Warning: Major Character Death and Mentions of Child Abuse. If this offends you, don't read this chapter..
Dean knew their father had been a jackass since their mother had died, but he didn't think he was capable of such horrible things. The fact that he would even think about hurting Sammy was deplorable. Sammy never did anything wrong. HE was the good son, the one with good grades and perfect record, while Dean had straight Ds and a record a mile long. Dean couldn't think of a reason for John to be hurting his baby brother, or if there even was one, but he didn't much care either way. It was his purpose in life to protect his brother, by any means necessary. He released Sammy from his hug and grabbed the gun he kept under his pillow, giving his brother a kiss on the head before leaving the room. It was time to face his maker. He didn't bother to hide his fury as he entered his father's study, gun held behind his back. John looked up from his taxes as Dean entered with a raised brow. "What's up Dean?" He asked, and Dean took a deep, calming breath. "Oh, nothing really. I just happened to find Sam crying his eyes out on my bed with a bright red hand print on his face. I also happened to learn that for the past 12 years you've been doing similar things to him, and forcing him to stay quiet. So yeah, just another typical day." John looked like he was about to say something, but Dean shut him up when he pulled out his pistol. "I didn't tell you to defend yourself, you bastard. You're here to listen. Now, if you ever touch a hair on my brother's head again, you can bet your sweet ass I'm not gonna let you get away with it, capeesh?" His father glared at him with a burning fury. "Like Hell you tell me what to do boy!" He yelled and stood from his chair. Dean clicked off the safety, and his father stopped once again. "You ain't gonna kill me boy." He rumbled low in his chest, almost a growl, and Dean snorted in poor imitation of laughter. "That's where you're wrong Johnny. My only reason for living is to protect my brother, and as long as you're still breathing, I can't do that." John felt a shiver run down his back at his son's cold glare, and felt the need to curl away from his oldest boy, but he fought against that feeling valiantly. He would rather die before showing any sign of weakness towards Dean. He was brought back to reality by Dean's continued speech. "So, because you obviously have no desire to stop treating Sammy like a punching bag, I'm gonna have to show you first hand what happens when someone messes with my brother." Dean's finger was on the trigger now and John was feeling desperate, so he played the only card he had left. "You used to be the good son, the one that would take over my legacy, but you've gotten too attached to that little waste of space." John was going to keep talking, but was interrupted by sudden white hot pain flooding his facial nerves that made him lose balance and fall to the floor. When he opened his eyes, he saw standing over him, visibly shaking in his anger, a bloody gun in his hand, and murderous intent in his forest green eyes. "You're gonna wish you never opened your mouth. I was oblivious to your abuse before, but now that I know, you'll never see the light of day again." His finger was on the trigger again, the muzzle pointed at his father's neck, and with an estranged grin, pulled the trigger. John bled out nice and slow and painfully, having to listen to his son mock him until his world turned a blissful black. When the police questioned the two brothers about their father's death, they feigned innocence, said they were sitting on Sammy's bed the whole time and called the police when shots were fired. On their way to their Uncle Bobby's house, Dean thought about how he could finally give his baby brother a good life, in a good home, and they could be happy. No one would ever hurt his precious Sammy again. So, when a 16 year old Sam came rushing home to his big brother, crying about how he caught Jess cheating on him, Dean put his brother to sleep, and to the gun that killed their father, said, "It looks like we're going hunting tonight."