Finally I'm back with yet another part! I'm so sorry it took a while... I've been trying to post this part for a few weeks now, but FFN (or my crappy PC), wouldn't let me! GR! I am now at my friend's house. She has high speed internet, and I can update my story HERE.. But I wrote this part on the train! I like writing on the train... But I really hope you all like it. I'm now firmly attached to the phrase "angry!protective!righteousfury!Sammy" lol!

I don't own Supernatural, but i'm DYING to see the season premiere

Here we go.

"How are you feeling, Dean?" Sam asked the next morning, more than a little concerned. His brother looked incredibly tired, only being able to sag against his pillow. There was a faraway look in his half-open eyes. Sam wondered if this was because Dean was only just recovering or because their father had died… Or perhaps it was the evil combination of the two.

And although he knew he looked like crap, Dean replied, "I'm great." And then, "How are you?"

This response only caused Sam to frown. He would have at least wanted to hear the truth for once. All his brother had to say was, 'I feel like shit'. Because from the looks of it, that was the truth. It wasn't as if Dean had to keep it a secret or anything… Which reminded him…

"So, Dean, about yesterday… Can you tell me what the hell Dad meant by the closet?"

Dean looked away, rolling his eyes. He expected nothing less from his little brother. "It happened a really long time ago. You don't really need to hear about it."

"Maybe not, but I want to hear about it," Sam pushed gently. When Dean glanced at him, but then looked away again, he knew this approach was not working. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. "Dean. If you don't tell me what Dad is apologizing for, I won't stop bothering you about it."

This caught Dean's attention. It was mostly because he knew Sam really meant what he said. That kid could make a living out of nagging people. Like when people didn't pay their bills when they were supposed to. The government would just send out their secret weapon—Sam. They would send Sam after those poor souls to nag them to death.

He finally sighed loudly, shaking his head. "Okay. Fine." The worst thing about Sam's nagging is the fact that Dean almost always found himself spilling before the actual nagging began. But it was bound to come out anyway…

Sam folded his arms across his chest, satisfied. "Okay, then," he said, his voice returning back to the sympathetic brother. "Go ahead, Dean…"

Dean didn't appreciate the sympathy, and threw his brother a 'that's so not helping!' look.

Sam shrugged in return.

"Well," Dean began slowly, not meeting Sam's eyes. How should he begin? "It…it happened only a few days…or maybe a week…after Mom died. Dad was really…depressed…about the whole thing. He went out drinking a lot."

"He went out? As in left us behind? Alone? When you were only four?" Sam burst out, thinking of all the terrible things that could happen to a four-year-old and a baby when they were left alone—right after a demon killed their mother, too.

"He wasn't thinking straight," Dean defended. He knew this feeling well. When you're so sad…so miserable…about something, you kind of lose sight of more important things.

Sam frowned, but he indicated for Dean to go on.

"He came home drunk one night…," Dean said. "It…it was really late, but I was still up…"

"Why?" Sam inquired.

Dean gave him a look. "Uh, because I had a baby brother who needed to be protected, and I was the only one in the house. Besides, even if I had ignored you and tried to go to sleep, I wouldn't have been able to—you cried, like, nonstop.

Sam didn't reply to this. Even when he was a baby, Dean still had taken care of him—had protected him. Part of Sam wondered what they would be like if Dean didn't feel the need to protect him so much.

"But anyway, Dad came home drunk, and it was really late." Dean struggled to remember the details, but everything between Dad coming home and Dad locking him in the closet was a little fuzzy. "Uh…Dad, he asked me what I was still doing up…and I…"

Dean's eyes widened as he remembered.

"What are you still doing up, Dean?" John grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"I-I-I… You can see me?" Dean asked, bewildered. After all this time, he had really begun to believe that maybe he was invisible.

"I…was shocked that he was talking to me…" Dean trailed off. And at Sam's puzzled look, he added, "Because he hadn't talked to me that much after Mom died." Dean paused for a moment, remembering more details as he thought back. It was so strange…it felt like a dream…or someone else's life… It didn't seem real at all. "I…I was scared," Dean recalled.

Sam's face softened, trying to imagine a small, fearful Dean, probably afraid of nearly everything after Mom died… It was a really hard thing to imagine. All Sam could remember was a courageous, protective big brother…

"He was so drunk, Sam…," Dean whispered. "I remember he said something like he couldn't listen to what I had to say or he couldn't deal with me right now…" He shook his head, not really remembering John's exact words. "He got frustrated and upset, and so…" He could still hear the lock sliding into place, could still hear the retreating footsteps—coming from somewhere deep in his memory. "He locked me in the closet." Once the words were out of Dean's mouth, he shrugged, feeling an incredible urge to just make light of it. But he saw the change on Sam's face.

Sam looked down, trying to contain himself. "Dean… How long did he leave you in there?" He knew Dean looked upset after he had been stuck in that closet when they had hunted that ghost a few months back, but he never would have thought…

"I think…I think he forgot I was in there, Sam… He let me out the next morning."

Sam bit his lip and shook his head angrily. If that had happened to him when he told his father that he was scared… Fathers should comfort their children when they're scared, not lock them away.

"I don't believe it," Sam said in a low voice.

"What?" Dean asked, not catching what Sam had said.

"I don't believe he could do that." And, in a louder voice, he said, "I can't believe he could have done that to you, Dean!"

Righteous fury Sam, Dean couldn't help but thinking.

"I mean, you were his son. His son! And he threw you away like you were…were…" Sam shook his head again. It just wasn't right.

Dean glared. "Sammy, it wasn't like that. I told you. He was drunk."

But Sam went on as if Dean had stayed silent. "He just locked you in the closet and left you there? Like that would solve his problems? Like that would make it all better? Like that would bring Mom back?" He bit his tongue angrily. He wished with all his heart that he could have been old enough to do something to protect Dean from this—it had obviously been wearing on him for a while.

"HEY!" Dean yelled, now angry himself. "It wasn't his fault! It was mine, for being such a friggin' idiot! I should've just understood what he was going through and be fine with it. I shouldn't have started crying like a scared little baby when he came home. He was going through much worse than I was!"

"Dean, you were four years old! How can you say that?! You're not gonna understand—"

Dean shook his head, cutting his brother off. "You should at least be able to understand what he was going through. What would've happened if a crying kid came up to you while you were drunk after Jessica died?" It was a low blow, bringing up Jessica, but Dean thought it would make Sam see his point of view.

Sam pursed his lips in silent contemplation. "I wouldn't…I wouldn't have locked him in a closet," he muttered angrily. "And that doesn't really explain why Dad apologized for it now of all times. You already knew he was sorry, right?"

"Yeah," Dean mumbled.

Sam felt a little better, but that feeling only lasted for a split second.

"But he never told me he was sorry until now," Dean admitted.

Sam looked up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what it sounded like. He never said he was sorry until yesterday. I just always knew he was sorry. There must have been times he wanted to apologize, but couldn't… I forgave him a long time ago."

"He didn't even say he was sorry?!" Sam asked angrily. If his father was still alive… Sam stopped in mid-thought, his eyes widening as he once again realized that he would never see his father again. It hurt, realizing that, and it probably hurt Dean even more. It probably hurt to just talk about their father right after he…

It probably hurt just to hear Sam talking the way he was.

Dean gave him a warning look, and Sam knew this was true.

"Hey…," Sam began again, quieter this time. "I miss Dad too, you know. I know it sounds bad because I'm really angry with what he did to you…but…" He shrugged. "He was still our dad."

Dean was surprised at the change of subject. Usually, Sam talked a subject to death. Dean sighed, and finally responded, "I know."

He and Sam fell silent, both of their thoughts on their father.

I miss him already, they thought in unison.

...I miss John! AH! I hope you liked this chapter! Please leave a review, I can't write without them!

Next chapter I hope to bring in a flashback, and...i'm not sure what else... I know it, but it slipped my mind. Hopefully i'll be able to post the next part soon!

angry!protective!righteousfury!Sammy: If you don't review, I'll nag you to death!

Me: ...uh oh...