May, 2006

Dean is just about ready to pull into some rundown motel when Sam starts speaking.

He stutters a lot. Muttering out things like 'I' and 'question' before Dean finally gets tired of it and tells him to just spit it out.

"Dean, did dad ... ever ... wrongfully hit you?"

June, 1990

"Dean?"

Dean looked up from his perch on the couch to see his father walk into the room. He swallows hard and looks down, not wanting to face what he knew was coming.

"Dean, look at me when I am talking to you." John sternly. Dean obeyed and looked up, forcing himself to keep eye contact with his father.

"Yes, sir?" Dean asked, feeling his hands starting to shake.

"Why is Sammy telling me that he fell down the stairs today?"

"I- it was an accident." Dean said, trying to speak normally despite the fact that his mouth had gone completely dry.

"And where the hell were you when this happened?" John asked.

"Watching T.V." Dean mumbled, looking down at the floor.

"You were what?"

"Watching T.V." Dean said again, this time much louder.

"Why were you doing that? Why weren't you watching him? Your brother could have been seriously injured!" John asked, seemingly barely able to keep his voice steady.

"I don't know." Dean says, just as he feels a fist connect with his abdomen. He folds over, trying to control the pain radiating throughout his entire body.

"Now you think about that the next time something like this happens."

Dean looks up, seeing his father standing over him. "Yes, sir."

May, 2006

Dean turns the wheel too far into the turn and soon they are heading straight toward a semi. Panicking, Dean adjusts the car just in time to see the vehicle go barreling past them.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam shouts out, his mouth wide open in shock.

Dean doesn't answer. Instead, he finds a place where he can pull over at.

It's only when the car is safely parked does Dean answers him. "Why would you ask a question like that?"

"I just- I was thinking about Max and the type of childhood that he had and, well, I know that I didn't have that, but I was worried that you did.

Feb., 1996

Dean was officially panicking. He had no idea where his brother was, and his dad would be arriving back home any second. Sam had told him that he had some sort of after school thing going on that evening, and Dean had told him to go on ahead. Now, a few hours after coming home, he felt that that was the worst thing he had ever done.

Why didn't he stay with Sam at the school? Why didn't he tell him that he couldn't go? These and so many other questions went through his mind as he paced the motel room they were currently staying in.

What do I do. What do I do. What do I do? Dean thought, placing his head in his hands.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a car door opening and closing. Breathing hard, he pulled back the curtains and saw his father walking up to the door. Breathing hard, he backed into the wall, wanting to avoid the initial confrontation for at least a few minutes.

The door opened and John walked in, covered from head to foot in cuts and bruises. Sighing he placed his gun next to the door before finally noticing Dean.

"Dean," he asked, all the tiredness that he had previously displayed seemingly going away in a matter of seconds. "What's going on? Where's your brother?"

"I don't know." Dean forced himself to speak.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" John practically yelled.

" I don't know. He- he had some sort of after school thing and I let him go to it, but he was supposed to be back by now." Dean said, just as he felt a fist come into contact with his face. "Ahh. Ow." He says, bending over slightly and holding his face.

"Well, you go out and look for him! You are supposed to watch out for him!" John said, taking Dean's shoulders and shoving him towards the door.

Dean looked up, cradling his cheek. " Okay, I will." Dean walks over to the door and wrenches it open, where he was greeted by the sight of Sam standing there with his hand raised.

"Hey, Dean. Sorry I'm late, I just got to talking with some teacher and I lost track of time. What's going on?" He asked, seeing his father standing behind Dean, a look of pure rage on his face.

"Nothin', Sammy. Nothin'." Dean said, taking his little brother's shoulder and guiding him into the room.

May, 2006

"Well, did he?" Sam looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to answer. Dean doesn't know yet what to tell him, so he goes over the question once more in his mind. Dean, did dad ever wrongfully hit you? He ponders what his answer will be for a few minutes, before finally coming to a decision.

"No. No, he didn't." He says with absolute certainty.