Dean's fist stopped just short of Sam's jaw. Sam, who had not foreseen his brother's actions, had barely moved but his eyes had widened considerably as Dean advanced toward him. Still, he couldn't escape Dean's reach as Dean grabbed him by the neck. He tightened his grip on Sam's neck and raised his other arm in what looked like an attempt to deliver a well-aimed punch to his brother's face.

Sam looked up at his brother, terrified and confused. He was having a hard time comprehending that his brother would actually hit him. But Dean didn't carry through on his threat; he only tightened his hold on his brother's neck. He may have been fuming, but he had never really had any intention of hitting his brother. Strangling him was another matter altogether and he squeezed Sam's throat mercilessly.

John had been just as surprised as Sam by what Dean had done and it took him a minute to react. He had reached Dean as he lifted his arm and John seized it to stop him from hitting his brother. John held Dean's arm securely but never felt the follow-through for the punch that he was sure Dean was going to throw. He could feel the tension in Dean's upraised arm but, as he glanced at his youngest son, it was the look on his face that caught John's attention. Sam was turning blue.

"DEAN! THAT'S ENOUGH!" screamed John as he grabbed Dean's shoulder and tried to swing him around to face him. But Dean was planted securely in front of his brother and John had to reach over and knock his son's hand from Sam's neck. When he had succeeded in separating his two sons, John was finally able to rotate Dean toward him. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

"PROVING A POINT!" yelled Dean as he pushed his forearms against his father's shoulders to propel himself away.

John took hold of Dean's shirt and pulled him closer. As Dean lurched toward him, John spun him around and thrust him back into the chair that he had abandoned only moments ago.

"YEAH? WELL, WHATEVER POINT YOU HAVE TO MAKE, YOU'LL DO IT FROM HERE? DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" John planted his feet on either side of Dean's legs and leaned over him with his hands clutching the arms of the chair, effectively using his body to cage in his eldest son.

Dean stared angrily at his father who stared back at him with matching fury. Without looking away Dean answered, "Yes SIR."

No one moved and the silence in the room was deafening. Finally John took a deep breath and released his grip on the chair. As he pushed himself upright he said "If you get out of that chair one more time, I'm going to tie you to it." Then he took a step backwards, positioning himself between his two sons.

Again John found himself not knowing what to do. He knew that the entire situation had spun out of control and he had to regain command. All his years of military experience had not taught him how to deal with two obstinate teenagers.

As he turned to Sam and saw him holding his neck with both hands, he asked, "You okay?"

Sam croaked out a rough "Yeah," before he launched into a coughing fit. After he had stopped, he looked angrily at Dean. "What the hell was that for?"

But John spoke before Dean could answer. "I'm asking the questions. You will both remain in your seats and speak only when spoken to. IS THAT CLEAR?"

Neither boy responded so he asked again, "Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes Sir" responded both boys simultaneously.

John took a moment to try to recover his composure. Then he directed his first question toward Dean, "What was that all about?"

Anger still evident in his voice, Dean replied, "Proving my point. Both of you think Sam can defend himself, but look what happened. I could've smacked him three or four times before he even lifted a finger. And by then, it would've been too late and I'd have beaten the crap outta him."

"But I didn't expect you to come over and hit me," yelped Sam indignantly.

"Just like Rick isn't going to hit you," responded Dean.

"Okay. Stop," interrupted John, intent on keeping control. "I don't want you talking to each other – just to me. Got it?" Although the two teenagers remained in a stare-down, neither spoke again. "So, your little sideshow was to prove we were wrong?"

"Yep," came Dean's smug response.

"Pardon?"

"Yes Sir."

John had to think for a minute. However irrational it had been, Dean's display had succeeded in showing how ineffectively Sam would have defended himself. Dean had managed to breach the short distance to Sam and begin his assault without opposition. Granted, John had not expected any of this, but he dealt with the unexpected every day. He really should have been able to respond faster and, the fact that he hadn't been able to, lent incredible weight to Dean's position. Had Dean really wanted to hit his brother, John wouldn't have been fast enough to stop him. And he had only been standing a couple of feet away. As it was, he had left some nasty marks on Sam's neck.

"Alright," he conceded, "I see your point. But that was the wrong way to prove it."

"How else was I gonna prove it? You haven't listened to me all night," responded Dean. "When I first came home, you told me I should have stayed out of it because the kid hadn't actually hit Sam." Dean took a shaky breath trying to control his emotions, knowing that his father was more likely to pay attention to him if he at least sounded rational. "And Sam didn't think he was a threat because he didn't think he'd hit him. Well, he didn't think I'd hit him either – but I could have." Dean glared at his brother and then turned his attention back to his father and stated angrily "And you made it the three feet to us a hell of a lot faster than I would've made it the 50 feet to them. But you still think I'm wrong."

"No, Dean, you're not wrong. But what you did right now was wrong," countered John.

John rubbed his eyes and wondered how things could have gotten this far out of hand. He knew that Dean really had Sam's best interests at heart; he also knew that Sam was going to have to grow up one day and be able to fend for himself. But John didn't believe that Sam was ready for that.

John had never worried about Dean being able to defend himself. Dean had always been a fighter – maybe even a predator - and seemed to be able to sense when someone – or something – might be a threat to him. John had always thought that probably came from the training he had instilled in his boys but, if that was the reason, why didn't Sam have it too?

Of course there was always the possibility that Sam had read the situation with Rick correctly and the boy had not posed a threat to him. Sam was always more willing to give people the benefit of the doubt than either he or Dean were. Sam was a 'people-person' and was quite often correct in his assessment of people. Maybe Dean had just made this situation worse.

Although he had to admit that Dean's assessment of the situation was most likely the correct one, and even if it weren't, Sam had remained unharmed and the other kid had backed off. But how was he going to convince Sam that he had to stand up to a potential threat and not try to placate it? That just didn't seem to be Sam's way. Sam wanted to make friends, blend in, and be accepted.

"Okay, guys," was all John could think to say. "This has really gotten out of hand and I don't know what to do with either of you." There was silence as John tried to collect his thoughts. "I hate to break it to you – but you're both wrong here."

John looked at Dean and continued, "You have to control yourself. Like it or not, you don't have the authority in this family. I'm still in charge and you will treat me with some level of respect. I will not tolerate you swearing at me, walking out on me or causing any more confrontations like the one we just had. You got that?"

Dean closed his eyes and nodded hoping that would satisfy his father and a verbal response would not be required.

John turned to Sam. "And your brother is right. You have to stand up for yourself. I don't care whether you think this kid is really going to hurt you or not; he will if you just let him push you around."

"But Dad…"

John held up a finger to silence his youngest and continued, "You might think he's all mouth but you can't be sure of that. And, if you're not going to stand up for yourself, I am certainly not going to berate your brother for jumping in."

"But Dad, you don't understand," responded Sam. "Rick…."

No, Sam. I understand completely. You can't keep assuming that no one is going to hurt you. And until you realize that, Dean will watch over you. My orders."

"Daad…"

"Discussion's over." John turned away and took a deep breath. "Now you boys have to eat and I have a hunt to go on."

"I'm going with you," stated Dean as he rose from his chair.

"No you're not. I need you to stay here with Sam. We don't know what this thing is capable of."

"Which is exactly why you need me with you," insisted Dean.

"No. You're staying here. And that's final."

"But Dad, you might need me."

"Dean, am I going to have to tie you to that chair to make you do as you're told?"

"You wouldn't do that."

"Try me."