Sam climbed excitedly into the front seat of the old Impala and plopped his backpack down beside him on the spacious front seat. "Hey, Dean! Guess what!" He breathed, eyes big like saucers.

"Not in the mood for guessing games, Sam." Dean growled.

Sam missed the warning. "Mr. Watts says my project on wind-powered turbines is one of the best he's ever seen. He thinks I can win the science fair next week! Hey, you'll come, right? The competition is next Wednesday night."

Dean glanced over, nodding. "Course I will."

Sam settled back, grinning. "Good. Cause if I win I might get a …"

"Dad's home, and he's pissed, Sam." Dean cut in grimly.

Sam halted mid-sentence, looking perplexed. "Hunh? Why?"

Dean sighed. "That hunt two nights ago."

Sam stared, "What about it?"

Dean looked sharply over at his younger brother, "That vamp that you let get the drop on you? The way you almost died? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"I didn't let him get the drop on me; he just did." Sam complained. "I told Dad my knee was still bugging me before he ever sent me in, Dean. The vamp saw it right away. That's why he went after my left side. And anyway, I got out of it, so what's the big deal? Nobody else was inconvenienced."

"You were daydreaming about that damned science fair and you know it." Dean glared. "I looked over at you just before the door opened. You weren't even in the damned room."

Sam was silent for a moment, then spoke up. "So what? Now I get punished?"

"I'd say it might help you remember to pay attention next time, wouldn't you?"

"So you agree with Dad?"

Dean looked over at his little brother. "This time? Yes. You could have died, Sam!"

Sam muttered under his breath and turned to stare out the window.

"You got something you wanna say?"

"I said, 'like it would matter!'" the younger boy exploded.

"What? If you died? Hell, yeah, It would matter, Sam. What the hell?"

Sam stared over at him. "You get more like him every day, you know."

Dean flushed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam mocked him, "You got something you wanna say? Come on, Dean. Tack the word 'boy' onto that sentence and you could BE Dad."

Dean shook his head. "You're being pissy and you know it. We're just worried about you. You know better."

Sam sighed, "Well, I'm too old to spank anymore, so what's the deal?"

Dean was silent a moment, then he spoke up reluctantly, "Sparring."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Great."

"Yeah, great. Dad's says he going to watch, and if I go easy on you, he's gonna step in. I can't hold anything back, or it'll just go harder on you." Dean looked away, hating his own words.

Sam stared. "Dean, I can't beat you on a good day, let alone with a bum knee."

"Well, you better step up your game tonight, Sammy. Cause there ain't no talking Dad out of it. You think I didn't spend all day trying?"

Sam scrunched down in his seat, unconsciously trying to make himself smaller, "Terrific. I love getting the shit beat out of me just for fun." He stared out the window, swallowing hard.

Dean tried not to notice how miserable his little brother looked just then and opted instead to change the subject. "So this science fair, what's the prize again?"

Sam shrugged disinterestedly, "Doesn't matter. I won't be able to go anyway, not beat to hell and back."

"Sammy …"

"You know the drill, Dean. You don't go to school til the bruises heal. Someone might ask questions. Guess I should just plan now to take the rest of the week off. I can hang with Dad all week. We can bond." Sam snorted derisively.

Dean looked away, knowing Sam spoke the truth and feeling lower than a skinwalker's belly. He sighed. "I can tag out, Sammy. Let Dad do it. But I don't think you want that."

"Whatever, Dean. Do what you want." Sam sniped, pissed. "It's not gonna matter one way or the other."

"Fine. Maybe I will. Maybe I'll go grab a few beers and let Dad handle it, then."

"Fine." Sam agreed, falling silent as they pulled up to the old house that was acting as their base of operations for the next few weeks. The only thing the house had going for it was its location - secluded, yet right off the busy main road. It was an easy drive to and from town, but the house itself pretty much reeked.

Dean cut the engine and dove for the door, wanting to be anywhere but next to the kid he was supposed to beat up sometime before the night was out. He strode purposefully into the house and up the rickety stairs, slamming their bedroom door behind him.

Sam followed more slowly, each step feeling like his last. And when he crossed the threshold of the front door and entered the decrepit living room, an arm snaked around his throat and pressed a knife there. Sam froze instantly, not expecting Dean to involve knife play, but when the voice in his ear asked him what he was planning to do, Sam made himself go limp. He refused to fight with his dad, at least not physically, knowing what the older man was capable of.

"I'm not fighting you, Dad." He refused, dropping his backpack to the floor with a thud.

"I'm not your dad right now, Sam. Right now I'm an attacker who's planning to kill you and then go after your brother. What do you do?"

Sam sighed. "Not doing this." he stated flatly.

"Maybe if you'd paid a little more attention before you stepped through the door, you wouldn't be in this situation. You think?"

"Honestly? I think I was screwed before I ever got out of bed today."

John tightened his grip around Sam's neck, cutting off the boy's air supply. Still Sam refused to cooperate. "Feel that, Sam? That's life leaving you. You just going to stand there?"

Sam couldn't speak so he just nodded, his vision getting fuzzy. But suddenly John relented, realizing that Sam wasn't going to fight back. He growled angrily and held the knife up in front of Sam where he could see it. It was one of Dean's and Sam knew it was razor sharp. Dean took exquisite care of only three things - his car, his weapons, and his … no, Sam wasn't going there. Not after this night. He squirmed, the first niggle of fear biting down.

"Dad. Cut it out." He pleaded.

"What am I cutting out, Sam? Your heart? Your kidney? You think a monster is going to care that you're pleading for your life? Maybe I was planning to cut out your heart and then move onto your brother's? Now will you fight?"

Sam shook his head. "Not fighting you, Dad." He willed his tense body to go slack.

"Then I guess this is what we call a teaching moment, Sam. " And John pressed the blade down onto the sensitive skin beneath Sam's collarbone and released a thin line of blood just as Dean trampled down the steps and froze, horrified at the sight of Sam caught in a choke hold with blood leaking from his chest.

"Dad! What the hell!" Dean started toward them, shocked eyes locked on Sam's.

"Dean! Hel …" Sam got out before his father's arm grew tight against his windpipe once again. And the last thing he heard before the world went dim was his father explaining what a disappointment he was.