I'm very grateful for the great response I've had on this story :) I love all you people who have reviewed or added this story to your favorites. Thanks a lot!

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John Winchester staggered towards the motel room with half a bottle of whiskey in hand. There hadn't been one single day in the past thirteen years where he hadn't thought about his Mary and that fatal day he'd lost her by the hands of a creature he had yet to track down. Even though it had now been thirteen years, November the 2nd was still such a difficult day to get through and John handled it like he'd done every year since then – by getting wasted. John took a swig of the bottle of whiskey and then fumbled with his keys by the lock of the motel room door.

"Crap.." John mumbled as he dropped the keys and he then went down on his knees in his attempt to pick the keys back up.

John let out a little laugh which was weird because he couldn't come up with anything funny to be laughing about in the first place. Especially not since the little fall he had taken had smashed the bottom of the whiskey bottle and the contents of the bottle had spread out on the pavement. John cursed. He picked up his keys, grabbed the door knob to steady himself as he swayed a little, and he then to his big surprise found the door unlocked. John cursed again. Sam must have forgotten to lock the door after he got home from school today even though John had told his boys time and time again to remember to keep the door locked and keep a salt-line in place. John stumbled into the motel room and shut the door closed behind him before moving towards the kitchen.

"Sam!" He bellowed in a slightly slurred voice. "How many times have I told you to keep the door locked? Do I have to beat it into you to make it sink in?"

John sighed and winced a little by his own harsh words. Sam was probably asleep by now, but hell sometimes that boy just didn't listen and it made John so frustrated. John opened the fridge, shook his head to force his eyes to focus on the few contains and he then grabbed a beer. Before he could close the fridge door though, it was harshly slammed shut and the next second John felt someone grab him by his collar and pin him to the wall. He mentally kicked his own alcohol-dazed brain for messing with his hunter instincts before he focused on the furious face of his oldest son in front of him.

"Dean?" John asked with a confused expression. "What the hell? When did you.."

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean growled in a low and dangerous voice, cutting his dad off mid-sentence.

John felt the surprise from before slowly form into annoyance and anger.

"Let – me – go!" John said with emphasis.

"We have some things to talk about first, dad!" Dean said with eyes burning of anger.

"That was an order, boy!" John barked and Dean huffed.

"Oh yeah? And why should I listen to a thing coming out of your mouth?" Dean asked. "You promised me you would take good care of Sam while I was gone! And what do you do, huh? You leave him here on his own while you go out getting yourself pissed!"

"Sam is thirteen years old. He doesn't need to be babied all the time, Dean!" John said in a gruff voice. "It's only gonna make him weak! Soldiers need to…"

"He's not a soldier!" Dean interrupted. "He's your son for crying out loud! How about you start treating him like one!"

"Watch your tone with me, boy!" John growled and shoved Dean away from him. "And don't you dare try to teach me how to raise my own son!"

"Why shouldn't I do that?" Dean asked, rebelling against his dad in a way he'd never done before. "I'm the only one of us who has raised him so far."

John stared at his oldest son with a mix of anger, shock and sorrow, as Dean's words had hit a sore spot inside of him. John was very well aware of the fact that ever since he'd dedicated his life to seek revenge for what had happened to his Mary, he'd become less of a father to his sons and more like a drill sergeant. And while John had tried to fulfill his mission, Dean had been the one to take care of his youngest. Dean knew and understood Sam better than anyone - better than John would ever do – and the two of them shared a bond that was beyond incredible. Still, – truth or not, drunk or sober – John didn't tolerate the way the older brother was talking to him.

"What has gotten into you Dean? Have you forgotten who you're taking to, huh? I suggest you start talking to me with a little more respect!" John shouted. "And what's the big deal anyway? Sam has been alone on countless times before, he knows how to protect himself, how to use a weapon. I wouldn't have left this room yesterday if I wasn't sure of it."

"Hang on, did you say yesterday?" Dean asked with a frown. "Are you telling me Sam may have been laying in there sick and alone since sometime yesterday?"

"Sam is sick?" John asked and now it was his turn to frown, before Dean let out a frustrated sound.

"I got a call from Sam's school since he apparently hadn't been there today. I tried calling you, I tried calling Sam and when neither of you picked up I rushed back here! And thank God for that!" Dean exclaimed with anger in his voice.

"I didn't know Sam was sick, but you know why I couldn't just sit here and stew in my own thoughts." John tried to reason. "You know what day it is Dean."

"Yeah, and you know what it is dad? It's a bunch of crap!" Dean said.

"Excuse me?" John exclaimed incredulously.

"You think mom would have wanted you to honor her memory by getting pissed while your son was sick and alone at home?" Dean asked, well-knowing that he was getting into dangerous territory. "Where were you when Sammy vomited down himself, huh? Where were you when he soiled himself and was too weak to do anything about it? Where were you when his fever spiked? When Sam had been so alone and scared that he cried when he saw me? Where the hell where you dad? Huh? Mom would have been disappointed in you!"

John didn't know if it was the alcohol or his temper that got the better of him, but as soon as Dean had let out those last words, John's fist connected with his oldest son's jaw in a punch that almost sent the boy to the floor. Dean wasn't at all surprised when his dad punched him – he'd known it would happen from the second he'd started talking about his mom. But his dad had neglected his baby brother in a terrible way so Dean had wanted his words to hurt his dad. And they had.

"Nice dad. Thanks." Dean said and wiped away some blood from his lower lip with the back of his hand.

The two oldest Winchesters stared at each other in silence for a few moments, both willing the other one to make a move. In the end, it was Dean though who first broke eye contact and started walking away.

"I think you should sleep it off on the couch and then we'll talk tomorrow." Dean said.

"And what are you gonna do?" John asked in a tired voice.

"Me? I'm gonna be a good son – no, a good brother – and do as you've told me to do for as long as I can remember.." Dean said and looked at his dad with an unreadable expression on his face. "I'm gonna watch out for Sammy."

With those words, Dean left his father behind and made his way back to the bedroom. The room still smelled like vomit, but Dean had at least managed to throw the messed-up sheets of Sam's bed into the bathroom and had cleaned the sickness off the bed and floor before his dad had entered the motel room and all hell had broken loose. To his big relief, Sam was still peacefully asleep in Dean's bed. Dean put a hand on Sam's forehead to feel for a fever that was still present but had come down a notch, before he lay down next to his brother and arranged the covers over both of them. Sam unconsciously shifted closer to his big brother and let out a soft sigh as Dean wrapped an arm around the smaller boy. Dean closed his eyes and listened to Sam's steady breathing until he eventually drifted off to sleep as well.

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TBC….

One more chapter to go and then this story will be finished! Reviews are more than welcomed! ;)

-Elisa.