Sweet Child of Mine

by 110283

Sam finds himself in trouble. Unwilling to tell his father what has happened, he goes into a hunt hurt and sick, which results in Dean getting hurt. Sam will have to learn to trust his family. LimpSam and minor LimpDean. R & R

SWEET CHILD OF MINE

So this is my first Fanfiction story, well my first story ever, and I love limp Sam, so this whole story is based on Limp Sam. Enjoy!

Summary: Sam finds himself in trouble. Unwilling to tell his father what has happened, he goes into a hunt hurt and sick, which results in Dean getting hurt. John starts to loose his trust in his youngest, and wonders what went wrong. Sam will have to learn to trust his family, and John will haveto attempt to safe his family from becoming an emotional wreck, that is if they can survive. LimpSam and minor LimpDean!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters

The high school and the town (Janetville) are real.

Sam didn't know how it happened, but somehow someone had gotten the better of him. He hadn't seen it coming. He had been walking home from school, when he felt himself being tackled to the ground. The guy started to punch him repetitively in the face at first, and then he worked his way down to his lower abdomen, until Sam curled in on himself into the fetal position, exposing his back allowing the man to kick him hard on the back which momentarily paralyzed him with pain.

Finally the attack ceased and the man looked him in the eye, at that moment Sam should have been scared because what he saw in the man's eyes was pure hatred and he was sure that the man was going to kill him.

During the entire attack all Sam could think of was how disappointed his family would be in him, he had let some random guy kick the crap out of him without so much as a punch from his end, so just as the man pulled a some kind of object out of his pocket, Sam decided that it was time he started to fight back.

On pure adrenaline, he jumped up landing to the side of the man, and was able to get in several punches, before the man thrust his hand forward which in it he held a very sharp looking hunting knife. The knife came at him so fast that Sam barely had time to react, before the knife was gracefully sliding between his lower ribs. White hot pain seared through his entire body, and he could see white spots dancing in front of his eyes, but he had to stay conscious if he were going to stay alive. He managed to stand up and look the man in the eye again. Before he had seen such hatred in the man's eyes, but he had never seen this guy before in his life, so how could he hate him so much? This man was going to kill him so Sam couldn't help himself but weakly ask:

"Why? Why are you doing this? I've never seen you and I've definitely never done anything to you, so why?"

The only response he got from the man was a laugh, an evil bone chilling laugh, and it was then that he saw two black eyes staring back at him. Sam slowly came to the realization that he was going to die tonight, that a DEMON was going to kill him!

Remembering how his mom died; Sam couldn't allow it to happen, he wouldn't let some sleazy demon kill him, and he wouldn't have his father and his brother go through the pain of losing someone else to these bastards.

He didn't have any weapons on him that could actually do any damage to this thing especially considering he had just come from school, but having John Winchester as a father did prove good for at least one reason, John always made sure that his sons never left whatever place they were calling home without some sort of weapon. This morning, Sam's weapon of choice was a simple silver knife, similar to that of which he had just been stabbed with. The silver knife would be able to serve him well. He knew it wouldn't kill the demon, but because of the pure properties of the silver, he might be able to faze him, and create just enough time to get away.

The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, and in what he was sure was a very stupid and Dean like move, he lunged at the demon without thinking knife in hand and plunged into his lower abdomen.

The demon screamed in pain, and hot smoke started to form around where the knife was. The action had left Sam in pain panting for breath, but his plan had worked and using what little energy he had left he ran, he ran as fast as he could in the direction that he assumed the second rate house that his father had rented was in.

Luck was on his side that night and Sam saw his rundown house steadily coming closer. He quickly unlocked the door and ran inside. He then proceeded to check all the salt lines, and all of the other various forms of protection that his dad constantly demanded be put up. It wasn't until he was sure he was safe, that Sam decided to head to the bathroom to see how much damage the man had inflicted upon him.

When he looked in the mirror, and saw the blood and bruises that were covering his face, he couldn't help but be glad that his dad had decided to take a hunt over in South-Dakota with Dean to help out an old family friend. If they had seen him in this state, they would have been pissed! He hoped that the rest of his body was doing better; because there was no way that anyone was ever going to find out about this, or at least not the truth.

Suddenly he felt extremely tired, all of the energy that he had had before having escaped him. He slid down the wall of the small dingy bathroom, and closed his eyes. It felt good to close his eyes. He could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, and he could feel all of the pain that had just started to register with his body, slowly disappearing until he could feel nothing at all, and all he could see was blackness.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

'Ring… ring… ring…'

'Ring… ring… ring…'

'Ring… ring… ring…'

What was that annoying sound? Sam body slowly started to gain consciousness and he quickly began to register the intense pain that seemed to be coming from his entire body, but his side hurt the most, no, his side felt like it was on fire. It was now the only thing he could feel.

"Ring… ring… ring…'

What the hell was that sound, it sounded familiar? The sound was coming from the general vicinity of the kitchen. Realization dawned on him, the phone was ringing. What had Dean said that morning before they left? He briefly remembered the hazy conversation:

"SAMMY! Wake up… Hey BITCH wake up!" he had yelled.

"WHAT" Sam had responded grumpily?

"Dad and I are leaving now, so be careful and don't go getting your ass kicked by a bunch of preschool girls again. We'll call you when we get to Bobby's… SAM!"

"WHAT!"

"You getting all of this?"

"Ya"

"Good cause I'm not repeating it again. See you in a couple of days. Bye."

"Good bye jerk!"

Shit! That must be Dean or his dad calling, since nobody else knew them in this God forsaken town. How long had he been out for?

The annoying ringing continued, as Sam slowly and painfully started to stand up. He gasped out in pain, and had to stop himself from falling over and passing out again. The ringing still continued, and as he approached the kitchen he saw that it was dark out, dark and starry. SHIT he thought, he must have been out for awhile because when he had finally made it home this afternoon, he had to guess that it was about 4 o'clock and the sun had still been out. Dean was going to be so pissed.

He finally made it to the phone, which he hastily answered:

"Hello?"

"WHAT THE HELL! I'VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU FOR LIKE 20 MINUTES! WHERE WERE YOU? I WAS SO WORRIED!"

Sam gathered up all of his strength and tried to answer as calmly as he could.

"Sorry Dean, I was fast asleep and the phone just woke me up."

"What were you doing in bed fast asleep at 7 at night?"

"I had a tough day at school okay, I was tired!"

"NEXT TIME ANSWER THE PHONE! I was starting to get worried; I was starting to wonder if we made a mistake leaving you home alone. You are okay aren't you?"

"Ya, I'm fine, just tired."

"Do you want to talk to dad?"

"No I'm good, I'm really tired Dean, I really just want to go back to bed."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"YES Dean I'm fine!"

"Okay then, bye!"

"BYE!"

The pain was so overwhelming that Sam had to collapse into one of the few broken kitchen chairs. He had to think this through. He had been hurt, he knew that for sure but he didn't know how badly. He was still alive, at least for now, that had to mean something, and he was still conscious, barely, but still it couldn't be that bad. He somehow found the energy to stand up, make his way to the bathroom, and find the first aid kit, before he finally collapsed on the bathroom floor again. He lifted his arms, which triggered intense pain to travel through his torso, and throughout his entire body. After the pain had subsided to a dull throb, he proceeded to take his shirt off. The good news was that the blood around the wound had clotted, and the wound had stopped bleeding, the bad news was that it had clotted and stuck to his shirt which made it nearly impossible to take it off and the once white shirt had turned entirely red from the blood. When Sam had finally managed to rip his shirt off, he was gasping in agony, his side felt like it was burning, and his head was throbbing. He couldn't remember a time when he had been in so much pain, but at the moment he couldn't remember much at all so it didn't really matter.

Once the shirt was discarded in the corner of the room, Sam was able to get his first look at the damage that had been done to him. Bruises scared his ribs, chest and stomach, but the worst was the large stab wound that scarred a good section of his lower chest, below one of his ribs. Blood added red to the rainbow of colours that currently coloured his body and he could see raised pink edges with other unidentifiable bodily fluids – he had to guess that it was puss- around the wound. To add to the perfect night, because of his graceless effort to get his t-shirt off, the wound had re-opened and now blood was steadily flowing from the wound.

He opened the first aid kit and grabbed some gauze and put pressure on the wound. Thankfully the wound didn't appear to be that deep, but it still hurt like a bitch, and he knew more pain was in store, because he still had to clean out his wounds with water and peroxide and then stitch his side up. It was better to do this now, than to wait until later when it was infected and he would have to ask his dad for help.

If his dad ever found out he would kill him, or at least that would be what Sam would want John to do because anything John Winchester had in store for a punishment would be worse than death, so there was no way his dad could find out!

He slowly got himself situated into the bathtub, and turned on the water, with him he had brought what he needed. There were some painkillers, peroxide, gauze, towels, thread, and a needle. First he took one of the towels and began to wipe the blood and dirt from his body, starting with his head, and working his way down, the whole time keeping pressure on his wound. After carefully cleaning out all of his wounds, he grabbed the peroxide and he again began the process of cleaning his wounds. The pain at that point had become so intense, the sting of the peroxide had just amplified the pain from the rest of his body, but he managed to stay awake, and finish the job. Finally he made it to the thread and needle. This part was going to be hard. His hand was shaking from pain and fatigue, and his head hurt, so he grabbed a Tylenol from the side of the tub –he hoped it worked because it was all they had- and started the slow process of stitching the wound. In total, his side had needed 42 stitches, and he had put some butterfly bandage on his head where the man's fists had split his head open. He barely had enough energy to stand up, but somehow he managed to clean up the bathroom so that there was a minimal amount of blood left. From there he had trudged into his bedroom and fell into his bed hard, he briefly had time to look at his alarm clock – 2 o'clock on a Saturday morning- before he once again passed out.

Sam woke up to an eerily cheery day. Bright sunlight shone through his bedroom window, he could feel its warmth on his face, he could hear the birds chirping, and he was sure there were probably butterflies flying, bees buzzing, the whole works. The whole scene was mocking the way his body felt, which was like crap. There was a constant throbbing throughout his body, but the most distinguishable was the throbbing in his head, and the burning in his side but compared to last night though the pain was manageable.

He turned his head towards the alarm clock and saw that it was approaching 3: 30 in the afternoon; he had slept a good part of the day away. Good thing Dean and his dad weren't due back for awhile.

He successfully rolled out of bed, but as soon as he attempted to stand up, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, and he had to brace himself against the wall until it passed. He slowly stood up, and made his way to the bathroom where he grabbed several Tylenols and swallowed them dry. Afterwards his lifted his head to get a good look at himself in the mirror. Man did he ever look like crap; he hoped that he looked better before his family came home.

From the bathroom he made his way into the kitchen, where he was planning to make himself some toast, but as soon as he caught sight of the bread, he felt like he was going to hurl, so instead he decided to check the phone for messages. There was one on there from his dad explaining the entire hunt had been a dead end, just some stupid teenagers pulling pranks, and that they should be home the next day. That was just great, now he definitely had to come up with a cover story because the bruises and cuts that covered his body were not going to magically heal overnight.

Considering what had happened the night before, Sam thought that it would be a good idea to check the salt lines again, so that he wouldn't have another unexpected encounter with something that was supernatural. By the end of this task though he was spent and so he plopped down on the lumpy threadbare couch that was residing in the makeshift living room. Since his dad wasn't around to bark orders, he decided that it was time to catch up on such much needed down time and watch some TV, but only a couple of minutes into an old Law and Order he was fast asleep.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

Unknowingly to the young boy inside, two black eyes watched him, hidden behind the unruly shrubs that dominated the Winchester yard.

The demon was hungry, he had wanted a kill, and this boy had provided the perfect victim. To many times he had found someone, a weak person who fell to easily into his grasps, these people provided easy kills, and boring kills but this time it would be different.

He could feel that this boy and his family were different. He was not a patient demon, and he wanted his kill now, but that had proven impossible. He could see the salt lines through the dirty windows, and could find no way into the house; this infuriated him, but at the same time excited him. He was going to hunt Sam Winchester.

He remained transfixed and unseen staring at the sleeping boy, feeling a mix of emotions that he hadn't felt in hundreds of years.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

SUNDAY NIGHT approximately 8: 15 p.m.

John had just come back from helping Bobby Singer on a hunt, a bust of a hunt, but he still had had some quality time with his old friend. When he arrived home, he found the small house completely dark, worry immediately took over. He had tried to call Sam several times earlier, but he had told himself that the boy was probably at the library, or to busy doing homework to answer, which made him furious, but now seeing his house silent and dark, he couldn't help but worry.

He heard his oldest son Dean Come up beside him, and he could see the same look of panic across his features. Both men dropped what they were carrying, and ran into the house, ignoring the door, kitchen table and chairs that got in their way.

What John saw next pushed him over the edge. His son who they had been so worried about, was asleep on the couch in the dark makeshift living room, the TV's blue glow providing the only light in the house, illuminated his young features.

"SAMUEL WINCHESTER!" he screamed.

Sam quickly jumped up upon hearing his name, which proved to be a mistake because he immediately doubled over, the pain from his body enveloping him. This whole scene had gone unnoticed by the other two Winchesters because of the darkness, which worked in Sam's favour. He quickly composed himself, standing as tall and straight as he could, and in an automatic mock salute he said:

"YES SIR!"

Anger flared in John's eyes, how could his son have turned out this way, sometimes he felt as if he were a complete alien to the family.

"What have you been doing since we left? It appears as if nothing has been done! I come home and find your lazy ass asleep on the couch with the TV on! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING? What were you doing asleep at 8 anyways? This is unbelievable Sam."

Sam stood stunned, he hadn't meant to mock his dad, but lately he had been having a hard time getting along with him, and the gesture had become automatic. He hadn't meant to disappoint his dad, at least not this time, but he could see how bad what John had just seen must look, but he didn't know the whole story, and he never would. If this was the way it was going to be, than he would just have to take the brunt of his father's anger.

Dean could see the emotional angst that his father had just put his brother through, but what the hell did Sam think he was doing, Sam was asleep when he should have been researching, or cleaning weapons, or doing something productive, not sleeping.

"Why didn't you answer the phone, we tried calling? When we saw the lights off we were worried! What the hell were you doing that was so important as to ignore your responsibilities to this family? And you better not tell me that you were sleeping!" John continued in his fit of furry.

"I'm sorry." Sam weakly responded.

"I can't believe you; I can't believe you're my son!"

Sam was on the verge of tears, but he was able to hide them as he solemnly walked past his dad, all of the previous physical pain forgotten, replaced by the emotional pain inflicted by his father. Sam had to get away from him before he started to cry, he couldn't because Winchesters never cry. So instead of facing his dad, he walked into the kitchen to talk to his brother.

"Sam, why the hell did you do that to us, we were so worried?" Dean asked with little concern in his voice.

"Sorry" Sam mumbled

"Dad's really pissed; I haven't seen him this mad since Pastor Jim tried to… What happened to your face?"

Dean had just noticed the dark bruises that marked his brother's face, and his lazy movements.

"What happened?" he asked all of his previous anger gone.

"Nothing, I just got into a fight at school."

"Really? Better not tell dad that will just make him angrier."

"I know."

"Are you okay little bro, you look a little spent."

"Ya I'm fine, I'm just a little tired."

"Go to bed then, it would be best anyways causing if dad gets a look at you, all hell will break loose!"

"Ya, okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Sammy."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Upon entering his room, Sam once again collapsed onto the bed, but sleep eluded him. The physical pain had come back, his head throbbed, and the rest of his injuries were indistinguishable, just one big hurt. To add to it he had to live with the emotional pain knowing that once again his father was disappointed in him.

Sam just lay there, he felt sick, and he was so cold. He knew that his wound was infected and that he needed his dad's helped, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it, he couldn't upset his dad again.

Finally he fell into a dreamless feverish sleep, and didn't even hear Dean come in to go to bed, or feel his brother wipe the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead, brushing his unruly hair off of his face.

"Shit Sam what happened?" Dean whispered to himself as he felt the warmth radiate off of his brother.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sam woke up gasping in pain, which he muffled with his pillow hoping that he didn't wake Dean. His attempts were unsuccessful, as he heard the soft grunt from the bed next to his, and heard his brother tiredly say:

"Dude, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just had a nightmare."

"Whatever, if you decide to tell the truth you know where to find me."

With that Dean Fell back to sleep, but Sam was now fully awake, and it was only 3 in the morning. School didn't start until 9, so he had 6 hours to waste.

He felt like crap, but at least his body didn't feel like it was on fire. The pain had dulled to a sore constant throbbing, but he could deal with it, it was the fever that was the problem.

He felt like he was going to puke, scratch that he was going to puke. He just made it to the bathroom in time to expel the little food that he had consumed in the last 24 hours. Even after it was all out his body continued in dry heaves. After several minutes of this, the nausea finally passed, and he was able to lie back against the wall. He was panting, trying to catch his breath, his body was covered in sweat, but oddly he felt considerably better. Even so there was no way he was going to make it through an entire school day without help, so he grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and swallowed 2. Hopefully that could tide him over for the rest of the day.

Sam got a look of himself in the mirror. He looked like shit! He decided that it would be a good idea to have a shower, and get cleaned up.

20 minutes later, he was freshly showered, and was wearing clean clothes, still feeling sick, but slightly refreshed he decided to make his way downstairs for some unwanted breakfast.

There was a shuffling downstairs, which he figured was his dad preparing for the next hunt. The emotional pain from the previous night hit him hard, he had to prove to his dad that he was a worthwhile son, so he slowly made his way down the stairs into the kitchen, where low and behold sat his dad, surrounded by old newspaper clippings, and a laptop, looking as if he were about to kill something – most likely the brand new laptop that they had finally been able to afford-. Sam quietly made his way into the kitchen and said:

"Dad, do you need any help?"

John obviously startled said:

"WHAT THE HELL… oh what… what are you doing up so early?"

"I couldn't sleep, and I heard you so I thought you might want some help. I can help with the research! Do you need any help?"

John had been up all night fruitlessly researching a poltergeist who had killed several people a few towns over. He was ready to give up when he heard his youngest quiet voice. Damn he was quiet, he had startled John, and John was a hunter, an experienced hunter, not many things could startle him. What surprised him even more was that Sam was offering to help. Sam never offered to help, at least not with hunts, he was always more concerned with school than hunting evil. The memory of his fight with Sam came back to him, and guilt washed over him. The memory of the last thing he said to him came back to him "I can't believe you're my son". What a horrible thing to say, especially since it wasn't rue, he loved Sam so much, it was just, sometimes he couldn't understand his youngest, he was so different, so much like his mother. Those words must have really affected his little Sammy, but it was too late to take them back now.

He turned to face his son, and for the first time saw his face. He couldn't stifle his gasp.

"Sam, what happened to you?" he demanded

He could see Sam cringe at his harsh words, but at this point he didn't care, something had happened.

"I got in a fight at school, I'm sorry dad."

"WHAT? Sam you know better, you what could happen. Did you draw attention to yourself?"

"No Sir." Sam said, this time saying it in a serious tone.

"Good and to answer your question, I don't need any help, all I need is you to be ready to leave as soon as you get home from school, we're heading two towns over to Janetville, and I want you ready!"

"But Dad, I want…"

"That was an order!"

"Yes Sir!"

"Go back to bed"

"Yes sir." He said more quietly

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

The demon stayed in the same position, behind the shrubs. This was proving to be harder than he thought. This family, they were hunters and would prove to be a big obstacle in obtaining the boy, but he would have to be alone sometime, and that would be when he would strike.

He waited for some time, but finally after the sun had risen, he saw the older one and the boy getting into a car, and drive off.

At the moment, he would stay in his position, undetected, and wait for the boy. His excitement was overwhelming, as was his hunger.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

I.E. Weldon Secondary School

Usually he loved school it was his passion, but for some reason today he couldn't pay attention, and when he tried nothing made sense. He just wanted to go home and go to sleep.

He once again felt like crap, was it even possible to feel this way and still be alive? His head felt like someone was smashing it in, he could feel the deep bruising on his back, ribs, and face where that son of a bitch demon had repeatedly kicked him, and his side once again felt like it was on fire. He was pretty sure that some of his makeshift stitches had pulled but he was to afraid to see the damage. Worst of all was his fever. He could feel the heat coming off of his body, but for some reason he was cold, unnaturally cold and he really felt like he was going to puke.

"The plasma membrane and the membranes of organelles consist of a double (bi-layer) of phospholipids with various proteins attached to…"

What the hell was the teacher talking about? He couldn't think anymore, he was so tired. No longer able to keep his head up and eyes open, he fell asleep.

"Sam… Sam wake up or else you'll be late for your next class." Said Mrs. Wenstill

"What?"

"Sam, are you okay, you don't look well?"

"Wha… oh, I'm fine, just didn't get to much sleep last night."

"Do you want to phone your dad?"

"What? No I'm fine, I'm sorry."

With that Sam got up and left the class.

One class down 3 to go, Sam thought to himself, this was going to be a great day.

The rest of the day went by in a blur; Sam could barely remember any of it. He had gone from Biology to English, where he once again fallen asleep -but that happened even when he wasn't sick-, he had spent all of lunch in the bathroom puking. After that he had proceeded to history, where surprisingly he didn't fall asleep, but he did zone out, and he couldn't even remember going to math class. Now all he had to do was getting through tonight and deal with one homicidal ghost.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Dean had picked him up at the end of the day, with a worried expression on his face, but he had said nothing. When they got home, their dad was already on the porch with all of their equipment in hand. He had silently gotten in the car, and with that they left.

So far his father had said nothing, obviously still pissed about everything. In retrospect what had happened wasn't even that bad, hell if he lived in a normal family nothing would be wrong at all, but of course they weren't normal. None of this mattered to Sam though.

If in anyway it was possible he felt worse, and apparently Dean knew, because every couple of minutes his brother would look back with a worried expression, but again said nothing.

Even though Janetville was only 2 towns over, it was still 3 hours away -one of the benefits of living in the boonies, there is a lot of nowhere in between small hick towns-. So only having been in the car half an hour, Sam couldn't help but go to sleep, but as he did he couldn't help but see the sour expression cross his father's features when he looked in the rear-view mirror.

He woke up in the same position, the car moving, his family quiet, but something was eerily silent and still, it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Something wasn't right.

There was a change in the scene, he could hear breathing beside him, and when he turned around, there was the man, the demon staring right at him. He didn't say anything, just stared, and smiled an unnatural menacing smile.

"I'm going to kill you, you think you can haunt me, your wrong, you have no idea who I am, what my family and I can do!" Sam screamed, but it seemed to have little affect, he just kept staring and smiling.

Was he dreaming, that must be it, because neither his father nor his brother flinched, it was like he wasn't even there.

After several minutes of intense silence, the demon spoke.

"Your mine, and there is nothing you can do about it!"

Those few simple words sent shivers up his spine, and as suddenly as the demon had appeared he had disappeared, but apparently his attack wasn't over because Sam was hit with an onslaught of intense images. He saw people he knew being murdered by the demon. He saw their blood, he saw their dying breath, and the spark in their eyes go out, but the worst was when he saw the man hovering over a lean form, with spiky dirty blond hair, a familiar man, as he approached he couldn't help but scream, because he saw the demon killing his brother. HIS BROTHER WAS DEAD!

As he slowly came out of his nightmare, he heard the demons last words:

"You are mine, you and everyone you love!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH... AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Dean was the first to respond to his brothers screams. The last he had checked his brother was sound asleep, and had been for at least an hour, but now he was thrashing around the backseat of the impala screaming like someone was killing him. His dad, upon hearing his brother's screams, had pulled the car over as fast as he could.

"Sam, Sam, SAMMMY!"

Dean grabbed his brother trying to calm him down. Sam had calmed down considerably but he was still shaking, and gasping for breath.

"Sam, hey what's wrong?" Dean said worriedly.

"Sam, kiddo you scared us, what's all that screaming about?" John asked.

Sam scrambled from Deans grasp, and opened the door, expelling all of the contents just in time.

"Sam, Sam tell what that dream was about. Hey come on, Sam are you okay?"

Dean was worried. Last night Sam had been acting weird, dodging all of his questions. He had said he had gotten in a fight, but it was obvious that he hadn't, and when Dean had decided to go to bed last night, when he had checked on Sam, Sam had been running a fever. Something definitely wasn't right.

"Nothing Dean, I'm fine, just had a bad dream. Sorry."

"Dad, Sam's sick there's no way we can hunt lets just get into a motel and see what happens from there. We can't go on this hunt; Sam is in no shape to face down some poltergeist!"

"Dean I'm fi…"

"Sam, shut up I know your lying to me!"

"That's enough from both of you! Dean stop coddling Sam, if he says he's fine than he's fine, he doesn't need you protecting him all the time, and as for this hunt we are going! This ghost has to go; it's already killed 4 people."

"We know nothing about this hunt, we're going in blind! You always care about the hunt than you do about your family; this hunt is going to end badly!" Dean yelled at his father.

"Don't take that tone with me, I love you boys, how dare you accuse me otherwise!"

"Whatever!"

With that the car was once again silent. John now not speaking to either of his sons.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

John was pissed at his sons. Sam had been pissing him off lately. He was acting independent and defiant, he was not being a good soldier like Dean had been. It made him sad; there was so much of Mary in Sam. Mary used to love school, just like Sam. Personally John never understood the need for school; it was a waste of time for him.

What had pushed him over the edge was Sam's odd behaviour over the last couple of days. When he had returned from Bobby's to find Sam asleep, and having done nothing productive, that had made him see red.

But Sam's spacey behaviour had continued, and frankly, it was now starting to worry him, especially after Sam's screaming fit in the car.

What Dean had said had hurt. At some level he knew it was true. He loved his sons more than anything, but sometimes the hunt took priority.

They had arrived at the property where Danielle Schoops had once lived. All he knew was her name, and that she was buried somewhere on the property. So they had split up, Sam and Dean had gone to search the west side of the property and he had gone to search the east side.

He was lost in his thoughts, still searching when he heard the screams. SHIT, that was Dean.

John had never run faster in his life –possibly on November 2, 1983- he made it to the other side of the house, just in time to see his son falling bonelessly to the ground. That bitch Daniel standing there laughing. Without hesitation, he raised his gun and shot her. Where the hell was Sam?

It seemed that Dean had found her grave, and was just about done digging before she had attacked. John ran over to it, and hastily started to dig, until he felt the satisfying thump of metal on wood. He broke through the rotting coffin, to reveal the long dead corpse of Daniel and quickly salted and burned her bones; in the distance he could hear her screams, as she was sent to hell. Just a simple salt and burn.

As he observed the mess in front of him, he couldn't help but wonder where Sam was.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Dean was so pissed at his father. Sometimes he had to wonder if his father really cared about them at all, because it always seemed that John would risk anything for revenge.

He had sent him and his brother – who was looking like he was ready to fall down any minute – to the other side of the property to find what her names grave is. He hated that he was going into his hunt blind, but whatever a hunt was a hunt.

He could hear his brother's ragged breathing behind him, and hear his unsteady footsteps, something was not right with him and he was intent on finding out what.

"Sam, I'm tired of this, what's wrong? What happened?"

"I told you I got in a fight, the guy got in a few good punches but he ended up worse than I did."

"I know your lying, so Sam, are you going to tell me the truth?"

There was silence.

"SAM!"

Dean turned around to face his brother, and was just in time to see him collapsing face first into the ground.

"Shit, Sam what is wrong with you?"

"Deeean… I don't feel good."

"I can see that kiddo, just hang on k."

Dean dragged his to tall brother over to the side of the house and hid him behind some unruly bushes. He hadn't done a good job, but it was the best he could do and hopefully it would hide him from the poltergeist.

He had continued searching for the grave for at least 10 minutes, before he found a small stone marker. He assumed this was what he was looking for, so he started digging that was until she had appeared.

A once beautiful woman now twisted with rage came at Dean, he had no chance. With inhuman strength she flung him 30 feet into the wall of the old shack. His head collided first, and then he felt all of the air rush out of his lungs. He could hear someone screaming, and he realized it was him.

The darkness was approaching. All he could think have been Sammy before he lost consciousness.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sam woke up in the bushes, he could no longer feel any pain, just a constant ache that plagued his body, but he felt so sick, so cold.

He could hear someone calling his name, someone was coming closer, and suddenly his father's face was hovering over him. He could see the anger cross his eyes, at finding him hiding in the bushes, but he said nothing, just straightened up.

John said all too calmly: "Sam, come on, get in the car your brother's hurt."

None of what he said had registered with Sam, but he followed knowing that it was his only chance of not getting his dad even madder at him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sam now understood what his dad had said, his brother was hurt. It was all his fault, he had fallen asleep. His brother was hurt because of him.

His dad was furious at him, and he couldn't blame him. His brother was hurt. Sam had just sat there while his dad stitched up the gash on Dean's forehead, and as he constantly was waking him up, because apparently Dean had a concussion.

This was usually Sam's job. Dean looked after Sam, and Sam looked after Dean, but after tonight's events his dad no longer trusted him with that job.

After about 3 hours of him sitting on the bed watching his dad and his brother, his dad spared a glance at him and told him to go to bed in a harsh tone, so Sam had obeyed.

As soon as he closed his eyes, the demon returned.

This the dream was set in a familiar place. He was back home, standing in his nursery. His mother was hovering over his infant form, kissing him and saying good night. the scene made him want to cry, the love of his mother, and the normalcy of it.

Next his brother came in to say good night, closely followed by his father. He couldn't believe, the pain and sadness that had made his father so cold over the years was gone, instead there was love and happiness. This was what it was like to be happy, but the scene was soon cut short by the horrific events that had happened that night.

The once happy scene turned into a nightmare. The yellowed eyed demon was there, his mother was screaming, in pain, but he could do nothing to save her, all he could do was it and watch her burn on the ceiling. The gruesome fascination kept his eyes towards his mother the entire time. He could see her flesh bubble and burn away, revealing raw skin, then he watched as the fire ate away at her muscle and finally until it consumed her completely.

His father had never told him about that night, the night off his 6 month birthday. He now understood why his father was the way he was. His dad had witnessed what he had just witnessed, he had watched the love of his wife burn away. No wonder John wanted revenge so bad.

Sam couldn't see the demon, but he could hear him in his head, telling him that this fate would be the fate of himself, his brother, his father, his friends, and anyone who had ever said hello to him, that they were all going to burn in hell.

Sam woke up to find himself in the dingy motel room once again. Dean was laying in the adjacent bed, sleeping. He was so still, so pale. He saw his father beside him, frantically trying to wake Dean up, but he wasn't responding. It was then that Sam noticed that Dean wasn't breathing, he realized that his nightmares had become a reality, Dean was dead, his brother, his best friend was DEAD!

Sam sat paralyzed with pain on the bed, unable to move. His father realizing that it was over, walked over to him, looking cold and stiff and sat down next to him. John looked him right in the eye and said:

"This is all your fault, it was your stupid mistake that cost Dean his life!"

For the first time Sam saw his father cry. His father never cried, not even after his mom had died, but now before him, the strong man that had once been his father was bawling.

Sam knew the truth of the words, they hurt, but there was so much pain already that at this point he was feeling numb.

Slowly the darkness started approaching, blacking out the scene before him. If he was lucky, his life would stay that way, that way he could deal with living without his brother.

Dean had woken up with a monster headache that morning. It didn't help that the sun had decided to be unnaturally bright today, and that it was shining right into his eyes.

As soon as he managed to prop himself up, his father was by his side asking if he was okay, but still to groggy to register anything that was happening, Dean just chose to ignore him. the events of the previous night eluded him, why couldn't he remember?

"Dad, what happened last night?"

"You don't remember?" John asked worriedly, "Well that ghost, Danielle, she attacked you, sent you head first into a wall... Last night I thought I had lost you!"

"Oh... Hey, what about Sammy, is he alright?"

Dean could see the anger that crossed his father's features.

"Your brother decided to take a nap last night, didn't bother to cover your back!" John yelled.

"Oh... wait."

Dean slowly started to remember, he remembered how sick Sam had been last night, how he had had to hide him in the bushes.

"Dad, I think something is wrong with Sammy, last night, he was so sick, he collapsed and that was why he was asleep in the bushes."

"WHAT!"

Up to that point John had been angry at Sam, but now given a reason to support his fears for his youngest, he couldn't help but glance over at his boy. What he saw scared the shit out of him.

Sam lay in a tangled mess of sheets, cold sweat cover his face, making his long unruly hair stick to everything. He could see him thrashing about on the bed, in the midst of a nightmare, and now that he was aware he could hear the faintest of grunts coming from him.

He quickly ran over to the bed to see what he could do.

"Sam... SAM... come on kiddo you've got to wake up. WAKE UP!"

No matter how hard he shook Sam he wouldn't wake up. He could feel the intense heat coming off him, his face was completely white, except for the flush in his cheeks, and the dark bruising covering his face.

The first thing he had to do was take off his clothes, and cool him down, and then he would have to see if Sam was injured. After that he would decide whether a hospital was in order or not.

John started by taking Sam's heavy sweater off, then his plaid button up shirt, then his undershirt, his pants, socks and shoes, only leaving his boxers on. What he saw made him want to be sick. There was intense bruising all down Sam's ribcage, and he could see where the chest collapsed where there were obviously some cracked, or broken ribs, but what was the worst was a piece of gauze that covered half of his son's left side, which was completely covered in blood. He began to remove it, which proved to be difficult, because the sticky blood had now become one with the gauze, making it almost impossible to remove. What was worrying him now was the lack of response on Sam's part.

He hadn't heard Dean approach, but he heard his gasp when he saw the state of his brother. He turned to look at him, and all of the colour had drained from his face, he quickly turned around and headed back to his bed, and said nothing.

John continued to look over the wound. the were many hasty stitches holding together the wound, some of which had broken. the wound was obviously infected, and was the source of the fever, it was out of the question, Sam was going to the hospital.

John quickly cleaned the wound the best he could and lifted his 6' 2" son, so that he was cradling him, and loaded him into the backseat of the car, next he guided Dean into the front. He made sure both were secure, and he headed off where he thought the hospital was. Neither of them made a sound as he did this.

John was only concerned with one thing, getting Sam to the hospital. He drove threw the barren streets trying to get to the nearest city that would even have a hospital. Damn these small towns and their lack of resources John thought, next time they settled down, it was going to be in a big city.

As he drove he ignored the angry honks and shouts from other people driving. he was driving fast and recklessly, but he didn't care. the whole trip neither one of his boys made a sound.

As he finally found the hospital, and had maneouvered the big car into a parking space -taking up several parking spaces in the process- he finally stole a glance at his sons. Fa moment he thought that Sam was dead, but he saw the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, he then looked at Dean. Dean was ashen, eyes at half mast, looking like he was going to pass out, he didn't move, but asked his father:

"How is he?"

Seeing the worry in Dean's eyes; he didn't want to add to it, so he replied:

"He's fine Dean."

With that Dean nodded, and closed his eyes.

"Dean, come on, we have to get Sam in there."

"K" was the only response he got.

Both men walked to the back of the impala, and hauled Sam out of the car. Dean didn't look like he could even walk let alone support Sam, so John took all of the weight of his youngest.

They had chosen the worst possible day to have a trip to the emergency room. it was completely full. they had put Sam on a waiting list, because apparently he wasn't critical enough, that was until he stopped breathing. that was 2 hours ago. 2 hours without a word, John was going crazy.

He was left there to think. How stupid was Sammy to hide something like this from him. He had almost died, he still might, who knows because nobody in this hospital would tell him anything. when Sam was better, he was going to have a nice long chat with him!

he heard a soft grunt beside him. Dean had said little throughout this whole ordeal.

he looked over, and saw his son. He looked exhausted, and looked like he was about to be sick, but he could still see the worry on his face for his brother.

"Dean, son are you okay?"

"Ya, uh... i need to go to the bathroom dad, I'll be right back and tell me if there is any news about Sammy."

"Okay."

He watched his son cautiously as he got up, and saw him start to sway, but he found his equilibrium, and continued a few feet before he collapsed to the ground. John raced towards his oldest, as did a nurse who was nearby.

His head hurt a lot. he tried to open his eyes, but as he did bright light assaulted him. What the hell had happened. He vaguely remembered being in the car with his dad, going to the hospital. Why were they going to the hospital? SAM!

He remembered now, Sam was sick, he had to find Sam.

There were voices in the background, muttering, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Maybe they knew where Sam was.

He tried to make a sound, but his mouth wouldn't open, it felt like someone had shoved cotton in there. if plan A wasn't going to work then he would have to go with plan B. He quickly sat up, which proved to be a mistake because he was instantly hit with a wave of dizziness, and he felt like he was going to puke. after a few seconds the world stopped spinning, and he was able to keep down the bile that was creeping up his throat.

this time, more slowly, he swung his feet around the edge of the bed. Before he had a chance to put his feet on the ground, he saw a blur of movement and felt somebody gently pushing him down.

"Wha..." was all he could manage to say.

He couldn't make out what the person was saying, but he caught the blurry image of the face before his head once again hit the pillow.

"Dad? SAMMY!"

"Hey Dean its okay Sammy's going to be fine, you need to rest now."

"No! I need to see Sammy!"

"Dean go to sleep now, and stop worrying about Sam! That's an order!"

Dean never could resist his dad, and all of the energy that he may have had before was quickly leaving. He was exhausted. If his dad said that Sam was fine, than he must be, so for the time being he would go back to sleep.

...

John sat beside his youngest son. He had spent the last four hours going from Sam's bed to Dean's bed. He was exhausted. about an hour after Dean had collapsed, the doctor had come and told him what was going on with Sam. Sam had been stabbed, that much was obvious, and beaten. over the last couple of days he had lost a lot of blood, and his wound had gotten infected. He was currently in the ICU, and even thought Sam's wounds were serious the doctors had high hope that he would pull through.

What he didn't understand was why Sam would do this, why he would keep something this serious from him, and especially that he thought it would be okay to go on a hunt injured, he had almost gotten himself and his brother killed. He was going to have to have a long talk with Sam when he woke up.

...

Sam woke up feeling like shit. his head was throbbing, and he was having a hard time forming coherent thoughts. other than that, he couldn't feel anything.

He felt a presence beside him, and he turned around to come fact to face with his father. His father looked worried and had a couple days worth of stubble on his face, beside him was his brother who was sleeping against his father's shoulder. Even though he could tell that his father was worried, he could also tell that he was pissed. He knew why.

...

A Week Later

Sam had been released four days ago, and today was his first day back at school. Since his release, his brother and his father hadn't said a word to him. His brother was upset that he had kept something from him, and Sam could tell that Dean knew that there was more to the story than he had told, and his father was just down right angry. it was probably because he had screwed up the hunt.

...

his family no longer trusted him, so it was now Dean's job to drive him to and from school. As he walked up the steps to the school, he felt uneasy. ever since the attack he had had this feeling, like he was being watched. He had a good idea who his stalker was, and he had a plan on how to stop him.

the day had gone by uneventful, his classes seemed boring today. all he could think about was how to get rid of the demon. he didn't want to exorcise, he wanted it dead, the only problem was how was he going to stop it from killing him first, and most importantly how was he going to do it.

...

"Ya Bobby I have it. Elkins won't know! I don't care! I have the gun in the trunk of the impala, its safe don't worry... yes i know what it can do... YES! I know that it can kill a demon..."

Sam sat quietly in the corner of the kitchen listening to his dad's conversation.

"SAM!... What are you doing?"

Dean had managed to sneak up behind him and scare the crap out of him.

"Nothing!"

"You look guilty, you were eavesdropping weren't you?"

"Whatever."

"Seriously dude, i need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Um... let's see maybe the fact that you were seriously hurt, and you kept it from us!"

"Oh. I don't want to talk about it."

"C'mon. I need to know who hurt you, they can't get away with hurting a Winchester."

"Dean! If it will make you feel better I'll tell you... it was just some random dude, snuck up behind me and jumped me okay. it's no big deal."

"No big deal, he almost killed you. Why don't you care?"

"I just don't okay!"

with that he walked away.

...

the demon had been following him, all he had to do was lure it to him. his dad and brother were in town at the moment, leaving him alone. he had a plan. last night he had stolen the gun that his dad had spoken of, and with a little research he had found a devils trap, all he had to do was lure the demon into the trap and shoot it.

he had set up the whole thing in the old barn that was beside their property, and now he was waiting.

he could feel the change as soon as it walked in. the demon was still in the same body, trapped there by the injuries that Sam had inflicted earlier.

"You're mine" it said

Sam just watched standing outside of the trap, waiting. just like he expected, the demon started coming closer, and closer until he was stopped by an invisible wall.

"WHAT!" it screamed

"Idiot!" and with that Sam shot it.

When the bullet entered its head, it looked as though it were being electrocuted. Dark spirals started working their way from the wound to the rest of its body. He watched as the life left its eyes, and the body of the man fell to the ground. As soon as it was dead, Sam entered the trap, and started kicking it relentlessly.

...

Dean had come home from the store ahead of his dad. he was hoping that if he and Sam were alone, than maybe Sam would talk. As he approached the house, he heard commotion coming from the old barn next door. he didn't know why, but he felt drawn to it.

He entered the door, into the shadows, and was just in time to watch his brother kill a demon, and murder a man. he saw Sam start to kick the man viciously.

"What's happened to you Sam." Dean whispered to himself.

...

Their dad had found a new hunt, far away from Janetville. they had headed out that night, hopefully never returning to the accursed town again.

THE END

So finally i finished. I'm sorry it took so long, but i started writing this during the march break, and before i knew it i was back at school, and had homework piling up, so the last couple of weeks have been really busy.

Thank oyu to everyone who reviewed. the reviews made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. i hope this story was enjoyable, since it was my first fanfic, and i probably screwed it up royally. Thankyou again to everyone who reviewed.