Wow, that took a lot longer than I thought it was going to! It was because the second part was so awkward for me to write. It wasn't like I could just say something like "Dean found out about the welts and freaked" or something like that. I had to actually write the scene.

So if that scene if going to offend anyone, it's after the first pagebreak.

Chapter 7 Time to Think

John Winchester was a horrified man.

What the hell had the other version of him done to his boys? How could the man do such things? How was John going to fix it?

Because not fixing it was not an option. The broken looks on his boys' faces had decided that for him.

So how to fix it?

It wasn't like he could just come on with the hugs and the cuddles. It would be extremely awkward, and John wasn't like that even with his own versions of his sons.

He was stern, but at least his sons knew he loved them.

So he would have to show these two that he loved them. Which meant that hugging was going to have to come into the picture somewhere. Ugh.

Oh well. If that was what it took for his sons to understand that he wasn't like their version (that their version was a sick man who obviously didn't know anything about his own children and nothing he said should ever be considered a truth) then he would sit Sammy on his lap and hold Dean to side all day long.

But for now that would just make all of them uncomfortable.

So he would start small. He would be there when his boys needed him. He would make sure they knew they could always come to him. He wouldn't push training. He wouldn't push anything.

He would take it easy and slow.

But by the time he was done, his baby boys would not have self esteem problems anymore (because he could already tell they had them now).

When he was done with them, they would be unrecognizable. In a good way, of course.

Supernatural

"So," Dean began as he set Sam back down on their bed. "How was Dad worse for you?"

Sam bit his lip. What was he supposed to do? Sure, Dean didn't idolize their father anymore, but still….

"Sam?" Dean asked again.

"I-it's nothing," Sam hedged, looking away.

"No it isn't. Not if Gabriel of all people thought it was worth mentioning," Dean declared. "I get the feeling he's a bit of a family guy. He seemed to really want his own family at peace, so why would he try to purposely disrupt other families with lies?"

"Dean-" Dean interrupted him.

"Don't lie to me," he rebuked sharply.

Sam went red and fixed his eyes on the floor. How did Dean always know?

"He-he was just a little harder on me," Sam tried.

"Nuh-uh," Dean remained stubborn. "I knew about that. Gabriel said this was something that I didn't know about at all."

Sam didn't want to tell. For one thing it was embarrassing. For another thing, he was pretty sure it was a fairly normal punishment. Maybe not to the extent his father took it to, but he knew some of his many and varied classmates had been well acquainted with their father's belt. He even knew a few that boasted that their fathers switched them. To his mind that wasn't something one really should be boasting about, but to each their own.

And he accidentally started starting babbling this out loud without thinking. "It wasn't that bad," he insisted. "I knew other boys who bragged that their dads took a belt to them when the acted up-" That's when he caught himself, throwing a hand over his mouth before he said something even more damaging.

He knew it was too late, however, when he saw Dean go absolutely still. His brother then lunged forward and pushed Sam back on the bed. He was surprisingly gentle, considering the fury Sam saw on his face.

Sam struggled to sit back up, but Dean had size and weight over him now, and he was practically helpless. How had he done things back when he was this small? It had been so long that he didn't really remember anymore.

Dean rolled him onto is stomach and unceremoniously took down his pants.

Sam stiffened as memories of two certain angles who took down his pants flooded him, but quickly pushed them away in favor of a much more troubling issue.

Embarrassment because of his state of undress was not a problem; he and Dean saw each other naked all the time. He was far more mortified for Dean to see the welts decorating his backside.

"Stop it Dean!" Sam cried.

Surprisingly, Dean complied. Sam tried to pull his pants back up and roll over, but Dean stopped him with a hand in the middle of his shoulder blades.

"Dad did this to you?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"He-,I," Sam stuttered. "It was after Flagstaff," he finally blurted, as though that fixed everything.

"But I didn't let you alone for weeks after that," Dean puzzled. Enlightenment dawned. "He did this while I was out getting groceries, didn't he?" he realized.

Sam dropped his head into the pillow below him, debating whether or not to lie.

"Don't even think about it," Dean warned. His voice was far less aggressive now, however.

Stupid Dean, and his stupid ability to tell when Sam was about to lie. And then he had to go and make Sam feel bad for thinking about lying to him! It just wasn't fair.

"Fine," Sam affirmed, lifting his head out of the pillow. "Yes, he did."

"What the hell did he use on you?" Dean inquired in horror. His fingers ghosted softly over the welts, which Sam would've found creepy if Dean had been anyone else.

"His belt," Sam answered flatly. He twisted around a little so he could see what Dean was looking it.

It wasn't a pretty sight. It was never a pretty sight, but this was worse then he remembered. His whole butt was literally black and blue with raised welts just to add decoration.

"These are from the belt," Sam explained, gesturing to the wider marks. They were bigger then the welts from the switch, but less raised.

"And the rest?" Dean queried with trepidation.

Sam closed his eyes and dropped his head back into the pillow. "A switch." He mumbled. "He was really mad about how I ran off. He was never quite this bad, before or after."

"He did this other times?" Dean asked in horrified anger.

Sam was silent.

"Wait a second…he did this while I was out, right?" Dean confirmed. Anyone who had ever called Dean stupid was a complete idiot.

Sam pushed his face farther into the pillow, but nodded.

"Did he do it any other time I was out?"

Sam's continued muteness was answer enough.

"How often?" Dean questioned lividly. Sam felt like he was in the Spanish inquisition. "Sam!" Dean insisted.

"'vry'tim'go'mor'hour," Sam rushed out. It felt like the words were burning his tongue.

"…What?" was Deans eloquent reply.

Sam took a deep breath. "Every time you went out for more than an hour," he repeated more slowly.

Dean's jaw dropped. "And you never felt the need to tell me this…..why?" he demanded.

"He was your hero," Sam whispered. "I couldn't take that from you. It's so hard for us to find anyone we can depend on that I didn't want to drive anyone away."

"We only depend on them because we're sure they won't hurt either of us!" Dean nearly yelled. "If Dad hurt you then he wasn't trustworthy anymore. From the second he touched you he should've been on my hit list."

Sam scrambled for a come back (coming up with nothing more than "he didn't hurt me" which would have been a total lie) but it turned out he didn't need one because the door flew open at that moment.

Supernatural

Sam yelled and scrambled for a blanket, and Dean jumped about five feet in the air.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" he snarled at their father.

"It's never been a problem before," John replied with raised eyebrows. "Why is it now?"

"We're older now," Sam put in before Dean could say anything. "It just feels odd."

"Uh-hu," John said incredulously.

"Is there a reason you're here?" Dean practically spit.

John looked startled. "Well, I came to tell you that you're free to do whatever you like for now, but it's family night tonight, and you're expected to be there. Is there a reason you're taking that tone with me?" he added mildly.

Dean went to snarl out an answer (probably the truth) but Sam caught his hand and gave him puppy eyes.

Damn Sam and his unnatural ability to control Dean with a single look. The kid didn't even have to say a word! It just wasn't fair.

"No, Dean, please," he pleaded. Like he really needed to beg when he was giving Dean those eyes.

"Is something wrong?" John inquired with concern.

Dean studied him. There was something about, some kind of worry lingering behind his casual posture, maybe, that had Dean thinking twice before he answered.

It wouldn't be right to burden a man who had probably never intentionally hurt his son with this, so Dean decided not to say anything. He also thought it was time to clam down, before he said something he would regret.

Besides, Sam most certainly wouldn't be comfortable showing John the marks, and Dean wasn't going to force him into showing anyone unless they got infected.

He would have to hear how his baby brother kept that from happening the first time around, because those marks looked pretty bad.

That didn't mean he wouldn't be keeping a close eye on the man. He had a better chance of catching their father if John tried something now than he would if he told the man he knew what his counterpart had done to his baby brother. He could be sneaky if he wanted to.

"No, I'm sorry. I was just having a talk with Sammy about our version of you, and it got out of hand. I didn't mean to snap. We'll be down when they want us. What time did you say again?" he asked much more politely.

"Around four thirty," John informed them. "Do you two need anything?"

"No, we'll be fine in here until lunch," Dean assured.

"Ok," John said uncertainly. "Come find me if you need anything."

"We will," Dean assured. He waited until their father left the room and shut the door behind him to finish the sentence. "Not."

"So how do you treat these things?" he asked his little brother.

Sam shrugged. "Antiseptic. Sometimes a bit of lotion helps. It makes them more….flexible? Not as likely to break and bleed, anyway."

Dean was horrified at the ease with which his Sammy was with treating these things. It was official; he was never leaving his little brother alone again.

Dean treated the wounds as well as he could. It wasn't very good in his opinion, but Sam said it was better than he had ever managed to do himself.

Sam decided to become chatty again while Dean was performing this task.

"That's why I was so happy about leaving, you know," he stated somewhat sleepily.

"These?" Dean inquired, just for conformation as his fingers ghosted over the marks their father had left.

"Yeah," Sam verified. "He didn't think switching my butt was working anymore. He said he was either gonna buy a whip, or take the switch to my back. I was scared, Dean. That why I left without seeing you. I was just running," Sam explained tiredly.

Dean was quiet for a second, trying to digest that. He had been so hurt that day to get home from a night at the bar and find Sam gone.

There had been nothing. No trace that his baby brother had ever even existed. Sam hadn't even left him a note.

"He went out to cut the switch, and I ran, Dean. I was so scared," Sam repeated. "I didn't even stop to think. I just grabbed my stuff and took off."

"What about the huge fight I heard about from both of you?" Dean questioned.

"All a lie. He didn't want you to know what he did, and I didn't want to ruin your trust in yet another person. We just stuck with the first thing you would believe," Sam answered. "I'm sorry," he added.

"God, Sammy. Never again. I don't want any more lying. No more hiding things. No more half truths. If you're hurt, I want to know who did it, you understand me?" Dean half ordered.

Commanding was not normally the way you went with Sam, Dean was starting to think it was about time he picked up his role as the closest thing to a father Sam had ever had. He knew how to handle his little boy before Sammy left for Stanford, and Sam was just an older version of that same child.

Dean needed time to think about this, and Sam was yawning. Dean himself wasn't tired, but he remembered his baby brother being exhausted from all the extra training their father piled on him after flagstaff.

"Take a nap," he gave another half almost command as Sam started rubbing his eyes to try and keep them open.

Sammy was so cute like that. Little Tiger looked like a four year old when he was sleepy, and it was so freaking adorab- what was he thinking! Dean Winchester does not think anything is cute.

Glancing back at his baby brother, who was now pouting at the idea of taking a nap, (though that might be because of the nightmares….) he decided Sammy was the one exception. There was just no way his brother could be called anything but cute right now. Unless, of course, you chose an even girlier adjective.

Why the hell was he thinking about adjectives anyway? How did he even still remember what an adjective was? It wasn't like he paid much attention in school.

Maybe it was something he had helped Sam learn? He shrugged.

Sam complied with very little more argument, and Dean was left in peace.

It was time to think.

Done!

What do people think? Again, most of the chapter is not for John lovers, but the first part probably won't offend them. Sorry people!

Odd random things! I now own all six seasons of Supernatural on DVD! This made me very happy.

An example of how weird my family is, and how much I love it! We were watching the episode "Crossroad Blues" (I think that's what it's called; it's the one where the hear about hell hounds for the first time) and our cat jumped up on my mom's chair.

Now, I must say that we've had this cat since he was so small that we had to bottle feed him. He thinks he's a human, and tries to eat with his hands. He also thinks my mother is his mother too. My mom doesn't mind in the slightest, and has adopted him as her baby.

So were watching the part of the episode where the dogs go after the guy who made a deal for his wife's life, and there's all this barking going on; really action filled scene, you know?

Them my mom starts cooing in the background to our cat. She's all "That's a bad doggy, yes it is. It's not a bad kitty; no it's a bad doggy. You're not a bad doggy. No you're not. You're a good kitty, aren't you?"

And my dad and I (instead of going "Shut up we're trying to watch something here!" like normal people) watch her more closely than we're watching the TV. I can honestly say it was the most amusing part of the whole night, and I'm still giggling a little just writing about it.

Listening to "My Immortal" by evanescence. Has anyone else ever noticed how this must have been almost exactly what Dean was thinking when Sam left for Stanford? I mean, there's almost no lyrics that don't really fit!

So, thoughts?