A/N: It's not long...sorry
Dean was afraid. He fisted one of his already bruised breasts. He wanted to throw up, and use it as an excurse to run back to the motel.
Sam was driving, Sam needed to drive, Dean couldn't have driven, Dean could barely breathe.
As every familiar landmark passed Dean flinched and squeezed harder, but he could not close his eyes. They stayed open, awake.
He didn't know what to call the place they were going. it was a house, it had all the necessity's a house needs, but it was not a home; no place to him was home.
"Sam can I-" Dean suddenly started talking, for the first time in a long time. "Stay in the…"
"In the car Dean?" Sam finished, making his last left.
"No." Dean lied.
"You can stay Dean." Sam couldn't look at Dean. He was too close, if he looked at Dean he would remember everything too well, and he would let his father die.
Dean was shamefaced. He rolled the bottle of medicine around in his hands. he had been stupid, he shouldn't have held it the whole way. If John did something, he would hate himself; hate himself for not throwing it out the window when he had the chance.
That was a lie, he hated himself already.
They were there, the house was dark, and it made no sounds at all. It held only bad memoires and a half dead man.
"You still have it Dean?"
"Yes." Dean choked, he still had it. He was letting his father live.
"Here." Sam put out his hand, still not looking at his brother, and took the bottle.
"Sam I-"
"Don't Dean, just let me do this."
Dean looked away as Sam left the car. Watched him walk to the door and open it, before going inside. Sam never looked back, which was something Sam usually did.
Dean was alone.
-
"John!" The scream was more for Sam; he could already see the only light on was in the bathroom.
Even Sam was surprised when he saw John. His sin could be seen everywhere, and it looked like it was killing him.
"This is your fault you know?" Sam threw the bottle at John. It rolled pathetically along the white floor.
"I know." John curled on the ground to get a better look at Sam.
Sam watched his father struggle with the top before opening it.
Sam walked down stairs and began packing. He got everything as fast as he could, and nearly shattered when he went into Dean's room to get his things. The chair was still on the floor, bent, deformed, broken.
Sam looked in on what was once his father for the last time.
"Is Dean-?" John was in the bathtub. Reminding him if Dean.
"He's not here." Sam couldn't remember ever being this angry "He's the only reason you're still alive, I was going to let you die."
"Can I…can I see him?"
"He's not here."
"Please?"
"I said he's not here."
"Dean please, daddies sorry!" John began to shout.
"He's not-"
"Daddies sorry! Please come back Dean. I love you!"
"John!"
"I just miss your mom so much, and I know you miss her too. I miss her all the time and when I saw you I just couldn't stop myself. You were so much like her already Dean." The madness was in Johns eyes again. "Daddy doesn't want to miss you too Dean, please, you have to come back. I know you still love me. We can still be together, we can be special, we-"
"You sick fuck!"
"He's mine Sam, he always will be!"
"No he's-"
"I am his destiny Sam!"
A sudden crash was heard stumbling down the stairs.
Sam ran from the room to look down the hall, and only in a small flash of light did he catch the bottom of Dean's shoe as he ran.
"Dean! Stop!"
"Dean! Dean!" John began shouting madly over and over as his last and final son condemned him once and for all.
The front door slammed shut as Sam ran down the stairs.
The moon light caught Dean out the door, and when Sam made it onto the porch, he was no where to be found.
"Dean!" My brother.
"Dean." My son.
Was gone.
to be honest, after this chapter i have jack...so...you guys seem to like it, what do you want?
