Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED OR ADDED MY FIC TO THEIR FAVORITES/ALERT LIST!!!

Chapter 7: Misery Loves Company

Dean heaved a sigh of relief as the door shut behind his father, glad to have the room to himself for awhile. He didn't feel well…he was most certainly taking it out on his father, he knew, but he was pissed off and miserable enough to not feel guilty about it. Almost. Dammit, why should I feel bad about being pissed off? I have a damn good reason to feel the way I do, he thought with a burst of anger. He rubbed at his eyes, unsuccessfully trying to rid himself of the headache pounding in his temples. Man, I feel like shit.

Though he'd fought his father every step of the way when the old man had tried to take his temperature, it hadn't stopped him from getting Dean's temperature in the end. Luckily, it had been low enough that John didn't seem too concerned. Of course, in between the supernatural shit and the added bonus of two spare kids, there's not exactly a lot of time for him to notice anything else…but then, maybe I'm just being a total bitch about all this and givin' Dad a hard time when things are already going to hell in a hand-basket. 'Cause any minute, Braden might start spouting off some freaky shit that there's no way in hell he should know, or Aubrey could start crying about something totally bogus…damn, I'm tired of this shit.. At least Braden is pretty quiet when he's not being a freak. But Aubrey cries all the damn time—what the hell is up with that…maybe that shit's contagious, or something. 'Cause, damn, I'm startin' to sound just as freakin' whiny as she does. Of course, maybe Dad deserves a little shit for screwin' some chick. And if nothing else, I'm damn good at dishing it out.

Maybe it wasn't fair to think that way, because Dean knew deep down that losing your mom trumped just about everything, hands down. So yeah, maybe it was wrong to be angry at Aubrey for being upset so often, but he was finding it incredibly hard to feel otherwise. He shifted, frowning as he felt the stitches in his side pull. Lifting his shirt, he laid his palm on the skin near the bandage, scowling at the warmth radiating from it. Shit, it must have gotten infected somehow. Dammit, if Dad finds out about this, I'm never gonna hear the end of it…Unless I can keep him from finding out…of course, he might suspect, but he won't know for sure if I take care of it before he catches on. Dean knew his body, and he knew that the odds were good that he'd be fine in a day. My immune system kicks ass as much as I do, he thought with a smirk. Of course, drugs would speed up the process… Knowing he would have to fetch the antibiotics stashed in the first aid kit on his own, he slowly forced himself to his feet with a groan, wincing as he put weight on his knee.

He slowly dragged himself to the bathroom where his dad had returned the first aid kit after the morning's fiasco. He popped it open, digging through its extensive contents before finding a small supply of antibiotics that John had somehow managed to procure. Yahtzee. Not spotting any cups, he shrugged and turned the cold water tap on, angling his head underneath the faucet so that he could swallow a few sips of water to wash down the antibiotic. Dad could have at least gotten us a nicer place to say, one that actually leaves plastic cups in the freakin' bathroom.

Dropping his shirt to the floor, Dean slowly pulled the bandages away from the tears in his side, frowning at the angry red lines beginning to appear. Shit. The stitches were holding up okay, at least, but the wounds still weren't looking so great. Damn poltergeist—never should have let it get the drop on me. But his attention had strayed…I was so busy thinking about how pissed Sammy was with Dad and how I was going to have to run interference again. It's no wonder I got hurt—I wasn't paying a damn bit of attention to what I was supposed to be doing. 'Course, it's not like I'm not payin' for that mistake—got myself thrown into a freakin' wall and smashed a sideboard hard enough to slice my side up in two places, he thought scathingly. The poltergeist's last ditch efforts had left Dean with painful gashes in his side and a torn ACL in his knee that had put him completely out of commission.

As he painfully made his way back to the bed, he cast a baleful look at the rodent in the corner, mentally blasting his father for siding with Aubrey and Braden about the stupid thing being allowed to live. He knows good and well that rats freak me out, but he's gonna let them keep the damn thing. Nevermind that he never let me and Sammy have a pet, ever. We could have gotten a dog, something to help us hunt. But no. 'We can't take a pet on the road, Dean, it wouldn't be fair.' Yeah, like letting the twins keep a stupid rodent is fair. Dad's an asshole..but, then…he's not here…I could get rid of it before he got back…Now, where did Dad put my knife?

It didn't take him long to find the knife John had placed in the bedside drawer, John's choice of hiding place causing Dean to shake his head ruefully. Honestly, Dad, was that the best you could do? I'm not four—I think I can find something you've hidden in the damn drawer right beside my bed. He shoved the drawer closed, the knife held loosely in his hand, the blade gleaming in the small crack of light shining through the gap in the curtain over the window. Now, to take care of that effin' rat, he thought, turning toward the cage, his fist tightening around the hilt of the knife. But as he started to approach, he paused, a disturbing insight suddenly coming to mind. 'If I use the knife, I'd actually have to get close to the damn thing…hell, no. Better use a gun, he thought, shoving the knife back under his pillow.He turned towards his father's bed, where underneath he knew he would find John's duffel bag filled with weapons. If I shoot it, I don't even have to get near it… He eyed the bed, debating whether his knee was up to the challenge, and he had just about made up his mind to go for it when something made him pause.

He liked to tell himself that it was just fear of his father's anger raining down on him like the wrath of God, but deep down he knew that that wasn't the only reason. As much as he wanted to convince himself that he didn't give a damn about his newfound siblings, he kept seeing Aubrey's tearful face as she sat on John's lap. She'd never forgive me…why the hell do I care, though?

The question echoed in his mind, even as he laid back down, propping his knee up on the small mound of pillows still sitting there. Honestly, he still hadn't decided how he felt about Aubrey and Braden. Every time he looked at them, his emotions were all tied up with his anger at his father. Hell, they'd be sorta cute if they belonged to someone else. Why do they have to be in my family? We were just fine the way we were. I mean, yeah, it sucks not to have Mom here, but me and Dad and Sammy were doing just fine on our own.

Except they weren't, not really. And Dean couldn't deny it. The fighting between John and Sam wasn't getting any better, and Dean didn't fool himself into thinking that things were likely to improve. If anything, he knew, it was only going to get worse. And now he's added two more kids to the mix. Like we weren't screwed up enough before, he thought bitterly. Two more kids to cause tension that I'm gonna be left to deal with. Nothing says 'I love you' to your firstborn like dumping another younger brother and a sister on him. Yeah, thanks, Dad—I really feel the love.

He lay there for awhile, letting the bitter anger swell in his mind as he thought of all the shit that had happened to their little family…a family that suddenly wasn't so little anymore. He wanted nothing more than to 'suck it up' like his dad always told him to do when things weren't going their way, but for the first time in his life, following his father's example wasn't so easy. Screw you, Dad. Oh wait, you already did that, didn't you, Dad? With some chick that wasn't Mom.

Slowly, against his will, his anger began to fade as the biological need for sleep began to creep up on him. As much as he tried to fight it, his eyes closed, and he slowly succumbed to sleep, acknowledging somewhere in the back of his mind that his dad had been right—he did need sleep.

A warm weight settled on his chest, and Dean opened his eyes to see a Burger King bag sitting on his chest. Groggily, he grabbed at the bag, blinking his eyes once more to bring the three grinning faces staring down at him into focus.

"We brought you back a burger and fries, Dean," Sam told him cheerfully, collapsing loose-limbed onto the bed beside his brother.

"Yeah, thanks—I'm sure it'll taste real good cold," Dean said sarcastically.

"If you don't want it, can I have your fries?" Braden asked, standing by the bed with a questioning gaze.

"Who said I didn't want it?" Dean snapped back argumentatively.

"I just thought--" Braden began with a shrug, but Dean cut him off.

"Yeah, well don't."

"Dean," John said menacingly, warning his oldest with a look to stop while he was ahead. With an irritated sigh, Dean glanced away, slowly sitting up and propping his and Sam's pillows behind him so that he could sit comfortably. Peeling the wrapper open, he lifted the edge of the bun up, grimacing at the sight of the chopped onions on the underside, spread liberally in the ketchup and mustard that coated the burger. Using the edge of the bun, he scraped the onions off with a scowl. Obviously, Dad ordered, because if Sam had, I wouldn't have ended up with a burger loaded with onions. I'm seventeen years old, and Dad still has no freakin' clue that I hate onions. Doing his best to ignore the lingering taste of onions as he took a bite of the burger, he surreptitiously studied his new siblings, trying to find signs of his father in them. The twins had settled on the floor with a coloring book and crayons, leaving it easy for him to study them without them knowing, and Dean wasn't above taking full advantage of the situation.

Well, their hair is dark…but maybe their mom has dark hair. Had dark hair… And okay, they've got freckles. But so do a lot of other people—it doesn't mean Dad is their father. And Dad definitely doesn't have blue eyes—just that dog-shit brown that Sammy got saddled with. Good thing I got Mom's eyes…

"So Dad," he began as he peeled the bun back once again to double-check for hidden onions that he was definitely still tasting, "when are you gonna have one of those tests done?" he asked idly, not giving much thought to his question as he narrowed his gaze upon the burger, now lifting the meat to check underneath.

"What are you talking about?" John asked, looking up from where he now lounged on the other bed, absentmindedly channel-surfing.

"You know, one of those tests to see if you match them—I mean, how do you know for sure that you're really their dad?"

Aubrey and Braden looked up worriedly, gazing at John with helpless dismay, and John turned a stern glare on Dean.

"I don't need some test to know that they're my children, Dean," he said firmly.

"But--"

"No. Don't bring this up again," John told him roughly. An uncomfortable silence fell, and Dean crumpled the wrapper up around his burger, dropping it on the bedside table, his appetite gone.

"Aren't you gonna finish?" Sam asked quietly after a long moment.

"No."

"But…I thought you were hungry," Sam said tentatively.

"Well I'm not anymore, ok? So drop it."

Without looking at anyone, Dean threw off the sheets and stood, catching himself as he weaved dizzily. He still felt like shit, but he wasn't going to admit it. No way in hell. Ignoring the crutches laying beside the bed, he limped over to his bag, grabbing it up and lifting it, ignoring the pain that ripped through his side. Wordlessly, he hauled it into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. After a long, hot shower, he emerged, immediately heading straight for the keys to the Impala sitting on the bedside table, trying to ignore the bitter anger that welled up inside him at the sight of his father watching a TV-movie with Sammy and the twins. He didn't know whether to be angry that he was being excluded or hurt that John was so easily doing things with the twins that he had rarely done with him and Sam. Bad enough that I was robbed of a ton of these father-child moments, but to have Dad give the moments away to them… Grabbing the keys, Dean started for the doorway, only to be waylaid by his father's voice.

"Dean, where are you going?"

"Out. I need some air," Dean said quietly, resenting his father's question even more than he might normally have.

"Son, I don't want you driving. You're still looking feverish—it's not safe."Don't give me that 'concerned parent' act—I don't need that shit, he thought angrily, knowing it was best not to turn around to face his father, because he was doing a piss-poor job of hiding the rage aimed at him.

"Dad, I'm fine," he said with exasperation, wondering why the hell his dad was being such a damn mother-hen all of a sudden.

"I said no, Dean." And Dean knew from his father's tone that any further argument would be futile. Normally so controlled, Dean once again found the hot surge of anger seeking an outlet, and he couldn't stop himself from giving in to the urge to release it.

"Fine," he said tightly, slinging the keys at the table and storming outside. Yeah, no doubt I'll pay for that when I come back in, he thought as he slammed the door on his father's voice at his back. But the little expression of anger was satisfying, and despite knowing that he'd pay for his transgression, he didn't regret it in the slightest. Not even as he waited nervously to see if his father was going to follow him out. When the door remained closed, Dean breathed a sigh of relief and started walking. Only to realize quickly that without his crutches and pain meds, walking far was not only difficult but also totally out of the question. Shit, he thought, wishing he'd had the foresight to grab his crutches at least. Of course, it's real hard to storm out when you're hobbling on crutches. With a shrug, he limped over to the Impala, sinking gratefully onto the hood with a pain-filled sigh, settling in to watch the traffic go by.

He'd only been there a few minutes when he heard the room door open and close, followed by the familiar sense of Sammy's presence at his side. Without a word, Sam slid onto the hood beside Dean, leaning back until his shoulder brushed Dean's.

"You mad at me?" Sam asked softly, sounding for a moment like the small, eager-to-please five-year-old he'd once been.

Dean shrugged, his emotions in such turmoil that he wasn't even sure who exactly he was mad at anymore.

"Please don't be mad at me, Dean—I don't like them better than you, I swear," Sam said solemnly, staring up at Dean with pleading eyes. Dean felt a weight he hadn't even been aware of lift off of his shoulders, and he realized suddenly that that was precisely one of the many things he'd been worried about. Sibling rivalry had taken on a whole new dimension, as Dean suddenly felt like he was in competition with the twins for dibs on the family members they shared.

"You swear?" he whispered, hating the weakness in his voice but needing Sam's reassurance just the same.

"I swear."

For a long while, neither of them spoke after that, the two of them watching the cars go by without a word. Together, they watched the sun begin to slowly sink to the horizon, the thick, hot air finally beginning to cool slightly.

"So…" Dean began, "Is Dad pissed at me?"

"Nah, I don't think so. You could so play the sympathy card—you still look like shit, you know."

"Haha," Dean said dryly. "You're real funny."

"Yeah, well, I learned from the best." They fell once again into a comfortable silence, and Dean relaxed, comforted by his brother's company despite the turmoil he still felt.

"Thanks," Dean blurted out suddenly. Dean really couldn't say exactly what he was thanking his little brother for, but he knew he didn't have to—Sam would know. With a grin, Sam nodded, nudging his brother's shoulder before aiming a plaintive look at his brother.

"So, can we go in now?" he asked Dean with a hopeful expression. "It's hot as hell out here, and I've been outside almost all freakin' day."

"Yeah, alright." That he wasn't in the least inclined to argue or even to tease Sam about being a wuss was enough to tell Dean that he definitely wasn't feeling one hundred percent yet. He slowly slid off the hood, wincing as his knee was forced to bear some of his weight.

"Do you want some help?" Sam asked.

"No."

With a shrug, Sam followed closely behind Dean, and as Dean pushed the door open, Sam scooted under his arm, entering the room in front of Dean. Inside, they found the twins sprawled out on the bed, on either side of their father, who had left the television on a cartoon station while he scanned a local newspaper.

"Boys," John greeted, his tone level as he eyed the two of them expressionlessly. "It's almost eight—we need to get dinner."

Dean blinked in surprise, uncertain how so much time had passed without his notice. Damn, didn't we just eat lunch?

"I'll stay here," Dean said, not at all eager to spend an hour sitting across a table from his new siblings pretending that everything was okay, that they were a family.

"No, you won't. You'll go with the rest of us," John told him firmly. "It's time you started acting like a part of this family."

"I thought I already was," Dean said scathingly, his tone effectively masking the hurt that had shot through him at his father's words.

"Shut it, and go get in the car, now," John bit off, his own temper flaring in response to Dean's response, and there was no mistaking the anger in his voice.

Without another word, Dean turned and limped back outside, his face hot and flushed as anger warred with the embarrassment of being rebuked by his father. The anger was winning.

Settling into the front passenger seat, Dean slammed the door and dropped his head back against the headrest wearily, the toll of maintaining his resentment beginning to wear on him. But Winchesters were nothing if not stubborn, and Dean was determined not to be the first to cave in. This is stupid—why the hell is Dad forcing me to come along? I feel like shit, and I thought I'd made it pretty damn obvious that I don't wanna go.

A minute later, the back doors opened simultaneously, and Sam and the twins slid into the backseat behind him, Aubrey sliding into the middle to make room for Sam. Dean closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, effectively putting a stop to any attempts to engage him in unwanted conversation. Dean had grown quite proficient at nonverbal communication over the years, and the odds of anyone in the car not being able to read his intense desire to be left alone were slim to none. Hell, in this family, nonverbal communication is as vital as breathing. 'Cause we for damn sure don't talk about all this shitty emotional baggage that we haul around like the rest of our luggage. Clothes, check. Weapons, check. Emotional shit, check.

As John slid into the driver's seat and started the car, Dean settled against the door, as far away from everyone as he could get. He rested his forehead against the window, relishing the feel of the cold glass against his flushed skin. As the sound of his father's shitty music softly filled the car, Dean could almost pretend that everything was back to normal.

As the car came to a stop and John cut the engine off, Dean opened his eyes, only to wish that he hadn't as he saw the lights of the Shoney's sign glaring back at him in all of it's neon intensity. Shit…why the hell did I convince myself that Dad would take us through a drive-thru at some fast-food joint? Dean thought with a scowl. Um, maybe because that's what he normally does. No, he would take us to a sit-down restaurant, probably just to spite me. And now I'm gonna have to suffer through an awkward-as-hell meal with Dad, who I'm pissed at, the twins, who I don't even want around, and Sammy, who's no doubt going to try his damnedest to get me to play nice with the twins.

Unsteadily exiting the car, Dean followed behind his father and siblings, refusing to meet his father's gaze as John held the door open for him to go through. He settled gratefully into the booth after Sam, ignoring the menu on the table as he rubbed at his aching knee. The twins jostled for position next to John, who allowed it as he pushed the children's menus in front of them along with the crayons that came with them.

With a grimace, Dean tried to stretch his leg out under the table, biting back a groan and doing his best to ignore the sick feeling that was pervading his stomach. As John began to help the twins find something on the children's menu to eat, Dean tuned everything out and slumped down in the booth, so focused on trying to convince his body that it really wasn't as miserable as it thought it was that he was only vaguely aware that Sam ordered for him when the waitress stopped by to take their drink orders. He didn't even notice when she doled out the drinks to each of them and waited to take their food orders. His world had narrowed down to his body's demands on him, and it was only the sound of his father's voice calling him that brought him back to awareness.

"Dean." By the tone of John's voice, Dean could tell that his dad had been calling for awhile, but he was having trouble getting himself to respond.

"Sir?" he mumbled, forcing his eyes to open only to realize that everyone was staring at him expectantly.

"What do you want to eat, son?" John asked, a hint of hunger-driven impatience in his voice.

"Um…"

"Dammit, Dean—open the menu and order, son—we're waiting."

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat—you need to keep food in your system."

"I'm not hungry," Dean said shortly, shoving the menu away from him angrily.Why the hell can't he just leave me alone? John narrowed his eyes, casting a stern glare at his oldest for a long moment before handing Dean's menu back to the waitress, obviously deciding to let the matter go for the moment. Dean dropped his head back against the wall behind him and shut his eyes, willing away the queasiness that was making itself known.

"I think he's still feelin' bad, Dad," he heard Sam say softly. Thanks for filling him in, Sammy—he obviously wasn't getting it. He couldn't quite make out his father's soft-spoken reply, but no argument ensued, so Dean could only assume that his dad had chosen to accept Sam's explanation.

"Dean." Opening his eyes with a barely contained sigh of annoyance, Dean saw his father pushing a glass of water towards him with a look that was unmistakable. "Drink it. All of it."

Dean grudgingly picked up the glass, knowing better than to argue with that look, and began to slowly sip at it, surprised to see that the food had been delivered. How the hell did that happen without me noticing? I mean, how do you miss somebody coming up to the table with a tray full of food and not hear everyone's plates getting set down. Not to mention the sound of all the freakin' silverware clinking on the plates. Shit. He knew he was bad off when he was so damn out of it that he didn't notice food being brought to the table.

"Better?" John asked, bringing Dean's attention back to his father.

Dean grunted in lieu of an answer, enjoying the feel of the ice-cold water sliding down his throat and cooling his insides as much as he hated to admit it.

"I want to take your temperature again when we get back," John said as he took another bite of his cheeseburger.

"I'm fine, Dad. I'm just not hungry—it's not a big deal," he told his dad, trying to force himself to sit up and pretend he didn't feel like shit.

"Dean, the minute you confess to not being hungry, I know something's wrong with you, so don't try and hand me some cock-and-bull story about how you're fine. I also want to take a look at your side, make sure it's healing up okay."

Oh shit, Dean thought with growing alarm. He's gonna tear me a new one if he finds out that I let that wound get infected AND that I didn't tell him…think fast, Dean, you need a distraction…

"Dad? How long are we gonna stay here? In South Carolina, I mean," Sam asked, bringing John's attention to the younger boy.

Thanks, Sammy—I knew you were an awesome little brother for a reason. Hopefully that'll keep Dad's attention off me for awhile, give me time to come up with something.

"I think we'll head out soon. Why?"

"Well, it sucks here. It's hot as hell outside, and there's nothing to do except spit on the sidewalk and see how long it takes to evaporate." At this response, John looked somewhat less than amused, casting a displeased look at his son before shaking his head.

"I hope to leave in the morning—there's really nothing to gain by staying."

"But Daddy, what about our house? And all our toys?" Aubrey asked, looking up from her plate of macaroni-and-cheese with a stricken expression.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but we can't take all that stuff with us. We have to leave it behind."

And cue the waterworks, Dean thought caustically, and sure enough, as they watched, Aubrey's lower lip began to tremble and her eyes began to fill.

"It's not so bad, Aubrey," Sam said encouragingly, and Dean's jaw dropped, even as John cocked an eyebrow.

"What the hell are you talking about, Sammy? You practically pitch a fit every damn time we leave for a new town, and you're always bitching about not having a house, a dog, and all that other shit," Dean said hotly.

"Dean, shut it," John said, pointing his finger at Dean sternly.

"What? I'm just saying—Sammy shouldn't feed her a load of bullshit just to make her feel better."

"Dean."

"Fine," Dean mumbled, dropping his gaze as he went back to his water, ignoring the sense of guilt that he was feeling as he saw Aubrey push her plate away and put her head down on the table, tears spilling down her face. It didn't take long for Braden to push his own plate away, apparently disturbed enough by his twin's misery to no longer feel hungry, and soon after, Sam pushed his plate away, too.

Whoops, Dean thought unapologetically as John cast an angry look at him. Yeah, if he thinks I'm gonna say sorry, then he's totally lost touch with reality. After several long, painful minutes of silence, John set his fork down and wiped his hands on his napkin before tossing it down on the table.

"I guess it's pointless for us to stay any longer, seeing as how you've killed everyone's appetite, Dean."

"What are you pissed at me for? I wasn't the one who started cryin' and ruined everyone's dinner," Dean protested, knowing damn well that he was at least partially to blame but unwilling to admit it to his father.

"No, you're the one that caused the damn crying in the first place. I expected better from you. Let's go." John nudged Braden, motioning for him to scoot out of the booth, before climbing to his feet. As he slowly followed his dad and the twins out with Sammy at his heels, Dean was silent. After all, there was really nothing to say.

A/N: Ok, so there you have it, folks—the first Dean chapter you've seen in quite awhile. Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!

lilgurlgreen: So glad you liked the last chapter! Thanks for reviewing!

Jensmnms: It was great to hear that my fic is one of your favorites! Hope your broadband connection is back online for you! Glad to see that you're no longer skeptical of the new siblings, and I hope this chapter gave you the Dean-fix that you wanted! Thanks for reviewing!

jade1056: Glad to hear that you like the characters and relationships—I'm hoping to update every Friday, so expect another chapter shortly. Thanks for reviewing!

Poppyflake: Ok, if you thought Dean was a grump in the last chapter, I wonder what you think of him after this one—lol! I'm afraid it's going to get worse before it gets better, but eventually, he'll come around. Thanks so much for reviewing!

cozmikfaerie: There's a lot of family angst to get through, but Braden's back-story is going to come into play soon—expect more little hints at strange behavior. Anyways, glad to hear you're enjoying the fic, and thanks so much for the compliments (and for reviewing, of course)!

Dilly: Thanks for giving my fic a chance, since you don't typically go for the extra-sibling fics. I knew when I decided to write this fic that it was highly possible that I wouldn't get as many readers because of the extra-sibling thing. Dean will continue to have issues for a bit longer, but he'll come around soon. In the meantime, expect more pissed off behavior (especially in the next chapter). As for John's relationship with the twins, it'll settle into normality soon. Right now, the twins are still new, and John's trying his best to sort of "ease them" into the family. They just lost their mom, and they're meeting their dad and two brothers for the first time, so John's feeling pretty out-of-his-element. I saw him trying to make things as easy as possible for them, but it won't last forever. Normality will come, don't worry. Anyways, thanks for reviewing and letting me know what you think—it helps to hear what works and what doesn't so that I can tweak future chapters.