...An update. Finally.

Now that the second season is on the horizon, I would LIKE to finish up this story, and begin posting my other one. (s) But I'll tell you about that in a moment.

I don't own Supernatural...


It was pretty late that night when Dean finally arrived at the motel. He checked in with the half-asleep old man, and went down the hall to room eight. When he reached the door, he could practically feel his father's scorching hot anger.

Without hesitation, Dean raised a hand and knocked on the door, clearly, filled with the fakest of confidence

It was Sam who opened the door for him. But instead of answering Sam's apologetic puppy look, Dean strode into the room, not even glancing at his little brother.

The anger he had felt had definitely not been his imagination. When John spotted his eldest, his anger felt so hot it practically burned Dean.

John shot up from his seat—he had been sitting on the cushioned chair in the corner—and came right up to Dean. "What the hell were you thinking, Dean!" he demanded. "What have I told you, over and over, for the past twenty-two years? One order, and you fail to comply—you always fail to understand the importance of this. You can't just ignore it some days!"

Dean resisted the urge to recoil, to let his eyes fall from his father's. He wasn't a little kid anymore. Fear wasn't an option—it was never an option. He couldn't show any emotion. Sam, on the other hand, looked a little afraid himself.

"You let your brother come after me. You let him go alone! Do you have any idea what could've happened? He could've been killed! I don't know what the hell you were thinking, but I…I can't believe you could be so…be so stupid!"

Dean held his ground. "Dad, I'm sorry. We had an argument and—"

"You had an argument. So you just let him walk off, knowing full well that he had a great chance of being killed. And you were so angry at him, you didn't even care if he did get killed." John shook his head and laughed. "I'm so glad I raised a fucking failure! You can't even do the one, most important thing!"

Dean was close to flinching, but he knew his father wouldn't have it.

"I'll say it one last time. PROTECT YOUR BROTHER!" John roared. "Now get the fuck out of here, and make sure Sammy doesn't come looking for me. It's too dangerous for us to be together right now."

Dean turned away promptly. "Come on, Sam, let's go…," he whispered, and it was then when John finally realized the damage he had caused.

After Sam and Dean had left, John slammed a fist into the wall. He had once again succeeded in pushing his boys farther away.


Dean walked in silence to the car, with Sam just treading at his heels. Sam himself had been a little surprised at the scene he had just witnessed—so surprised he had found himself unable to speak. Their father yelling at Dean of all people. Sam had never seen it happen before, and yet, he had the feeling that it had happened before… And with Dean's unnatural silence, even after they were miles away from the motel, Sam knew it must have hit his brother hard. Nothing showed through that rock-solid front that Dean had on though.

"What happened to your face?" Sam asked quietly, addressing the cut down the side of Dean's face that Dean hadn't had enough time to tend to. The blood that had been dripping down his face had dried up, and it only made the thing that much worse to Sam's eyes.

"If you care so much, then you should have been there to see it happen," Dean replied evenly. Even though Sam took the comment as an accusing one, Dean made it sound like he was discussing the change in weather.

"It was the scarecrow," Dean went on. "The stupid people got me and tied me and the teenage girl I met there to trees, so we could be the next contestants on If You Guessed Dead, Then You'd Be Right. Luckily enough for us, we managed to get out… And then we were stopped by our favorite brainless scarecrow…and… Well, it's over now, we killed it, so nothing to worry about."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help," Sam apologized.

"Huh? Why, because you finally realized that going after Dad was as bad an idea as I said it was? It was completely pointless, and all you accomplished was wasting my gas so I could run over here to get your ass."

I also made Dad yell at you…, Sam thought to himself guiltily. He wanted to apologize for that too, but he wasn't exactly sure how he should go about it.

The conversation with their father was far from the back of Dean's mind, as well, and the words that John had said echoed over and over in his mind, and he knew this would never go down—it would never stop hurting him.

I'm so glad I raised a fucking failure!

Dean gripped the wheel harder, determined not to let Sam see how the conversation had really affected him.

Sam seemed to sense what Dean was thinking. "You know, Dean… What Dad said…he didn't mean it, okay? You're not a failure."

Dean hid the skeptical look he felt in his bones and only glanced at Sam with an impassive expression. "No, Sam… Dad was right." He shook his head. "He was so right."

"No, Dean! He wasn't! You know how Dad gets when he's angry! Everything he said, he didn't mean any of it!"

"You don't know Dad like I do," Dean pointed out, his voice as emotionless as before. "He means everything he says—at least a little bit."

"Dean, I can't believe… I mean, jeez, how could you actually believe something like that if you…" Sam paused for a moment as it struck him—it struck him hard. "If you don't believe it yourself."

"I only believe it because he does," Dean half lied. "But enough with that, okay? I don't really want to talk about that."

Sam looked down, ashamed. If he had only listened to Dean, maybe none of this would've ever happened. Now Dean was quiet—way too quiet, too quiet for Sam to handle.

Sam stared at his hands, and after five minutes of suffocating silence, he looked up to his brother. "Hey, Dean, you did do an awesome job with that scarecrow," Sam commented. He knew that normally, trying to boost his brother's confidence was a dangerous thing, but now he was desperate. "I almost thought I would've had to come and save your ass, but you did super without me."

Sam's attempt to lighten Dean up died with the skeptical look that Dean shot him.

"Super and awesome? What did you have for breakfast? Screws?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm just saying, man… I don't know if I could've done it alone."

"That's because you're a geeky college-boy, and you never know what you're doing when it comes to stuff like that." Dean sighed. "Don't worry about it… I only barely got out. And that thing wasn't even that serious." He shook his head in disappointment. "I should've… I'll have to be way better if we're ever going to go after the thing that killed Mom… If Dad ever lets us help him when he finds it that is…" And with that, the car fell silent again.


You know, a mad Johnny--if you think of it--IS a scary, scary, scary Johnny. (shudders)

So, there are two more chapters. Do you want 'em?

And once this story is finished, what shall I post first? The first chapter of Escape? Or...the one-shot I have right here... Both are Dean-centered, and I'll definitly get them both out soon... hmmmmmmmmmmmm...

R&R pleeeeeeeeease.