Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V

Tornado meets a volcano

"Where have you been?"

Sam froze with his foot on the bottom of the stairs. Twisting to face his father he kept his expression hard, he wanted to make sure his father knew he was mad - at him! He didn't want to play the puppy eyes or the 'sorry I didn't realise how late it was', he wanted to make sure his dad felt guilty and responsible for his late night stroll.

"I didn't wanna hear any more of you and mom fighting, so I went for a walk."

"Sam, do you realise what time it is?"

"Yeah, I wanted to make sure you and mom were done when I came back. I wasn't going to walk back in the house mid cat and dog fight."

"You do remember what happened last time you went for a walk alone in the dark don't you?"

"Yeah, what, were you afraid something was gonna get me? Don't worry dad, there's nothing evil out there unless you count Mrs. Bakers cat." Trust me, Dean makes sure of it.

"Don't take that tone with me Samuel, I'm not in the mood tonight."

"I'm not the one with the attitude problem, why can't you just be patient? None of this had to happen, if you could have just talked to Dean differently none of this would be happening right now."

John was taken aback, he didn't realise how hard all this had been on his youngest. If only Sam was like every other twelve year old, oblivious and blissfully ignorant, but he wasn't, Sammy was too damn smart for his own good sometimes.

"Sam I'm sorry, I know I messed up... this sounds like a broken record I know kiddo, and I'm sorry, and I know I should be saying it to Dean too..." John walked to his son still standing stiffly at the bottom of the stairs and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm just sick of all the mess in our house, why can't we just be normal and happy? Why do we have to have social services messing everything up? And doctors and stupid therapists asking too many questions and sticking their noses into our lives? Why can't we just be left alone?"

"One day Sammy, we will be, no more social services meetings, no more doctors, I promise you kiddo."

Sam nodded, he hoped that was true, Dean would be a lot happier when that happened... maybe there'd be less hunting and less fights and more football games and picnics in the park.

"Can I go to bed now?"

John squeezed his son's shoulder once more before letting him go off to bed, he'd check on him in half an hour or so to make sure he wasn't crying himself to sleep.

Little did he know... Sam wasn't the only one that might be doing that very same thing tonight.

Dean hugged his pillow close to his face and tried to ignore the burning sting lying on his side caused to his new cuts and bruises as tremors ran through him and tears spilled from his eyes.

He was a total fuck up, he knew that, but today proved how much of a fuck up he truly was, he didn't even have to try. His uncle was right, he didn't deserve anyone caring about him, he either got them killed, or messed up their lives royally, he wasn't sure which one was worse at this point.

He'd lied to Sam, the kid was just being concerned, and he had tossed it back in his face with a sick smirk as well. Then he screamed and almost decked John when again, he was just trying to look out for him. He'd been a jerk to Mary, the sweetest fucking woman on the damn planet. He'd caused a huge fight between the folks, upset Sam even more in the process, almost got the kid killed, AGAIN! Then told lie above lie again, pushing Sam as far away as possible when again, all it seemed like he wanted to do was look out for him. All this in less than twelve hours... this was good, even by his usual standards, today he should be proud.

Sam was right... tonight was a mission of suicide, he didn't go out there to die but... close enough. Maybe on the next hunt, he'd be man enough to forget his knife and do everyone a favour and let some monster rip him limb from limb, slowly. A creature or spirit like that shouldn't be too hard to find, Kansas was said to be the most haunted state on the map.

Next he heard is door creak open, why did Sam have to leave it unlocked?

"Dean? Bud you awake?"

It was a dead giveaway he was, he'd been crying like a girl loud enough despite trying to muffle his sobs in his bed sheets.

He sniffled but didn't say anything, his back was facing the door and he hoped John wouldn't come any closer.

"I'm so sorry kiddo, I know I... I said the wrong the thing this afternoon, I know I did, but I can promise you it came from a good place, I didn't intend to scare you or make you feel threatened, I just wanted you to understand the risks of... well you know what I'm getting at."

John had walked to the side of the bed, where Dean's back was facing, and pressed what he thought was a comforting hand on his shoulder. Unfortunately, he chose right where the deepest and most painful gash was and Dean pushed down the scream and squeezed his eyes impossibly shut in agony.

The tensing of muscles and barely perceptible flinch was enough for John to sense his presence wasn't welcome and he reluctantly took his hand away. Dean was glad John obviously couldn't feel the bandages under the thick sweater he'd put on to hide them.

"Stay the fuck away from me," Dean mumbled with a hiccup on the end he didn't intend to let out.

He didn't hear John sigh, he just heard his door being pulled shut carefully.

He let out the sob he'd been holding in, didn't care how loud he cried now, they knew he was crying, and they knew to leave him alone... but they didn't know why, and he hoped they never would, he cared too much about them to let them offer to carry the some weight he had, he just couldn't do that to them.

SPN

Okay, ow.

Dean breathed the pain as he rolled onto his other side and grabbed the pills in his top drawer, he didn't care there was a lack of water, the sooner they got working, the better. He swallowed two of them dry then took a glance at his clock.

11:32am... shit!

If this was any other day he would have jumped out of bed and ran from the house half dressed with a bowl of cereal in one hand and his school bag in the other... but he couldn't move anything above his damn toes, his body was just one sore lump of throbbing agony.

After some debating with himself, he got out of bed slowly and made good progress when he reached his door, yeah that only took about seven minutes to make it a couple of feet.

His breathing was off, his legs weren't cooperating at all, and his head was spinning, yup, it was official, last night's hunt sucked.

Okay, so maybe I'll skip school today. Not like it matters anyway.

Taking his first aid kit he made his way to the downstairs bathroom, luckily just across from his bedroom, he checked his shoulders and found himself partially satisfied. Though the gashes were red and swollen, there was no infection by the looks of things - Sam did a good job. So it was just the searing burning of the wounds that were making him dizzy. Cleaning and reapplying fresh bandages he thought that finally, something had gone right; pain was easy to get over on your own, in time, infections without antibiotics, not so much.

When he left the bathroom after taking a leak and splashing some water on his face, the circles under his eyes so dark and skin so pale he hardly recognized himself. Giving himself a mental shake he returned to his room to get dressed and made a note to empty the garbage in the bathroom so no one would find the bandages. Moving closer to the wall to put away his first aid kit he could just hear the muted sound of John's rumbling voice on the phone in the study and he didn't sound like he was having the jolliest of conversations.

Quietly he made his way outside the door and leaned against the wall to better listen. Yeah good old Uncle Ron hadn't exactly raised him right.

"Because that's not how it works okay?"

Dean frowned, that was John's 'I'm pissed but I still have my phone voice on,' tone.

"Yes I understand that but he just needs more time."

Who's 'he'? Sam? Me? Someone at the shop?

"No, Mr. Harrison, that's not necessary-"

Okay, it's about me, oh joy.

"Since when do plastic surgeons make house calls?"

Well this just gets better... what the hell is a doc going to say if they come see me now?

"Listen to me, if you send that damn Nip Tuck asshole to my house, I'll be reporting you personally to the damn head of CPS for attempted blackmail, he's sixteen, he can make his own choices, and he's still dealing with a lot so we're not gonna force him into anything just so you can earn employee of the year status. This is Dean's decision, when he's ready to make it we'll call you."

The phone was slammed down, a loud ching and clunk of plastic rang out and Dean took that as his cue to leave.

"Morning kiddo, you want some breakfast?" He had heard the soft brush of clothes outside the door and guessed who might be out there. He was sort of glad, maybe it would get him some points back if Dean knew he was on his side in all this.

Busted, Dean walked into the doorway and shook his head, he couldn't talk, everything he said and did was wrong, wrong, wrong... at this point, the less he said, the less amount of trouble he could cause - he'd fucked up enough. They didn't deserve this!

"You wanna go back to bed? You look pretty tired."

Dean shook his head once more, sure he was exhausted, but when wasn't he lately?

"Dean, I really am sorry, I know I scared you, I can understand if you don't trust me anymore but... I can promise you I would never intentionally hurt you or cause you pain. We're gonna forget about all this until you're ready."

Dean didn't nod, or shake his head or even shrug, he just lowered his eyes to the floor and made his way back to his bedroom silently. He couldn't stand the man's apologies anymore, they always ended up making him feel like the guilty one, which yeah, he was but... he was tired of feeling guilty.

SPN

Dean skipped another couple of days off school, he didn't leave the house because of his shoulders and his leg he'd slowly made worse with his punching bag and hunting injured. But John and Mary let him skip because he just looked so damn sad. In fact, he didn't look sad, he looked clinically depressed. He hadn't spoken a word since his, "stay the fuck away from me," to John, not even to Sam who had tried every trick he knew to get Dean to talk, but not one word had left Dean's lips, not one.

If people could hear the stuff going on in his head, he would be committed in a second, he knew without a doubt. A therapist had prescribed anti-depressants once. He'd tossed them in the trash the second he got home and made the Winchester's very aware he didn't plan on taking any damn happy pills if you paid him. They stood by and fought on his side and never once lost their ground, not with doctors, not with therapists, not with the god damn judge's of Kansas, but that was who they were, Dean loved them more than anything for it but it was time he dealt with his problems on his own, they had done enough, they had done too much.

He tried to distract himself with studying but the letters were just a jumble on the page. His mind was dark before, but three days of silence, three days of no one to talk to but his own miserable self made him feel like a walking talking black hole of wanting to bail on everything.

SPN

The next day Dean had set his alarm clock, he was going to school, he owed them that much.

Despite his melt down, he still had his history exam to take, which should be easy enough that even he couldn't fuck it up, and you didn't have to speak for that anyhow. For the rest of the day, at worst, he might end up getting detention for not answering teachers when they spoke to him or asked him to answer a question. Despite being the student everyone knew not to talk to, let alone mess with, he would get classmates nagging at him, not necessarily asking him what was wrong but definitely 'what the hell is with you? Freak!' But who cares? He could always punch them in the face; a broken nose tended to shut a person up. Jack Wright learned that a couple of years ago the hard way and since then the whole class pretty much stayed out of his way, for the most part at least.

"You're up early sweetie."

No, actually I never went to bed...I don't think.

She put two sliced of bread in the toaster and Dean hung around for a few minutes until it popped up and was handed to him on a plate.

"Eat up." Dean had noticed on about the second day of silence Mary had chosen the 'act and talk naturally' rout, where as John had opted to stay out of his way at every opportunity, but then when you yell 'stay the fuck away from me,' you couldn't exactly blame the person for doing as you said, or their best attempt anyway.

Dean didn't shrug his shoulders anymore either, he just grabbed the plate him and left for his bedroom to eat it and get ready for school in the privacy of his bedroom - a room that was getting smaller every passing second he spent in it.

Passing John in the hall, he ignored the tight smile sent his way and closed the door on his face. Sitting down on the edge of his bed he slumped over and fought hard against the hollowness he felt inside. Maybe they would get sick of him and send him off packing, then he couldn't trouble them anymore and they wouldn't have to feel guilty about it because he was being a classic ass and deserved it. Maybe they would be better off without him.

There was a knock at his door so he lifted his head and waited to see who it was.

"Dean, I'm sorry." It was Sam, barging in his room blurting the word sorry out like it was the last word left in existence, but no other had made a dint in Dean's cold expression, until now.

What the hell's he sorry for?

"I don't know what else to do, what else to say, I must have done something wrong, I'm not sure what I did, but whatever it is, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

Oh, super, you're meant to be making the kid angry at you, and instead you make him feel like shit, bang up job Dean, the one thing you used to be good at, you can't even do that anymore.

"What did I do?" Sam asked, wait, no, pleaded, begged, close to getting down on his freakin' knees and sobbing.

Nothing kid, you didn't do anything. Shaking his head he absently started munching on his toast though it may as well have been cardboard to him.

Sam sighed, then left, feeling worse than when he came in, if that was even possible. He didn't have a freakin' clue anymore, after two years, Dean felt like a complete stranger to him now.

Returning to his room, Sam finished getting ready for school and was surprised when he went to the door with his backpack that Dean was there waiting with his. He smiled, thought they were making progress, but the look in Dean's eyes said anything but. His smile sunk and they left the house with Mary in tow who drove them to the gates before waving them off.

After a long boring day at school, Sam couldn't tell what it was that any of his teachers had talked about. All he had done was stare out the window or doodle and wonder what had gone so wrong. By the time the final bell rang he felt hopeless. Sam went his own way without bothering Dean anymore, what was the point, nothing worked.

SPN

"Dean? Did you hear me?"

Yes, I'm not deaf thanks; I'm just choosing to ignore you.

"Is there something wrong young man?" his history teacher pressed when his face showed no indication he had even heard him. "Dean?" he sounded worried now, he didn't sound irritated that he was being ignored, he sounded genuinely concerned over the catatonic student at the back of his class, Dean hated that.

Another pupil sitting at the desk at the side of him waved a hand in front of his face while frowning, Dean's reflexes were so fast, no one saw him grab the extended limb and twist it in such a way that one tug would rip the poor kids arm out of his socket.

"What the hell's your problem?"

Dean glared at the kid then let go before returning to his still stance.

After a few seconds of silence, the class carried on as though Dean didn't exist, which is exactly how he liked it. It was easier to be forgotten if people pretended you weren't there.

The rest of Dean's classes were pretty much the same. Most of his teachers didn't notice his odd manner because honestly, it wasn't that different to his usual, and the ones that did liked to think his freaky behaviour wasn't their problem. He'd only gotten thrown out of one class just before lunch for not reading his answer when told to, the rest of his day he was just blanked or sniggered at. During his exam in the afternoon no one cared because they were all supposed to be quiet anyway.

He did plan to meet Sam outside the gate at their usual place like he did every day, but today he found himself walking in the freezing rain alone. He had deliberately taken the wrong turns at every opportunity, it was pitch black and he was soaked by the time he'd made it back home.

He was greeted with the sight of Mary pacing in the living room and Sam rocking himself on the sofa.

Okay what the hell is going on?

"Jesus Dean!" He didn't know that Mary's voice to could reach that high.

What have I done now?

"Do you know how worried we've been?" Mary started before Dean rolled his eyes and left mid motherly rant for his room.

The house was pretty silent for the rest of the evening, Sam had called his dad and told him Dean was back home and safe, Mary had made dinner and left some by his doorway. Her patience was clearly running out because he didn't even get a 'honey, pie is waiting outside,' it was just a sharp knock before even sharper footsteps faded away.

Why did he have to always muck it up and ruin everything they built for him?

SPN

Friday, Mary has finally snapped. John had said something about going to a football game with Steve and she flipped. He was going to leave his broken house to go out with his friend, get drunk, stare at some slutty cheerleaders and have an awesome time while she stayed at home cooking dinner, cleaning and looking after two sons who were disappearing right before their eyes.

The argument started off about football, and ended up with every issue the Winchester's had collected over the last god knows how many years. Pretty soon there was no place in the house where you could escape the sounds of their yelling.

Dean heard Sam sniffling in the bathroom alone while John and Mary were playing battling opposites in the living room.

He sneaked out and made his way to his kid brother across the hall, glad Sam hadn't put the lock on. Dean crouched down in front of him where he was cramped between the sink and the wall. Sam was a mess, his eyes were wet and red and all that could be heard over the yelling was his soft sobs. Dean tugged Sam from the tight space, pulled his head to his shoulder before he wrapped his arms around the kid and whispered sorries for all his life was worth.

This was all his fault, what the hell had he done?

Sam clung to his shirt and only when the fight finally cooled down, or rather, John left the house, did he stop crying.

"It's gonna be okay Sammy," he promised, he was going to make it okay.

Giving the kid a final hug and pat on the shoulder, he slipped back out of the bathroom as silent as he entered and went back to his bedroom to stare blindly out the window.

Finally rousting himself from his thoughts, decision made, he moved sluggishly to do what he knew had to be done. Just as he sat down at his desk and let out a long sigh, Dean's door came bursting open, almost off its hinges, and Mary looked pissed.

She dropped his freshly washed clothes on the end of his bed with a thud he didn't know fabric could make. Just as she was about to leave, she looked up at him and saw something that only made her blood boil all the more.

Dean swallowed his building fear, okay a punch he could handle, this woman slapping him across the cheek, metaphorically or otherwise, he could not, and it sure looked like it was heading that way.

"How can we possibly help you through anything if you don't let us in? Dean, we're reaching the end of our rope. If you won't talk to us then you're going to have go talk to somebody, anybody, but for the love of god, just speak!"

She sighed, frustrated, upset, pissed as hell before she left again, slamming Dean's door behind her.

Although too late, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out as his rattling door frame quieted. He didn't want to hurt these people, he really didn't, they meant more to him than anybody ever had in most of his life, but everything he did seemed to do just that. If possible, his stomach plummeted even further.

His uncle Ron said that he always managed to hurt innocent people and now he'd truly fucked up an entire family beyond repair... this was all his fault and he would fix it... before it was too late.

TBC...

First: I know this was a big angst fest, yup... I know! I wrote it! Sorry if you don't like it but I kinda love this chapter! Hope you do too!

Second: Please send some love, I need it! Its results day tomorrow and I know I've failed so I need some cheering up, I'm not being pessimistic, I just know! Like I know the earth revolves around the sun. I've failed, going to be repeating the year, I've accepted it but it's still kinda upsetting and I need some peeps to make me smile... can anyone help me? *puppy eyes!*