Hi! This is my first fanfic on this website so hopefully I did everything right! PLEASE leave a review I'm DESPERATE to hear what you think. Good or bad, whatever, don't care but if you like it then I'll be posting more the second you tell me to!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything mentioned including the boys and songs.

Rebel souls. Deserters we are called,

Chose a gun, and throw away the sun,

Now these towns, they all know our name.

6- gun sound. Is our claim to fame.

I can hear them say.

Bad company and I won't deny

Bad, bad company, till the day I die.

-Bad Company, Bad Company

The brothers slouched easily in the back seat, the older holding his tiny sibling protectively in his lap. John glanced back in the mirror and could not help but grimace. The sleeping forms of his sons did not do anything to quell the uneasy feeling in his stomach. They are on a hunt goddam it. Dean knew better than to fall asleep. He knew the kids were exhausted but this is what he'd trained them for, raised them as. They were almost adults for god's sakes. Hell Sam acted like one more than he did sometimes; he had no right to drift off now. As he took in his younger son's tiny frame compared to his brother's another pang of annoyance gripped him. Sam was too small, how the hell was he going to be anything but a burden without any strength? He had been working his youngest hard, trying to get him to bulk up. Sam was tough, he knew that, but to survive in this world you needed to be a lot more than tough. He had learnt that the hard way.

He softened a little bit as he took in his eldest's relaxed features. He knew he was being harsh but that's what life was. If he couldn't teach his sons to protect themselves, if he couldn't make them strong then how were they supposed to survive in this world? The world that had killed the only woman he had ever loved and ripped away everyone else in his life. Everyone but the two peaceful figures in the back seat. He hadn't seen the 16 year old that relaxed in a while, arms wrapped affectionately around his sibling. He could see where his hand rested on his brother's neck as if feeling for a pulse. As if feeling that his brother was alive was the only reason he allowed himself to rest. How many days had it been since he had last had a good sleep? He scratched his head and scrunched his eyes, trying desperately to make out the road through the pouring rain. He heard a sound coming from his boys and glanced back. He could see Sam stirring slightly, muttering quietly. He sighed. Damn nightmares, the kid was a walking train wreck.

He heard a whimper coming from the figure in his arms and was instantly on full alert. He stretched his stiff muscles and took in his surroundings. Damn he had fallen asleep. What was wrong with him? God he was starving. "Sam?" he whispered, shaking his younger sibling as he began to whimper again. Little brothers... "Sammy!" He said louder, trying to force his sibling out of his dreamland. He saw the familiar brown eyes open to half-mast and a wave of terror pass through them as the line between the real world and nightmares blurred. "I gotcha buddy, its ok." He saw recognition flash in his brother's face and sighed with relief. Easy one tonight. Didn't even break a sweat. Thank god for that. Do not want Dad witnessing any potential chick flick moments as he tried to calm half-awake Sammy. As his wits came back to him, Sam relaxed, letting the nightmare go. He looked down at him, his worried green eyes searching for any signs that something was wrong. He was greeted with Sam's patented puppy dog stare and a flash of those dimples. Goddam it this kid was going to be a heartbreaker, that's for sure. A damn geeky one at that but hey, if he had inherited even a little of his brothers charm… He smiled at his slightly shaking brother. "Hey Twilight Zone, all good in there?"

Sam was still groggy. Twilight Zone? The references his brother seemed to pull out of his ass sometimes…"Okay random. Yeah I'm fine." The pain in his head spiked as he sat up straighter forcing him to grimace slightly. Ow. He saw his dad look back at him, take in his expression of pain, then pull his eyes back to the empty road. Yeah I'm fine dad, thanks for asking. "Where are we going again?" he was still slightly dazed. That caught his dad's attention.

"What do you mean where are we going, I've been prepping you two for 3 days now."His dad's coarse reply came immediately. "Sam, if you're not concentrating and prepared then all you're doing…" He zoned out. His head hurt and he wanted his dad to just stop talking. He could feel himself shaking uncontrollably and Dean's worried gaze on his pain-filled face. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease some of the pain in his head. With a start he realised his dad's mouth was still moving. Wow, he is still lecturing me.

"Yeah yeah" he snapped, interrupting his father's reprimand. "Just excuse me if I'm a little forgetful at the moment, I just woke up from Dean and I being ripped apart by heallhounds and unfortunately the 36 fire trucks crashing through my brain right now have got me a little distracted." It was rude, but not entirely undeserved. There was a shocked silence for a moment before Dean piped in, ever the buffer.

"36?" He questioned.

"It's a square number. And it's a multiple of 3." Dean looked at him with a mixture of wonderment and disgust. How is that even possible? He shrugged. "I like the number 3"

"Ok…." Came Dean's stunned reply. "Um…Dad I think Sam's brain might be a little bit more broken than we think… did you hit your head anywhere during that nightmare?"

"What?" Their father frowned, obviously having only the last part of the conversation. "What's wrong with Sam?"

Sam sighed. Nothing you would care about. He wanted to say it aloud but held himself back.

"The demonic signs…in Minneapolis? Ringing any bells here." Dean answered Sam's question from before, ignoring his father completely.

"Just the giant ones in my head right now." The pounding in his head was too strong and his stomach was beginning to react with the pain. He moaned in pain. He would wait until later to tear his dad a new one, he was sure to say something else to set him off sooner or later and give him a chance but right now he felt weak. Too weak. He buried his head in his brother's jacket, listening to his steady heartbeat as the burning hot rods of pain shot through his skull. He gripped feebly onto his brother's jacket as the pain steadily rose to his breaking point. "Dean." He whispered to his brother's neck.

"Stop the car dad. Sam's kind of dying over here" How did he know to stop the car? He felt the vibrations through the car stop and he ripped open the passenger door, flinging himself as fast as his exhausted body would allow onto the side of the road and feeling his legs give way underneath him.

He was out in an instant, catching his brother as he fell to his knees in a grassy spot just short of the line of trees. Okay, maybe not so easy after all. He held him carefully as he turned his stomach inside out, soothing him and pushing his long bangs out of his face, sweat mixing with the rain falling hard around them. What was this? A migraine? At least he wasn't hungry anymore. Sam made sure of that. He felt his bony sibling lean up against him, breathing hard, his face dripping with sweat but no tears. That's my boy; he was still a Winchester at heart. He pulled him close, feeling the heat and fear radiating off him, knowing he was the only thing stopping the tears. He whispered encouragement and could feel his brother clinging to every word. He heard his father walking up slowly behind and he could not help the pang of anger that shot through him. You are really showing your concern here dad. He saw his dad run his fingers through his hair and rub the back of his neck, a stance he knew well. Impatience? Really? Your sons hurling his guts out on the side of the road and you're impatient? He pulled his attention back to his brother, lifting his chin up to meet the pain-filled brown orbs. No one had eyes like his Sammy. Who could fit that many damn emotions into two little eyes? He had such girl eyes. He instantly regretted the thought as they went blank, all emotions emptied, and rolled back into his head as he lost consciousness. "Shit" he heard himself say. He leant Sam's limp body gently against a nearby tree and ran back to the car to grab painkillers, water, anything that would help his suffering sibling. He heard his dad come up behind him, not making any move to help him as he frantically searched the car for supplies. God, do you even care? He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on Dean, it's just a headache he's had these a million times. You can't pander to him; he needs to grow out of it. You're just causing him more pain by allowing him to give into his weakness. Just take him back to the car and let him ride it out. This has happened so many times, you should be used to it by now."

"Yep, I've grown accustomed to my brother throwing up and passing out on the side of the road in the pouring rain. Good plan dad. Actually, how about this? How about I don't even bother dragging him to the car, let's just leave him on the side of the road for the night. That'll teach him, right dad? What is Sam thinking, passing out like that? He should be ashamed for being so weak. I mean it is not as if he's been to four different schools in the last two weeks and had to do exams at two of them, fought two werewolves and a ruguru and is dealing with headaches that literally cripple him. He definitely needs to be taught a lesson." He never talked like that. Ever. Except when Sam's health was involved. When it came to Sam, Dean was in control and they both knew it. He saw his dad's face grow red and he held is head high, ready for the consequences of his outburst. Totally worth it. You would be proud Sammy, I sounded just like you. Bitchy sarcasm and all.

He should yell at him. He should rip his eldest to shreds. Yeah, but he is right. Sam is sick. He should be more worried. But he could not bring himself to feel it. He'd been at the hunt so long, seen so many men with so much worse, not even break a sweat that he found it hard to feel sympathy for his youngest as he retched and collapsed over a headache. Then again, Sam wasn't exactly built for this. He was trained well for it, sure, but it definitely was not in his nature. There was just a gentleness about him. A gentleness belonging purely to Mary, He loved his son unconditionally and would take multiple bullets for him but hell there was just a softness about the kid that was both infuriating and probably the reason he had held on for so long. When he looked at Sam he could actually see the innocence in the world. Without that, he didn't know what he would be as he faced the evil crawling out of every nook and cranny of hell 24/7. Thanks folks I'll be here all week.

He sighed. However, innocence had to be protected and the only way to do that was to train him. He though back to Dean's words. He just hoped that he didn't cross the line and have those protections mean the loss of that innocent he was trying to defend. It's like one of those freakin brainteasers Sam thinks up on the longer drives they took. He's such a nerd. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, pushing down the overwhelming rush of feelings. God he was so much like Mary. His heart broke as he thought about how uncaring he'd been towards his youngest and what Mary would think of him right now. No point crying over spilt milk, take it like a man. No. Take it like a Winchester. He pulled himself up straighter as Dean stared at him quizzically, waiting for an explosion that never came. He pushed his son aside and reached into the car, pulling out every possible form of pain relief he could think of. Dean gapped at him in disbelief. He turned to his eldest, handing him the supplies and straightening up to push him towards Sam. "Don't ever talk like that to me again." He growled.

"Okay." What the heck was that? Had his dad just backed down? From him? He had seen the pain that had flashed across his dad's face as he had thought about Dean's words and knew he had thought of his mother. He felt guilty but the thought that had he had helped Sam was enough to allow him to set it aside. His father got back into the car as Dean quickly made his way back over to where Sam lay. Or not. He glanced around, frowning. This had been the tree. Right? "Sammy?" His brother's moan came from behind him and he spun quickly to see a woman standing just inside the tree line nearby. Holding Sam. Then he saw the gun to his brother's head and nearly fell over.

"Hiya." The young, petit woman smiled flashing them her black eyes. "Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Demons. Shit. He growled, hoping his dad could see this and was pulling out weapons as they spoke. Just keep her busy and distracted. But he couldn't drag his eyes away from the gun pushed against his limp brother's temple. She stroked Sammy's hair gently, another part of him that was thoroughly Sammy, her eyes raking over his tiny form. "Mmmmm…so pretty." She grinned, purring. "The things I could do to you baby doll." He felt sick.

"He's 12. Even for a demon that's gotta be some kind of low." He fought back the urge to barf up the little food he had managed to save in the past few days at the smirk he earns in return. Distract. Distract. Distract.

"Oh sweetie I've done a lot worse with a lot less." Something about that voice was familiar. Maybe not even the voice, just the way she spoke. It clicked.

"Ooh you're that demented psycho bitch who tried to kill my dad in that hellhole in Minnesota, aren't you? Oh sweet heart you just don't know when to quit." She smiled at that, raking her fingers through the younger hunter's hair again, as if she actually knew him. Where is dad? Keep talking. Keep talking. "He took out that kid of yours didn't he?" He took a step towards them, she didn't seem to notice through the anger that was creeping across her features. "Fugly little thing. Looked even fuglier by the time we were done with it." He was close enough now. Close enough that if her attention lapsed for even a second that he had a chance at grabbing Sam. He stole a glance at the figure in her arms. Shit. He hasn't even opened his eyes yet. Did she do something to him? He faltered for a second. She noticed. Damn.

"Worried about little bro here, are we? You don't need to be. He'll wake up…eventually." She giggled.

"What did you do to him? Can't be any worse than what we did to….what was his name again? Oh yeah… Jeremy." She winced as she heard the name, as if in actual physical pain. Good. Because If she had lay a single goddam finger on his brother then so help him….

"You say his name one more time and it'll get a lot worse." The anger filtered away quickly and a predatory smirk took it's place. "Not that it won't either way." He felt something heavy hit his leg, accompanied by a loud crack and a vicious pain, before he felt a small prick in his neck and everything went black.

Dad. Please.

Please tell me what you think. Don't worry, serious Winchester whumpage to come if you liked it! Pinky promise! I know it was a bit wordy but I had to set it up. I already have an idea of where I'm going with it but all ideas would be interesting to her as well as any criticism you might have.

Also, I don't have a beta but if anyone has a good one they would like to recommend who could help me with my appalling sentence structure and depiction of characters or would like to volunteer to step up to the role that would be amazing!

Also sorry about my mean depiction of John, as you can probably tell I'm not exactly the biggest fan. After Ruby he's definitely up there on my least favourite list of characters (please don't kill me). But don't worry, it gets better. But only if you let it! Please comment!