Holy moly! This story got more hits in one day then any of my stories did. I am however a little depressed about the number of people who reviewed it, so thanks to those three who actually did. This update is for them.

So same as the first chapter, I don't own them, but I do enjoy playing with them

Who Are You

Chapter 2

"When did he leave?" Dean was startled when he spun around from the sink, to see his Dad with his overnight back over his shoulder.

"Dad?"

"When did he leave?" John asked again.

"He didn't." John stood there in doubt for a moment a confused look on his face.

"What?"

"He's still here. He hasn't come out since you left. I can't get the door open. I think he has a chair against it." Dean answered, drying his hands off with an old dish towel.
"Has he said anything?" John asked, leaning against the doorway.

"We've talked…But he says he's not hungry when I ask him if he wants something to eat. I asked him if he needed a ride but he said he wasn't going."

John nodded his head and walked into the living room, Dean following him.

"You're not going to do anything?!"
"Give him time son."
"But Dad-"

"No Dean. I said give him time. If he wants to pout in his room, then let him. He can't stay in there forever."

"I have stood by and let you do some stupid things concerning Sammy, but I swear to God, if something--- If I lose my brother, I'm holding you responsible." Dean threatened. And with that Dean stormed out leaving his father awe struck on the couch.

By the time that the sun was setting, John had had enough.

"He still in there?" He asked loudly as he stomped his way up the stairs.

"Yes sir." Dean answered, directly behind him. John paused outside of the old beaten up door.

"Sam, let me in." John ordered, waited for any movement from inside. "God damn it Sam, let me in, or I'll bust the fuckin' door in. Do you hear me!" He yelled pounding on the door.

"Dad..."
"No, Dean! Damn it Sammy, stop acting like a selfish baby and open the fuckin' door!" As soon as the word were said they heard a soft scuffle across the floor, and the sound of the chair being removed was music to Deans ears as his father pushed the door open.

Sam's back was toward them as he walked back to his desk, replacing the chair. The room was a mess, in a very Dean like manner. Clothes were thrown on the floor and a pile was left near an half filled duffle bag and every book that Sam owned was thrown into the corner.

"What's going on Sammy?" Dean asked looking around.

"Nothing." He answered as he kept his back to them and knelt down on the floor to begin folding this clothes back up and placing them into the open dresser drawers. Their father stood there for a moment, looking like he was going to say something. But with a sigh he looked down at his feet.

"Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes." He said as he walked out. Dean continued to stand there trying with all his might to think of something to comfort his brother. Taking a few steps forward he placed his hand on his brothers shoulder.

"Sammy..." Dean started. His brothers hand quickly shot up, stopping whatever comment he had come up with.

"Don't." Dean removed his hand and stood behind him for a moment. He looked around the room and then finally back at Sam.
"Do you need anything?"
"Could you get me a garbage bag?" Sam asked him. Dean just nodded his head, then realizing that Sam didn't see him, answered,

"Sure. I'll be right back." When he returned Sam was seated in front of the window, picking up small pieces of glass that Dean guessed were from the picture frame only a few inches away from his side. Dean cleared his throat to let his brother know that he was back. "You need help?" he asked hopefully. Sam shrugged his shoulders. "What do you want to throw away?" He tried again. Sam pointed to the books and he got up to move to the closet. "But dude, these are like every book you own." Sam didn't answer as he began to hang up shirts. "I can't throw these away." Dean admitted
"Well then leave the bag and get the fuck out." Sam snarled

"Sammy..."
"Either you do it or I will. Don't be a girl about it." Dean continued to stare at the back of Sam's head before he turned and began to carefully place the books inside. Once they were all within Dean stood up.

"I'll go put them in the attic."

"Just throw them away."
"But-" Dean protested.

"Just throw them away." Dean stood there for a moment.

"Things will get better." he tried

"No they won't." Sam slammed the closet door shut and moved to the unmade bed. Dean let go of the bag of books and took hold of his baby brothers shoulders, spinning him around to meet his eye. Dean shook his head as he brushed Sam's long bangs out of his face to reveal the purple, swollen eye beneath. "I don't care anymore." Sam said softly

"Sammy, "

"I don't." He admitted. "He's won. He got what he wanted. What he has always wanted."
"Don't say that." Sam looked down pushing Deans hand off the side of his head

"I don't care anymore." A broken Sam whispered.

And Dean knew that Sam really didn't.

Dinner had been a silent one. No one asked for seconds and no one looked up from their plates. Once the table was clear and the dishes washed John ordered Sam to stay at the table. Sam and Dean looked at each other, trying to figure out what there father was up too. He left the room quickly and came back with his over night bag.

"I know you don't believe me, but I'm proud of you, that you were able to get into Stanford, that's just great. And if things were different... " John gazed away, lost in thought. "But they aren't" his voice broke as he tried to explain himself "and...and...God! I love you Sammy. I love you and your brother so much. And I know will all my heart that your mother is proud of you too." John made his way back over with a small package and handed it to him. "I know it's not much, and money's kind of tight right now but here." Sam took the package and carefully took the raping off, setting it aside. Held lovingly in his hands was a leather bound copy of "A tale of Two Cities." One of the first books that Sam had ever read on his own. He had stolen if from a library in New York while his father was doing research. He had been so proud of himself when he had finished it on his own, that he had run threw the house telling his father and Dean. His dad had smiled at him and then asked him where he had gotten the book from. His dad had made him return the book the next morning. He carefully leafed thru the old pages and stopped when he saw the note written on the inside cover,

To Sammy,

You'll never know the love and pride I have for you.

Dad

Sam nodded his head and looked up at his dad. John could see a pool of tear collecting at the corner of Sammy's eyes.

"Thanks." He said before be got up and left the room. John looked lost as his son walked away. But his expression quickly changed to pain as he watched Sam dropped the book into the waste basket on his way out. Dean looked at his Dad, thinking about the words that Sam had uttered while they cleaned Sam's room.

"You got what you always wanted Dad." Dean said softly as he made his way out of the kitchen to the front door of the small house there were living in. He turned the door knob and looked back at the dark haired man. "Sam's head is finally out of the books and into the real world... and it didn't cost you a thing."

The front door closed and John was left alone with his thoughts. His eyes stopped on the old photo of his once happy and whole family. He smiled slightly as his eye found Mary, taking in every curve of her angelic face. And then he frowned when they traveled over to his image. He stared at it for a long moment before he looked up to his reflection in the window. His brow creased and he looked on with confusion at the old man staring back at him. The old and weather beat man he had never expected to see in front of him. "Who are you?"