The door burst open and Dean once again stood in front of his brother, gulping slightly at the look of rage on Calhoun's face.
"Who does the mighty John Winchester think he is?" Calhoun growled, grabbing the back of Dean's hair and pulling. Dean winched in pain, but remained silent. "I hold all the cards! I'm in charge!" The man yelled, throwing the twelve-year-old to the floor. "How dare he threaten me?"
"Dean!" Sam ran to his brother and knelt beside him. That's when Dean saw a chance to save Sam. When Calhoun stormed in, he left the door opened.
"I have that bastard by the balls!" Calhoun had his back to the boys as he spit out the words angrily. "I've got him sitting by the phone, I did that!"
"Sammy." Dean whispered. "Listen very carefully." He knew he had to act fast, Calhoun was very agitated and the young boy was worried that he would snap at any minute and became violent again. "When I say go, I want you to run out the door and run to the front door. If it's unlocked, then I want you to run outside and hide. Do not come out unless you hear Dad or me tell you too. If the front door is locked, then hide in the house."
"What about you?" The eight-year-old asked.
"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just do as I say."
Dean stood up and faced Calhoun, the man had now turned his attention back to the boys.
"Let's see if the mighty John Winchester still feels like he's the one in charge, after he finds his precious sons laying in the floor gutted." Then he pulled a large hunting knife from a sheath on his jeans.
Dean took a deep breath, he knew it was now or never.
"Now Sammy!" He yelled. He waited until the younger boy ran through the door, then he tackled the man. Man and boy landed in the floor rolling around, each trying to gain control of the knife.
Calhoun was a lot bigger and stronger then Dean, but the young boy knew how to fight. His Dad had taught him how to us his smaller size to his advantage.
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The front door was open and Sam ran outside, relief washed over him when he saw his Dad and Uncle Bobby running towards him. The young boy ran right into John's open arms.
"Sammy." John said, relieved that his youngest son was okay. But still very worried about his oldest. He hugged Sam tight, then asked. "Where's your brother?"
"In there." Sam pointed to the house. "The man's got a knife, Dean told me to run. But he's still in there."
"Stay with Bobby." John ordered, pulling a gun from the waistband of his jeans. Then he ran into the house and followed the sounds of a struggle.
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Dean got in several good punches, but Calhoun had managed to gain the upper hand. Dean was laying on his back and Calhoun was sitting straddled on his chest. One of Calhoun's hands was wrapped tightly around Dean's throat, the other held the knife in the air.
Dean was grasping Calhoun's wrist, trying to break the hold the man had on throat. His eyes staring fearfully at the knife. Dean thought he was going to die.
Then he heard a gunshot and saw the surprise in Calhoun's eyes. Then the man dropped the knife, loosened his grip on Dean's throat, and slumped forward right on top of Dean.
Dean felt the man's body being lifted off of him and saw the body being tossed aside. Then the twelve-year-old looked up into the eyes of his Dad.
"Dean." John said, quickly and gently searching the boy's body for injury. "Talk to me, son."
"Sammy." Dean bolted to a sitting position.
"Sammy's just fine." John assured him. "He's outside with Bobby. He's safe."
John helped Dean to his feet and he wrapped the boy into a tight hug.
Dean felt tears filling his eyes, but he didn't try to stop them. He was safe now, Sammy was safe. It was over.
"I've got you, Dean." John said, still holding him. "I've got you."
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Sam was standing beside Bobby, holding the man's hand. He heard the gunshot and jumped.
"That's your Daddy's twenty two." Bobby said. "It's over."
"Is Dean okay?"
"Since John ain't yelling for help, I'd say your brother is just fine."
A few minutes later, they saw John and Dean walking out of the house and towards them. Sam let go of Bobby's hand and ran to his Dad, who picked him up and carried him the rest of the way back to Bobby.
"You okay, Dean?" Bobby asked with concern as he gently examined the young boy's face. Dean had a black eye, a busted lip, and several other smaller cuts and bruises.
"Yes Sir." Dean replied.
"You okay, Sammy?" John asked the boy in his arms. "Did he hurt you?"
"No sir." Sam replied. "Dean wouldn't let him, he stayed between him and me. He wouldn't let him get close to me."
John shifted Sam so he was only using one arm to hold him, then he draped the other arm around Dean's shoulders. "I'm proud of you son, you get good."
Dean smiled up at him, very pleased with the compliment.
"Take your boys out of here." Bobby said, as he opened the trunk of the Impala and took out a shovel. "I'll clean up around here."
"You sure?" John asked.
"Yeah, the fool left the keys in your car. Head on out."
"Thanks Bobby." John said, anxious to get his sons away from that place. "We'll get a room at the Hillsboro Motel in the next town."
"I'll meet you there when I'm done."
John sat Sam on his feet and the young boy started to open the door to the back seat.
"Hang on, Sammy." John stopped him. "I want you up front."
"Okay." The boy smiled, he never got to ride up front.
Father and sons all three got into the front seat and John drove away.
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THE END
Please let me know what you think.