Summary: AU Dean has to protect Sam from a lot of people and evil supernatural things. He never thought he'd have to protect Sammy from one of the most trusted people in their lives.
WARNING: Abuse of a minor, implied sexual abuse, swearing, Dark Themes.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor am I making any profit from this at all.
Note: Although prompted by my reviewers, I honestly couldn't leave Dean and Sam hanging like that. So, here's a second chapter … with a third on the way.
Special Thanks: To Guest and Mimmi85 for your kind reviews. Hope this chapter is to your liking. Thanks to everyone who is following and has read or viewed this story. Your appreciation means a lot.
CHAPTER TWO
Dean glanced over at Sam, who was held protectively within his arms, one hand curled tightly around Dean's shirt, his other hand underneath the pillow, scooting as close as he could to Dean, wanting the love, comfort and support that only Dean could provide for him, his young face smoothed out, free from the worry, haunted-lines that had previously marred his expression – too many adult emotions on his kid's face for Dean's liking – but now his young features were free from those emotions as Sam slumbered in restful, undisturbed sleep.
Finally!
It had taken Dean talking non-stop in a calm, soothing, soft tone, whispering words of comfort and reassurances as well as the two pain meds that Dean had practically had to force down the kid's throat before Sam had finally stopped wriggling and squirming around so much that his eyelids became heavy and droopy, finally succumbing to the sleep that his brother so desperately needed.
Dean blew out an irritated sigh. Damn his kid was stubborn! Too damn worried about everyone else to even take notice of his own needs and wants. "Damn Sammy, when are you going to learn to take better care of yourself, huh?"
Sam mumbled something unintelligible, his features twisting into a childish pout and Dean could barely detect the breathy last word that his brother muttered "…jerk."
"Yeah, right back at you … bitch." Dean smirked fondly as he affectionately tousled his brother's hair. It wasn't until Dean began to run his fingers through Sam's hair, feeling the unevenness of the hair that Dean recalled the shambles that now remained of his younger brother's hair and Dean had to swallow back the lump of emotion, the sting of tears that memory brought back.
Dean's hand trembled slightly as he fought down his conflicting emotions, everything rushing back to him in sudden tsunami waves, threatening to drown him in the overload of emotions and memories.
Damn, what the hell did he do now?
Having arrived back at the apartment to find his baby brother locked in the bathroom, handcuffed to the basin's pipe, bruises littering his too skinny, pale young body, his hair shaved off in patches, half-naked, staring up at Dean with wide, haunted hazel eyes had sent Dean's big brother protective instincts into overdrive.
He'd had little time to really think about the circumstances surrounding his brother's current condition, too concerned with caring for and treating an obviously beaten and traumatized little brother.
Now that Dean knew that Sammy was in no immediate danger – not dying or bleeding out anyway – and was sleeping as soundly as he could – mainly because of the pain meds Dean had given him – Dean's brain finally had a chance to catch up on recent events as he began to ponder over everything he had seen and learned that night.
The repercussions from this would be huge!
Dean sighed loudly, running a hand over his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. Of course, it was plainly obvious of what Dean's long-term plan would be. The two of them were definitely leaving. There was no doubt in Dean's mind about that. He would take Sam as far away as he possibly could; settle down somewhere; find a job; Sam could go to school and just be a regular kid for once. But the only big problem to those plans becoming a reality was …
Dad.
John would be pissed that Dean had basically run away with his little brother. He would eventually track them down and either force the both of them to return to his side or … take Sam away from Dean.
Dean's eyes narrowed to slits as he tightened his hold about his baby brother protectively. No one was taking Sammy from him! Dean would kill anybody who tried … even if that someone turned out to be their Dad; the great John Winchester.
No. The only way to avoid that particular scenario was to confront the issue before it became a problem; which meant that Dean would have to confront the old man before he took Sam and left Dad's sorry ass behind forever.
But …
Dean's eyes shifted over to his sleeping brother, knowing that Sam couldn't be here to witness the confrontation between older son and father. The kid already felt bad enough as it was, let alone witnessing the – most likely – violent altercation between his older brother and father. That guilt would eat his kid up from the inside out!
No. Sam most definitely shouldn't be here to see that. This meant that Dean had to make arrangements for his brother's safety and well-being. Someone he trusted would have to come by and get Sam before their father arrived back.
Dean couldn't help but snort at that. Trust. Yeah, right … like he had trusted his Dad to keep Sammy safe from harm when he was the one who had turned around and had the audacity to lay his God damn hands all over his kid!
The one person who Dean had counted on and trusted – besides himself – to take care of and look after Sammy, had violated the unflappable, consistent, unwavering loyalty and faith that Dean had bestowed upon the man. In just one night, John had managed to stomp and trample upon every sacred vow, pledge and promise that Dean had ever believed in.
Dean's free hand clenched into a fist, his teeth grinding together in anger as Dean easily recalled the shame and guilt reflecting within his brother's too expressive hazel eyes, scared because Dean had come home earlier than expected and had caught Sam in a compromising position; not being able to cover up the fact that there was nothing wrong in the first place … or that their father was the one responsible for putting him in the position to begin with.
Hiding; covering up the truth; protecting Dad; protecting Dean; lying to Dean about the few unexplained bruises that Dean would sometimes discover upon his baby brother's body; so that Dean would never discover the horrifying truth of what was really happening; all so their family could carry on and live happily ever fucking after!
Dean was never supposed to know, never supposed to see the crap that Dad had done to his little brother. Blaming Sammy; making him feel responsible for Mum's death; making Sammy doubt himself … Dad had done this … all of this … to Dean's little brother … to his own fucking son!
And where the hell had he been while his brother was being terrorized and beaten by their father? Off with some … chick … pouting because he didn't want to deal with his Dad's drunken behaviour or his little brother's moody, sullen mood-swings.
God … he was such a fucking idiot! He should have been here, damn it! He should never have left and made Sam face this by himself; alone; with no back-up or support what so ever. What the hell kind of crap big brother was he anyway?!
How the hell had he not known what was happening? How had he not realised that Sammy was lying to him? Normally Dean could tell – with just one fucking look – when Sam was evading the truth or flat out lying to him. But this time …
Dean shook his head disgustedly, a low growl of annoyance deep within his throat, furious with himself for not realising what was happening sooner, for not being here when his brother had needed his the most. If he could, he'd beat his own damn ass for having failed the one person he'd vowed, sworn to protect; his Sammy; his baby brother; his kid.
Almost as if he could sense his brother's dark self-incriminating thoughts, Sam shifted slightly in his sleep, a frown appearing upon his face, immediately snapping Dean out of his destructive feelings of guilt and remorse. "Ssh, you're okay Sammy," Dean soothed his brother. "You're safe, I promise."
"Dee …" Sam breathed and Dean could hear the concern within his little brother's voice. "… you 'kay … Dee?"
Dean chuckled softly. "Yeah baby brother, I'm good," he assured his sleeping little brother who sometimes talked in his sleep. "Go back to sleep little dude, everything's fine, okay?"
"'Kay," Sam murmured, the frown lines disappearing from his features, his breathing evening out, indicating that he was sleeping deeply once more.
Damn, this kid never ceased to amaze him! With just a few simple words, Sam had managed to snap Dean out of his dark, self-destructive emotions, making him focus upon the present. Dean smiled down fondly at Sam, gently giving his brother's shoulder a light squeeze. "Okay, I get the message Sammy. More important things to worry about right now … right?"
Thanks to Sam snapping his out of his depressing, dark state, Dean's scattered, disorganized thoughts began to rearrange themselves into coherent thoughts once more now that he had a specific plan to follow.
After carefully extracting himself out from under Sammy and making sure that he was resting comfortably, Dean slipped from the room, pulling the door shut – just enough to offer privacy, but also to be able to hear if Sam became restless and needed him – behind him as he quickly make a call to a hunter close by who Dean trusted with this delicate situation to take care of his brother until Dean could retrieve him. Caleb would be arriving here within the hour, which meant that Dean needed to at least pack up his little brother's things before Caleb got here.
After peaking in on Sam once more, Dean moved across the hall and opened up his brother's bedroom door, which was right across from Dean's room. It was rare that the brothers got their own rooms, but Dad hadn't been planning on sticking around too long, planning to drive out in the morning to the next town over to work on a hunt that he had picked up a week earlier. They were only supposed to here until Dad had finished the hunt and then they were all moving on (two weeks max).
Damn! They'd only been in this town for half a day and Dean already hated the sight of it. The sooner he got the both of them out of here; the better off Dean would feel.
After everything Dean had seen and learned today, he honestly didn't think he could be shocked by anything else … but, he was proved wrong – once again – when he entered Sam's room and saw the state that it was in. Dean's eyes widened, a gasp of surprise escaping him as he stared around the room, his jaw hanging open.
Trashed. Just like the living room. Clumps of Sam's hair were scattered throughout the room, a discarded electric razor laying upon the floor, bits of hair and flecks of blood within the razor's blades; furniture overturned in the corner of the room – almost like it was some kind of barricade – was enough to make Dean feel queasy, imagining the epic struggle that had gone on in here between the youngest Winchester and Dad.
It wasn't until Dean's eyes fell upon his brother's bed that he almost lost everything in his stomach, his eyes impossibly wide, stunned, rooted to the spot as he tried to make sense of the scene before him.
"Sonuvabitch!" Dean hissed, his eyes flicking from one item to the next, his brain trying to figure out the disturbing scene before him.
Rumpled sheets; blood splatters upon the bottom sheet along with … Oh God, was that? Dean swallowed hard, ripping his eyes away from the remains of some guy's excited pleasure.
Handcuffs were littered to each of the four bed-posts and Dean could only assume that Dad had handcuffed; shackled; spread-eagled his brother … his baby brother to the bed and … Dean turned his head away, almost gagging now at the mental images of his kid trapped, handcuffed to the bed while Dad put his fucking hands all over him and …
What the fuck was that?
Dean's eyes fell upon the discarded object upon the ground at the foot of his brother's bed. Dean squatted own, his eyes squinting as he tried to identify the foreign, yet familiar object. It almost looked like a … Dean drew in a sharp breath as realisation dawned upon him. Was that a fucking sex toy?!
Dean's eyes narrowed, his jaw clamped shut, his teeth clenched, grinding against each other in sudden furious rage, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hand as he fought to get his emotions – horror, shock, confusion, rage, guilt, betrayal – under some semblance of control.
"God damn it!" Dean cursed, aiming a fist into the wall behind him. "That God damn piece of SHIT!" Dean couldn't help but yell as he continued to pound upon the wall with his fists.
That was it! That son of a bitch was a dead man! How dare he do this to his kid? What the fuck was he thinking?
Dean's vision tunnelled down to just the wall as he repeatedly struck it with his fists, releasing all of the horror, anguish, rage and fear that he had been feeling ever since walking back into the apartment earlier tonight. Nothing else mattered except hitting that wall as Dean found himself zoning out with rage, tears in his eyes, choking back on his broken sobs.
The next thing Dean became consciously aware of was a feeling of warmth and comfort, embraced in familiar arms, the sound of his brother's voice whispered soothingly in his ear and the sound of choked up anguished sobs.
It took Dean a few moments to realise that he was the one producing the sobs, tears running freely down his checks, clutching at the back of his brother's shirt in desperation, almost afraid the kid would disappear on him at any moment.
"Oh God, I'm so fucking sorry Sammy," Dean wailed brokenly, hardly recognizing the voice as his own as he fought to reign in his overwhelming emotions. "You … you shouldn't have been hurt like this. Sorry Sammy, I'm sorry I wasn't here to protect you. Sorry … so sorry …"
"It's okay Dean," Sam said softly, trying to remain strong for his big brother, but Dean could detect the slight crack within his voice, which meant that the kid was almost at the point of breaking down himself.
"I'm okay Dean; I promise … This isn't your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for. I … I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm the one who's sorry,"
Hearing the guilt within his brother's voice, Dean locked down his emotions once more, his posture changing in an instant to Dean Winchester – big brother mode – wiping a hand over his face to get rid of any stray tears, releasing his desperate hold upon his brother as he gently pulled back from Sam enough so that he could look at his brother, raising an eyebrow quizzically. "Sorry? What the hell have you got to be sorry for kid?"
Sam couldn't help but wince at the gruffness within his brother's voice, avoiding his brother's gaze, his head hanging low, remorsefully, knowing that he was the one responsible for his big brother's emotional break-down.
Normally Sam would have had time before Dean got home to tidy up the signs of struggle and violence so that Dean would never know that anything had happened. But this time … everything was messed up. It had been worse … much worse than the other times.
"Sammy," Dean interrupted Sam's musings, his tone lowering, concerned about the slightly shaking shoulders of his little brother. "What the hell have you got to be sorry for kid?" He persisted gently.
Sam kept his head lowered, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, bitting upon his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, struggling to keep his stupid tears at bay because this … was all his fault!
Dean was never supposed to know; never supposed to find out; never have to make the ultimate choice between him or … Dad. And it wasn't as if it happened all of time; just this one time of the year, on the anniversary of his mother's death. The rest of the year … he acted like his real Dad and Sam could pretend and ignore the once a year verbal and physical beating because … it was only once a year. But now … even though Sam hadn't verbally confirmed that Dad was the one who had done this to him, Sam knew that Dean had been able to figure out the truth fairly quickly without Sam even having to say anything.
Damn, sometimes he wished his brother couldn't read him so well! And now … now everything was so fucked up that Sam didn't even know where to begin with his apologises.
He was sorry. Sorry he didn't have a chance to clean up; sorry that Dean had to find out like this (or at all); sorry that he was such a disappointment, a failure, a bad son and brother; sorry that he was tainted and cursed.
"Sammy, that's not true …"
Sorry for causing the death of their mother; sorry that Dad had seemingly snapped, causing his to see things and do … things … maybe Dad was right. Maybe Sam had cursed him or infected him somehow, and that's why this time was so much more different.
"No Sam, listen to me kid, please …"
And if Dad was right about that … then maybe … he was right about all of the other things he'd said as well; Dean being disappointed in him, despising him because Sam had caused Mum's death; and now …now that Dean knew … would he kick Sam to the curb, dump his sorry ass on the side of the road as Dean took off and never looked back? Would Dean abandon him and take off with their father, leaving him behind … forever?
"That is never going to happen little brother! It's you and me against the world … remember?"
Dad was right. He'd been right about everything, all of this time … it would have been better if he'd never been born!
"Sam, that's enough! Stop it, right now!"
Sam blinked, surprised to find that Dean had him by the shoulders and was shaking him. Sam couldn't help but notice the tears within his brother's green eyes, his tone fill of desperate pleading.
"Are you back with me now, little brother?" Dean asked, his voice low, husky with emotion, watching as Sammy's eyes cleared of the despair and haunted quality his eyes had previously been displaying, a touch of confusion entering them now.
"What do you mean Dean? I didn't go anywhere." Sam replied in puzzlement.
"Jesus Sammy, don't fucking say that, all right?" Dean quickly pulled his baby brother into his arms and held him tightly, struggling to keep his voice from cracking. "What you just said … all of it … it's crap, you understand?"
Sam was even more perplexed than before, becoming increasingly worried about his brother's words and actions. Oh God, had he finally driven his big brother crazy?
"Dean …" Sam began slowly, carefully. "I didn't say anything. I mean, I was thinking a lot of stuff but …"
"Yeah, out loud dude," Dean chuckled dryly.
"What?"
"You may have thought you were just thinking it Sammy, but you said all of that out loud little man," Dean felt Sam freeze up in his arms. "It's okay little brother," Dean quickly reassured the teen. "I've got you now, okay?"
Sam swallowed hard, feeling his checks redden with embarrassment and guilt. He'd just said all of that out loud? Dean heard all of that? Damn it! What the hell was his problem?
"It's not your fault Sammy," Dean replied soothingly. "You can't help but spill all of your secrets when you're sick or hurt. Sorry, but that's just the way you're wired little bro,"
"Damn! I said that out loud too, didn't I?" Sam said, suddenly disgusted with himself.
"Hey," Dean pulled away to cup his brother's face in his hands when he felt Sam stiffening up beside him, his body tense, almost as if he was getting ready to run. "You need to chill little man." Dean told him softly, but sternly. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you hear me? None of this is your fault Sammy. And if I have to keep repeating that to you daily until it finally sinks into that thick skull of yours then, that's what I'll do.
Sammy … hey, look at me," Dean ducked down to meet his brother's eyes, seeing the fear and confusion deep within his eyes. "You are not a failure, disappointment or a bad brother. You are too smart to fail at anything! Disappoint me? Never. I am so damn proud of you Sammy. And you wish you were bad!" Dean scoffed lightly, teasingly. "Dude, c'mon, you're a girl scout compared to how I was at your age!"
Dean was pleased to notice the scowl leave his brother's face, a slight smile upon his lips at Dean's comment. "And didn't we already cover that it was the son of a bitch demon that caused Mum's death, not you? What did I tell you I would do if you ever said you were tainted or cursed again, huh?" Dean raised his eyebrows in mock exasperation.
Sam's smile widened more as he mumbled his reply.
"Sorry Sammy, I didn't quite catch that,"
"You said you would kick my ass." Sam repeated a little louder.
"Damn straight," Dean agreed with a firm nod of his head. "I'll give you a freebie this time round … but there better not be a next time, understand?"
"Yeah Dean, I got it."
"Good." Dean nodded, satisfied that Sam seemed to register Dean's words, giving his brother a soft squeeze on the back of his neck reassuringly, knowing that it was going to take some time to rebuild his kid's self-confidence, but Dean was determined to give that back to his brother … no matter how long it took. Nothing was more important to him than the young man standing before him and Dean vowed to never let anyone put their hands upon his kid brother ever again!
"Hey little man," Dean said softly, trying to get his brother's attention when he noticed that Sam's eyes kept returning to the bed, a horrified, distant look upon his young face.
Sam swallowed hard, swinging his gaze back to Dean, tiling his head slightly, questioningly.
Dean moved closer to Sam, making sure to keep his tone light and even. "Why don't you help me out here?"
Sam licked his dry lips, considering Dean's words. "You … want me to clean up?" He asked quietly, his gaze flicking toward the bed once more before turning back to Dean.
"No!" Dean said a little more sharply than he intended to, seeing Sam flinch at his tone. "No Sammy, I can do that." Dean replied, lowering his voice a notch. "Why don't you get your stuff together for me?"
Sam frowned. "Are we going somewhere Dean?" He inquired as he dutifully grabbed a bag and started to put his belongings into it.
Dean spun around and continued to pick up the overturned furniture within the small room, knowing that being in this room was bound to bring back some unpleasant memories for his brother, but not quite willing to let Sam out of his sights just yet. His younger brother's fluctuating mood-swings had him worried, concerned about what Sam might do if left alone or having too much time to dwell upon his own damn thoughts!
No. Dean decided that the best thing he could do for Sam was to keep him so close so that Dean could keep a careful eye upon him. "Not we Sam, just you,"
"What?"
Dean was too distracted to notice the slight hitch within his brother's voice, his mind preoccupied and whirling with the preparations he would need to make in the near future. "Yeah. Thought you might want to get out of here, considering … well, you know," Dean replied in an off-hand manner.
"Okay," Sam replied quietly, trying to keep his voice even, his heart beginning to beat wildly in his chest as he watched Dean pick up and put the furniture back where it belonged in an almost cavalier, nonchalant way. Was this it? Was Dean sending him away because …
Sam swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were building within his eyes, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands so hard that he drew blood, trying to control the tremors that were coursing through him.
"I called Caleb," Dean continued absently. "He should be here soon, and then you can get out of this hell hole,"
Sam closed his eyes, trying to control his hitching breathing, Dean's words falling down upon him, hitting him harder than he thought they would.
Of course, he'd always considered that when Dean found out the truth about all of this that Dean wouldn't want to be around him anymore. This was his biggest fear coming to life. Dean abandoning him. Finally, Sam had pushed his brother too far, and by the sounds of it, Dean had chosen to stay with Dad.
Sam gritted his teeth together; his heart clenched painfully, the feeling of abandonment and loss filling him. And really, Sam couldn't blame Dean for this decision. Sam was an embarrassment to the Winchester name. It was probably for the best that Sam left now before he caused his big brother any more grief and heartache. Dean could continue to hunt with Dad, happy because he wouldn't have to constantly worry or look after his pain in the ass little brother anymore.
Sam swallowed down the lump within his throat, a determination he didn't quite feel coming over him. If this is what his big brother had decided was best for him, then Sam wouldn't complain, moan or whine about his decision. After everything Dean had done for him, Sam decided not to make this any harder on Dean. He would take it like a man and just disappear from his brother's life forever.
Dean had made his choice. And as much as it broke Sam's heart, really, how had he expected a different outcome? Dean and Dad loved hunting, while Sam didn't particularly want the lifestyle of a hunter. He was different than his father and brother. It was only natural that Dean would chose to go with Dad. It was the logical choice really. And Sam would be all right. He could make his own way in the world.
Sam tried hard to convince himself as he felt his eyes straying to his brother's back. It would just be a lot harder and a lot less fun without his big brother by his side.
Sam stifled a sob as he spun around, stuffing his clothes into the bag, ignoring the shaking of his hands, trying to reign in his emotions so that he could leave here with at least a little dignity intact. He was not a little kid anymore. He could do this. He would make it work. Dean would be proud of him eventually. And when he was … maybe then, Sam would come back into his brother's life. Maybe then his big brother could finally accept him as his little brother once more.
Sam angrily brushed his stupid girly tears aside as he finished putting the last of his belongings in his bag. Stupid! He'd been so stupid to think that Dean would ever want Sam to stick around! God, he was the one who should have died in that fire, not Mum!
Choking back on his emotions, knowing that if he didn't get out of here soon, he was going to start blubbering like a baby, Sam threw his bag over his shoulder, steadying his voice as much as he could. "All of the things are packed from here Dean. I need to grab my laptop from the living room and toothbrush from the bathroom."
"Okay little brother," Dean said, waving at Sam distractedly, his back still presented to his brother.
Sam paused by the doorway, eyeing his brother thoughtfully. "For what it's worth, I understand okay Dean? I'm sorry I can't be the little brother you deserve …" The slight crack in Sam's voice reminded him that his emotions were too close to the surface right now and the dam was close to breaking. "I … love you Dee," Sam whispered, spinning around and practically sprinting into the living room where he finally collapsed and gave into his overwhelming emotions, knowing that his life was never going to be the same again.
Dean's head snapped up, his big brother instincts blaring within him, catching the last of his brother's words. Dean saw the tears shimmering within his little brother's wide hazel eyes, which were filled with pain and desperation. His lower lip trembled violently, hands clenched at his sides, his shoulders shaking as Sam fought to repress the tears that were so close to the surface now, a sad smile wobbling upon his lips before Sam spun around and practically ran from the room as if he were being chased by the damn devil himself.
"Sammy!" Dean called out in alarm, his heart thudding wildly in his chest as Sam ignored his command to come back.
What the hell?!
Dean stood to his full height, frowning, perplexed about what had caused this abrupt change within his little brother. Sammy had seemed fine while he was packing his things. Quiet and withdrawn, but that was to be expected after everything he had experienced tonight. What the hell had caused this violent reaction within his normally grounded kid brother?
Dean struggled to recall if anything over the last ten minutes could be attributed to his brother's sudden mood-swing. The only thing he could recall was Sam going unusually quiet when he'd mentioned that Caleb was coming to pick him up soon. But why the hell would –
"Sonuvabitch!" Dean hissed, his eyes widening as understanding suddenly hit him. Sammy, in his distressed and overly emotional state of mind thought that Dean was sending him away. "Fuck!" Dean swore softly, frustrated with himself for not explaining himself better. He had to fix this before Sam got any other stupid ideas in that stubborn head of his.
Dean found Sam in the living room, on the floor, curled in on himself, sobbing his big heart out, his whole body shaking with effort as he tried to keep his sobs silent and to himself. Dean froze, the sting of tears rising unbidden within his eyes as he took in the state of his baby brother, his heart clenching in sympathy and pain.
Without becoming consciously aware of it, Dean found himself kneeing beside his brother, his arms wrapped around him, choking back on his own sobs as he tried to comfort his obviously very upset and distressed little brother.
"C'mon Sammy," Dean pleaded, almost near tears himself now, hating to see his kid so damn upset. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. How can I help if you won't tell me what's wrong. Despite how awesome I am as a big brother, mind reading is not part of the gig." Dean's dry chuckle sounded suspiciously like a sob.
Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly when his light teasing elicited no response from his baby brother at all. "It's okay Sammy," Dean said softly, rubbing soothing circles upon his brother's back, knowing from experience that when Sam got into this extreme emotional state, nothing could reach him until he had calmed down. All Dean could do was to offer support until this kid calmed down enough for Dean to talk some sense into him, repeating words of assurances to his brokenly sobbing little brother.
Dean was so focused, so engrossed with providing the emotional support that Sammy needed at the moment that the sound of the apartment door opening, barely registered in his mind.
It wasn't until he heard his kid whimper that Dean's head shot up, his hold instinctively tightening around his brother's shoulders, his green eyes looking upon the surprised dark eyes of John Winchester.
"Dad," Dean growled, a dangerous smile crossing his lips. "It's about damn time you got back here! I think there are some things you and I need to talk about."
TBC