Quick Author's Note: Again, thanks for reading and reviewing. You can't imagine how much I appreciate it. Plus, a mild warning, there might be some "colorful" cursing towards the end... if you think you can't deal with that... just scroll down ;) Hope you'll still enjoy!

Year 1

Dean loves to watch his brother sleep. He always did, since early childhood. He found it incredibly soothing and relaxing, but now that is different because now Sam is pretty much passed out on the bed next to him, curled in on himself after he slept about three hours in the last two days and because Sam still looks hurt when the soft sniffles subside into something close to snores.

And it is so unfair that Sam, even in his sleep, is not allowed any kind of peace because he is still flipping from side to side, his mimic in a painful grimace. Can't the world shut up for about a few days so that they get the time to recollect? Get some sleep? Talk? No, of course not. A Winchester never is allowed such a luxury. A Winchester always gets hit by fortune square in the face, screw it.

Dean flips to the next page of the old Motor's Magazine Bobby has stored in their room. The older brother can still recall how he had played with Sam using those magazines. He would flip to a random page, point at one of the cars and Sam had to name it, plus the model, and the most important features.

"A '66 Mustang convertible, Twilight Blue Metallic, 289 cubic inch V-8, Dean? That is so cliché," a sudden voice startled the older man. Sam is sitting upright on his bed, rubbing his eyes and face tiredly, yawning completing the picture.

"How you even know I looked at that car? You can't see from where you're sitting at," Dean smirks.

"Coz this is the September edition of Motor's Magazine back from when that Mustang was the newest of all cars. And even if I can't see the page I can still see the number of the page towards me, 84, where they display a nice Mustang on 85, close-up, one hell of a blue beauty," Sam shrugs.

"Dude, you really have to stop that. It's spooky," Dean grins, even if he hoped he could simply go on flipping to random pages and ask Sam to tell him what is on there without even looking.

"Spooky is to read the same damned magazine from god-knows-when for the hundredth time, dude, and aren't you insulting your baby by looking at other cars?" Sam grins.

"Nah, we have a smooth relationship coz she knows no car is better than her. It doesn't hurt to sneak a peek at the rest of the buffet, though," Dean winks.

"And you're calling me spooky," Sam sighs, rubbing his eyes again.

"You slept at least some?" Dean asks, grimacing.

"Yeah… I… I did," Sam nods with a somewhat puzzled expression.

"Good," Dean smirks.

"You?" Sam frowns.

"Nope, I still go for the night to go to sleep. I can't do it by day unless I am severely drunk or severely messed up by some spirit or so," Dean smirks, and in fact he isn't feeling tired, odd enough.

"Funny, and I feel like I could sleep for one eternity and then just roll to the other side to repeat the same process," Sam grins tiredly.

"Well, you can just go back to sleep, Sammy. You can sleep all you want now," Dean assures the younger man.

"Yeah, but I can't sleep for so long… I… oh yeah…," Sam mumbles halfway before he gets up instantly, staggering for a second before he spots what he is looking for. He retrieves his jogging trousers and sneakers from the wardrobe and starts to change more than quickly. Dean just shakes his head as if he just saw a ghost.

"What are you doing?" Dean grimaces.

"Going for a run," Sam speaks, voice flat, eyes unable to meet Dean's.

"Sam, you… you don't have to do that anymore, you realize that now? Our father's not… you don't have to train your ass off for the hunts now, Sammy. We are here to recollect. And we won't hunt in a while," Dean tries to assure his kid brother.

"I know dad's not there to push on tus, and even if we won't hunt right now, we will eventually and… I don't wanna get out of shape," Sam replies. Dean squints a few times. It's just as if he heard John Winchester for about a second, but when he looks at the tall frame in front of him, he finds confirmation for the fact it is indeed his brother, Sam.

"Sam, you don't get out of shape in a day… c'mon, you can grab couple more hours of sleep and eat something. And then you can still go for a run if you want to, huh?" Dean bargains.

"I'm good. And I want to run now… it… I just want my mind to be blank for at least half an hour or so," Sam says uncomfortably.

"What do you mean by blank?" Dean frowns.

"When I run, I don't have to think. I just… run. And now I don't wanna think about anything. Because… well, you probably know why… I just wanna… forget about all this for at least some time, okay?" Sam speaks softly, almost in a whisper. And that is truth. When he runs there is nothing but the hot air, his own breathing, his own steady heartbeat, the empty road, the sound of his sneakers as they speed over the pavement. There are no voices that call him names, there is no John leaving him, no Dean running ahead of him, there is just Sam and the road and when that happens, he doesn't have to think about anything. And Sam is really done bothering his head over the whole damn world because, for some reason, he can't switch it off – unless he is running.

"Just don't overdo it, alright? You are not at your fullest, remember. So take it easy, for my sake, okay?" Dean agrees uncomfortably. However, he knows that Sam is being honest when he says he needs the time and he would be selfish not to give Sam the space he needs.

"Yeah, promise," Sam nods before he turns to the door and disappears from view. Dean waits for a couple of more seconds to hear the front door opening and closing and another few seconds until Sam's sneakers trod over the gravel outside. That is when Dean gets up and goes back downstairs, just to meet Bobby's quizzical eyes.

"What was that? Ya brought a strayin' cat along with ya?!" Bobby frowns.

"Sam's… going for a run," Dean says, still looking at the door himself.

"He's gone for a run… why?" Bobby asks.

"He says it takes his mind off of the shit surrounding us, even if I have the strong feeling he does so because he… feels like he has to, coz of the training and all, and that sucks," Dean admits, as he comes downstairs, joining Bobby in the living room. Normally, he wouldn't say that out loud. Winchesters don't talk feelings if they can help it, but then again... are they still Winchesters? And Dean figures that until he came up with a conclusion to that question, he might handle best by simply being honest now.

"So ya mean that he's still afraid John might catch'im not doin' his tasks?" Bobby questions. After all, Sam actually had a phase in life where he would do that a lot. John had dropped the kids off at Bobby's because of a gig, as always, and he had told his sons to carry on training and that Sam should improve his stamina, after all, the father thought he sucked, at least that's what his tone gave away. Well, Sam, the kid he had been back then, had taken this order so seriously that he didn't do simple easy-training with Dean – as the older brother always found a good way of helping Sam improve without pushing him too much, plus a bit of fun on tops – Sam couldn't stop himself and carried on without anyone realizing it. Whereas it would be helpful to note that it was pouring rain this time of the year and Sam… went outside to get out of Dean's careful eyes, by night, too… and that for three days straight… Dean found his brother collapsed in the rain only soon enough to prevent the little booger from drowning in a puddle of rain water. The kid had to deal with pneumonia and high fever that didn't break until another two weeks of total bed rest. So yeah, Sam actually had a tendency to follow John's orders – even if he always detested them – for some reason and literally made himself sick while doing so.

"Yeah, sorta. I mean, the running he always did… kinda deliberately since… you know, his make-over, but I always had suspicion it is coz he felt the pressure from… da… from our father," Dean nods. He can't get the word out anymore, though. The name "dad" won't get past his lips because it would speak of a love that was so deeply hurt that there is no way to repair the damage.

"Well, if it helps him… it can't harm, can it, unless he overdoes it, but if he ain't comin' back in an hour or so, we can just drive down the road and we'll find'im eventually, right? So no worries, Dean," Bobby assures the young man beside him.

"Yeah, yeah…," Dean sighs.

"So how are ya takin' it?" Bobby asks cautiously.

"I'm not taking anything yet. I am still… trying to shove the information into the deep corners of my head coz I still can't believe it. I mean… I never thought our father would pull that. I still think he is going to show up any minute to take us to the next town, but… but when I look at Sammy… then I know he won't show. Sam knows the truth and he is already further on that one than I am, but... we're in real deep shit. Our lives were prepared for a life with him, the bloody bastard! And then he leaves us, for-friggin-ever. Sam and I were so used to the fact that he was plainly around, at times, available to a certain degree, but now… he's just vanished. Man, now I know how that cute little girl back in High School must have felt like after I simply didn't show up ever again without ever telling her… sure, kinda different, still, but… that moment when you realize the person isn't going to come back, I guess it comes pretty close to that, and it sucks ass," Dean sighs heavily.

"I don't know what to tell ya, though. I wish I knew what'd be the right thing to do now, but… honestly…? I dunno. I never thought John could possibly... just no. Well, seems like ya two kinda bedazzled me not to see the real father of yours. Ya turned out so fine, the both of you, I thought John was doin' some sorta good job, accordin' to circumstances. But now I think that's a lot thanks to ya selves, eh? Like, ya being there for Sam and Sam being there for ya?" Bobby says mindfully.

"Yeah, that's what I figure, too. I mean… I always knew that Sam, even with all the bitching and the whining and the puppy eyes was one of the best things that's ever happened to me – and I swear, if you tell him, then I am going to kill you, Bobby. He'll never let go of that in a lifetime… but it's the truth," Dean admits.

"I'm sure he feels the same about ya," Bobby offers a soft smile.

"Yeah. I mean, thing is... he's always been there for me, literally ever since he was born, and even now… he could be mad at me, you know, and I couldn't even blame him," Dean carries on. Bobby frowns at him.

"I was in on our father's plan before it happened, and Sammy doesn't bear me a grudge when I told him, not once. And I know that this is for real, that he isn't just acting as if he isn't mad at me, he honestly isn't. I know. Even when it turned out our father's gone… and I told him that I knew he had that plan set in mind for a while… he didn't say 'Get the hell out of here!' – or 'I don't want to see your ugly face ever again!' – or 'Don't touch me! I hate you, stupid bastard!' He told me that it was alright, simple as that, without hesitation. That's when I realized he's really there for me and that's why I want to be there for him now. I feel like… like I kinda owe him that, you understand? And I guess I am off best with being there for him because it makes me better myself, you know?" Dean says.

"Always told ya, and again, ya two are like conjoined twins. The one can't feel happy without the other around and one feels bad when the other isn't well, which certainly can be a pain in the ass coz ya likes and dislikes vary a lot, what makes it kinda difficult to please ya both at the same time, but well… fraternal love always was very strong with ya two, so ya are probably right. Once Sam's better, ya are gonna be better, too," Bobby nods.

"Simple equation, right?" Dean smirks.

"Simple as pie, yup," Bobby nods with a grin.

"Yeah, the execution is kinda harder, though," Dean sighs.

"Well, for the beginnin', if ya don't mind an advice from an old man?" Bobby smirks.

"Shoot! I am willing to take any advice coz I am clueless!" Dean exclaims.

"Well, Ace, for starters, tell him exactly whatcha told me just now, whatcha said I shouldn't tell him, about that he's the best thing's ever happened to ya and all. Sam's always shown a great deal of understandin' of other people. But if ya shut your feelings out, then he's gonna do the same. If ya want him to open up to ya, then ya gotta give'im a chance to understand ya," Bobby says.

"You think?" Dean frowns uncertainly.

"Yeah, I'm pretty damn sure. Sam's good at sensin' what the folks surroundin' him feel and he directly shows empathy for'em and feels the pain as his own. Little booger, 's never been doin' him much good, but seems like he can't switch it off," Bobby smirks.

"Yeah, now that you mention it… Sam's always been that way. I mean, when I broke my arm on one of the hunts, he always touched his arm, he didn't even realize it, like… phantom pains? I don't know. I never really paid attention to it, though. I simply knew Sammy is always feeling with people, but now that you say it… yeah, might be true," Dean smiles softly at the thought.

"And that's why ya have to think about yourself, too, that ya get back on the horse coz if ya don't, then he ain't gonna make recovery either," Bobby says.

"Sounds rather complicated," Dean grimaces. He always knew they were a family of freaks and that with the Winchesters everything is complicated, but this sounds really messed up. They just can't seem to have "normal" family issues. As Bobby said, they always go for chaos.

"I think ya can work this, Dean. If no one can but ya," Bobby grins.

"Might be… And after all, I gotta! Coz Sam has to get better," Dean nods. That is the thing – Sam has to be better, everything is revolving around that one thing just now. He has to. Has to.

"That's the spirit, Ace. Okay, enough of emotional talk for now...Why dontcha just watch some TV or whatever ya think is takin' your mind off of the shit?" Bobby offers.

"Yeah, TV sounds about just right," Dean smiles.

"Good, I'll be in the library for research some," Bobby exhales, getting up.

"Okay, gotcha," Dean approves.

With that the seasoned hunter leaves the teenager to himself. After all, the older brother lost his father the very same way the youngest had. They are both parentless now, okay, Bobby still considers himself half their father at least, but not the real-in-blood-parents a child should have around. Their mother was taken from them when still way too damn young and now their father left, on his own behalf. And Bobby still thinks of ways of how to take that bastard out in the cruelest ways for making his kids suffering like that, and yes, note those are his kids.

Dean switches on the TV and searches for something that doesn't make him think of his father or the hunts, so no news, no documentaries on monsters, or douche-bags running around in empty houses by night almost peeing their pants when the medium claims to have seen something… odd… eventually he decides to go with the evergreen: cartoons. Of course his mind is constantly focusing on Sam. The running makes the older teen scared. He fears Sam may not come back, for whatever reason that is. His father left him, so why not his brother, too? Right… Sam wouldn't, because Sam is Sam and because Sammy is the most precious and most caring person Dean knows. Sam wouldn't turn his back on him, not after that. Admittedly, Sam ran away as a kid, couple of times, but he ran away from John for the most part, from the evil surrounding them, but never from Dean really. It was just the thing that came naturally along with it, at least that is what Dean figures retrospectively. After all, Sam told him one time, after he had run away, that Dean was the reason he had come back for. And that is what Dean had made his pillar from that point on. Sam might have left couple more times, but he never ran from Dean, but returned to him, again and again. And the same mantra will have to work for now.

After thirty minutes and forty-six seconds – yes, Dean did count – there are footsteps audible in the yard. The older brother directly jumps to his feet and goes over to the window. And it is Sam indeed who comes back, gladly. The older teen lets a sigh of relief. However, instead of coming inside, Sam makes a turn to the side with the car wrecks no longer fixable. Dean frowns, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he heads outside himself, secretly. Sam is standing in between the wrecks of cars. He took the ones furthest away from the house, so out of eavesdrop for sure. That means it will get loud here, Dean assumes. Suddenly Sam jumps on tops of one of the wrecks, a metal pipe in his hand and starts to hammer on the roof of the former pickup.

"You bloody, damned, fucked-up, retarded, asshole-butt-head-mother-fucker! You cock-sucking-son-of-a-bitch!" Sam yells.

Dean has to stifle a grin at Sam's colorful vocabulary he only saves for occasions of true and pure frustration and anger. Normally he doesn't curse like that, but it makes the older brother realize once again how much of a toll it must be on the kid to actually go for such vocabulary. That means it's really badly hurting him now.

"I hate you, you son of a bitch! Yes, one son of a bitch you are! You destroyed everything, everything, everything!" Sam growls, bringing the pipe down another time. He actually leaves some damage on the car – with just a pipe, respectively. Sam jumps back down and grabs a crowbar from god-knows-where. He steps over to the side of the car and hits on the car windows, the glass glistering in the light.

"That's what you do! You break! You destroy! You destroy everything, break it apart and leave nothing but this shit to pick up and put together, screw you! Screw it all! Damn you!" Sam curses, stepping on the shards of glass to make his point.

"You treat us like shit, you make us dependent on you, you make us your own, you don't leave us a choice but follow you, you butthead," Sam smashes another window.

"You torture us with training and exorcisms and hunts that got us almost killed God knows how often! You gave me a gun when I was friggin' nine! You didn't read me bedtime story, you read me exorcisms and cruel stories of how to slaughter this or another beast! You screwed me up, right from the start!" Sam breaks another window into tiny pieces. Dean is bound to watch and listen to this. Sam is talking to their father, blowing off steam, which is good, but what Sam says and how he says it… it is right what he screams out, every word of it, and it makes the older brother painfully realize how unfair the world has been on Sam since the very start. There is no happiness in his life other than what Dean could cover up for, and the little portions John added that now got a rather bitter taste to them. So yeah, Sam was screwed up from the beginning. Is that the moment he will start to hate his older brother for the same reason? For not protecting him from that? For going along with it all those years? For allowing it to happen again and again? Is Dean's worst fear about to become true?

"So you make us dependent, you make us your toys through the shit you did to us! You made us fall in line! A line-up for death, you mother-fucking bastard! You lined-up your own sons for sure death! You didn't protect us, you threw us right to the edge of the fires of hell and then didn't have the piety to push us over, but instead you let us linger in the blazing flames all this time to simply prolong the fuckin' moment of truth!" Sam grows, through the last part a hit comes every time he finishes a word. Dean is very tempted to either get out of the safe hideout and talk Sam out of it or just run away and hide himself. So now he got the proof, Sam thinks life is hell, great. For a big brother that is probably the worst way one can fail the most precious to him in the world, his little brother.

"And then, after all that you fuckin' leave! Turn around and run! Like a fuckin' little coward pissing his pants coz he's afraid of the future?! Cut that, screw it! Future is done for, we don't have one, thanks to you! Thanks to you we are cursed! Cursed children, your offspring you willingly made the sacrifice for… whatever that is! You asshole! You made us the price and left! You mother-fuckin' left us! You left! Left! Left! Left!" Sam cries out every word as if it were acid.

"And you know what?" Sam carries on.

Now comes the last blow. Dean squints his eyes shut.

"I wouldn't have cared if it was just for me! You bloody cock-sucker!" Sam growls, bring the crowbar down another time. Dean turns his head towards Sam. What did he just say? What does that mean – "if it was just for me!" – the hell!

"If you'd left me, fine! I knew you didn't like me! I knew it all along! And I didn't like you either, you idiot! Would just have fitted the scheme if you told me to fuck off! You did before, just not that permanently and that definitely! I wouldn't have bothered!" another window breaks into tiny pieces.

"But you didn't just for me! Most importantly, you fuckin' asshole, you left Dean! Your oldest! The one who worshipped you all this time, always looked up to you stupid idiot! He likes you, liked you! Loved you! He would've done anything for you! Anything, you hear me, you dumbass! And that guy you left! You left Dean! You left him off all people! You bastard! You left Dean!" Sam growls, bringing down the crowbar another time. And there goes the windshield.

"Fortune in your hand, with Dean you had anyways, and you toss it into the trash! You tossed away the one person who loved you, you stupid idiot of a man! You're so much of a cock-sucking asshole! How could you do this to him?! How could you?! Why didn't you get him?! Why did you leave him here with me than taking him with you?! He worshipped you, did anything for you, was the good son, still you ditched him! You ditched him! Why did you do this to my brother?! Why couldn't you just break me and leave Dean out of it, you mother-fucker? Why did you make Dean pay, too? Huh? Why him? Why not just me? I've always been the punk! Why didn't you just punish me, why Dean, for God's sake! Why him! How dare you?! How dare you hurt him, destroy him, kill him from the inside?! How dare you?! You asshole! How dare you hurt the one person that matters to me?! Why not just me? Huh?! HUH?! Never bothered before, why now?! Why?! Why?" Sam shouts. And that is when Dean can't hold it together anymore. He gets out of his safe hideout to face the younger teen, whose eyes are still wet of tears and his skin reddish from the cries and running and hitting and punching. Once Sam sees his brother approach, the crowbar drops from his numb hands and he rolls over the hood of the car, his legs suddenly only a bundle of noodles on a thin stick.

"Dean!" he yelps helplessly. Maybe now would be the time to really run for it, but his legs won't move by an inch. Damn the running. Dean will probably give him the mother of lectures about how pissed off he is and all and Sam will only feel guilty for smashing the cars, but before he can get the thought sorted out, he feels himself wrapped into a tight embrace. The older brother is holding on tight to the teenager.

"Dean… I…," Sam gasps, unable to process this gesture.

"It's okay, Sammy, really," Dean says.

"Nothing's okay," Sam shakes his head.

"I will be good, Sam. John didn't destroy me. You are not responsible for him leaving. That is not your fault, nothing of it is," Dean assures. If Sam would go on believing that he is the one to destroy him, Sam would destroy himself. He pulls back a little, his hand still resting around Sam's nape of the neck, keeping a close eye contact with the younger brother.

"But…," Sam wants to argue, but Dean interrupts him: "No but in this, you are not responsible and that's the end of it, you idiot! I'm here with you because I want to be here with you! I'd trade nothing in the world for that."

"But dad…," Sam whispers.

"Screw John! I may have worshipped him, but that's… over now. I'm past this. You are my one and only concern now. The focus is on you and me, us two together against the rest of the world, even against our own father," Dean assures.

"You shouldn't have to worry about me. I'm a nuisance," Sam looks away.

"You say that again, I'll smack you in the head!" Dean yells.

"Huh?" Sam gazes at him with surprise in his hazels.

"You are not a nuisance! You're my little brother, Sammy! You are the one thing to make my day, you little all-arms-and-legs-idiot! Don't you think I feel the same about you the way you feel for me? I want to rip John's windpipe out for what he did to you, for how he harmed you. I feel the same as you do on that one, Sammy, so please, just… just… just believe me when I say that it is only us two, and that this is all it takes me to be good. As long as you are there… I'm good… somehow," Dean explains.

"I want you to be good," Sam replies weakly.

"Then please, stop beating yourself up about it that John's left or how that hurt me. That was not you, that was John and John alone. For that he alone is responsible, so now let us be the one and only concern for one another. I got your back, you got mine, and we'll work it from there. How does that sound?" Dean offers.

"Sounds good to me," Sam whispers, still overtaken by his brother's words.

"I'll get this fixed, Sammy, somehow. I'll put that glass back together for you, I promise," Dean swears.

"That's major chick-flick, you know?" Sam snickers.

"Well, you started," Dean shoots back, a smile creeping up his face.

"Jerk," Sam smiles back.

"Bitch," Dean laughs, feeling utterly relieved.

"Know what?" Sam suddenly asks.

"What?" Dean frowns.

"Take the crowbar," Sam says, picking up the metal piece from the ground.

"Sam…," Dean exhales.

"No, I mean that. We should focus on us, you said, well, then let's get rid of dad," Sam says, nodding at the car.

"Just beat out all the juices so that nothing's left of him?" Dean asks, even if he already got Sam's message.

"That the plan," Sam shrugs.

"I like your way of thinking, Sammy," Dean smiles.

"Here, you take this one, I'll go with that one," Sam says, getting the pipe.

"On three?" Dean says, raising the crowbar above his head.

"One!" and both start to dash forward and hit the cars with all their might, just to get rid of their father, to have a future on their own, someday. From the window Bobby watches the scene. He is glad that the kids finally talked about it, as it seems, and f it takes just some damned car wrecks to relieve some of the pain, then they shall smash the whole damn yard to pieces as long as they have those smiles on their faces while being at it. Sometimes, so he figures, the true joy is born out of the worst situations so that there is nothing you can do but laugh, since, at some point, you can't drop any deeper. And those kids are definitely at the bottom, so from now on, so the seasoned hunter actually prays, there has to be an up, and he hopes for it to last as long as possible.