Friday

"Dean, please listen, son." John's voice was pleading, begging, pathetic.

Dean was dumbfounded. Completely stumped. What was he supposed to do? He looked at Sam.

"Nonononononononononono…" He kept on muttering under his breath while carrying Sam into the backseat of the Impala.

"Sammy," he whispered, stroking his brother's hair. Tears splashed down onto his brother's pale, bloody face. That's when he heard John's slow footsteps behind him.

"Dean, we can talk about this," John said, crying. Actually crying.

This is fucking unbelievable, Dean thought.

His father was standing a meter from the doorframe, five meters away from Dean. Dean couldn't even look at the man without turning his knuckles white.

"TALK ABOUT WHAT?!" Dean yelled back.

"Please, don't leave. I'm sorry."

"I'm -" Dean hit the car in frustration so hard that he caused it to dent, but he didn't care. All he cared about was his broken brother.

Dean was more than livid at his father. He wasn't a father anymore, he was a monster. Dean stormed up to him. Spit came flying out of his mouth as he yelled outraged words.

"SORRY?" Dean shoved him back into the motel room. "YOU'RE FUCKING SORRY? OH YEAH, YOU'RE DEFINITELY FORGIVEN NOW! FOR HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN HITTING SAMMY? EVER SINCE I LEFT TWO HOURS AGO?!" Dean stopped. Tears were flowing freely and at a rapid pace. He lowered his voice into a broken tone. "John, how long have you been hitting Sam?"

John didn't answer.

Dean's heart dropped. He ran up his father, his arms extended in front of him ready to wrap his hands around the bastard's throat. He pressed him up against a wall, making sure he couldn't breathe. As he held his father's throat he started to recall things.

'"SAM! For fuck's sake! If you don't start paying attention you're going to get Dean and I killed!"'

Dean released his grip a little when he threw the first couple punches, both aimed at the nose. John winced as his broken nose bled. He didn't fight back. He couldn't harm Dean.

'"S'not my fault if he slips, how dare you think I contributed to that?" John grumbled.'

Another fist, this time to the stomach with all his strength and adrenaline, making John's knees buckle.

'"Fine." Sam said.'

The tears were uncontrollable. He tightened his fist harder than ever and aimed for the groin.

John hurdled to the floor with a loud thump.

Dean continued kicking and punching him all over. He watched as his father's jaw broke. John whimpered all the way through the beating as he lay curled up like an infant, before slipping into unconsciousness. Dean spat on him before turning towards his younger brother. He jumped into the car leaving the unconscious mess, who used to be his father, behind him.

One day before

"Hey Sammy, I'm going out," Dean said, grabbing his coat. Sam nodded and turned on the television, but not before a quick, "it's Sam." Dean's grin couldn't become bigger.

Has Sam gone back to his normal self? Dean thought. He had been so worried about going out, even if it was only for half an hour. He was terrified Sam would do something stupid, like really stupid. He had hid the razors for safety's sake.

Ten minutes later Sam was still staring at the television screen. He wasn't watching it though, his thoughts had drifted away. He automatically slid his hand down in his pocket and held the sharp steel. He was a bit startled with himself when he found out that he was holding it. To his own surprise, he grasped it tighter. A drop of blood fell from his finger. It felt weird holding it. It felt safe, like this was his way out. It was always when he was alone, that dark thoughts clouded his mind. He kept on thinking about what his dad would do when he got home. Would he try to kill him again? What would the suspended assholes who beat up Sam do, when they got back?

Sam winced at his aching ribs. If only there was a way to get rid of the pain. Maybe shift it?

The blade bit gingerly into his sweaty palm.

What would Dean do if he found out that he was still hurting himself, that he couldn't fight his inner demons? Would he make Dean mad again? Would he make Dean, his tough big brother, cry again? What if Jessica found out about all this shit? Would she even speak to him again, let alone look at him? What would happen...

I made Dean cry, I killed mum, I made dad mad, I'm weak, an easy target, I don't have a future, not really. I'm stuck here as a disappointment and I'm never -

Sam's pants were already drawn down to his knees and his blade placed steadily over his hip. Thirteen minutes till Dean would come home. Maybe longer if he thought Sam was safe, alone in the motel room.

I'm such a coward.

The blade pierced and glided.

One day after

1:38 am.

"Oh thank god," Dean said as he watched Sam's eyelids flutter. Sam opened one of them, the one he could, as the other was still swollen shut.

"What 'ime s'it?" Sam asked sheepishly. His split lip started bleeding again. Dean held a tissue to stop the bleeding, while being pleased to see, that the ice pack he had put there worked, because his lips was much less swollen compared to the day before. Sam tried to sit up but Dean lightly pushed him down again. Sam didn't resist. He was too tired, hurt, and didn't see a point in doing so.

"What happened?" Sam said, becoming more alert when he noticed his bleeding lip. He glanced down his body and saw the crimson stains on his clothes. Soon, he noticed how much his head and body throbbed with pain. He tasted blood again.

"You don't remember?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Dean thought. assuming the worst.

"Would I ask if I did?" Sam responded, raising a hand to his temple. He rubbed it lightly when a flash of memories appeared before his eyes. Slowly, last nights events started to come back to him.

"Nonononono..." Sam said under his breath. Dean noticed though, but didn't say anything. His brother was going through enough already without having lie to Dean, saying that he was okay. He obviously wasn't. Who would be?

"Tell me if you have difficulty breathing or something feels straight up wrong, 'kay?" Dean asked, snapping his brother out of the spiral of horrible memories. When Sam didn't respond, which he expected since Sam was still quite light headed and out of it, he continued talking. "It's a miracle that you don't have any concussion. Your breathing and pulse seemed fine, when I checked a few hours ago."

And every five minutes after that, Dean didn't say aloud. Maybe he should of, so that Sam knew how much he was loved.

"If it goes seriously wrong - I know you hate it and trust me, I do too - we have to take you to a hospital," Dean said gravely.

Sam's head snapped up at that, causing it to hurt even more. Dean saw his wince and handed him a bottle of painkillers. Sam swallowed a couple of the pills gratefully, before quickly falling asleep.

"Sleep tight, we've still got half way across the country till we reach Bobby's." Dean said, stepping a harder on the accelerator.

Our lives are so fucked up.

A/N: I have an awful lot of things to do, but I'll post the next chapter on Sunday at the latest. Hopefully earlier.

Thanks for the amazing reviews guys! They've really been great. :)