The Impala slid into the motel parking lot at a dangerous speed. John was angry. Dean flinched as John slammed the car into park.
"Go inside right now," John said, voice dangerously low.
Dean glanced at his little brother in the backseat. Sam's eyes were rimmed with red and Dean knew he had been trying not to cry. All three Winchesters got out of the car. Sam slammed his door shut and stormed towards the motel, ignoring the glare that John sent at the back of his head. Dean took a deep, shuddering breath. He hated it when Sam and John fought. Instead of following Sam immediately, Dean walked to the back of the car where John was unpacking the trunk.
"Why-" Dean swallowed down the tremor in his voice. "Why do you have to be so hard on him?"
John looked at Dean, his eyes steely with anger. "Excuse me?"
"He's just a kid."
"If I wanted your opinion, Dean, I'd ask for it," John spat.
"You have to know he gets scared. He's scared of you!" Dean's voice was climbing higher in his desperation.
John took a step towards Dean and the boy backed away. "You had better get away from me, Dean. Right now."
Dean blinked harshly and turned towards the motel.
"No," John said. Dean stopped. "I don't want to see your face. Get out of here."
Dean's heart twisted. Not again. One glance back at John and Dean knew it would be too dangerous to argue. He started walking away, hands shaking. More than anything, he wanted to tell Sam that he would come back as soon as he could. Be careful, Sam.
Dean found himself wandering into an arcade a few blocks from their motel. He stuck a couple of quarters in one of the machines, but his heart wasn't in it. He kept worrying about Sam. Dean hoped Sam had been smart and kept his mouth shut. But his little brother was so hot-headed. Dean was scared of what John might do if Sam tried to pick the argument back up. And Dean wasn't there to protect him. Dean slammed a fist into the arcade machine as he lost another life. Why did I have to say anything? I should be there for Sam.
Dean glanced at the clock on the wall. It had only been about an hour since John had sent him away. It was definitely too soon to go back. But Dean couldn't think of anywhere else to go. He wandered out of the arcade and started walking with no direction in mind. In another hour, he found himself headed in the direction of the motel. He knew it was still dangerous to go back. But he was also terrified that maybe John had gone to a bar and left Sam alone. The thought of Sam alone in the motel was somehow worse than the thought of him being with John. As he neared the motel, he saw the Impala. John hadn't left. Dean hesitated.
Then the memory of Sam's angry voice from his fight with John earlier was in his head.
"You don't care about me! You never have! I hate you!"
Dean walked to their room and opened the door quietly. He glanced in and spotted John first. He was sprawled out on his bed, snoring. On the nightstand next to him were a couple of empty bottles of beer. Dean sighed and stepped softly into the room, gaze settling on Sam. Dean's heart sank when Sam refused to look at him. He was sitting on the other bed, staring at the TV. The TV was muted, a commercial for cereal playing on the screen. Sam had his legs bent up against his chest, chin resting on his knees. Dean walked over to him. "Hey, Sam." Sam still wouldn't look at him. "C'mon, man. Don't be mad at me."
Sam had to know that Dean would have rather died than leave him. Dean sat down next to Sam on the bed, mimicking Sam's position, pulling his knees up to his chest. Dean was prepared to sit like that all night waiting for Sam to say something to him. But then Sam sniffled softly. And Dean's heart broke.
"Sam, I'm sorry," Dean said, words rushing out. "I came back as soon as I could. Did he hurt you? Are you alright?"
Sam looked at Dean then, dropping his legs down on the bed. His face was puffy and red, his curls falling into his eyes. Now Dean could see the bruise on Sam's cheek, purple and angry, marring his smooth skin.
Dean swore. He smoothed a hand through Sam's hair, pushing it out of his face. "Sammy, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
Sam whimpered softly, "It's okay, Dean. It's not your fault."
But Sam was wrong. It was Dean's fault. If he hadn't tried to confront their dad, he wouldn't have been sent away. He would have been there to calm Sam down. To keep him from saying whatever he did that made John angry enough to - Dean pulled Sam into a quick hug so that his little brother wouldn't see the tears gathering in his eyes. Never again. Dean was going to do whatever it took to stay with Sam. He would bite his tongue when their dad was being unreasonable if that's what he had to do. He couldn't be ripped from his little brother again. He couldn't do it. He had to protect him.
"I'm not gonna leave you again, Sam. Ever."