"Wow. I can't believe they gave you a license. Tell you what, little brother, every time you decide to go for a drive, you make sure I know, so I can make sure I'm not on the road then." Dean joked as he and Sam walked out of the building.
Sam grinned. "Yeah, you're right, I'm probably a terrible driver. I mean, you are the one who taught me…"
"Oh! I see how it's going to be!" Dean replied.
"You do, do you?" Sam questioned. Dean just gave him a confused look.
"What the fuck?" The older brother asked. Sam grinned but didn't say anything else. "Oh well, what do you say to swinging by the Outback to celebrate."
"Can I drive?"
"HELL NO! There's no way I'm letting you near the driver's seat of my car!"
"Sure, but you let me drive it when I was just learning how to drive."
"…Shut the fuck up." It wasn't said cruelly, Dean just ran out of words to say to his brother.
After ordering 3 steaks and a rack of ribs at the Outback (1 steak for Sam, the rest for Dean, much thanks to one Mr. Charles Harbinger's credit card), the brothers headed home, very full.
First thing the two noticed when they pulled in the driveway was that their Dad was home. He was supposed to be on a hunt in Rochester, so the brothers were rather confused when they saw John's truck in the driveway.
Dean entered the house first. They were staying at a small residence, with only one story and few windows, making the inside rather dark anyway. There were only two bedrooms, so John was in one room, Dean took the other, and Sam slept on a couch in the den (much to Dean's annoyance- Sammy was much safer in a bedroom then he was in the den).
The lights in the den were off, and as they made their way through the house towards the kitchen, Sam managed to trip over the coffee table. Curse his long legs…
The noise from the fall was loud and the coffee table actually fell over with Sam. A light went on in the kitchen.
"Oh shit." Dean muttered under his breath as he hurried to help Sam up before John could come charging in.
The lights in the den suddenly flicked on and both Winchesters shielded their eyes from the sudden brightness. Dean whirled around to see his father standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
"Where the hell have you two been?" John yelled. He was definitely pissed.
"We just caught a bite to eat, Dad." Sam tried to explain, but John didn't hear him through his drunken stupor.
"You think that just because I leave on a hunt, that you two can do whatever the hell you want?" The oldest Winchester strode over to his sons. Dean instantly moved in front of Sam.
"Dad," Dean started, forcing himself to remain cool, "I just took Sam to get his license and we grabbed a bite to eat. If you could calm down--" Dean was cut off when his father slapped him hard across the face. While Dean had his guard down, his father grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and threw him out of the way.
"Dean!" Sam yelled as his brother hit the floor, with a soft thud, bumping his head against the wall harshly, rendering his older brother unconscious.
John now advanced on his youngest. "So he took you t'get your license, huh? Well? Did you pass?" Sam swallowed his panic and nodded. John scoffed at him.
"Don't lie to me, you filth!" Sam suddenly found himself pinned against the wall with his father clutching his shirt in a vice grip. The man looked like he was about to fall over and put a hand against the wall next to Sam's head to keep himself steady.
"I'm not lying!" The youngest pleaded. He cry was met with a punch to his face, giving Sam a heavy nosebleed, and a knee in his stomach, which would've made him bend over if his father's hand didn't have him pinned to the wall. John threw him on the ground and kicked him in the stomach, making Sam double into himself. The pain was blinding. His father kicked him several more times before John slumped to the floor himself and passed out. Sam struggled to pull himself off the floor, holding one arm across his sore stomach.
Sam passed his father, looking at the man with disgust apparent on his face, before rushing over and kneeling beside his brother's limp form. Sam checked the back of his brother's head first, since it was affected the most in the fall, and panicked when he saw blood on his hand.
Sam quickly raised his brother's head to eye level for closer inspection, but didn't see a bleeding wound. It was then that Sam realized that the blood on his hand was his own, and the boy let out a sigh of relief.
Sam dragged Dean down the hallway to his bedroom with much effort. "Damn it Dean, I knew I shouldn't have let you eat both of those steaks. You're fucking heavy!" Sam grunted. He finally made it to the room at the end of the hall and immediately locked the door. He didn't want his father to come barging in again.
Sam undressed his brother until his older brother was just wearing boxers and his t-shirt, before placing the twenty year old on the bed. Sam would let him rest a little while, but figured that if Dean didn't wake up on his own within the hour, Sam would wake him up. It would be bad if Dean had a concussion.
Really, Dean was the only good thing in Sam's life. He hated his father, especially when the man was drunk, and they moved around too much for Sam to make friends with anybody at school really. The longest they ever stayed in one place was 2 months, and Sam was pretty damn sure that he didn't like staying in one place for 2 months.
John hated not being able to catch this demon. Fuck the damn thing. He had just had it cornered, and yet it still managed to get away. They had been chasing after it for nearly 2 months now, and every time they'd gotten close, the demon still got away.
John drowned his frustration at the local bar. "Tequila. Just give me the whole damn bottle." He told the bartender.
The bartender looked as if he didn't think it was a good idea, but he gave this man the bottle anyway. You know how much you can charge a drunken man for a bottle of Tequila?
John let the fiery liquid burn his throat as it slid down and relished the feeling as the frustration began to leave him. Thank God for Hard Liquor.
John stumbled blindly through the dark on his way home. The bartender took away his keys and told him to pick them up in the morning.
It was late. Very late. And very dark.
John swayed to his left as he thought he saw movement in the underbrush along the pathway. His immediate thoughts went to the demon that they had been tracking.
Pulling his gun out of his jeans, John hastily fired his entire round into the woods. There was no more movement. John gave a contented smile before he started to walk again.
His entire world swayed. This wasn't normal was it? Had it been like this before he shot into the woods? John found himself unable to remember. It couldn't have been, he would've remembered it.
'The demon is trying to possess me.' He decided. John fought as hard as he can. When he found he couldn't, he decided to just chase away the demon and sprinted into the woods. He saw it. He was sure he did. Just a little out of his reach… John tripped, falling to the ground with a thud.
Pulling himself up, John realized he'd lost the demon. Fuck.
Slowly, the drunken man headed back home, in a furious rage. When he got there, he noticed his youngest son was still awake, apparently working on schoolwork.
"Do you have any idea how fucking late it is? Why the hell are you still up?" The man didn't even give his son a chance to answer before walking over to the boy and punching him hard across the face.
Sam let out a cry of pain, but was silenced as John punched him again, in the stomach, enjoying the way it took the rage that had been building up.
Sam was whimpering. John scowled at the boy and lifted him off the couch by his shirt collar. "Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You don't want to wake anyone up now do you?" John whispered, nodding his head towards the hall, where the bedrooms held a sleeping Dean.
Sam knew that if Dean heard him that his older brother would immediately come help him out, getting a beating of his own from his dad in the process. Sam didn't want Dean to get hurt just because Sam couldn't take a few punches, so he kept quiet.
But John's fury still hadn't rested and the older man continued to punch, kick, and slap his son until he finally passed out on the floor. Sam pulled himself off the floor, gathered his schoolbooks and went to his own bedroom, where he nursed his injuries by himself.
The memory left an ache in Sam's heart, and the boy just wanted the pain to go away. He couldn't take it anymore; he was going CRAZY. The memory of the past combined with the beating he had just received consumed him and Sam could see nothing else as he headed to the bathroom
Dean awoke a while later, immediately noticing he was in his bedroom. His bathroom light was on, and Dean pulled himself up. God, he hoped Sammy was okay… he shouldn't have passed out like that. He should've been stronger, and at least remained conscious long enough to protect his baby brother. God knows what that man would do to Sammy when the boy was rendered helpless…
Dean walked over to the bathroom and nudged the door open. What he saw nearly made him pass out again, but Dean clung to consciousness and tried not to throw up. Sammy, innocent, sweet 16-yr-old Sammy, was on the bathroom floor, clutching a razor to his wrist.
"SAM!" Dean yelled. Sam looked up at his brother; his face was streaked with tears and his nose was bleeding. There was a large, purple bruise just starting to form on the left side of his face.
"Dean…I-I didn't-Oh God, Dean, please help me!" Sam cried to his older brother.
Sean immediately sprung into action, taking the razor out of the teenager's hand and grabbing a wet towel to clean up his brother's arms. Sam didn't protest.
Dean sighed. "Suicide isn't going to get you anywhere, Sammy." Sam looked at the tiled floor.
"It'll get me away from him." He muttered. Dean shook his head.
"No it won't. It will get you killed and I don't know what the hell I would do without you." Dean spoke calmly. "Where the hell is he anyway?" His voice sounded much angrier at the last sentence.
"He passed out in the den again. How's your head?"
"Hurts like a mother. God, we need a house with more carpet than wood." Despite the fact that the situation was so inappropriate, Sam couldn't help but smile slightly at his brother. Dean smiled back.
"Sammy, what were you thinking, with all this?" Dean gestured to his brother's arms, which had narrow cuts on them, but were no longer bleeding. Dean went on to inspect the damage done to Sam's face.
Sam shrugged. "I was just thinking about that time back in Corpus Christi, and, I don't know, I got kind of carried away…"
"Yeah, just a little carried away, bro…Just do me a favor and don't do it again."
Sam gave a soft ok. After that, the brothers put the subject behind them and continued to cheer each other up with lame jokes and stupid stories about stupid things.
When Dean finished bandaging Sam, they both decided to get some rest. Sam slept on the floor with the blanket, but Dean kept the bed and his pillow to himself, deeming Sam 'unworthy of the almighty mattress'.