A/N: This is my first fanfiction, and I'm a little anxious. But I take criticism well, and I would really appreciate it if you reviewed. :)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural, nor do I own Sam or Dean.


"Remember Dean, don't answer the phone, only leave for school, and –"

"I know, Dad. I've been doing this for twelve years now."

"Watch your tone, boy."

"Sorry, sir."

"The gun's fully loaded. Remember, shoot first, ask questions later. And most importantly, watch out for Sammy."

The sound of the old, wooden door slamming shut made the Motel room quake as if in fear. Sam rolled his eyes and muttered, "It's Sam," under his breath, before returning to The Lord of the Rings which was spread open on his lap.

Dean turned to the table next to him and picked up the gun that lay there, continuing to clean the grubby fingerprints off it with the semi-clean dishrag. He perched on the end of his bed and glanced over at Sam who, despite the calm facial expression, showed his frustration through the iron grip he had on his book. Dean sighed.

"What's your problem now, Sammy?"

"Nothing," Sam replied, eyes fixed firmly on the page of his book.

"I'm not an idiot, Samantha, I know when something's wrong," Dean said.

"What, are you a mind reader all of a sudden, as well as the favourite son?"

"What the hell are you talking about Sam?"

The younger Winchester slammed his book shut and snapped his head up to look at his big brother with large, tear filled eyes.

"Dad never pays as much attention to me. Even now, when he was leaving, he didn't say a word to me. He spoke to me through you," Sam spat and clenched his jaw.

Dean scowled. He didn't want to have this conversation again.

"You know, you really should start paying Dad some respect. Everything he does, he does for us!" Dean yelled. Sam snorted.

"Oh yeah, then how come he's never here? How come he hasn't come to any of my soccer games? Or been here for me when I needed him? I just want him to care about me." Sam's voice cracked on the last word, and finally the ocean of tears he'd been holding on to for so long came rushing down his cheeks.

Dean stared at his brother, overcome by guilt at his words. He sat awkwardly for a moment as his brother unravelled before him, before sighing and rubbing his neck.

"Sammy, you know why Dad's never here," Dean said softly. "He does care about you, he just doesn't show it."

Sam wiped his face on the back of his sleeve and sniffed. Dean stood up and walked over to his little brother, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy. Sam continued to cry his anger away onto the older boy's now tear-stained black t-shirt.

"Sam, you need to stop crying, buddy. You're gonna make yourself sick."

Sam attempted to speak, but his words were drowned out by the gasps of air that came between sobs. Dean held him tighter and stroked his hair as he waited for the weeping boy to calm down. When Sam's tears had quietened enough to allow him to speak, he said,

"Sorry, Dean. I'm such a wuss. A wuss can't be a hunter."

"You're not a wuss, Sam. You're still just a kid, you can't be strong all the time," Dean responded, attempting to comfort Sam but to no avail, as the younger boy still looked miserable.

"But, remember this Sammy, I'll always care about you. It's my job."

Sam looked up at his brother and a smile broke on his tear streaked face.

"Yeah, I know…thanks."

Dean sighed in relief before saying,

"Good, I thought this chick-flick moment would never end." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."