Wow...just...wow. I'm overwhelmed by the response to this story. Really, really overwhelmed. Thank you so much for all of the wonderful comments...you guys are the best! And because you are the best, I'm posting this a day early! Yay! So, this chapter is...well...a bit dark and has some bad language. Anyway...I'll let you get to it.

Cindy

Dean? Wh-what's wrong?" Sam asked as he clearly heard the malice in his brother's voice. He never even had a chance…never saw Dean's fist before it plowed into his face with bone crushing force.

Chapter 2 – Hurting Sammy

Sam flew backwards with the force of the punch, his back hitting the edge of the other bed before his body dropped with a soft thud to the shag carpeted floor. Before he had a chance to even fathom what was going on, Dean was above him, pulling him to his feet. He reached up and gripped Dean's wrists as he forced into the center of the room, his brother's rage filled face inches from his own.

"D-Dean…what…I…" Sam stammered, the taste of copper on his tongue nearly gagging him.

"Shut the fuck up, Sam! I'm so tired of hearing your whiny fucking voice! Always have something to say don't you!" Dean screamed, unconcerned about anybody hearing him as the motel was empty save for them and they were located in the room farthest removed from the office.

"Dean…"

Sam was suddenly and violently slammed into a wall, his head pounding against the wall, his vision swimming as consciousness threatened to abandon him. "I said shut up! You don't speak! You have no right!" Dean screamed again as he pulled Sam away from the wall only to slam him back against it. "All these years I've taken care of you, watched out for you and for what? You don't appreciate anything! All you care about is yourself! You don't even care that Mom died because of you!"

Sam's eyes widened as he stared weakly into Dean's furious face. "No…don't say that, Dean…please, don't say that," he whispered brokenly.

"It's your fault, Sam! All your fault! You screwed everything up! I wish you'd never been born!" Dean shrieked before dragging Sam away from the wall and literally throwing his lighter frame across the room.

Sam hit the door of the room, the knob crushing cruelly into his ribcage, breaking two ribs with the force of the hit. He landed on the floor on his stomach and though all he wanted to do was close his eyes to escape this nightmare, he knew he had to get away. He couldn't fight Dean. His brother was bigger and stronger and though he was well on his way to catching up to Dean in height, he was far behind in muscularity. Sam pushed weakly up with his arms and began to crawl toward the bathroom, the teen hoping to barricade himself inside until his father returned. He yelled out in surprise when a strong hand wrapped around one ankle and pulled him back.

"No…please!" he cried as he rolled over and kicked out with the other foot, catching Dean in the chest.

Dean's lip curled into a vicious snarl as he dropped Sam's leg and stood to full height. "You're going to regret that little brother," he hissed before lunging forward and yanking Sam to his feet.

Sam couldn't keep from screaming as the movement ground the ends of his broken ribs together. He had no time to recover before a fist slammed into his gut. He would have doubled over if it hadn't been for Dean holding him up. Sam gasped as he tried to draw in air and he looked up just in time to see another fist coming at him, this one hitting him in the side of the head, the blow leaving Sam reeling on the edge of consciousness. Dean let him drop onto John's bed, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. He leaned over his brother and whispered menacingly into his ear. "You're nothing, Sam. You're weak and pathetic. I hate you…Dad hates you. We just keep you around because Mom loved you so much…why I'll never understand!"

Sam slowly opened his eyes and stared up at his brother. A lone tear slowly rolled down his cheek as he shook his head. "No…that's not true," he whispered. "Take it back, Dean…please…take it back."

Dean reached down and cruelly grabbed a handful of Sam's hair then yanked his head up from the bed. Sam tried to lift his hands to fend off another attack, but he was too weak to do anything but gaze pleadingly up into his brother's green eyes. "It ain't gonna work, Sam. I'm through giving in to your pathetic dewy eyed looks. I'm through taking care of you…through protecting you. I want you gone…I want you out of my life…out of Dad's life!"

"You're not Dean. He would never hurt me. What have you done with my brother," Sam whispered, sudden anger in his voice. "What have you done with him?"

Dean chuckled as he continued to grip Sam's hair in his hand. "It's me, Sammy…it's all me. Like I said, I want you out of our lives. I want you dead."

Sam swallowed at the hate filled eyes that stared down at him. This wasn't his brother. He didn't know what was happening, but he did know that if Dean were in his right mind he wouldn't be doing this. Sam knew he had to do something fast or he would most certainly die. It was there in Dean's eyes…he intended to kill him.

"Dean…I know this isn't you. You have to fight whatever is making you do this. Please, Dean…you have to fight it," Sam pleaded, voice more of a gasping whisper than anything else.

Dean yanked Sam's head back then punched him with such ferocity it threw Sam from the bed, his body landing on the floor at the foot of John's bed, his head and shoulders lying across the opening between the two beds. He couldn't move, couldn't fight back as Dean got off the bed and straddled his body. Sam tried to speak, but his jaw wouldn't work, wouldn't allow him to form words. All that came out through his lips was a pathetic, pain filled moan. Dean smiled as he wrapped his hands around Sam's throat and began to squeeze. Sam gasped, the teen somehow finding the strength to lift his hands and weakly grip Dean's wrists. His vision began to darken as his body was deprived of the oxygen it needed. His hands dropped away to his sides and just when he thought the end was near, Dean released his grip on this throat and pushed up off the floor. He stared down hatefully at his brother, a cruel sneer curling his lips.

"No, I don't want you to get off that easy. I want you to go slow and in pain. You deserve pain, Sam…so much pain for the pain you've caused," Dean snarled before kicking out, his foot connecting with Sam's ribs.

Sam gasped and drew in a deep breath. He rolled onto this side, but couldn't get his arms around his body in time to save his stomach from the next kick. He wasn't sure why, but the only thought that entered his mind was how thankful he was that Dean was barefoot and not wearing his boots. Dean kicked over and over, his foot landing anywhere it could…Sam's legs, stomach, chest, face. Nothing was safe from Dean's rage as he continued the beating. Finally he stopped then flipped Sam onto his back with one foot. He glared down at his bloodied and beaten brother and smiled. Sam was moaning softly, the teen barely conscious. Blood spilled over his lips and down both sides of his face before dripping down to pool on the carpet below. His breathing was ragged and stuttered. Dean knelt down and placed two fingers at the side of Sam's neck. The pulse was fast and erratic.

Dean placed his hands on either side of Sam's face, the blood spilling from the teen's mouth coating his fingers as the elder brother stared down at his dying sibling. He suddenly let go of Sam's face and stood up. He looked down at his blood stained hands and calmly wiped them on the front of his tee shirt then stepped over Sam's prone body and made his way back to his bed. He climbed into the bed then pulled the covers up over his shoulder. He fell asleep to the sound of Sam's ragged breathing and gut wrenching moans.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Sam had never known pain like this. Every place on his body hurt…his head, his face, his chest, his stomach. He didn't know how he was still conscious or even how he was still alive. He couldn't seem to draw in hardly any air and the blood that pooled in his mouth threatened to choke off what little air he was able to get. He coughed weakly spattering blood over his face and down onto his neck. Dean had meant to kill him, had in all likelihood succeeded. It was only a matter of time, that much Sam could tell. His mind may be muddled and confused, but he could tell by the pain he felt deep inside that it was bad…really bad. The pain was overwhelming, but not nearly as bad as the agony in his heart. His brother hated him and maybe this was all for the best. He couldn't live with that knowledge. It was way more than he could bare. Sam groaned as a sudden jolt of pain pierced through him. He willed his body to just stop fighting, to let the inevitable happen…to release him from this terrible pain. Finally, his body listened and let the darkness take it away from all the pain.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

John pulled up outside the motel room and cut the engine to his truck. He glanced at the door to the room and sighed. He had gone back to the witch's house, not even sure what he was looking for. Something about the hunt, about her death bothered him. He didn't know what, but he was hoping that maybe he could find a clue if he went back through her house once more. He'd just started searching when a sudden, uneasy feeling had swept over him and he had the urgent need to get back to his sons. At first he'd brushed it off as being back at the house alone, but when the uneasy feeling escalated he couldn't resist it any longer. He'd literally run for his truck and was speeding back toward the motel in no time. Somewhere along the line he was able to calm himself and convince himself that it was just the strange way in which the witch had died and his exhaustion that had him on edge. The boys were fine. Dean was there to watch over Sam. He wouldn't let anything happen to his brother.

Now, he sat there in his truck staring at the motel room window. Feeling somewhat silly he opened the door and climbed out. He walked to the door and inserted the old metal key into the lock. He pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened room. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness then frowned when he only saw one huddled form in the boy's bed. He walked toward the beds, but stopped suddenly when his foot hit something solid on the floor. He looked down and nearly stopped breathing when he saw that it was Sam lying there, the teen not moving. He dropped to his knees and with only the muted moonlight to guide him, he reached out and touched Sam's face. Sam didn't move, nor did he make a sound. All John could hear was his baby boy's shallow and ragged breathing and the soft snores coming from the occupant of the bed.

"Dean! Wake up! What the hell happened here!" John screamed as panic filled him.

Dean came awake with a start and was up and out of the bed in one fluid motion. "What? Dad…what…"

"Dean…turn on the light so I can see!" John demanded without looking up from the shadowed form of his youngest son.

"Wh…yeah…okay," Dean said with confusion.

Suddenly the light came on and John gasped at what the light revealed. Sam's face was a myriad of cuts and bruises with blood covering every inch. His nose was swollen and misshapen and one cheek was a deep purple, almost to the point of being black. Blood trickled from his lips and John's stomach flipped when he saw how much was pooled beneath Sam's head. John pulled out his phone and dialed 911. When the call was answered he frantically relayed the information needed to get help to his son the flipped the phone shut again.

"Oh my God…Sammy? What happened? Dad…what happened?" Dean's strangely quiet, but terrified voice asked.

"You tell me, Dean! You were here. How could you sleep through your brother being beaten!" John snapped before glancing up at his eldest son. His eyes widened at what he saw. Dean looked at his father then back at his brother before returning his shocked eyes back to John. He took a step back when he saw the way John was looking at him.

"Dad? What…"

"What did you do, Dean? What the hell did you do?" John cried out, his eyes sweeping down the front of his son.

"What? I don't…" Dean started as he followed his father's gaze. He sucked in a deep breath when his eyes landed on his blood smeared shirt and sleep pants. He lifted his hands and couldn't stifle a sob that broke free when he saw the blood imbedded under his fingernails and the scrapes and bruises along his knuckles. He looked up at John, eyes pleading with his father to tell him that what he saw couldn't possibly be true. "Dad…I…"

Suddenly, Sam gasped then all sounds of breathing ceased. Two sets of terrified eyes jerked to the boy on the floor. "No…no, no, no!" John shouted as he pressed his fingers to Sam's neck. "Oh, God…no!"

John leaned over and pressed his ear to Sam's chest then straightened and held his hand just over Sam's mouth. "His heart has stopped…he's not breathing!" John shouted before immediately beginning chest compressions on his baby.

Dean lurched forward and dropped down opposite John. He prepared to give his brother mouth to mouth, but was stopped by John's stern and eerily calm voice. "No, Dean…you need to change out of those clothes! Get rid of them!" John snapped as he continued to press on Sam's chest, willing his boy's heart to start beating again. "Now, Dean!" he shouted when Dean just stared dumbly at him.

Dean nodded and pushed to his feet. He pulled the bloodied shirt over his head and tossed it onto the bed. His sleep pants soon followed then he crawled over the bed and retrieved his duffel bag nad pulled a clean shirt and jeans from it. He quickly dressed and pulled on his boots then grabbed the tee shirt and sleep pants and stuffed them into his duffel under his other clothes. He climbed back over the bed and retrieved his dirty clothes from the floor and stuffed them in the bag too. He watched as John stopped chest compressions and moved to blow air into Sam's lungs. He was just about to help when the sound of sirens reached his ears and he ran to open the door to the room. He ran back to his family and leapt over them then dropped down to his knees between the two beds. John looked up and nodded before moving back to start chest compressions again. The two worked in tandem, desperately trying to keep Sam alive. Medical personnel rushed into the room and the two Winchesters were pushed aside, the EMT's taking over where the two frantic family members had left off.

John and Dean watched in stunned silence as a tube was inserted in Sam's mouth and threaded down his throat. One EMT immediately began chest compressions again once Sam was intubated. He continued as Sam was secured to a back board and loaded onto a stretcher. Dean and John followed numbly behind and watched as Sam was pushed into the waiting ambulance. They watched as Sam's tee shirt was cut away and gel was squeezed out onto two paddles one of the EMT's had taken from the wall of the ambulance. Both Winchesters flinched when Sam's body arched up as the paddles were applied to his chest. The rushed forward when the doors to the ambulance were slammed shut, but two uniformed police officers stepped in front of them and they could only watch as their cherished family member was whisked away in shrill of loud sirens and flashing red lights.

John narrowed his eyes on the officer who stood in front of him and attempted to push by him. The officer grabbed his arm and held him back. "Sir, we need to talk to you about what happened here," the officer said.

"I'll talk to you later! I…we need to get to the hospital!" John snapped as he once again tried to get past the officer.

"Sir, I understand that this is a very difficult situation, but I need to find out what you know about what happened to your son," the officer persisted.

"I don't know what happened! I came to our room and he was just lying there!" John shouted.

The officer turned to look at his partner then cast his gaze on Dean. "What about him? Does he know what happened?" he asked.

"He was with me. We went out and when we returned we found Sammy," John answered.

Dean glanced over at his father then looked at the two police officers. "Look, we'll talk to you, but right now we need to get to the hospital. That's my baby brother…I can't stand here and talk to you right now," he said, the young man not even attempting to keep the pleading tone out of his voice.

The two officers glanced at each other then turned their attention back to the two hunters. "Okay, fine…but we will need to talk to you either tonight or tomorrow morning," the one officer who had been doing all the talking said.

"Thanks," John said before rushing around the officers and heading for the Impala, Dean following close on his heels.

The two hunters climbed into the car, John behind the wheel and Dean in the passenger seat. Dean placed his duffel bag on the seat between them, the young man thankful the officers hadn't noticed him taking the bag with him. He dug into the bag and pulled out his keys then handed them to his father. John started the car and backed out of the space then peeled away in the direction the ambulance had gone. He knew where the nearest hospital was as he always made it a priority to know where medical help was if needed. He glanced over at Dean and sighed. The young man was staring blankly out the windshield, his hands shaking as they rested in his lap. His long sleeves were pulled down over his knuckles, hiding the evidence of the beating he had dealt to his brother.

"Dean, what happened tonight?" John asked softly.

Dean slowly turned his head and John could see the tears that spilled down over his cheeks. "I don't know. The last thing I remember was you leaving and that's it. I woke up to you screaming and Sammy…oh God…Sammy. What have I done, Dad?" he cried softly.

"Dean…it wasn't you. I think maybe that witch did something before she died. This isn't your fault. I never should have left you and Sammy alone. I knew something was up with you, but I didn't listen to my concerns," John said.

Dean dropped his eyes to his lap and let out a muffled sob. "Dad? What if…what if Sammy dies?" he asked in almost a whisper. He lifted his eyes and glanced over, meeting John's gaze. "What if I killed him, Dad?"

I'll just be in my little hiding place for a while. This was definitely not a happy, sunny chapter. On a positve note, I'm almost finished with the next chapter for And the Deal Goes On. I hope to have it ready to post tomorrow sometime. I'll most likely post the next chapter for this one on Sunday. Thanks for reading.

Cindy