So, just to throw this out there, but I have no idea how to kill a Black Dog; so, I looked online to find the answer, and I honestly felt a little like Sam and Dean (it made me excited), but I couldn't find the actual way to kill a Black Dog. All I could find was Black Dogs don't like iron…so, consecrated iron rods to the heart is the way to kill Black Dogs in my story!

Also, there are so many people who wanted to see more hurt!Sam. Give the kid a break people! He's already suffering ten times more than Dean or Adam. Give me a chapter to torture the hell out of Dean! Haha, actually it made me laugh when I saw all the hurt!Sam lovers. I guess I'm in the minority with hurt!Dean. But I need to torture my boy for a chapter. Sam needs a little break…sorry! Next chapter people, I promise there will be more hurt!Sam.

And last, but not least…I wanted to thank everyone who offered ways to "torture" Dean. They really helped get my creative juices flowing. I wanted to thank monkeymuse for all her help on this chapter and on the next few chapters to come!

Now, I've blabbered enough…onto Chapter 6.

Chapter 6

Dean walked through the cemetery, gun at the ready, eyes quickly searching the dark and shadowy night for any signs of the massive Black Dog. Once again, he thanked God that Sam and Adam were safe at home and not out here in the pitch-black of an ancient cemetery hunting supernatural beings with their crazy father. If Dean couldn't protect Sam and Adam from John, then he would try his hardest to keep them from ever hunting. Even though Sam had started training, he had never been on a hunt, and Dean intended to keep it that way.

John was further ahead, taking the same cautious stance Dean adopted during hunts. A twig snapped in the distance, and Dean turned, carefully scanning the darkness for the creature. His breathing quickened and he told himself to focus on the hunt at hand, instead of what would happen if he screwed up. Dean took a few steps towards the noise. He stopped. There was the noise again; this time, coming from behind the huge mausoleum up near the right of Dean.

Dean inched his way over, listening for any other signs of movement. He turned to the right, hearing shuffling from behind the mausoleum. He stepped closer, breathing hard in anticipation. Dean slowly walked behind the stone structure and yelled out as the huge, furry monster leapt at him.

"Dad!" Dean was able to roll out from under the Dog before it landed completely on him, and he jumped to his feet, steadying his gun at the creature.

"Shoot it, Dean!" John was running over to Dean, gun at the ready, but unable to get a direct shot at the Dog's heart.

Dean hesitated for a split second which gave the Black Dog enough time to make its move. It growled and lunged at Dean, who saw what was happening and leapt out of the way. Dean aimed his gun, taking the only chance he might get that night and shot at the creature just as it moved. The bullet pierced the Dog's shoulder. It let out a yelp of pain and turned around to run away, but found itself cornered by John Winchester.

Dean stood and watched as his father aimed and fired, shooting the monster straight in the heart. The Black Dog let out a roar and fell; it was dead before it hit the ground. Dean looked at his father who walked over to the creature to make sure it was really dead, and he felt his heart begin to pound faster, but he didn't know if it was from adrenaline or fear. John looked up at his son, and Dean readied himself for the onslaught.

"What the hell were you thinking, Dean?" John yelled as he stormed over to his son. "You were right there! How could you miss a shot like that?"

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dean flinched back when he saw his father raise his arm. John grabbed Dean by his collar and yanked him close. "Go get the salt and the gasoline from the car and clean up this mess, now," then he roughly pushed his son away.

Dean's breathing was ragged, but he immediately stood up, not wanting to further anger his father. He hurried to the car and got the needed supplies and quickly burned the now carcass of the Black Dog. John was waiting in the car when Dean returned. Dean sat in the passenger seat and put his seatbelt on, too afraid to look at his father who didn't say a word as he tuned the engine on and sped away.

As soon as they arrived back at the apartment complex, John got out of the car and stormed inside. John knew Dean would soon follow. He wouldn't dare run away and risk receiving a bigger punishment. It also helped that Sam and Adam were alone in the apartment with him; Dean never left them there, alone with their father for more than a few minutes. He was too afraid as to what John would do to allow that. John tossed the weapon's bag on the kitchen table, and sure enough the front door closed a few seconds later. John didn't look at Dean when he heard his eldest enter the room.

"Dad, I'm sorry I missed the shot. I didn't think the Black Dog would make a move like that. I'm sorry I messed up. It won't happen again," Dean hoped by profusely apologizing John would take it easy on him. Dean had looked around the apartment and hadn't seen a sign of Adam or Sam which meant they hopefully wouldn't witness whatever punishment John was going to give him.

John slowly raised his head from his weapons, jaw clenched, muscles tensed, and eyes full of fury. "Sorry, won't cut it, Dean. Sorry, doesn't make up for you missing the damned shot. We practiced shooting moving targets for months, Dean! How could you miss a shot like that? It was right in front of you!" John rushed towards Dean and slammed the boy against the countertop by his neck.

"Dad, I'm sorry," Dean panted, trying to breath against the pressure on his neck.

"Sorry, won't help this time, kiddo." Dean hated when John would call them 'kiddo'. That term was usually used in a loving or caring manner, but John used it to ridicule and mock his sons. "Mistakes like the one you made tonight can't happen on the hunt. They can get people killed." John pushed Dean away and began slowly pacing around the room.

"I know, sir," Dean gasped, rubbing his neck.

"We'll have to make sure this doesn't happen again, Dean. Maybe we just have to switch up the punishment like I did with Sam? Maybe then we won't have any more problems with you screwing up hunts. You'll be just as broke as your brother; too afraid to disobey," John grinned at this thought.

Dean watched as John walked over to the stove and took the grate off one of the burners. Then, John took a lighter from his pocket and lit the burner, bringing the flames to life. Dean's eyes lit up in fear when John looked back at him with an evil glint on his face, and Dean realized what his father was going to do.

"Dad, please," Dean begged. Dean rarely begged, but fire was Dean's biggest fear. Ever since he saw the flames shoot from the ceiling of Sam's nursery and engulf his mother in the blaze, Dean had feared fire.

"Dean, get over here now. Don't make me say it again."

"Dad, please don't," Dean backed into the corner of the kitchen.

Dean never ran from a punishment. He never wanted to make things worse and make his father even angrier. Dean didn't want to put his brothers through even more trauma by having them watch him beg. He always tried to remain calm and never show fear in front of his brothers. Adam and Sam needed someone strong and courageous to protect them, and Dean couldn't be that person if he backed down and begged his father for forgiveness. So, Dean would swallow his fear and his pride and take his punishment like a man, and he never, ever cried.

But fire? Dean couldn't handle fire. Fire took his mother, and it destroyed his life and the lives of his brothers. Fire turned John into the angry, abusive man he was today, and now John was using fire as a way to punish his son, whom he knew was petrified of the blaze.

"Dean, I will not tell you again. Get your sorry, pathetic ass over here now!"

"Dad, please, I'll take any other punishment. I won't beg or plead. I'll take anything else, just please, not fire." The fear was taking hold of him. He was shaking and sweating in anticipation. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, and although he willed them to go away, Dean knew they would soon break free.

"Dammit!" John charged his son and grabbed him, and even though Dean struggled and fought, John soon held his son in a headlock. "See, I was right. You're terrified, which means this punishment is going to work better than I thought," John mocked before tightening his hold on this son.

Dean tried gripping the countertops and chairs and using them to help him escape, but nothing worked. He heard footsteps running down the hallway and soon Sam and Adam stood in the room, eyes wide at the sight they saw.

Too soon, John had Dean at the stove. Adam was now clutching Sam's arm and crying for the pain his brother was going through. Sam wanted to help Dean, he really did, but he was afraid to make things worse. Neither he nor Adam had ever seen Dean losing it like this. Sam had only seen his brother cry a few times, but now Dean was close to tears, and it frightened Sam.

Dean was struggling, trying his hardest to get away. His eyes never left the fire that burned from the stove. They were wide with fear. He kept pleading to John, begging him to stop, using his hands to try to pry John's arms away from his neck and body. Nothing was working though,

"I will not have you fucking hunts up anymore!" John screamed in Dean's ear. He took Dean's left arm in his hand and gripped tightly.

"Dad, no! No-ah!" Dean screamed when he felt his hand enter the flame. The pain was unbearable and Dean yelled out in agony. Just as quickly as it started, it ended. John pulled Dean's hand out of the flame, but still held on. Dean sagged against his father, almost falling to the ground in pain. He smelled the terrible, yet familiar odor of burnt flesh and hair. He was now openly sobbing.

"That feel good, son? You going to miss a shot again?" John questioned.

"No, sir," Dean choked out through his tears.

"Good," John once again moved Dean's hand toward the flame.

"Dad, please, no," Dean faintly struggled against his father.

"Dad, stop! Stop hurting him!" Sam was pulled out of his own fear by the pain and tears mixed on Dean's face. Dean's hand was red and blistering. He knew his brother was terrified of fire, and he couldn't sit there and watch him go through the pain again. Sam took a few steps closer to Dean and his father.

"You take one more step and you'll be joining in on your brother's punishment." That statement stopped Sam dead in his tracks. He couldn't take another punishment this soon. He was still terrified and weak from the last one. He too clearly remembered that same look in his father's eyes on the night before; except that time, he had been in Dean's place. He couldn't do it again. His fear was too great. Sam bowed his head, knowing he was betraying his brother in the ultimate way and went back to Adam, pulling the crying boy to his side.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam tearfully whispered.

"Aw, how sad and pathetic," John commented.

Dean didn't reply. He painfully swallowed his fear and bit down on his lip, trying to stop the tears that flowed freely. Dean saw Sam place his hands over Adam's ears. He shuttered as he felt John move his hand once more to the flame, and once more Dean screamed in agony as the fire once more touched his already burnt and singed hand.

John pulled Dean's hand from the fire and dropped the boy on the ground. Dean fell hard and clutched his hand to his chest, crying out in pain. He watched his father's feet step over him to turn off the burner. Then John walked to the refrigerator to take a beer from the fridge, and then walked from the room without a backwards glance at his sons.

"Dean," Sam rushed over and kneeled by Dean's side, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Are you okay? I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said tearfully. He felt so guilty for betraying his brother the one time he really needed it.

Dean didn't say a word. He just pressed his head into Sam's leg and took shaky breaths, trying to calm himself. After a few minutes, Dean had the tears under control and he wearily began to stand up. Sam rushed up to help his brother. Adam was still standing by the doorway, looking completely dejected and wanting nothing more to run into Dean's arms. But Dean was hurt and sad, and Adam could see that.

Sam took Dean's right arm and helped him stand, the older boy gasping when he finally stood completely. Dean leaned against the counter and caught his breath, his hand was killing him, and he wanted nothing more than to just pass out right there in the kitchen.

"C'mon, Dean, let's get you cleaned up." Sam gently nudged Dean, trying to get him to move forward towards the bathroom.

"I got it, Sam," Dean croaked, "Take Adam to our room and get him ready for bed."

"Dean, let me help you," Sam begged.

"Sam, just go with Adam. I'll be fine," Dean wouldn't look at Sam.

"Okay, Dean," Sam said sadly. He walked over to Adam and walked the boy to the bedroom. Adam tried to get to Dean, but Sam quietly told him, "Dean will be in the room soon, Adam. It's okay now." But Sam wasn't so sure.

Dean almost lost control after he heard his brothers leave the room. He could feel the tears welling up and he quickly fought to push them back. He breathed in and out of his nose and walked to the bathroom, trying not to hit his injured hand off anything.

He entered the bathroom and shut and locked the door before looking at the damage. His hand was red and blistering; it still felt hot and the pan was overwhelming. Dean turned on the cold water and stuck his hand under the faucet. He gasped in pain when the water touched the burn, but at least it helped with the heat.

Dean turned the water off and turned to the medicine cabinet to find the burn cream. He was still shaking and he knocked over a few of the items on the shelf. No matter where he looked though, he couldn't find the burn cream. Then he remembered, he took the first aid kit into the bedroom that morning to check Sam's back. He closed the mirror and readied himself to face his brothers. Adam would be in a panic and Dean could tell Sam was completely guilty about the entire situation.

Dean sighed and slowly walked to the bedroom, his injured hand and held gingerly by the right one. He walked past the living room where he could hear the sound of the TV blaring in the background and the clinking of glass against wood, no doubt John putting another empty beer bottle on the table. Dean gave the secret knock when he got to the bedroom door and whispered, "Sam, it's me. Let me in."

"Dean," Sam's worried face opened the door, "Are you okay? Why isn't your hand wrapped."

"The burn cream's in here," Dean hurried into the room and quickly shut and locked the door.

"De," Adam ran into Dean, threw his skinny arms around his brother's waist, and began sobbing hysterically.

"Adam, I'm fine, kiddo," Dean knelt down and wrapped his good arm around Adam's shoulder.

"You hurt. You scared and cried," Dean flinched at the comment and swallowed his shame and guilt for not being a stronger brother. Dean sat down on the floor, pulling Adam closer.

"I'll be fine, Adam. It doesn't hurt so bad anymore, and I'm okay now that I've got you here." Adam didn't respond, he just sniffled, sat himself on Dean's lap, and rested his head on his brother's shoulder.

"Here," Sam knelt by Dean and laid the needed medical materials on the floor. "Let me see it."

"I can do it," Dean said when he saw Sam reaching for his hand.

"No, Dean. You have Adam, just let me do it. I can do this," he said looking his brother in the eye. Dean saw the determined look in Sam's eye and nodded, holding out his left hand.

Sam gently cleaned and dressed the wound, wrapping it in a white bandage to protect the burn from the dangers of infection. Dean sat, holding Adam on his lap and trying not to gasp or wince at the unbearable pain, but failing when Sam disinfected the burn and later tightened the bandage. Adam stared at Dean's hand the entire time Sam worked and flinched every time he heard Dean make any sound from the pain.

When Sam was finished, Dean slowly stood, easing Adam up with him. Dean guided Adam to the bed then changed into his own pajamas, being careful not to jostle his hand. He turned around and saw Sam standing there with a dejected look on his face.

"Dean," a lone tear escaped from Sam's eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't help you. I'm sorry."

"Sam." Dean rushed over and hugged his younger brother, running a hand through Sam's hair as he cried into Dean's chest. "I don't blame you, Sam. You couldn't have done anything."

"Why wouldn't you look at me? You're mad at me."

"Sammy, look at me," Sam looked up, "I was mad at myself for not being stronger, for begging Dad to stop in front of you two. I'm supposed to be the big brother. I'm supposed to be stronger for you two, so I can protect you."

"Dean, you don't have to be strong all the time. I know how much you hate fire. It's okay to be afraid sometimes."

"I know, Sammy. I know," Dean muttered, pulling Sam in for another hug. He didn't know if he believed Sam completely. He still felt guilty for not being strong enough. "Let's just go to bed now and try to get some rest."

Dean walked with Sam to the bed, silently asking God for the millionth time what they did to deserve this life. He got under the covers and pulled his two younger brothers close. The three brothers laid there in silence, except for the occasional sniffle, once more latching onto each other for comfort and protection, and together they fell in a fitful sleep.

I hope the hurt!Dean was better than anyone expected! Let me know what you think…*review! review!* Well, the BIG, intense chapters are coming up soon! Hopefully, I'll be able to update soon. I'll try to before Sunday, but I have to move into school, so I don't know if that'll happen.