Dean stood angrily, defiantly in front of his father, but when he spoke, his words were calm and measured.
"Dad. This has to stop. Now." John peered blearily at him, anger rising.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" He demanded, words slurring slightly.
"Dad, I know you're our father, but if you touch Sam again, I'm going to stop you." John stared at him for a second, sensing the threat in his son's tone, surprised by the seriousness.
"You plan on stopping me, Dean?" He asked, smirking at the thought. He knew Dean was cocky, thought he was a good fighter, but his son was no match for him.
"If I have to."
xxxx
Sam ran his second lap, looked up in worry as he passed the cabin. Still no sound, and Sam was getting worried. Maybe his dad had killed Dean…He shook his head, laughed feebly at the thought. Of course he hadn't killed Dean, that was ridiculous. Sam shivered and started running again.
xxxx
"You'd better be able to back yourself up, boy, you make threats like that," John said, his voice low. To his surprise, Dean shifted into a defensive stance, raising his fists.
"I know."
xxxx
Sam cursed under his breath as it started to rain. He debated between staying out in the cold and wet and risking the cabin. He opted to keep running.
xxxx
The first punch caught John off-guard. He'd known his son was cocky, knew he thought he was a good fighter, but he hadn't been expecting the brutal right hook that smashed into his jaw and left it throbbing with pain. He lashed out with an uppercut, catching Dean under the chin, sure that the blow would stop Dean in his tracks. His son stumbled backwards, shook his head, and popped back up, sending blows raining towards John's torso and stomach. It took a second for John to find an opening, again impressed by how well his son guarded his face, then sent a devastating blow to Dean's nose. He felt the bone crack under his fist, momentarily realized how messed up it was that he was fighting his son, then sighed in relief as he saw Dean fall to the ground. At least it was over. As Dean came up again, sent a shoulder barreling into John's back, sending both of them over the table and onto the floor, John realized that he shouldn't be surprised. It was his son, after all.
xxxx
Sam shivered in the cool night air, rain cascading around him, wondering what the hell was happening. He couldn't believe that Dean was standing up so resolutely for him against their father, whose approval meant everything to his older brother. It was almost overwhelming, so Sam kept running.
xxxx
John shouldn't have been surprised when Dean grabbed the nearest chair and flung it at him, but as it struck him across the eyebrow, sending warm blood trickling down his face, John was.
xxxx
Sam was tired of waiting. He finished one more lap around the site, then ran up to the cabin. Now there were yells and grunts, and Sam could hear something smashing. Swearing under his breath, he ran to the cabin, threw the door open, certain that he would find a broken older brother on the floor. He stopped dead, staring in surprise at what he saw.
xxxx
John ached. Blood streamed from a cut over his eye, and he could feel pain in his ribs flare up. Maybe he was too old for this. Dean was standing opposite him, hunched awkwardly, nose still bleeding and favoring his right shoulder, but defiant, hands still in fists.
"Are we done here?" Dean asked quietly, and John wasn't sure how to answer. He stared at his son, at the boy who had suddenly become a man, and when had that happened? He was taller than John had realized, so focused on Sam sprouting like a weed that he had failed to notice the few extra inches Dean had gained in the last year. He was also lean and muscular, and John hadn't realized how strong his son had become since the accident.
"Yeah," he assented finally. They stood, staring awkwardly at the floor, when the door swung open.
"Holy hell," Sam muttered.
xxxx
They wrapped their bloody knuckles, silently stitched each other's wounds, bound ribs, applied ice to black eyes and swollen noses. Sam could hardly believe that his brother had fought his father, let alone held his own, and now they were patching each other up as if nothing had happened. It was strange, he thought, but at that point, he knew things were well and truly going to change. He could see it in John's eyes, a new respect for Dean, and consequently, for Sam. Because if Dean believed in Sam, there must be something to believe in. It made Sam sad even as it made him happy.