AN: Thank you to everyone that reviewed! I LOVE REVIEWS!

In response to questions/ comments:

-No, John is not doing any hunting in this story. Because Mary didn't die, there is no demon for John to kill. The story is a "what if they had a normal life?" scenario.

-I know, I know, I'm trying to get more of John's character into the story, but it isn't always working out how I want it to.

Sam Finds Out

"Dean?" Sam asked, looking nervously at his brother. "Dean, what's that on your stomach?"

"Nothing, Sam!" Dean replied, standing up hastily. "Just, you know, the Frisbee hitting my stomach."

But Sam wasn't stupid. He knew full well that bruises didn't form that quickly, so he didn't believe Dean one bit.

"Dean. That's impossible. The bruise is too big to be from the Frisbee. Besides, it wouldn't have formed that fast."

Dean tried a different approach. "I fell down the stairs at school. You know how slippery they are."

"You fell on your stomach? Deanie, come on."

Dean sighed. He knew that there was no use in trying to lie his way out of telling Sam the truth because by now the kid had already caught on that something was up.

"Don't call me Deanie! But, fine, Sam, if you must know, it was Dad."

"Dad?" Sam gaped at Dean in disbelief. "What? When?"

"When I broke that glass in his office."

"But… you said…"

"Well, I lied," Dean looked down at the floor, embarrassed to be caught in a lie by someone who practically idolized him. "He actually took me into his office and kicked my ass."

"Dean!" Sam couldn't stand the thought of his older brother, his hero, being hurt.

"I'm fine now, Sammy," Dean tried to calm him down. "It wasn't that bad."

That line would have worked had Sammy not already seen the bruise forming on Dean's stomach. "You don't look fine…"

"I am fine! I'm not fainting from the pain or anything, right?"

"I guess…" Sammy mused. "But, Dean, why didn't you tell me or Mom right after it happened?"

"Um…" Dean started, not wanting to discourage his little brother.

Suddenly Sam realized that they were still standing on the side of the street, holding the Frisbee.

"Let's head home, Dean," he said. "We wouldn't want Mom to worry."

Dean was more than happy to get away from the subject of his bruises. The two boys walked homeward in silence for a little while, just looking quietly ahead of them. Finally Sam brought up the subject once again.

"So Dean, you haven't answered my question. Why didn't you tell me or Mom right after it happened?"

"Well, I didn't want to freak Mom out… And I knew that you'd tell her if I told you."

"I would not!" San exclaimed, offended.

"Yeah, you would."

"No, I wouldn't! Why, do you think that I'm a snitch?"

"No… I think that you're a blabbermouth which you kind of are."

"I am not! I may talk a lot, but I can keep a secret." If there was one thing that Sam hated, it was being called a blabbermouth. It wasn't because he was deeply convinced that he wasn't a blabbermouth, it was because he always felt like Dean was putting him down when he called him that. He so desperately wanted to change, not be the baby his family still saw him as.

"If you can keep a secret, prove it," Dean looked his little brother in the eye. "Don't tell Mom anything about our conversation today."

"But Dean…" Sam hesitated. "I really think that this is something that Mom should know about."

"Why? It's over now and it won't happen again. There's no reason to get her all worried now."

"How do you know that it won't happen again?" Sam asked reasonably.

"It just won't…" Dean began, growing impatient. "Can you just do what I ask, please?"

"But Dean, doesn't Mom always say that if we have a problem, we should always talk to her about it first?"

That was true. Mary always promised to listen, without judging, to whatever problem the boys could be having at that particular moment. She's help them in any way she could, whether by suggesting possible solution or just by listening and babying the boys when they simply needed someone to be there for them. Mary always insisted, however, that the boys come to her and talk about things instead of holding it all in deep inside of them. Usually the boys were eager to talk to their mother, but this time around, Dean, stubborn as he was, was determined to deal (or not deal) with the situation by himself.

"Well, I really don't see why I should worry her for nothing, Sam. You know how she gets when she grows angry at Dad."

"But she'll make you feel better and stuff. She always makes me feel better when I'm feeling bad." That was also true. Mary was awesome at comforting Sam and Dean when they needed it, holding them close and telling them that everything would be alright.

"Who ever said that I was feeling bad? Sam, leave me alone," Dean grew angry as he realized that the two of them had reached their house already, but were still standing in front of their gate, arguing. "It's me that Dad hit, so it's my choice whether or not I tell Mom anything. Not yours. Unless of course, you'll be a snitch and rat me out."

Dean looked at his baby brother accusingly, silently asking him whether or not he'd inform Mary of what had happened the other night.

"I won't…" Sam said quietly. Dean nodded at him while looking down, which was his way of saying 'thank you'.

"You should listen to me more, Sam," Dean observed, looking a bit like John did when he was lecturing one of the boys. "I'm older and I know what I'm talking about. You always insist that you know everything."

"I guess…" Sam repeated himself. "It's just that…"

"Just what?" Dean looked at him as he turned his key in the lock to enter their home.

"Never mind," Sam waved his hand to dismiss whatever it was that he had wanted to say. The two boys walked into the house and kicked off their shoes. Dean was the first one to finish hanging up his coat, so he ended up running into the kitchen before Sam could even put hid backpack down on the nearest table.

"It's just that I think that you're making a big mistake," Sam sighed and followed his older brother into the kitchen.