John's anger had turned to full blown rage and his voice conveyed as much, "Well I guess you get your way. Whose idea was it to call Caleb and tell him that Sammy wasn't going because I had promised him he could stay behind and go out? Whose idea was it? Was it yours or was it his? Cause I gotta tell ya if it was your idea that brother of yours has no idea how lucky he is to have you for his brother. You're willing to do whatever it takes to make him happy, it's to bad he doesn't really appreciate it."
Dean felt the air leave his lungs and his knees go weak mere seconds after his dad landed the first punch to his stomach. His pain filled grunt reached his ears only a few seconds later, to be followed quickly by tears building in the corners of his eyes. 'Don't cry,' he thought, 'please don't; it'll only make it worse.'
John pulled his arm back and let lose with two more quick jabs to his mid-section. He removed his other arm from across Dean's chest and coldly watched as he fell to his knees, his arms wrapped around his stomach. The younger man's body shook as he coughed and he placed one hand on the floor in front of him for support.
"It's your fault, you know that don't you," John asked as he circled around his son, "You and your insisting that he be kept in the dark about what was out there. You and your wanting him to have a childhood, to hold onto that innocence of his until it was no longer possible."
John stopped in front of the boy. "Look at me when I talk to you," he ordered harshly and nodded when Dean raised his head and looked up at him. "That's better," John said his voice deceptively calm, "Oh, you're not the only one to blame here. No, you see I understand that I shoulder some of the responsibility as well; after all I did listen to you. I went along with you, and I see the error of my ways. I should have been with him like I was with you, from the very beginning. I shouldn't have allowed you to influence my decisions when it came to Sam. You were and still are only a child."
John hit Dean along the cheek bone with an open handed slap that was strong enough to flip him over onto his back. He straddled the stunned kid, placing his knees on the floor on either side of him. He reached out grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled his head up off the floor. John's voice had once again gone dangerously cold, "Now, here's what you're going to do. You're going to get up, go to your room, get the keys to your car and wait for me to leave with Sam before you head out. You're going to go to the local dive in town and stay for a few hours. When you get back and Sam asks you about your face, you'll tell him that you got caught hustling the wrong guy. Are you clear on that, boy?"
John slammed Dean back onto the floor then lifted him again when he hadn't answered him fast enough, "I said are you clear on that?"
"Y-yes sir," Dean stuttered out. John let go of his shirt and stood up. Dean rolled over pushed himself up and staggered to his room. He felt the tears as they threatened to break lose and this time he didn't stop them.
He made his way to his room and then to the small bathroom that he shared with Sam. Looking into the mirror he could already make out the red mark that would, by the next morning, turn into a rather nasty looking bruise on the left side of his face. He turned on the cold water, cupped his hands beneath the cool liquid and splashed some onto his face.
"He didn't mean it," he said to his reflection, "He's drunk and I should have known better than to have pushed him. If, I would have just let things be, none if it would have happened. He didn't mean it." Turning off the water he reached for the towel and patted his face dry, wincing as the towel came into contact with his abused face.
He grabbed his keys from the nightstand, which stood between his and Sam's beds, his coat from the hook on the back of the door and waited as he had been instructed to. He couldn't let Sam know what had happened and he was more than happy to follow his father's orders; besides a few good stiff drinks sounded good to him right now and maybe if he was lucky enough he would find a pretty young thing to console him.
Sam flipped his cell phone closed, pushed off the wall of the building he had been leaning against and headed home. He had stretched the truth, hell, he flat out lied to Caleb. He knew his dad wasn't stupid and he realized that once his dad talked to Caleb his little scheme would be exposed, but that didn't matter; it would be worth the extra training he'd have to do. Sam groaned. "Oh, man I'm sorry," he whispered, "I wasn't thinking. Dad won't train you extra hard, you like training; no, he'll stick you with researching."
Feeling a little guilty he headed to the convenient store and hoped that a bag of peanut M & M's and a soda would suffice as a peace offering when it came time to face his brother. He didn't doubt that Dean would be angry with him, but desperate times called for desperate measures and this about as desperate a time he had ever known.
Sam entered the store and made a bee line for the soda cooler in the back. He reached in, grabbed a couple sodas then headed for the candy aisle. He had picked up the M & M's and had turned to head to the check counter when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He jerked away, dropped his intended purchases, swiftly spun on his heels and raised his hands in a defensive posture. The person who had come up behind him gave a frightened squeak and jumped back. It would have been funny if it had been anyone other than Allison.
"Damn," Sam muttered, and then quickly added, "Uh, sorry, Allison, guess I'm a little jumpy tonight." Sam felt his face grow warm and knew that he was blushing. He gave her a sheepish grin and dropped his gaze to the floor.
Allison smiled at Sam then bent down to pick up the soda and candy he dropped. She stood back up and handed them to him her cool blue eyes meeting his. She brushed a strand of her ebony colored hair from her face before she spoke, "No problem, Sam, I'm sorry I scared you. I thought you heard me calling for you."
"Yeah, uhm, sorry, guess my mind was somewhere else," Sam shyly answered.
"I suppose it was," Allison replied, "I hope you don't mind, but I was heading to the Dairy Bar when I saw you come in here. I thought I'd stop and ask if you wanted to go along."
"Yeah, sure. Let me pay for this and I'll meet you there." Sam took his phone out and thought about calling Dean to let him know where he was going, but quickly decided against it. He knew Dean would try to talk him out of it and well quite honestly he didn't think he could get in any deeper than he already was. He put his phone back in his pocket, paid for his items and headed off to meet Allison
John paced the small living room his anger growing with every passing minute. He looked at the clock, to the door, then back to the clock. He had been waiting for over an hour for his youngest to get back from the store. Shaking his head he grabbed his jacket off the chair he had thrown it on and called for Dean.
The younger man jumped at the sound of his dad's voice. He looked at his watch and noticed that Sam had been gone for over an hour. 'Oh, this can't be good,' he thought as he made his way back to the living room.
John stood leaning against the front door his arms crossed over his chest, lips pressed in a firm line. When Dean stepped into the living room, John pressed off the door and addressed the younger man, "I'm going to go out and look for Sam. I suggest you take this time and head out. I hope for your sake that nothing serious has happened and he just got sidetracked. He's been doing that a lot lately. I don't know what's gotten into him. Just because he's eighteen doesn't mean he can do what he wants."
Dean followed his dad out the door, his orders were clear. He was to go to the local bar and hang out for a few hours, or at least long enough for the story of him being beaten up by someone he had hustled would be believable. He walked to his car, climbed inside, started her up and lost himself in the comforting rumble of her engine.
The bar was like all the others he had found himself in. Cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air, the smell of liquor and sweat was thick and the music was louder than it needed to be. He made his way to the bar, found an empty stool and sat down. He motioned for the bar tender and ordered a beer from the tap. He picked up his drink and turned himself around on the stool so he could look out over the rest of the bar.
He spotted the pool table in the far right corner and decided that since he was there he might as well play a game or two. He stood from the stool, grabbed his drink and weaved his way through the crowded bar to the pool table. He walked up to the group that stood around the table watching the game that was being played. He watched the match and found himself being impressed by one of the players.
Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, to keep it from falling forward into her face and interfering with her game. She wore a tight pink t-shirt and a pair of tight fitting blue jeans. His breath caught in his chest when her brown eyes met his. She was attractive and she knew it. She landed the last shot and won the game. She brushed past him on her way to collect the money she had won, and he felt that all too familiar desire grow.
The crowd dispersed and soon he found himself alone, well as alone as one could be in a crowded bar, with her. He racked the balls and asked her if she wanted to play a game, he even offered to let her break.
She smiled at him. "Alright," she answered, "Why not? Care to make a little wager on the game?"
He smiled back at her. "Alright," he replied and extended his hand to her, "Why not? My name's, Dean."
She took his hand gave it a quick shake, "My name's, Cali." She took the first shot and soon found herself watching him as he played. She noticed his strong jaw line, the way his body moved as he walked around the table and most of all his eyes. His eyes were the purest green she had ever seen and in the depths of those eyes she would have sworn she could see his life story.
They played another game, had a few more drinks and then found themselves heading back to her apartment. He followed her into her bedroom well aware that she wanted/needed this as much as he. He let himself get lost in the moment with her. For a moment he felt wanted, loved. He knew it wasn't real, that it wouldn't last; but for the moment he let himself believe it would.
When he woke a few hours later he found himself alone. Cali had left a note on the pillow explaining that she had to go into work early, thanking him for the previous night and suggested that they try to hook up again.
He rolled out of bed, pulled his clothes on and headed to the bathroom. He quickly did what he needed to do, washed his hands and splashed some water on his face. He threw the note away, left her apartment and made his way back home.