Thanks again to Alyssa Ray for her help with this chapter!

Warning: contains some use of bad language

Dean's POV

Dad had made me nervous on several occasions but after his actions towards Chris, it made me livid, she was just a kid. I mean, look how I turned out. I was now getting more worried about Chris. More so than usual. Anger like that just doesn't show up like that, especially in someone so young. She is only eleven years old for Christ sake. Every single member of this family seems to have a bad temper that tends to repress itself before exploding in furious rage. Looks like Chris has inherited the same curse.

Hours later, the sun rose and it was morning again. Chris musta been the first one up as I could hear her humming that damn theme tune to that stupid Japanese anime show. You know the one with all those weird alien things in the red balls and get captured by some spiky haired kid and his friends. I'd choose Sesame Street and Wishbone over that crap, alongside that dumb show about some sponge and his retarded starfish friend. It's a phase I keep reminding myself, and I hope to God it is.

I watch her as I sit up, she hadn't noticed me waking up. The kid sat on the kitchenette countertop, swinging her bare legs absentmindedly as she was lost in her thoughts. I can't imagine the amount of crap the poor kid has to deal with, and the incident with Dad would have only increased her mental suffering even more.

"Hey," I mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "How are you feeling this morning?"

The kid looked exhausted, her usual bright green eyes seemed as dull as her mood. She stopped swinging her legs on hearing my voice.

"Fine" she replied, keeping her head down.

I sighed as I climbed out of bed. She wasn't fine, that much I knew. After crying herself to sleep, I doubt she would be all smiles in the morning. I ventured towards her.

"You sure?" I said before commanding softly. "Lemme see your face."

This was looking more like a day from hell if you asked me. She glanced up at me briefly, before hanging her head again.

I inched closer, taking her face in my hands. Anger boiled my blood as I took in the sight before me. The right side of her face had turned a slight shade of purple, but also the force of my Dad's strength had given her a black eye. How was I going to have a conversation with her about her anger, when my anger was barely under control. She watched me as I fumbled about in order to create an ice pack for her bruised face.

"C'mere baby," I said gently, once I returned. "Let's put a cool cloth on it, it will feel a little better. You want some Motrin, it should help with the pain a bit."

I grimaced as I put the cloth against her eye. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes as she flinched as the cloth came into contact with her skin. Chris winced, and turned her face away.

"Here, hold the cloth on your face, I'm gonna get you some Motrin," I instructed her. "Then I'm gonna get us some breakfast, and we can see about a little more target practice."

I hoped adding some structure to the day would help my sister put her head on straight. My little discussion with her would have to wait until we were both in the mind set. For now we could both use an outlet to get rid of our anger, and training would be it. I also hoped to God our father didn't show up until they were gone, as I don't think either of us could handle it at this moment. Without saying a word, Chris held the cloth to her face as she slid off the countertop, her eyes shining with internal sadness.

Later that day, Chris hadn't spoken a word since the morning. We returned from training and she simply entered the motel room and sat quietly on the moth-eaten couch.

"Hey you did good today," I said to her encouragingly. "Even though I know your head wasn't in it."

We had only had a few rounds of target practice before I suggested we go for a run. I could tell it helped, and after a few more rounds with the rifles, I opted to call it a day. Chrissie looked calmer and maybe now was the best time to approach the subject of her anger.

"Chris, can we talk for a minute," I began, sitting down next to her. "I need to ask you something."

The kid kept her head down, her legs hung over the couch, feet not even touching the floor.

"What?" she asked simply.

How was I gonna approach this without setting her off. The kid is like a firework of emotions and the wrong attitude and words can trigger an explosion. I looked at her.

"I know Dad was drunk last night, and you were scared, but something else bothered me. You got so angry. I was so worried when you lost control," I said before enquiring softly. "What happened baby?"

Chris shrugged, her head still down.

"Why should it bother you?" she questioned seriously, her hands clasped together as she brooded.

"Because I was worried about you, I have never in my life seen anger pour out of you like that," I replied. "It was like you had no control, and Chris that part worries me, a lot."

I frowned. That kinda anger could get her into trouble in more ways than one if she couldn't learn to control it. Chrissie briefly looked up at me.

"Dad lies, all the time. About everything," she mumbled sorrowfully, returning her gaze back to her hands. "He probably wishes that the demons had taken me away for good. That way he wouldn't have to deal with me anymore."

The kid had always been too mature for her age and this statement confirmed that her mental state was worse than I thought. How polluted was her mind? God knows! She is only eleven years old. No kid should think that way. I took a deep breathe as my full attention was fixed on my miserable little sister.

"That's so not true and you know it," I stated. "Look, Dad is no father of the year, but he does do the best he can, sometimes his best down right sucks, but he loves you. I'm not sticking up for him. What he did last night was completely unforgivable. But he needs to deal with that."

The kid didn't respond, allowing me to continue.

"I'm not saying that you have to forgive him Chris, but you need to figure out the anger part," I added. "It's okay to be angry, but it's not okay to loose control."

It felt good getting what I had to say off of my chest, I just hoped Chrissie was listening. She sighed heavily whilst raising her head, finally deciding to look at me.

"It just came out. Now look what happened," confessed the kid in a matter of fact tone, indicating her bruised face. "I can only blame myself."

"No, were you even listening to me?" I replied sternly. "Dad had no right to hit you the way he did. I'm just saying he does love you. None of this is your fault. Don't you ever think like that. You hear me?"

Chris shrugged again, her eyes dull with misery. She hopped from the couch and ventured over to the window. Her eyes widened as she stared out the window, as she backed away slowly.

"Chris? What's the matter?" I asked with a frown.

Suddenly, Dad walked into the room. Aw fuck! Please be sober, I can't deal with another drunken outburst. Not again. Thankfully, he was stone cold sober. He studied Chrissie, first noticing her behaviour, then noticing the bruises that decorated the right side of her face. He went towards her but she backed away, fear and hate in her eyes as she glared at him.

"I'm so sorry baby, I should have never come home like that. I can't believe I did that to you," he apologized. "Are you in pain?"

What do you think Dad? Do you really think that your little girl is gonna completely forgive you over night, after you clomped her across the face?

Seriously? Dad glanced over at me nervously.

"Just stay away from her Dad," I stated shortly, my arms folded as I guarded my sister from our father. "You are not helping here."

I was determined to protect my little sister. Looking at Chris, Dad went towards her again, but she sat on the bed, still glaring sharp daggers at him.

Guilt was clearly etched on Dad's face, whilst Chris sat motionless, not letting Dad get the best of her. Her hands curled into tight fists as she bit her lip, her head lagging forward.

"I don't wanna to talk to you Dad. I don't wanna to see you. You hurt me in so many ways," she said, before raising her head and confronting Dad with her large eyes. "Dean said none of this is my fault, but I still feel like it is, and looking at you right now, its making me feel worse."

Her temper was even, and she took a deep breath once she had said her peace. She looked away from him. Dad inched closer and closer to her, causing her to tremble with both sorrow and anger.

"Please, don't come any closer" pleaded the kid.

No. I wasn't risking anything, so I shielded her from Dad, cutting off his access to her.

"She asked you nicely to keep away from her Dad" I cautioned dangerously.

Dad stopped, an expression of complete guilt and sadness on his face. Damn right he should be sorry. What kind of father hits his own kid. Hell, I've been his punching bag on several occasions over the past eleven years, but I will not have Chris suffer that fate too.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry for what I did last night, I'm sorry I make you live the life you do, I'm just sorry."

Chris rose up, edging her way past my protective shield that guarded her. Suddenly, she pounced at Dad, hitting him on the chest with her fists, anger threatening to boil over.

"Why?" she demanded. "I ask you why?"

Dad stood there speechless, letting his youngest child beat on him with her small fists.

"I don't have an easy answer Christina. I'm sorry but I don't," he answered. "I don't know what to say."

This was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Chris was getting more and more upset with Dad and herself with each punch she delivered. Desperate, I tried to pull her away from him but it was like holding a bar of soap. Reminded me also of the tantrums she used to pull when she was two. This was worse though.

"I hate you, you don't really love me!" she screamed. "Why don't you love me? Why am I never good enough."

She thrashed about as I yanked her away, her skinny limbs striking out for contact.

"No!" Chrissie roared, her eyes swimming with tears. "Lemme go!"

"No!" I replied gruffly, trying vainly to keep hold of her. "Your safe, I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."

I shot Dad daggers as I continued my battle with Chris. It was one thing for my sister to let out her frustration, but I would be damned if I let her loose control again. Too late.

Defeated she fell to her knees, taking me down with her. A distraught howl ripped from her throat as she broke down. Unable to handle what was happening before him, Dad left the room. Chris prized herself out of my grip and collapsed onto the bed, smothering her face into the pillow, causing her baseball cap to go squint slightly. I immediately ventured to her bedside, rubbing circles on her back as she wept.

"Come on, he's gone," I said gently. "You said what you had to say."

I had no words to offer to make the hurt go away. She needed to grieve. Grieve for her lost relationship with Dad. This vulnerable little girl was my total responsibility now. I suppose I've always known, since the age of twelve, but this moment kinda set it in stone. Minutes pass and the sobs turn into soft sniffles. Man, the kid really knows how to break my heart. It was torture to see her suffering.

"I'm sorry" she croaked as she turned on her side, her streaming eyes fixed with mine.

Leaning forward in my crouched position, I cupped the side of her face, swatting away the escaping tears with my thumb. I felt like a broken record.

"Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for," I said. "I'm just sorry I can't make it better for you. Everything will be okay. I think everyone just needs some space right now, it's been a tough couple of days."

Taking charge of the situation would be in everyone's best interest I came to realize, I was determined to get my sister back on track, with or without Dad's support. Several more minutes past, and Chris had managed to settle down once more. Now was the opportunity to confront my Dad outside.

I found Dad leaning against his truck, looking sorry for himself. Damn right he should be sorry. Storming over to him, I grabbed his shirt and rammed him against his truck.

"Why can't you just let it be Dad?" I said furiously. "Did you see what you did to her face? She is hurt and confused and angry!"

Dad, once again, was lost for words. Typically, whenever something troublesome crops up he tries to hide away from it, and usually it involves alcohol. Dad took hold of my wrists.

"Son, please" he implored, his eyes searching for forgiveness.

Hell, he wasn't getting any from me.

"This can't be fixed with a couple of hugs and an ice cream cone Dad," I spat back. "I want you to stay away from her right now. She doesn't need you right now, I've got it."

Dad just stared at me as I released my grip from his shirt. My scowl refused to go away.

"You don't think I try with her?" asked Dad.

Ha. That had got to be a joke. How can he try, when he is never around to spend time with her. No wonder the kid feels rejected.

"No," I replied shortly, causing Dad to sigh. "You gave up completely with her the second Sam left. She knows it, she's not stupid you know. She thinks you don't love her. For fuck sake, it's tearing her apart!"

Dad glared at me once Sam's name was mentioned.

"What? I'm telling you the truth," I hissed. "You haven't been a father to her for months, hell years is probably more accurate. What were you thinking hitting her last night? That was child abuse, Dad!"

To hell with this shit, I'm done. I turned to leave, unable to continue with the conversation. Dad wasn't though, he yanked me back once he clamped a hand on my shoulder, which then caused me to punch him straight in the mouth.

"Feel Better?" Dad asked, his bottom lip split and bleeding slightly.

I kept my mouth shut. Nothing more needed to be said. I was done with this crap. For Chris's sake, I couldn't have him around. Without saying a word to him, I returned to the motel room and locked the door before he had the chance to follow. Hopefully he would get the message. Dad has risked Chris's health and well being for the last time. Then, I heard the sound of his truck starting up and within seconds, I could hear him driving away. My gaze ventured over to the sleeping little girl, my little girl, on the bed.

I went to her bedside and watched her sleep, just like I used to when she was small. After removing her old baseball cap, I ran my fingers through her brown waves. She wriggled slightly, a small frown on her face yet I knew she had found peace within her dreams, whatever the dreams were. Probably it involved that damn Japanese show or some other weird shit. God knows.

"I got your back Chrissie," I hushed, planting a kiss on her forehead. "I'm not gonna let you down. I promise."

Man, all this crap had given me a headache. Perfect way to end a brilliant day. If you don't understand the sarcasm, then you're a moron.

Hope everybody had a good Christmas! I received two gifts from Santa that made me VERY happy, a Supernatural poster and calender. Now I have a chance to gawk and drool over the boys daily.

Also, a Happy New Year! Just think of me when you are all singing the Scottish classic, Auld Lang Syne. Cheers pals!

Please review, or else Chris and Dean will be pissed