid was brimming on the edge, his voice getting more hysterical, "He said – he implied… and I know because he's right – and it is my fault – and sometimes I know you and dad would be happier if you had mom instead of me and –"

Dean grabbed him before he could say anything else; his arms tightening around the small frame as his chin rested on the mop of hair, gritting his teeth as he felt his shirt dampen – hating that he'd ever let Sam look through their dad's journal where he'd found the scrawl about that night.

"Now you listen to me you idiot," His hard tone thick with emotion, "Don't you ever think that you are replaceable – that either me or dad would switch you for mom, because that is not true, it is not true by even a fraction. That punk doesn't know anything about our family – he's just a hurt little boy who would rather beat on others than dealing with his own mess."

Easing his brother slightly away so he could look up at him he continued, "And before this goes on too long and we start braiding each other's hair you better get it damn straight in your head that if something's wrong – I don't care if telling me is going start the apocalypse – if something is wrong you tell me!"

Sam snorted at his brother's typical attempt to hide the fact he had feelings and although the past three weeks had still sucked and the collection of 'conversations' he'd had with Zac would hang over his head for some time to come; he grinned and quickly wiped the back of his hand over his eyes, "Jerk."

Like any good sibling he pointedly ignored the wet tracks on the kid's cheeks; just as his brother wasn't mentioning that his eyes may or may not be slightly moist.

"Well," Dean smirked, naturally falling back into his easy-going demeanour, "Now that the therapy sessions over what do you say we ditch this joint and grab some pizza?"

"Wow a rescue and then dinner – you really know how to treat a girl," He jibed, ducking to escape the arm that went to swing around his neck and running to jump in the passenger side of the car.

"Don't think that means I'm letting you choose the film though," Sliding behind the wheel, "I ain't sitting through some weird nature thing after that last one about the jellyfish."

"It had useful information Dean!"

"There were people peeing on each other – now that might be the kinda thing you go for but…" He laughed as he was swatted with a textbook.

Rolling his eyes the teen retracted to his own seat and leant his head against the window as he felt the comforting purr of the engine travel through the glass.

Slipping his hand back on the wheel Dean's eyes flicked to his wing mirror… and a lump lodged in his throat at the sight of Natalie striding towards the car; her expression a mixture of anger and something that could have been bordering a plea.

His fingers tensed as she got closer; he could get out right now, go to her, see if she could forgive him – maybe she'd spoken to some people who heard the stuff Zac was saying to his brother, maybe despite his betrayal of her trust in her family's secret she would understand why he'd reacted – that it was time she did let someone else deal with the guy and get some more professional help.

"You do realise we're technically skipping school?" Sam muttered; his gaze still in the opposite direction so he couldn't see their oncoming visitor.

But Dean also knew he couldn't let his little brother come back to this building, make him have to walk the corridors knowing Zac was still there because underneath the comment he could hear the kid's relief that he didn't have to go back inside – and the geek never approved of missing lessons.

So he'd ring them up, tell them Sam's transferring and then either do some home schooling or drive to the next town everyday if he insisted on going to an actual institute.

Therefore even though Nat was only a few steps away, he put his foot down and pulled the car out of the parking lot… leaving a girl he probably could have loved as a shrinking figure in the rear view mirror.

"Damn sacrifices I made…"

Dean's jaw clenched and he interlocked his fingers around the nape of his neck; he couldn't keep listening to this.

With four strides he'd scooped up the car keys from the kitchen table, the temperature outside was reasonable enough for him to sleep in the Impala for the night.

Despite his current minimal tie to reality John noticed the sudden movement and managed to twist his head around, "Wh're you goin?"

Dean didn't pause, "To crash in the car."

"What?" The hunter clutched onto the bed and somehow propelled himself onto two highly unstable feet, "So you're jus' leavin as well!"

His knuckles clicked around the door handle; apparently the man was once again able to distinguish which son he was talking to, "No… I said I'm going to go and sleep in the car."

"Well - good! Don't need you gettin' any ideas."

He turned back around, "What's that supposed to mean?"

John scoffed, "Nothin' – just that at least one of you turned out right."

"Excuse me?"

Dean's hand had dropped from the door and he took a few steps back into the centre of the room.

"It's true!" The elder Winchester exclaimed, throwing one arm out as he leant slightly too far forward, "You were always a re'ly good son – but your brother…"

He shrugged and gestured a hand out in front of him, "Well… what could I do? He hit the teens then 'boom' – like nothin' that wasn't his idea was right, nothin' I said was listened to… and it jus' escalated till he decides he doesn't care 'bout us – wants to go get some normal life without thinkin' how'd it affect our hunting… danger it'd put us in… dammit I didn't raise him to –"

Something snapped in the twenty-two year old.

"Shut up!"

John stumbled backwards and crashed onto the bed; his wide gaze rising to the narrowed glare of his eldest.

"You didn't raise him," He spat, his hands curling inwards, "I did!"

All night he'd been listening to this and through it all he'd kept his mouth shut because that's just how his role played out in their dysfunctional family; either his dad or brother would start off at the other and he'd be the one to keep his own opinions to himself so he could instead sort out theirs.

But not with this… this was different; because right now all those comments, the snipes about how Sam never listened, put himself in danger, put them in danger – that wasn't just a rant because he'd complained about moving somewhere or had made a mistake on a hunt… it was questioning how he was brought up, insulting the very qualities, frustrating or not that makes the kid who he is.

"I'm the one who taught him all the basics of life, who told him how to tie his shoes, ride a bike, make friends - I mean do you remember what Sam's first words were? Cause it's not like you were damn well there!"

He flung a plant pot against the far wall, his voice matching the volume of the crash, "You complain about him not following orders, second-guessing what you say – can you really blame him? How's a kid supposed to blindly follow someone who would drive off for weeks at a time without a moment's notice! Because this may be a surprise to you – but Sam would actually do as he was told… but mainly because I asked him! Because I was the one who was always there for him!"

"Oh and you think you made sacrifices!" His foot sent a chair into the bathroom door, "What about me? My childhood was spent making sure my little brother could have one! You got annoyed with his whining and you'd just run off to a hunt but I'd be the one who stayed – who missed parties or meeting up with friend's to make sure he was happy and looked out for!"

"But you know what the crazy thing is?" He laughed, a slight crazed tinge to the sound, "I'm actually thankful you piled all that mess on me – I wouldn't change the fact I was the one who looked after the kid and helped him grow up… but you know what it does mean?"

His hands pinned on the bed either side of his dad's frozen form, their faces inches apart and his tone spread into a soft menace, "It means whether you like it or not… Sam is my kid."

Because all this bitterness and snipes his dad was throwing around, it spiked a reaction that lay dormant in every person.

Nobody got away with questioning whether a parent was successful in their task of raising their kid.

And they definitely didn't get to sit their insulting said child.

"So if anybody here has a right to slag him off behind his back because he ran off to college – it's me… but you know what, I don't want to."

Slowly he stood up, leaving the silence open as he slipped his duffel bag over his shoulder and approached the door, his hand once again resting on the handle; then as he opened it and stepped into the chilled night breeze he turned to face his dad and his voice held something that had never been directed at the man before, "And most of all – you had no right to give him an ultimatum when he left… that wasn't your call."

The wood vibrated against the frame, cutting away the image of the semi-aware middle aged hunter swaying on a motel bed and blinking owlishly at the space his son had last been standing.

Dean was a few miles down the road in a matter of minutes; his fingers screaming under the grip he had on the wheel and his teeth shaking against the pressure of his jaw.

He honestly had no idea if that blow up had just happened… he didn't talk to his dad like that – he didn't…

But something had just thrown a switch in his brain, out of everything, all the stuff he'd been saying about the kid it was those words 'I didn't raise him to' … and suddenly his mouth was full of rage and resentment, saying things he wouldn't normally dare even think.

Yet whilst he felt sickened by his words… he couldn't bring himself to deny them.

He suddenly slammed on the brakes; fortunately the road was empty so although a sharp pain lurched up his spine there was no extra impact from a fellow vehicle.

A hitched sigh passed his lips as he let his forehead fall against the wheel – there was so much currently swirling around his mind and each item was contradictive of the other.

Part of him wanted to go back and profusely apologise to his dad whilst another part was quite content to return just to carry on lashing out.

Another section wanted to go and find the nearest bar not caring that it was alcohol that got him into this situation in the first place whilst the parallel opponent was adamant on beginning to force them both to go cold turkey.

Dean hands rose to interlock behind his head and his fingers partially dug into the scalp as he released a humourless chuckle.

He didn't miss the irony that despite his dad being completely drunk was why he'd started spouting off all those things, the fact he was drunk meant that he wouldn't remember any of this conversation in the morning.

Which meant technically he could simply slip back into the motel room and happily continue life as if he hadn't stood there and basically spelt out that the man was a terrible father.

Because that would be easy, that would be the simple quick-fix solution that Dean Winchester always looked for.

His hands fell to his side and he slowly raised his head.

Undeniably that would indeed be the most logical option, but this time… this time he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Fixing his gaze forward he pushed his foot down, the street lights of the small town gradually getting dimmer as he carried along onto the long stretch of road.

It wasn't that John Winchester was a bad father; like any other he had his highs and lows – admittedly a few more lows but he did the best he could and nobody could deny that he cared and protected his sons with a fierce loyalty however much he cursed them.

However when it came to his little brother, Dean was subconsciously aware that where he would blindly put his faith in his dad he could not do the same when Sam was put into the equation; since that first time he was left alone with the small five year old, a shotgun and the words 'Watch out for Sammy' he could never fully trust someone other than himself to protect the kid.

All those times Sam would look to him rather than their dad when an order was given, all the thousands of wants he pushed to the side because he had to do something for the kid but that despite being annoyed would do willingly simply because some part of him screamed that the mop head geek came first…

It showed that when it came down to the bare minimum - Sammy had always been his kid.

Of course that was only if he ever dug into the issue… which he wouldn't.

So he would still go hunting with his dad because there was no way he would just leave him; however he'd probably ask to go about on his own more, take solo gigs or partner up with different hunters.

Yet that was something to delve into at a later date.

First, he had a college boy to go and check up on.

A/N: If you read my other SPN 'Father of One' this was kind of a familar idea basis - however whereas that fic looked at the evolution of Sam and Dean's relationship based on John's behaviour and actions... this was looking at how it developed between the boys themselves - speficially from the results of Dean's choices. Plus I absoultely adore the brothers.

Thanks for reading, drop a review if you'd like - maybe tell me which flashback moment was your favourite :)