A/N: Not a story for those who LOVE John Winchester. Pre-series. Wee-chesters. Word: Shot.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never will. Though I'm working on getting an Impala all my own.
If he stopped at one shot, they'd be fine. Four meant he'd sleep late and wake up grumpy. Too bad they weren't that lucky tonight. It was November 2nd, the one day a year he feared his father.
Dean tried to stay out of his dad's way that day, tried to keep Sammy invisible. It worked until shot ten. Their dad never hit them, not even on his worst days. But words hurt as much as hands, sometimes more. They were the one thing he couldn't protect his little brother from. They were the only wounds that never truly healed.