Disclamer: I don't own Supernatural, I just seriously enjoy torturing the boys! Sorry for the delay, this story has taken on a life of its own! Enjoy!

Several weeks had passed since Sam witnessed Dean's brief moment of weakness. At first, Sam had struggled with what he'd seen, not sure if his ever sarcastic and joking brother had tried to tell him something or not. With each passing day, he decided that he must have imagined the whole thing. Still, Sam watched his brother and attempted to keep arguments with his father to a minimum.

Dean, on the other hand, fought to keep his mask firmly in place, quite aware of Sam's watchful gaze. He made sure to eat while his younger brother stared, pushing the food around to give the illusion of a healthy appetite. He joked whenever he could and gave stupid answers that either made his family laugh or become irritated. Nothing matters but keeping Sam out. Dean found himself wondering why he bothered to display his emotions to Sam that night when he was now horrified at the thought of him knowing what lay beneath. He desperately wanted to talk with Bobby; the older hunter was the only one who had seen straight through his masks to the sensitive being under all the bravado.

John watched his two sons in quiet contemplation, wondering what was going on between them. Dean had become more withdrawn while Sam scrutinized everything his brother did. The eldest Winchester decided that he couldn't afford to be distracted by his sons' games and left them to their own devices.

-SPN-SPN-SPN-

Everything came to an abrupt stop one night after a hunt. It was well past three in the morning when the Winchesters and Bobby had completed their tasks and met back up at the cars. "Let's just head back to my house, get some grub and some beers," Bobby suggested to his companions. Sam nodded his weary head and Dean just began to move towards the passenger side of the older hunter's car. Bobby and Sam had both noticed that when they worked together, Dean tended to go with Bobby, something he had rarely done in the past. John continued to remain oblivious to his sons' tense behavior and snorted at his friend. "It's too damn late to worry about food tonight, Bobby. I say we head for a motel and crash."

Bobby and Sam exchanged looks. "Dad, I really think we should drive the extra ten minutes to Bobby's. We can clean up, eat, and get some rest," Sam pointed out. John whipped back around. "I said we're going to a motel, Sam. I didn't ask for your backtalk," he retorted. Dean sighed but did not move from his spot leaning up against the side of Bobby's car. He was tired and hurt. I knew them not fighting was too good to be true. They'll never change.

The older hunter kept looking between his friends. He knew that Sam and John's constant arguing was wearing Dean down; he hated how the middle Winchester was treated like an idiot without a thought of his own. Bobby knew better, and it saddened him to realize that the other two men had never bothered to look deeper than the surface. Dean Winchester was more than a pretty face, of that Bobby was sure. He was jerked back to reality as John and Sam's angry voices grew louder.

"Dammit, Sam! You will learn to listen to me! When I tell you to get in the damn car, get in the damn car!" John shouted. "Piss off, John! You aren't the boss of us! You don't even know anything about your own damn kids!" Sam yelled back. John slammed a bag of equipment and an extra gun into Sam's chest. "Stow the damn gear and get in the damn car! Dean, what the fuck are you waiting for; let's go!" their father barked.

Bobby cringed when Sam flung the bags and weapons back at his father. "No! Stop trying to make us your soldiers! Even Dean is tired of your shit!" Sam bellowed. Dean looked like he wanted to sink into the ground, keeping his pale face turned down and his tired eyes hidden behind lowered lashes. Bobby decided that he should intervene when the two hunters began a vicious game of tug-of-war with a sawed off shotgun.

Out of the corner of his eye, the older hunter saw Dean straighten and move to separate his father and brother. "Guys, please stop fighting," he began quietly, completely exhausted. Sam and John continued to tussle over the gun, with John finally ripping the gun from his youngest son's grasp. He swung the gun away from Sam, startled when his index finger tapped the sensitive trigger, a loud shot ringing into the night. Both men were immediately silenced for a second, and then a furious argument broke out again. "Dammit, Sam, are you trying to fucking kill me?" John snarled.

Before Sam could defend himself, Bobby interrupted. "If you two fuckers would pay attention to anything besides yourselves, you'd notice you are notthe center of the fucking universe!" the grizzled voice roared from the ground. Sam tore his eyes from his father and almost screamed when he looked to Bobby. He knelt on the ground behind them, cradling a limp Dean to his chest. The younger hunter's lips parted as he gasped for breath, a bloody tear visible in his throat. "Dean!" Sam cried out, dropping next to his wounded brother. "Oh fuck," John whispered, mouth gaping open. I shot my own son!

TBC... Review please! :)