"I told you to watch over your brother, boy!" John snapped as he gripped Dean's face in a tight grip.
"I… I… I tried…" Dean stammered out as the grip on his chin began to ache.
"What is wrong with you?" John demanded quickly. "Your brother could have died! Do you not realize that?"
"Dad… You'll wake Sammy," Dean mumbled.
This seemed to enrage John because he shoved Dean into the wall, sending a sickening thud throughout the hotel room. "You think I want to do this?" John demanded. "No. I'm doing this to help you."
Dean bit back a yelp as his father's fist slammed into his stomach. John easily tossed Dean to the ground and took it upon himself to drive his heavy work boot into Dean's stomach, pushing all the air from Dean's lungs.
"Hey Dean," Sam's voice began, startling Dean from the nightmare.
"What? What?" Dean asked, jolting and grabbing his little brother's hand where it rested on his right shoulder.
"We're at the motel," Sam said and offered him a gentle smile.
"Great…" Dean grumbled and ran a hand over his tired face before letting his hand rest on his stomach. John had always made sure to hit him where Sam would never see.
The familiar creak came from the door as he opened it and stepped out. Sam had already gotten their room, fumbling with the key to open the door. Dean lazily grabbed his bag from the still open trunk and slowly made his way towards the door.
As he entered the room, he noted the stale cigarette smell even though it was a non-smoking room. He slammed the door closed with his foot and let his bag hang lazily, almost brushing the ground beneath his heavy boots. He watched Sam buzzing around the room, getting all of his stuff in order, but Dean just couldn't muster up the courage. For some odd reason, this room reminded him of the one in his dream.
He shook his head at that thought because it hadn't been a dream, it was a memory. Slowly Dean walked over to his bed and threw his bag onto the bed before plopping down next to it. His elbows rested on his knees and his face was in his hands, trying to push the thoughts of that side of his dad out of his head.
"I'm going to shower," Sam said and pulled some things from his bag, heading towards the bathroom. He stopped abruptly when he saw how Dean was seated, "You ok?"
"Yeah," Dean said with a wave of his hand and running it over his face. "I'm good. Go shower."
"Ok…" Sam trailed and padded into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Dean was still sitting there long after the shower had started, trying to think of anything but his father. Finally he couldn't take it anymore and stood tersely, "I'm going for a drink." He doubted Sam had heard him speak, but he couldn't stay in the confines of this room anymore.
He swiped the keys to the Impala from the table and headed out the door. Once seated inside the Impala, he started his baby up and began to drive. It only took about 5 minutes of driving around until he found a small, run-down bar.
After parking he headed inside quickly and made a bee-line towards the counter. "One beer," he said and sat down on the too short stool. He was taller than most everyone in the building and he didn't mind. It would hopefully give him an advantage if he was scared, which he wanted to believe he wasn't.
He sipped lazily from the beer as his eyes scanned over the bar. His eyes locked on the pool table in the corner and saw a couple a young college kids playing. A sly smile came to his face and he stood up quickly, taking his sweet time heading over there.
"You wanna play a quick game?" Dean asked, leaning against the table with one of his hips.
"You got cash to play with?" the smaller of the kids asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Do I got cash?" Dean chuckled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a couple of twenty's. "80?"
"Sounds good to us," the kid said and placed his bet on the table, Dean placing his own right next to it. "Rack them up."
As Dean grabbed a stick from the wall he heard the familiar sound of Metallica filling the bar. He grinned and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, turning towards the kids. "Ready for this?" Dean asked as he got ready to break.
"Do your worst," the kid wearing too much preppy clothes spoke.
Dean cocked his head to the side and lined up the shot. Just as he was about to break it, his eyes went up slightly and saw the older man looking at him with greedy brown eyes that had some blue. The man was large, bigger than Dean himself with dark brown hair cut short. He had facial hair which added to his age. This man was probably 10 years older than himself, but Dean would probably go for him anyway. After all, the men he slept with always looked just like his father.