Sam would have sworn his blood was literally boiling. He glared at the back of his father's head, his unblinking eyes burning. Sam could see Dean glancing back at him occasionally. But he refused to look at his brother. He'll take Dad's side. He always does.
They were driving in the Impala after a hunt. Dean had been hurt badly. Sam could still hear the horrifying thud of Dean being thrown into the wall. Dean's scream as the werewolf dug its claws into Dean's arm. Sam's blood had run cold and he ran towards Dean, calling his brother's name. A shot rang out and the werewolf fell on the ground, dead. John hurried towards Dean, silver bullet-filled pistol still in hand. Sam beat him to Dean's side.
"Dean?" Sam felt stupid as his voice shook.
"I'm okay, Sam. Help me sit up."
Sam helped prop Dean up against the wall. Dean inhaled sharply through his teeth at the movement. Sam flinched as he took a closer look at Dean's arm.
"You alright, son?" John asked as he knelt across from Sam on Dean's other side, inspecting the ripped flesh of Dean's arm.
"Yeah, I'm-"
"Of course he's not!" Sam yelled, cutting off Dean's words. "He almost died, Dad. I told you we needed to stake this place out another day! We could have known that there was another werewolf here. We could have been prepared!"
John stared at Sam evenly.
"Sam, don't," Dean said weakly. "I shoulda been more careful. That werewolf really got the drop on me."
Sam made eye contact with Dean. Dean's eyes were becoming glazed with pain. Sam blinked back tears. Why do you always defend him, Dean? He could have gotten you killed. What would I have done-?
They had bandaged up Dean's arm and helped him out to the car. "Probably gonna need stitches when we get back to the hotel," John had said. He made eye contact with Sam right before getting into the driver's seat. Sam made sure his dad could see all of the anger in his eyes.
Now they had been driving in silence for a few minutes. Dean's worried glances were starting to get under Sam's skin. Dean knew Sam was itching to say something more. To tell John exactly what he was thinking.
When they made it back to the hotel, John parked in a relatively out-of-sight corner of the parking lot.
"Sure, park as far away from the door as possible," Sam snapped. "That will be no problem for Dean. He didn't just almost die or anything."
John turned around to fully face Sam. "Take your brother in through the back door. You know the drill. We don't want people seeing us and asking questions."
Sam glared.
"I had better not hear another comment from you, Sam," John said, a sharp edge to his voice. "I mean it."
Sam clamped his mouth shut and climbed out of the car, letting the slam of the car door do the talking for him. He hurried to get Dean out of the car. He helped his brother loop his uninjured arm around Sam's shoulders.
"I'll be right in," John said. "I gotta clean this up first." He gestured towards the car which had hunting equipment still visible in the backseat.
Sam didn't respond.
"Okay, Dad," Dean said.
In the room, Sam lowered Dean on to the bed. Dean flinched as Sam adjusted him up against the headboard.
"That was fun, huh?" Dean said.
"Dean-" Sam started, eyeing Dean's bandaged arm.
Dean sighed. "Can we not do this, Sam? Please? I just wanna celebrate a successful hunt."
Sam scoffed, "Yeah, successful."
Dean looked at Sam pleadingly. Sam swallowed hard at the pained look in his brother's eyes.
"Why do you always take his side, Dean?" Sam's voice cracked a little on his brother's name. "Why do you never stand up to him? You could have died! You're just okay with that? I'm supposed to just be okay with that?"
Dean looked away from Sam, staring at the wall for a few heartbeats before he spoke again. "Sammy, what does making him angry do? You know what he would do if I argued with him. It's better to just leave it alone."
Sam wasn't sure what Dean meant. Their dad had never done anything to Dean after a fight. Sometimes Dean would leave after they argued, but he always came back unscathed. The same hadn't always been true for Sam who was left alone with John when Dean chose to escape. Dean hadn't left in a couple of years. Sam could still remember the night he came home and saw the bruise on Sam's cheek. Sam was sure Dean had felt guilty for leaving. He had seen tears in his brother's eyes as Dean pulled him into a hug and whispered a promise into his hair, "I'm not gonna leave you again, Sam. Ever."
But Sam had never blamed Dean for needing to get away. Sometimes all Sam wanted to do was run away himself.
"Dean, wh-"
John walked into the room just then. Dean gave Sam one last look. The meaning of the look was clear. Drop it.
Sam sullenly let the matter go, watching as John carefully stitched Dean up. John laughed when Dean asked for a drink of the whiskey he was using to clean his wound.
"Sure, Dean. I guess hunters grow up faster than other kids."