Dean's fist connected with Sam's face before he knew what was happening. Sam tried to speak but Dean threw another punch. Sam's lips turned red.
"Ok, Fine, I deserve that." Dean raised his fist again. Sam stood his ground and waited for the blow. All his anger built up inside him coming out, Dean swung as hard as he could. He was expecting Sam to dodge it, but he didn't move. Dean's fist hit Sam on his right temple, sending Sam to the ground.
Dean's eyes widened as his brother fell, the left side of his head catching the edge of the table. Dean let all his anger go and went to Sam's side. A small gash just above Sam's left temple was oozing blood. Dean tapped the side of Sam's face.
"Sammy, c'mon man, I didn't hit you that hard." Sam grunted. "Sammy?"
"It's Sam." Sam opened his eyes slowly. Dean went to help him up, but Sam pushed his hands away. "I'm fine."
"Sam, I'm…"
"No, Dean. I know you're mad, and you start swinging when you're mad. But I don't get why you're so mad."
"Maybe, I'm mad because you want to leave Dad and me."
"I don't want to leave you. I want to go to college. A normal family would be happy about that."
"We're not a normal family."
"I get that, but why does that mean that I can't go to college?"
"Because you have a job to do."
"No, Dean. You and Dad have a job to do. I'm just the one that everyone worries about. I don't want to do this for the rest of my life." Sam grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "Don't wait up." Dean flinched when the door slammed shut. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the door. Dean jumped when the door opened again.
"Sam? Dean? I'm back." Dean stood as his father walked in. "Hey Dean, where's Sam?"
"He went out." John read his son's facial expression and decided to drop it.
Sam wondered around town, nowhere to go, and nothing to do. It was getting late so he decided to go back to the motel. He cut through an alley. The street lights didn't reach in between the buildings. Before he knew what was happening, he was pinned to the wall with a knife sticking out of his stomach.
"Give me your money!"
"It's in my front left pocket." When the guy bent down to Sam's pocket, Sam brought his knee up, hitting the guy's face. The guy fell to the ground; Sam gave him a few kicks and staggered towards the motel.
Sam grimaced as he pulled the knife from his stomach. He pulled his jacket closed and walked a little faster. Sam almost cried for joy when the motel parking lot came into view. He was even kind of happy that his father was back. Sam staggered to the door and knocked as hard as his tired limbs would let him. He heard a bed squeak and footsteps headed for the door. Sam could barely keep his eyes open. He leaned heavily on the door frame.
He heard the lock and then the door opened. John looked surprised and then worried at his son's posture. Sam's eyes were nearly closed and he had all of his weight on the door jam. John reached out to help support Sam; it alarmed him how heavily Sam was leaning on him.
"Dean, get out of bed and help me." Dean's be squeaked under his weight. He switched the lamp on and light flooded the room. John and Dean both gasped at the blood soaking Sam's shirt.
"Sammy, what happened?" Dean came to help his dad.
"I 'ine." Sam slurred.
"Dean help me lay him on his bed."
The three of them slowly made their way to Sam's bed. Sam's face was pinched in pain.
"Dean go get the first aid kit."